#he was said to have been handsome in his youth though

[myladysapphire]

His Sapphire Princess (VIII)

After the night in the brothel Rhaenyra is married to Laenor Velayron to protect the birth of her child. who in the years to follow is the only one of Rhaenyra's children that is believed to be his, she is loved by all in the red keep, even queen Alicent adores the girl, so when Rhaenyra proposes a marriage between Aemond and Rhaenyra's daughter Visenya, Alicent happily agrees.

The children having been best friends in their youths are more than happy to be wed but when the incident at drift mark occurs things change, will it be for better or worse?

word count: 1,385

CW: angst

Fem!oc x Aemond Targeryen (can be read as x reader)

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

disclaimer:  i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and  fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my OC

a/n its been so long since i last wrote this, i had honeslty completey forgotton about all of my fics, i do hope the writting isnt too different and that you all enjoy! sorry its short!

Also the ages of the charecters as i myself keep getting confused (and i've changed some of the ages a little): Visenya - 17, Aemond - 18, Jace - 14, Luke - 11, Aegon - 20 , Heleana - 19

Kingslanding

Visenya

With her mother being the heir, she had expected a much grander greeting. She pictured a courtyard full of eager lords and ladies, eager to see her mother after years away from court. And yet as her mother stepped out of the carriage the courtyard was barren; the few lords and ladies that were there seemed shocked and unaware of our arrival. It was clear the once welcoming feeling had gone with them when they had left for Dragonstone. 

Their greeting party solely consisted of lord Beesbury, seemingly the only council member still loyal to her mother, it even seemed that the keep itself was not what was for their return as shown by the replacement of Valyrian symbols with symbols of the seven. The home she, her brothers and parents knew was long gone, and the short years they had been away had changed the keep and people greatly.  The Hightowers had easily asserted themselves into power, and it was clear that they now ruled, perhaps in her grandsires stead. With the court laced with green gowns, and the higher necklines that Alicent seemed to adore, all influecne her mother had had been removed or hidden away. 

Not that it was surprising, as most who were loyal to her mother had too moved to dragonstone alongside them. It seemed Daemon was right about the red keep becoming a viper pit, full of hightower loyalsits. 

She had quickly left her family to go find Heleana, in hopes to see nothing had changed between them, though they exchanged letters, though less so since the birth of the twins, the letters she received now were filled with rhymes and poems in them, a part of her feared her dreams had become to strong and overtaken her. 

She knew all about Aeogns life, a little of their children, it appeared Aegon was the only one keen to keep her updated on anything in the keep and seemed eager to answer her letters, though they were mostly stained in wine and gods know what else. 

But it seemed that in her years away from kingslanding the halls had turned themselves into a labyrinth, the muscle memory of walking throughout the castel had vanished, and she was left a wandering mess. 

Though she had eventually heard the clashing of swords, orienting herself somewhat, as she realsied she was about to approach the training yard.

She first saw her brothers, watching the duel in awe, enough awe to capture her own attention and move her sights to said duel. 

Aemond.

He had grown into what she could only describe as a Valyrian god. With his long silver hair and sharp features, he was even more handsome than she imagined,  

and even more talented with a sword than she would have expected. 

He moved with such grace and finesse it was hard to predict his next move, nor his thinking behind them. Perhaps he was just used to ser criston having a sparring partner, but the way Aemond moved to defeat him could only be described, at least the Visenya was…hot.  His movements were a dance, as was the way his face light when we one, even more so when he saw her brothers. The smirk he wore could not be mistaken as welcoming if anything it was menacing, but also gleeful that her brothers, that lucerys the boy who took his eye, could see the man he had grown into.

she also smirked to herself, proud of him in some possessive way. Even more proud when his face went from gleeful spite to its own form of possession at the sight of her.

They had not seen each in years, ever since that fateful night of his thirteenth name day. 

And it was clear he had missed her, clear as he quickly stopped taunting her brothers with the offer to duel to move towards her, as if she was the very oxygen he needed to breathe.

And yet, she made no effort to move towards him. Despite the want and longing to see him again, the desire to be with him and now seeing him in his entirty, all she felt was hurt, abandonment and pain.

Visenya had never felt more alone than when she returned from Winterfell to Dragonstone. With only the letters form Cregan and Aegon as company. The only scrapes she would see of Aemonds life were Aegons complaints at him spending too much time with a sword or book, and when he was not with them he was with Vhagar.

Though she had had her family on dragonstone she always felt like an outsider. As if she was watching them love and be loved and she was simply an audience member, watching from the outside.

Hells her mother had treated her that way since Jace was born. 

But with Ameond he never made her feel like an outsider. And so too loose contact with the one person who made you feel truley seen, well it felt like she was dying. Drowning with no one to pull her back up to the surface.

And yet he looks at her and all of a sudden she is finally being pulled free and her life is hers again.

But she can’t help but still feel abandoned. Why did it take her coming to kings landing, for their wedding, to finally be seen once more.

“My bethrothed” He proclaimed, the smug expression once again returning to his face. “Have you come to see me defeat your brothers?” he questioned, sending Jace and Luke a taunting glare. 

Finally moving into the training yard, making sure to sway her skirts as she went, she proclaimed “I have not, bethrothed” she then smirked looking over to Jace “ i do not wish my bethrothed to be so humiliated as to befeated by his bride's baby brother” she sent him a glare. A glare she hoped was filled with  years of hurt and anger to him.

He laughed “oh Princess, i do not know if you understate me or seriously overestimate your dear brothers abilities”

she shrugged, a look of nonchalant crossing her face, “i do not care which, then again i do not care much to see the outcome of such a duel” 

She was sure she heard her brothers say something but neither her nor Aemond acknowledged it, their eyes and ears only focusing on one thing.

Eachother.

“Then why grace us with your presence if you do not wish bto be so thoroughly entertained?” he questioned, his smile remaining taunting.

“Am i not allowed to wonder where i please, in my own home?” she snapped.

“my my, back for a few hours and we are already calling it home, have you missed me so truly betrothed?” he questiond.

“what was there to miss? with no letters or name days gifts to remember you by, oh i could even argue i forgot you, especially with all the bids for my hand i have received since our bethrothal” she smirked

Aemonds eye turned visicous, his smile flattering. His eye too began to show the hurt that she hoped her eyes portrayed.

He stepped forward, his sword taken from him and placed on the rack. His full focus moved away from the tauting he thought to be fun and games, and now stood and looked almost worried, and all too serious.

“forgotten?” he whispered, “ I am truly that forgettable my dear Visneya?”  His voice was quieter, more hurt, and spoken so sofltley it was clear their conversation should be held under more private cirmunsatnces. 

“i-“ she  could not say it, not now, she frankly didn’t even want to think about it. To be so vulnerable, especially when she knew he wasn’t the same Aemond she had first been bethtothed to, that she had grown alongside. 

Luckily Jace inruptupted the two, eager to end what was begining. “Sister,” she said, grabbing her arm, “we should go to our chambers and settle in, should we not?” he spoke, his eyes begging to leave.

She turned to lopl at Luke, he looked on the verge of tears almost, worried that at any moment Aemond might snap and steal his eye in an act of revenge. 

She nodded, grabbing his arm, and sending one last look to Aemond.

Taglist (bold means could not tag)

@cathy1514 @iiamthehybrid @melllinaa @aleemendoza2425-blog @cassandra1995-blog1 @deltamoon666 @aelora-a @ryiana @isa-beenme @unique7676 @adriennepoison @idontknow12346hello @taragryenmoony @blossomedflowerofluv @violet-potter @flrboyd @theanxietyqueen17 @zillahvathek @dark-night-sky-99 @apollonshootafar @leavesmealobe

#aemond fanfiction #aemond targeryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targeryen x oc #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #ewan nation #aemond one eye #aemond x oc #aemond x original female character #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x targaryen! reader #aemond x you #hissapphireprincess

[pizzandro]

Today I was in Städel museum that exhibits this portrait painting. The day before I visited Goethehaus.

Must I worry about my attraction to this man? I told my friend I find Goethe terribly handsome. 😅

#Goethe #stadel museum #städel #he was said to have been handsome in his youth though #frankfurt #frankfort de meno #daddy issues

[permanentswaps]

Like Father Like Son Pt.2

Read the original from @exploratorytfs here.

It's been three years since that bizarre twist of fate turned my life upside down, or should I say, right side up. Looking back now, I can't help but smirk at the irony of it all. I won't tell my dad (yeah, I definitely think of him as my dad now), but the truth is, the body swap wasn't entirely an accident.

I just wanted to give him a taste of my carefree lifestyle, show him that growing up and being mature isn’t all it's cracked up to be. So, I went online and found a way for us to swap.

I never meant for it to be permanent. I mean, who would want to stay in someone else's body forever? But the moment I found myself in his shoes, staring at the world through his eyes, I knew I had hit the jackpot. His body, his life—it all felt like a perfect fit.

It had only been a day, but I didn’t want to ever leave. What was I gonna do now? I couldn't imagine going back to my old life, to the mundane routine and endless expectations. No, this was where I belonged. But how could I make it permanent without causing even more chaos?

Surprisingly, my dad seemed content in my old body, reveling in the responsibility of it all. He didn't seem eager to find a way to swap back, and I couldn't help but gloat inwardly. It was almost too easy—I had traded up in every possible way.

Every time I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, a surge of excitement coursed through me. The chiseled jawline, the toned, youthful physique, the effortless charm—it was like I had been upgraded to the deluxe model. And as much as I tried to suppress it, I couldn't help but revel in the undeniable satisfaction of it all.

So when my dad brought up the idea of making the swap permanent, I didn't hesitate. "Hell yeah, Dad," I replied with a smirk, savoring the taste of victory.

We hashed out the details over dinner, but in my mind, it was already a done deal. And just like that, the deal was sealed. Sure, there are moments when I feel a twinge of guilt for keeping my dad's body, but then I remembered how much better I look in it, and the guilt just turned to horniness. After all, who wouldn’t want to be me.

Shortly thereafter, I signed a modeling contract – of course, who wouldn’t wanna see a body like this? Every photoshoot, every runway strut, only served to reinforce my belief that I had made the right choice.

My dad was so excited for me and gave me his sports car as a present for that and my birthday. He told me to be careful with it like the responsible guy he is. I promised him I would be, but I speed down the highway blasting music. After all, a hot young jock like me has to do that! … But I'll let him think he's having a good influence on me.

Through my modeling gig, I met my boyfriend James. He embodied everything I found irresistible: tall, dark, and undeniably handsome. What intrigued me even more was that he had no clue this body wasn't originally mine. That really turned me on.

Even though I'm used to living this life by now and fully think of myself as Nathan, I still get a thrill every time he calls me by my name. Just last week, we were having a night of passionate sex. As he pressed me down onto the bed in missionary, he thrust back and forth in slow. deep strokes.

Rubbing his right thumb in circles around my left nipple, he leaned down to kiss me. I looked up at him in awe. Smirking back had me he said in a husky voice, “I love you Nathan.”

Before I knew it, I was shooting my load across his thick, muscular chest.

Mixed in with the pleasure, I had to laugh to myself. In a way, I got what I wanted. Nathan (or at least his body) definitely is living his youth now.

[mothmans-side-ho]

Armand called Lestat a clown in the most round about way

s2e3 hot wired the two passions in my brain into this info dump, however seeing as a central theme of this episode (and the season) is power, status, and their subversions, it seems relevant. for context, I have 2 degrees in theatre, specifically theatre history and how trends effect form. (I am in no way an expert though, and this is very simplified). long story short, I'm relishing in being a big ol nerd about this entire season

FINALLY, we got to see Lestat (a version of) strutting his stuff on stage in a scene with peak commedia dell'arte shenanigans. Commedia dell'arte is/was an originally Italian form of theatre which was defined by lazzi (comedic bits), improv, and stock characters. these stock characters have been around from Roman times and are still super familiar to us today - the young lovers, the pervy old rich man, the soldier with bravado, etc. It's been seen as a somewhat formulaic form of theatre which relied on quickly identifiable characters and situations so audiences can sit back and enjoy the butt jokes and servant beatings.

In the book - specifically The Vampire Lestat - our beloved Lestat RELISHES in playing a character called Lelio, one of the young lovers. It is in playing Lelio that he "found a tongue for verses and wit [he]'d never had in life" (TVL pg 31). It is in playing Lelio that Lestat first gets a taste of the person he can become, and it is in Lelio that we see the first glimpses of the Lestat which so fully seduces Louis. In short, Lestat casts himself as the suave and handsome romantic protagonist, here to sweep people off their feet. The young lovers are also notably some of the only roles portrayed without masks, to emphasize their youth and natural beauty.

SO IMAGINE MY SURPRISE WHEN LESTAT SHOWS UP IN S2E3 DRESSED LIKE THIS:

He has a half mask! He's wearing all sorts of colors! He's clearly acting as a go between between two other characters who seem to be of a higher status than him! As I said before, commedia dell'arte can be very formulaic (especially by the late 1700s when it is being codified away from being improv focused to being cemented into scripts). From all of these visual and characterization clues, Lestat is not playing Lelio the young lover, he's playing a Harlequin! And his costume seems to be heavily based off of this Harlequin (Arlecchino, Arlecino, etc.) which is literally the wikipedia image of a Harlequin.

(note, if you give a fuck, this image is depicting an Arlechino from 1671, roughly 125 years before Lestat on stage. in my mind, this accounts for the changes in silhouette, styling, why Lestat doesn't wear the mask for the entirety of the performance, etc. Also, just while we're talking about costuming, I believe the late 18th Century was still a time in which actors would have been expected to provide their own costumes, which would explain why Lestat's version is made with expensive fabrics and includes cunty little details like the bow in his hair. At the very least, I can see him making looking good a priority as the owner of the theater and as...well...Lestat.)

Okay, okay, okay. Why does this matter?

Harlequins are not characters of any social status. They're servants who are quick witted enough to get into antics but stupid enough to be commanded by animalistic instincts (lust, food, you name it). The Harlequin being beaten by their master was ENORMOUSLY funny, and is the origin of the term "slapstick comedy". They a memorable iteration of clown.

In this scene, which I'm willing to bet was inspired by (if not outright) Carlo Goldoni's A Servant of Two Masters, Lestat plays a servant who interacts with two characters. One appears to be a young woman in a breeches part - another common trope of commedia performance. The other appears to be the young male lover! We see Lestat prancing between the two, seemingly facilitating some romance plot, being paid for his compliance, and doing a good ol fashioned butt lazzi. (Could he be presenting his ass for beating? Maybe.)

So why is Lestat not the young valiant lover, but instead A LITERAL CLOWN? Three potential, not conflicting, reasons. By the time Lestat is performing (mid to late 1790s, based off Armand's earlier comment about Robespierre's 1794 execution), the Harlequin characters were the most sought after roles! At this time, we are seeing the emergence of "Celebrity Culture" where audiences sought out actors for their off-stage personalities as much as their on-stage ones. This is an extremely fitting position for Lestat to fall into. Yay a semblance of historical accuracy!

Secondly, Lestat's ENTIRE ROLE in season two is to come between this season's new pair of young(ish) lovers: Louis & Armand. Lestat's function is to repeatedly detract and distract from their relationship through Dreamstat's antics (appearing at the piano calling Louis a whore, having Louis re-kill him, etc.). Additionally, simply put, Lestat (and Sam Reid as Lestat) is a lot of fun to watch. He is absolutely a stand out (if not THE stand out) of the show! His constant ability to serve cunt is often what your eye is drawn to, he pulls focus to himself, and often undercuts the more subdued, philosophical, and morose nature of others. Both on-stage and on-screen, Lestat continuously upstages his screen partners. He does kinda function as a Harlequin. But in the end, the Harlequin's antics are also what ultimately drive the young lovers together. If not for Lestat's actions, Louis and Armand would have never met nor bonded over knowing this fucked up brat prince.

But we also have to remember! This portion of the episode is presented by Armand the mind fuckery master. It is absolutely in his best interests to paint Lestat as some sort of ridiculous, lesser being driven by animalistic nature. Especially if - by extension of the metaphor - this frames he and Louis as the virtuous and optimistic young lovers, striving to cling to each other in a world of chaos. I would be EXTREMELY interested to see if, when recollected by someone else, Lestat appears in a different role or characterized differently.

Again, given the celebrity culture of the time and Lestat being himself, it is entirely believable that he would appear in the Harlequin role (Truffaldino, if this is Goldoni's Servant). However, I think it's extremely telling that in Armand's iteration of the story Lestat is not the dignified, refined, and sympathetic young romantic. He is instead a literal fucking clown.

#amc iwtv #iwtv #memory is a monster #loustat #loumand #interview with the vampire #lestat #lestat de lioncourt #the vampire lestat #sam reid #commedia dell'arte #louis de pointe du lac #the vampire armand #armand #theatre #theatre des vampires #long post #claudia iwtv #theatre history

[room-surprise]

Hey! Fun question, how do you think an in-canon kabumisu confession would go? People keep portraying mithrun as blunt and straightforward about their relationship, but would he be scared to tell kabru in the chance that he'd say no and leave? Is the desire to just be in a relationship with kabru, or is the desire of not wanting to scare him off greater than that? I'm so starved on the lack of post-canon kabumisu content, they make me go crazy

As usual, I'll try not to go into TOO much detail because then I won't be motivated to write fic about it... and I AM planning to write a post-canon Kabumisu fic anon, so don't worry. I'll get there eventually :3

They make me go crazy too 😔

I think Mithrun's a complicated guy with complicated emotions. Even when he was "empty" in the dungeon he actually showed a lot of feelings - smug satisfaction, annoyance, anger, even a little bit of subtle happiness.

So while I DO think he will still be blunt in general, I also think it's a mistake to assume that means he doesn't feel things and won't have anxieties and insecurities just like any other person.

Mithrun used to be WILDLY insecure, and jealous, and paranoid. He just stopped caring about anything, but if, like the end of the manga suggests, he is going to try to START caring again, he will then start to have feelings, too.

I think Mithrun is intensely aware of his own "undesirability", that's one of the reasons he's BEEN so depressed. Most of his self-worth before the dungeon hinged on being "better" than his brother, and better than other people. Then he looses that (or maybe he was never actually better at all!), so what does he have left? And now his youth is gone too, he's middle-aged and lost his "best years" to depression. He's disabled, he's scarred, he's a bastard that nobody wants.

It's a pretty huge fall from "most eligible bachelor in the empire"!

So I think no, he won't just bluntly tell Kabru that he likes him. It will take Mithrun awhile to realize how he feels, and once he does, he'll be afraid to reach out, so he's going to do what I call "playing silly little elf games". He's going to try and flirt via writing letters and sending gifts, to hint that he likes Kabru.

Luckily for Mithrun, Kabru also knows how to play Silly Little Elf Games (he's an Olympic champion), so he picks up the signals and starts reciprocating, though he's also uncertain and worried that he's misunderstanding. Captain Mithrun couldn't be flirting with him, could he? But... what if he is?

(I will go into Kabru's feelings at a later date anon i promise.)

I think the thing that will ultimately push Mithrun to act is the fear that he'll miss his chance. Mithrun realizes Kabru is a limited time deal that he can only enjoy for the next 60-something years, and he wants every minute of that time for himself, no matter how much it will someday hurt to lose Kabru.

And he also knows that Kabru is very handsome and charming, and he can't expect Kabru to wait for Mithrun to get himself figured out. Someone else will swoop in and snatch that man up, so Mithrun has to hurry.

ALL OF THAT SAID... I think their confession is a lot less of a confession, and much more "we have both been picking up these signals of interest for months/years, and finally one of us pushes it a little bit further than we've ever pushed it before and we acknowledge the unspoken thing that has been growing between us."

Maybe it's a hand resting on someone's leg, or a gentle touch on the arm. Maybe it's leaning in so their shoulders touch. Maybe it's looking into each other's eyes a little bit longer than normal.

Probably it involves both of them admitting "Spending time with you makes me happier than anything else in the world. Whenever we're apart all I think about is when I'm going to see you again. I spend hours composing letters to you in my mind. I want us to spend our days together, no matter what shape that takes."

It's very vulnerable and scary for both of them, and I think they're both DEEPLY relieved after they finally get it out, and they don't get rejected. They know each other so well, and they're so good at reading people - they both thought that the other might feel the same way, but it's so scary to take that leap of faith and hope that they're right.

And just for the record, I think that Kabru worries about if Mithrun will be interested in sex or not, because sex is something that matters to Kabru, but what if Mithrun just doesn't have any desire for it?

And so before they get into a relationship Kabru has a long hard think about it, and decides that even if they never have sex, he wants to be in a romantic relationship with Mithrun anyway, because just being around him makes him feel happy, and understood, and like he isn't alone anymore. There's someone who sees him as he is, all the good and the bad, and says "I love you anyway."

And Kabru decides that he's willing to just jerk off for the rest of his life if that's the price of this relationship that he wants.

Luckily for Kabru, I think Mithrun does want to have sex with him, but I like to think that Kabru thinks through all the possibilities and decides that no matter what they end up doing together, being with Mithrun is worth it.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #kabru #mithrun #kabumisu #my stuff #kabrun #analysis #headcanon

[milliesfishes]

Pray You Catch Me

[fem reader] contains: mentions of pale skin, cheating, suggestive, innocent reader, reader cares to some level about snow. pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader summary: (au) you’ve been married to the president of Panem for awhile now, and you thought things were going well, until you find out he’s been cheating. author’s note: definitely going to make this a series, this isn’t necessarily a dark fic, but it’s not not a dark fic so keep that in mind. This is my first fic on tumblr and I’m still figuring out how to use the site in regards to fanfiction, figuring out what warnings I need to include so let me know if I missed anything :) 

It’s a strange thing to find out that someone you’re not supposed to love cheated on you.

This is a fact you found to be true one night as you wandered the halls of the mansion you inhabited with your husband, the president of Panem. The beautiful, tortured, powerful Coriolanus Snow. A match made in heaven, as your father proclaimed when he told you after your graduation from the university. Somehow, the fact that he’d let you finish school, knowing you’d only be married off afterward made it worse.

But as Coriolanus began to court you, suddenly it wasn’t a horrible idea. He was young, and very handsome, a far cry from the men some of your girlfriends had been forced to marry. Old, balding men with more money than yellowing teeth, and horribly old-fashioned demeanors. 

Coriolanus was just as wealthy, thanks to his former Gamemaker position, and the only thing paler than his perfect blond hair was his full mouth of teeth. As for his demeanor, well, he was cold, lightly controlling (typical of a man in the Capitol), but he’d charmed you right down the aisle after all so how bad was it really?

Marriage wasn’t the storybook romance you’d fantasized about in your youth, but it was fine enough, and besides, you’d left those daydreams in the past. You never wanted for anything, were at the height of society, admired and beloved by all, especially now that he was president. The two of you made a beautiful couple, and you were free to do as you pleased, your only obligations being typical marital duty when he requested so and attending the various events his presidency demanded from him on his arm, the perfect little wife.

Even though this was an arranged marriage, and you knew he didn’t love you per se, you knew he was at least fond of you. Through the little smiles he offered you when you’d say something particularly sweet or funny, and the gifts he lavished you with, and the fact that he insisted you slept in the same bed, he showed you. And little by little, you came to like him. You looked forward to eating with him every morning and evening, even came to enjoy his touch, the little ways he gave himself to you as a husband. He treated you with respect, and you gave him what he wanted. Your body, your devotion, your image. 

All in all, after almost three years of marriage, you were content.

Until one night, when you were walking down the hallway where his office was, planning on asking him when he was coming to bed. It was getting late, and you’d taken it upon yourself to make sure he got some sleep. Besides, you missed having his warm body beside yours as you fell asleep.

Bare feet padding down the hallway, clad in a silk dressing gown, you crept toward the door. He was talking to someone on the phone, and you smiled softly. That was Coriolanus, always working. Devoted to his career, his life’s work.

You pressed your ear to the door, wondering if he was wrapping up the conversation so you could walk through the door and see him. As you did, you caught the middle of a sentence.

“...told you not to call me here, dove,” he said quietly, almost urgently.

The weight of it hit you like a punch. Dove. That was his pet name for you. Your eyes widened, and your vision blurred, the room seeming to tilt. Dovedovedovedove.

Who was he talking to?

Ear pressed to the door, you tried to make out the conversation. Maybe it’d been some kind of sick Freudian slip, a mistake.

“...I know, I know,” he said in hushed tones, voice cold. “No, not tomorrow, it’s my wife and I’s anniversary. The next morning. I’ll come to you.” He paused. “Wear the black one from last time, dove. You looked so pretty for me.” The last part was said quieter than the others.

The rest of the conversation was lost to you. Your knees felt weak, and you slid down the wall, heart pounding in your ears, arms folding automatically around yourself. Dove.

Another woman.

A million thoughts raced through your mind, and you didn’t know how long you sat there, leaning against the door. For some reason, you felt like crying. Even though you weren’t supposed to love him, it still hit like a slap across the face. For a moment, you wished he would open the door and find you there, and know you’d heard enough to know what he’d done.

But he didn’t. You could hear papers shuffling around, and eventually you stood up, your thoughts still static, and ran quietly back up to your shared bedroom, suddenly not wanting him to know that you knew.

Shutting the door behind you, you scrambled to come to a conclusion. Why was he doing this? Were you not good enough? Didn’t you give him enough?

In this haze, seeing this as the only possible reason, you tore off your dressing gown, running to the closet and digging through a drawer until you found a pretty lacy little nightdress, one he’d gotten for you. In black, he said he wanted her in black.

You pulled it on, hurriedly going to the vanity and adjusting your appearance, smoothing your hair, making sure you were perfect. The black lace stood out against your porcelain skin, making your cheeks look rosy. Your hair was luscious and soft, neatly brushed out. You looked angelic, the picture of beauty.

Quickly, picked up a little bottle, spraying the perfume you knew he liked on your wrists and neck. Does he get her this scent too?

Hazily, you stepped out and went to a chair close to the bed and picked up one of your books just to give yourself some kind of distraction. Your mind raced, a thousand unhelpful thoughts piercing your soul. Maybe if I was prettier…I can be prettier…maybe if I smiled more…maybe if I’m pretty for him right now, he won’t go to her…maybe he’ll forget…

At last, Coriolanus opened the bedroom door, shutting it behind him. The white sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up, and you felt a little flutter at the sight, sitting up straight so he’d notice you…

He barely gave you a glance, going around to his side of the bed, pulling his tie off and tossing it on the chair beside his bed. He kicked his shoes off and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off, and it went the same way as the tie, as well as his pants. 

You stood up, putting your book down, and slowly got under the covers, letting the hem of your nightdress slide up your thigh. He pulled back the covers, getting in and resting his head back on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. You moved a little closer to him, one strap of your nightdress falling off your shoulder. Nothing.

Reaching over, closer to him, you ran your hand up his arm soothingly. When he’d had a tense day at work, this usually worked, but now he didn’t respond. You moved closer, running your hand up his chest. His eyes turned to you, but they were void of any emotion. Biting your lip, you tried a sweet little smile. 

Coriolanus’ hand moved to yours on his chest, and he moved it off, giving it a little pat. His hand went back to its spot on his stomach. “Not tonight, dove.” Your husband’s words were cold, final. Dove.

Another pang went through your chest, and you moved back a little, feeling like you were free falling. Hedoesntwantyou.

Your eyes filled with tears, and you bit your lip harder, not wanting to cry in front of him. You felt ridiculous, all dolled up in your little nightdress, thinking if you were prettier he would stop cheating.

Turning to the side, facing away from him, you stared at the wall, trying to pretend to be asleep. Not that he’d notice anyways.

You eventually closed your eyes, feeling like the loneliest person in the world, even though there was a man who supposedly cared about you lying there beside you. Knees tucked up toward your chest, covers around your hips, you tried to sleep, tried to act like you didn’t know what you knew. 

As you drifted off to sleep, you felt him turn over, a hand coming over your waist, pulling you closer. It took everything in you not to push it away. Why should he get to hold you? Why should he get to walk out of one woman’s arms into another’s?

The last thought you had before you fell asleep was about how warm his hand was, and how it felt wrong that it belonged to such a cold man.

Next part

#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow fanfiction #the hunger games #ballad of songbirds and snakes #president snow #tbosas #coryo x reader #president snow x reader #snow lands on top #young president snow #milliesfishes #the hunger games fanfiction #married to young president snow #Spotify #milliesfishes snow

[postersofleon]

notes: i'm publishing my other stuff from my other account :p sorry if you already saw this. I didn't want to do it but here we are. it has smut so no minors

vendetta leon is a bit frustrated with the way his life turned into. he completely falls to the deep end and turns into a sugar daddy, though leon doesn't like being one. he wants someone to date him for being him, but he feels he is out of his prime. in his opinion, he was in his prime at twenty-seven but because he spent so many years working. he feels he is done for.

he then sees you. he feels like doesn't have a proper chance with you so he begins with small things. you two aren't dating, but he attempts to talk to you. he feels like a creep talking to you, but he tries so hard to talk. even though the poor bastard is wasting his poor liver, he is always sober around you. you begin to notice how he slowly stopped smelling like alcohol, how he smiles as he speaks to you.

he had needed this. he hasn't been able to talk to someone that didn't have to do with work. his stupid sugar daddy mindset comes through and buys you small gifts. he doesn't necessarily think he is unlovable, just hard to love; leon thinks buying gifts is the only way to get love. he has a bunch of it thanks to his job wasting his time.

the gifts are small. books, earrings - anything that you mentioned you liked. he feels pathetic, but when he sees your eyes shine, he smiles back.

then, when things were getting serious: he stupidity asked if he could be your sugar daddy. you thought he was going to ask you to date him. least to say, it was uncomfortable for both of you when you said no. leon wasn't angry for you saying no. he was ashamed. of course, sugar daddies are weird even in his lifestyle. though, you said you like to date him.

when dating this vendetta leon, leon is always commenting how old he is. he doesn't like the daddy kink. he feels like a creep. he shows you pictures in his youth: "this was me." he shows an ID of him before raccoon city and him during re4. you can tell he is proud. he doesn't necessarily have a dad bod, but he didn't work out like he used to. he is a bit soft around his arms, thighs, and stomach. a small defined abs appears every once in a while. you comment how handsome he is, and he laughs, "you should've seen when i was twenty-seven."

leon needs praise. constantly praise. he needs to pick up that poor ego that died a couple of years back. you see how he slowly starts be funny, they aren't dad jokes just one punch lines. he seems more relaxed that you two are dating. even his friends are commencing how he looks a bit better.

you love his stubble, he blushes, and he is embarrassed to do that. he feels young again. he feels... happy

leon doesn't necessarily have a breeding kink, but the idea of you being pregnant makes him happy. in his mind, he needs to hurry up and make babies, but you don't want kids or can't have kids he doesn't mind it.

nsfw

at first, sex was him constantly worried of you changing your mind on him. he wanted to fuck you hard so you won't forget him. he sucks ass sex talk, so he just shuts up and continues to fuck you.

but with the constant praise you gave him, the fucking turned into love making. he is whiny and tired, he wants to make you happy, but sex is a duo. he loves how you love his softness. he has a couple of stretch marks on his arms and a bit on happy trail.

he is always cursing on how you would've loved his old body, but you praise him every single time. he feel selfish when you give him blowjobs, he is pets your face, and a bit of his sexual frustrations comes out. he moves his hips a bit and makes you choke. leon groans weakly and says a weak apology. he is happy he stopped drinking

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #vendetta leon

[blackhairedjjun]

you made my day. ✧༺♥༻✧

pairing: ot5 (individually) x gender neutral reader | genre / tropes: comfort, fluff, slice of life, meet cute, strangers to (potentially) lovers; reader is an intern in yeonjun's and a student in taehyun's | word count: 900 - 1k each | warnings: profanity, food & drinks in all except beomgyu's, getting scolded in yeonjun's, getting lost in beomgyu's

summary: you're having a bad day and things don't go as planned. but a chance encounter with a kind and handsome stranger makes things a little bit better.

author's notes: this was supposed to be posted in time for the release of the seasons of txt: youth photos, but then i got writer's block working on kai's and then i got super busy with work so i finished this only now. this is my first time making a fully ot5 work, and it was a lot of fun coming up with unique scenarios for each member. i hope you enjoy!

(all mini-fics are under the "keep reading" cut! photos are left uncropped to preserve the original uploader's watermark. photos are from bxmgyx_13 on twitter.)

1. soobin 수빈

of all the days for you to forget your umbrella, it’s on a day when it actually rains.

you stand underneath the awning of the convenience store, sighing and clutching your bag of snacks. even as you silently wish for the rain to stop so that you could walk to the subway station, head home, and enjoy your food, the downpour only grows stronger as if the universe is playing a cruel prank on you.

today is supposed to be a relaxing day. maybe the sound of the rain would be calming if you were at home munching on a bag of your favorite chips... outside, not so much.

a few minutes pass. the rain abates ever so slightly, but not enough for you to go home safely. you glance up at the sky still covered in clouds, then back at the street view in front of you, losing hope.

you don’t mean to make eye contact with the tall stranger passing in front of you.

at that moment, two thoughts cross your mind. the first: he looks like an actor, i swear i’ve seen a handsome face like that before. the second: wow, a tall man with a big umbrella, if i were more shameless i’d ask him to cover me to get to the subway station.

the universe, once again, decides to humor you.

the young man stops in his tracks, still staring. then he turns away, bowing his head a little, as if trying to make himself smaller. you watch while he stays like that for a little bit, shifting his weight from one foot to another, clearly embarrassed by your encounter.

your face grows hot with embarrassment too and you bring your free hand up to cover your eyes. what am i doing? you chide yourself. just because he has a nice big umbrella doesn’t mean it’s okay to stare!

but before you can scold yourself too much, you hear a soft voice in front of you.

“do you... want to share?”

slowly you remove your hand from your eyes. the tall man is looking at you, and though he seems shy, you see a faint smile of politeness on his face.

“yes, please!” you nearly shout. “i mean 一 i’d like that, thanks.”

he bows a little as he moved forward and tilts his umbrella towards you. “sorry for staring, you just looked really sad standing here like that一” he stops, realizing what he just said, and presses his mouth shut.

cute. 

“no, it’s okay. i’ve been wanting to go home for a while, so yeah, i was feeling pretty bummed.”

“oh... sorry about that.”

you shrug. “it is what it is,” you say as you stepped under the umbrella. when you tell him that you were headed to the nearby train station, his eyes light up; he passes it by on the way to his dorms. the setup is perfect for both of you.

the tall man, you notice, seems naturally shy; even as you walk together under the rain, he makes sure to keep a polite distance from you, even if it meant one side of him getting slightly wet. his umbrella is slightly tilted towards you to make sure that you’re well-protected, even at his expense.

“hey, you’re getting rained on 一 it’s okay, you can bring the umbrella a bit more to your side.”

“it’s fine, i’m worried about your bag.”

“oh, this?” you lift up your bag of snacks on your free side. “don’t worry, they’re just bags of snacks. the packaging will keep them from getting wet.”

“oh? what snacks did you get?”

you tell him about your bags of chips and your packs of bread that you bought and his eyes start to shine. “i was gonna have a nice day to myself, just watching movies and eating these,” you say. “i picked out some dramas to watch this morning...”

“if you want really good bread, there’s a shop that just opened a few blocks away from the subway station! they make everything fresh, and i’ve been stopping by there after my classes.”

“oh! i’ve passed by that place, but i’ve never tried...”

as the two of you continue talking 一 turns out he has a lot of anime recommendations for you to binge while eating 一 he slowly starts to open up. he still looks handsome like an actor, but he has an adorable smile and a sparkle in his eyes that make him less intimidating and more endearing. he feels like someone you could hang out with, someone you could relax and be yourself around.

it wasn’t long before the two of you finally arrive at the subway station entrance. the rain has stopped, and the young man sets his umbrella down; now that you can see his face better, you take in the shine in his eyes and the dimples on his cheeks. oh, he’s so cute.

“hey, thanks so much for walking me, uh...”

“soobin.”

“thank you, soobin.” you feel your cheeks grow warm at you mentioning his name, and he seemed to blush a little, too. “this was nice of you to do.”

“ah, it’s nothing to worry about...”

“do you want to meet up at the bread shop sometime?”

the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. oh god, what are you doing? you start to chide yourself again for asking to hang out with someone you’ve known for ten minutes. all he did was walk you home out of courtesy, and yet一

“yeah... that would be nice.”

he seems to be trying his hardest to look at you straight, but you can tell that the shy smile spreading across his face was genuine. relief washes over you and you can’t help but smile back.

the smile doesn’t leave your face as you hand your phone over to him to exchange numbers. while typing in your contact details, a thought crosses your mind: maybe the universe knows what it’s doing after all.

2. yeonjun 연준

the walk home from your internship feels like a walk of shame.

you messed up a pretty urgent task, delaying your team’s entire project, and your boss had little patience as he scolded you in front of the other interns. even as you make your way back home where you can forget and perhaps drown your sorrows in ice cream, you can still hear your boss’s voice rising and ringing in your ears, and feel the interns’ eyes on you as they watch you get a dressing-down. some looks are ones of pity, others of annoyance 一 but they sting at you all the same.

it’s hard for you to push away the memory as you trudge down the familiar route to your apartment, the sights around you barely perceptible to your troubled mind. you don’t even have the mental energy to pay attention to the pedestrians around you, walking down the same sidewalk and headed who knows where, when一

bump.

“shit!”

you feel the splash of coffee on you and see a stain of dark brown spreading across your work shirt.

“oh shit, i’m so sorry一”

a bit of spilt coffee shouldn’t mean much, but today it’s the final straw. you burst into tears, unable to stop yourself from sobbing in a crowded street of strangers. everything about this day is conspiring against you: you can’t do your job right, you embarrassed yourself in front of the rest of the intern team, and now you can’t even get home without looking like a complete idiot. you want to disappear into thin air but all you can do is cry, which just makes you feel even more ashamed... and then cry harder.

“hey, please don’t cry, i didn’t realize that it was that bad一 did you get burned? i can walk you to a clinic一”

at first you barely pay attention to the young man who spilled his coffee on you, but now it’s hard to ignore the way he looks at you with eyes wide with worry. his hands hover just inches away from your shoulders, ready to comfort but not crossing the boundary of your personal space, and despite your tears your heart softens a bit at his willingness to help.

“it’s fine,” you sniffle, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand. “i一 i didn’t get burned一”

“i’m sorry for making you cry, i wasn’t paying attention一”

you can’t help but burst into a small laugh.

now the man looks confused, tilting his head at you. “wh-what’s so funny?”

“it’s not your fault that i’m crying,” you say, the last of your tears finally falling. “just had... a bad day.” 

“oh.” 

you watch the look in his eyes shift. he was looking at you with panic and desperation, but now his gaze softens. his hands fall to his sides but he leans toward you to listen to you better.

“sorry about your day.” his voice is softer now. “and it’s alright to cry it out, it must’ve been hard for you...”

you simply nod. your gaze falls to the sidewalk and you notice the spilled cup of coffee by your feet.

“s-sorry about your coffee...”

the man stares at you and tuts, shaking his head. “you just had a bad day, and you’re worried about my coffee? it’s fine, it’s nothing compared to what you went through.”

“i guess, i just... can’t help but feel bad.” you chew on your lip. “can i buy you a new one?”

he let out a chuckle and the sound makes you feel light. “will it make you feel better if you buy me a coffee?”

perhaps it would do you good to do something right for someone today, you think. besides, he seems nice, and he does deserve a coffee for trying to soothe you.

“yeah, sure.”

“then i’ll let you if it makes your day a bit better. there’s a cafe across the street, we can just stop by there, yeah?” he shrugs off the open button-down he’s wearing over his shirt and hands it to you. “and here, wear this to cover up the stain.”

“it’s fine一”

“c’mon, you can wear it.”

 you hesitate for a moment, but the young man looks at you with such wide eyes that you can’t say no; you take the button-down and put it on over your shirt. it’s big on you, but that’s good for covering up most of the stain. and while soiled clothing may be the least of your worries, it preserves your pride just enough that you smile for the first time today.

“there, you’re smiling already. you feel better?” he says, returning the smile.

oh, he’s handsome.

your smile widens and a blush starts to creep on you. “yeah... yeah, i do. and i guess some coffee would help.”

“then we can grab some together.” he offers his arm out to you. “i’m yeonjun, by the way.”

you thread his arm around his as the two of you walk towards the cafe. it’s an oddly intimate thing to do with someone you just met, but it feels right.

“nice to meet you, yeonjun. and thank you for helping me.”

maybe today isn’t such a bad day after all.

3. beomgyu 범규

where the hell am i?

it’s the first thought that enters your mind as you step off the train, and it’s the thought that comes back to you again and again as you wander around the unfamiliar station. the whole place is unnervingly quiet; no other trains passing by, no hustle and bustle of the city, not even other passengers chatting and waiting for the next train to come. you open your phone and check your map 一 and you realize that you have gone horribly, horribly off course.

you did everything right; your friend gave you the name of the train station close to their new apartment, and you even looked it up before your trip. you know that the apartment was quite far from your place, but this is too far altogether. sighing, you open your chat with your friend and start texting them: hey i think i’m at the wrong station can you please help. you pace back and forth as you wait for a reply.

nothing.

the cell signal in the station weakens. you can’t even send your friend a follow-up text.

you almost let out a scream until you notice that another passenger has appeared on the platform: a young man bobbing his head to whatever music he’s listening to. he pays you no mind as his attention is absorbed by the earphones connected to... a cassette player?

you squint. does anyone still use cassette players in this day and age?

in between his little listening session, the young man catches at you staring at him. he tilts his head at you, pauses his player, and takes off his earphones. “what’s up?”

“uh...”

should you ask him for help? if he’s waiting for his own train, maybe he’d know the station better than you.

he follows your gaze down to the cassette player in his hand and frowns. “hey, i like vintage things, okay? my dad gave me this and it still works.”

“n-no, it’s not that...” 

your confusion and frustration must be too obvious, because the young man slips his cassette player into his bag and takes a step towards you. “uh, are you okay?”

fuck it, you can’t solve this yourself anyway.

“i think i’m lost.” you head over to him and show him your phone: the station name your friend gave you, a screenshot of the route you took. you explain to him where you’re headed, and he nods along as he listens and examines the map screenshots on your phone.

finally, he lets out a nervous chuckle. “uh, sorry. i don’t know how to get there either.”

your heart sinks.

“but i know where the helpdesk is, maybe we can ask them? let’s go there together.”

“aren’t you waiting for the next train though...?”

“it’s fine, it’s coming in around 20 minutes. let’s go, then?”

he gives you a sheepish grin, and somehow it’s the most reassuring thing you’ve seen all day.

the two of you make your way through a maze of staircases and walkways to get to the helpdesk, which the young man explains is on the far side of the station. all the while he sticks close to you, arms nearly brushing as you walk side by side, and it makes you feel anchored in an unfamiliar place.

“i’m sure your friend must be worried about you,” he says. 

“yeah, and i can’t even text them to tell them where i am.”

“we gotta make sure you get back then. don’t worry, the helpdesk staff are super nice. they’ve always helped me out here, so they’ll surely be able to help you too.”

he smiles and nods at you as he says it, and it makes you believe him. he’s kinda cute, too.

the young man is in the middle of telling you about how he’s visiting his family when you spot the HELP DESK sign in front of a modest booth. you nearly sprint to it, but your companion manages to keep up and get there first.

“excuse me, could you help my friend here? they’re supposed to get to...”

you lend your phone to him as he explains your route to the middle-aged woman behind the help desk. she lets out a laugh as she hears him out 一 it turns out that there are two stations close to each other with similar names, and your friend gave you the wrong station name. “don’t worry, it’s a common mistake,” she says. “you’re not the first person i’ve seen make it. here, i can trace your route for you...”

a few moments later you hold a paper map with a post-it explaining which lines and stations you’re supposed to take. you relax visibly as you scan the instructions, and a new wave of energy fills you to get to where you need to go.

you look up at the young man and he seems even more excited than you. he’s grinning from ear to ear and bouncing slightly on his feet. “we did it!”

“thank you so much,” you say with a bow. “couldn’t have done it without you.”

“don’t get lost again, okay?” he says with a laugh. “or else i’ll have to come pick you up or something.”

“i’ll be fine, don’t worry. what, do you want me to text you when i get there?”

you’re joking but you freeze. what on earth were you even saying?

the young man goes from excited to sheepish, though he hasn’t stopped smiling. “i mean, yeah, that’s a good idea.”

“yeah...”

you find yourself exchanging phones with him, and when you get yours back, you glance at the new contact. beomgyu. there’s a little teddy bear emoji next to his name.

“text me when you get to your friend’s place, okay?”

beomgyu’s gaze softens, and you feel yourself growing warm.

“okay.”

4. taehyun 태현

you shouldn’t have checked how much progress you’ve made.

in the middle of your study session you flip through the pages of your chemistry textbook to see how much you have left to read... and you still have three-fourths of the chapter left. after that you have two more chapters to go. you flip through your own notes and realize that, as dense as they already are, they aren’t even halfway done. then you check the time on your phone: it’s been forty-five minutes.

oh, it’s going to be a long stay at this cafe.

you can feel the worries rising in your throat, but you take a sip of coffee to try to wash them down. it doesn’t work, but you don’t have the time to self-soothe right now. you only have so much time before it gets too dark and you have to return to your dorm.

your head is spinning with chemical equations and diagrams when the empty seat across you shifts. the muffled noise is enough to make you look up, and you notice a stranger hovering near the seat. the rest of the cafe is full.

“may i sit here?” he asks.

“sure.”

you pay him no mind as he settles down, and you continue studying.

half an hour and one finished coffee later, and you still aren’t done with that first chapter. your notes started out neat but have since devolved into a half-legible mess of symbols and equations that might as well be ancient runes to you. the last ten minutes were spent scrolling on your phone because you would rather distract yourself at this point. groaning, you throw down your pen and rub your face into your hands.

i’m not understanding anything.

the soft thwack of your pen against your textbook catches the attention of your table-mate, who has finished his pastry and is sipping his drink while typing some notes on his phone. you glance up at him and see the name scrawled on his coffee cup: taehyun.

he glances at your pen, then at your textbook, then up at you. “is this for a chemistry class?”

you nod.

taehyun examines the textbook again, then your notes. “oh, i took the same class last semester. do you want help?”

you want to yell oh my god, you’re a fucking lifesaver, but instead you say, “yes, please!”

you allow taehyun to flip through your textbook, even your messy notes. his eyes widen as he takes in every detail, and when he looks up at you he gives you a tiny smile. there’s a little sparkle in his eyes that washes down just a bit of your worries.

“this is pretty good progress you’ve made. you got the fundamental parts right.”

“oh, i… did?”

and here you thought your mind was just flailing around.

“yeah. you’re doing great.”

“but i’m slow.”

“it’s better to be slow and understand everything well than to be fast but not absorb anything,” he says. “do you have an exam coming up soon?”

“uh-huh… tomorrow. and i’ve got two more chapters after this.”

“oh.” taehyun blinks and goes quiet for a few moments, pondering what to do. at last, he picks up your pen. “you could probably go faster with some help, then.”

a wide smile spreads across your face.

taehyun guides you through each lesson, pausing once in a while to check if you can follow him. you resume taking notes and they’ve gotten neater again, and all the strange symbols and diagrams and equations start to make sense. the panic in you starts to fade away little by little, and the fog in your mind from all your worrying starts to clear. with that gone, you find yourself understanding each lesson much more quickly.

“you’re good at this,” you say as taehyun finishes drawing an example chemical structure on a napkin.

“i am?” he lets out a small chuckle and you blush a little. he’s sweet. “well, i did enjoy my chemistry classes last time. but it only really counts if you got to learn something.”

“i did, i honestly did,” you say, eyes scanning your notes.

taehyun follows your line of sight and once again you see the sparkle in his eyes. “that’s good, then. and i can tell from your notes too, you already figured a lot of it out. you’ll do fine in your exam.”

“you think so?”

“yeah, really.”

“well...” he’s right, you admit. you exhale slowly and allow your shoulders to slump a little bit. “thanks.”

in the end you manage to finish just two out of three chapters before it gets dark outside, but taehyun makes a cheat sheet to help you. you watch him as he scrawls his notes on a loose sheet of paper 一 oh, he’s a lefty! you note 一 then tucks it in between the pages of your textbook. as he slides the textbook over to you, he gives you one more look with wide eyes.

“good luck tomorrow. you can do it!”

“thanks! and, uh 一 thank you. i couldn’t have done it without you.”

taehyun lets out a little chuckle. it sounds tiny, but to your ears it could fill the whole cafe. “you should let me know how it goes. i’ll be here tomorrow too, same time.”

“oh...”

there it is again, the twinkle in his eyes. you feel yourself grow warm at his words as you look at him. you still have your exam to get through, but now you have something to look forward to tomorrow.

“sure, i’ll be here,” you say. “see you.”

5. huening kai 휴닝카이

perhaps a little ice cream will put you out of your misery.

the line for the ice cream truck in the park is long, as expected on such a hot day. one part of you understands this rationally, but another part of you is antsy, an inner five-year-old grumbling and stomping their feet on the verge of a temper tantrum. sure, everyone in this line is sweating under the sun as much as you are, but your patience is wearing thin and you just want that ice cream now. 

you would have been more patient if you’re getting that ice cream with your friends as originally planned, but your plans fell apart at the last minute. one by one, they texted you their reasons why they couldn’t make it: they have to work overtime at their job, their boyfriend suddenly showed up for a surprise date, their cat got hurt and had to be taken to the vet... by the time you read the last ones, you were already waiting at the park, your carefully planned outfit wasted and slowly being stained with sweat.

if it happened to someone other than you, you would have laughed at the unfortunate string of coincidences. but instead the sheer bad luck taunts you, and now all you can do is take out your handkerchief and wipe the sweat off your forehead with a sigh.

you don’t know how long it takes 一 perhaps a few minutes, perhaps an hour 一 but you finally make it to the front of the ice cream truck. you bounce on your heels as you turn to face the ice cream man, ready for a little bit of ice-cold, sweet comfort on an otherwise terrible day...

“sorry, we just sold out.”

“WHAT?!”

the ice cream man flinches. you didn’t mean to scream so loud, but the frustration building in up in you is just too much to hold back. the people in line behind you start to disperse, a few of them stopping to stare at you. you apologize for your outburst  but slink away in defeat, head bowed from resignation and sheer tiredness.

just then you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“uh... y-you can have mine...”

you turn around and see a young man with tousled black hair holding out a popsicle still in its packaging. he smiles sheepishly as he hands it to you. “sorry, i got the last one...”

with one look at him, whatever irritation and frustration you feel melts away. you can see the sweat around his forehead and the slump in his shoulders, then your eyes fall to the gym bag hanging by his side. he must have been exerting himself under the sun, you think, and there’s no way you can take an ice cream from someone like that.

“no, i’m 一 i’m sorry for shouting like that. you can have it.”

“no, it’s okay, i promise!”

“really, you don’t have to give it to me.” you start to walk away, hoping to deter him, but he only follows. “keep it, it’s gonna melt if you don’t eat it soon.”

“take it! please?” he steps to your side and you notice how much he towers over you. his face betrays his height, however 一 he glances at you with big, pleading eyes, and your resolve softens.

“okay, okay.” you take the popsicle from him and unwrap it.

the two of you sit down on a park bench. you taste a little bit of the popsicle, now soft from the heat, and the fruity flavor instantly gives you a little burst of energy. you smile as you dig in to the rest of it, trying to savor it before it melts.

you pause for a moment to look at the young man who handed you the popsicle. he looks content as he gazes out at the park scenery, without a hint of bitterness that you took his ice cream from him. he turns to you with a smile, and you can’t help the little flutter in your heart when he does.

“that looks so good,” he says.

“it is! uh, sorry i took it from you.”

“nah, it’s okay. they ran out of my favorite flavor anyway so i’m not too sad.”

“oh.” you finish the popsicle and place the wooden stick inside the packaging. “it would’ve been nice if we both had one, though. it’s really hot today.”

“yeah, dance practice was extra brutal today under the sun...”

“dance practice? oh my god, that sounds exhausting.”

“yeah, everything hurt so much! but i finally figured out our new choreo, so it’s okay.” he glances over at you and opens his mouth to speak again, only for him to look confused and turn away. oh, he’s a shy one.

you decide to fill in the silence. “do you want to hear something funny?”

“sure!”

you tell the stranger about the slow thwarting of your plans for the day: the sudden overtime, the surprise date, the cat at the vet. your companion’s eyes widen with each new detail. when you finish he starts out a high-pitched laugh, and the sound makes you laugh too.

then he realizes he’s laughing at you and he stops. “oh一! oh, i... that’s so unlucky... and the ice cream running out too... i’m so sorry.”

you shrug. “today’s just not my day.”

“i’m glad i gave you that ice cream, then. you needed it.”

“yeah... thanks.” you glance down to fiddle with the edges of the popsicle wrapper, and you feel your lips curl upward in a smile . just then an idea enters your head, and you look up to meet your companion’s eyes.

“do you want to meet up here again next week? maybe we can get an ice cream for the both of us next time. my treat.” you tilt your head at him. “i’m y/n, by the way.”

slowly a wide smile forms on your own companion’s face, and his eyes start to twinkle with giddiness. “y/n... ah, i’m kai. and i have outdoor dance practice here every week, so i’ll see you after?”

“that would be nice, kai.”

#txt x reader #soobin x reader #yeonjun x reader #beomgyu x reader #taehyun x reader #hueningkai x reader #txt imagines #soobin imagines #yeonjun imagines #beomgyu imagines #taehyun imagines #hueningkai imagines #txt fic #soobin fic #yeonjun fic #beomgyu fic #taehyun fic #hueningkai fic #txt scenarios #txt fluff #bhj originals

[lipglossanon]

♔ 𝔒𝔫𝔢 ♔

• A Dozen Roses • Fairy Tale AU •

Warnings: MDNI, mention of a past death

Magic. 

Such a simple word conveying the complete opposite. There are many in the castle who think your mother was a forest witch; how else did she ensnare the soon to be King? Her simple upbringing and lack of dowry only meant that she must have tricked the handsome prince into a marriage bed. 

Most of these came from the wagging tongues of the spurned gentry, whose daughters weren’t even looked at twice once your mother came into the picture. Your father never speaks of her in your presence which means everything you’ve ever gleaned about her is third or fourth hand from those around you. 

As a child, you loved hearing the stories of their unexpected love. How much your father doted upon her, how she breathed new life in this cold, desolate place. After such tales, you’d seek out the favored portrait where the King is wont to linger. He never said anything, but he acknowledged your presence by stepping to the side so you could stand next to him and gaze at her likeness. 

You believe your mother to be a forest witch even though the nurse maid tries to dissuade you of the notion. It explains the strangeness you feel inside you, especially near your father. He seems to be the only one who can sense this otherness in you and yet he still keeps his silence. He’s also the only one to witness you using magic— the rejuvenation of the dead bouquet of lilies beneath the ever benign gaze on the frozen face of your mother’s portrait.

That’s the first time you see him smile in all of your eighteen summers. It changes his entire demeanor and you see the boy your mother fell in love with, the one she fled the small cottage of her family to gift him her eternal devotion. His long fingers graze the stems of the flowers before his gaze drifts, not to the portrait but to you standing to the side. 

“You’ve grown up,” he states, serious blue eyes taking in your simple gown before meeting your surprised expression. 

You nod dumbly and before you can reply a lady-in-waiting enters to guide you to your embroidery lesson. His eyes trail after you; you only notice because you catch his gaze when you turn back as you round the stone entryway. His face is serious and blank, but it still sends a slight shiver down your spine. 

After that moment, the suitors begin in earnest. There were only two a year once your monthly blood began; your father didn’t seem interested in seeking out alliances with the neighboring kingdoms so you were never pressed to choose. The gentleman who came to call on you were much too old— older than your father, even. They made you uncomfortable with their spotted hands and leering mouths. The King made sure they knew their place at his table, making sure they left never to return. 

Now, your father has put forth a creed that only a worthy man will be allowed your hand in marriage. Worthy of him. Your opinion doesn’t matter at the whims of the King. You’re just a silly girl. He’s the one who shall choose the one to be your king consort, the one who will one day take his place on the throne and rule over the Kingdom bequeathed unto him by his bloodline. 

The first Prince to make the journey for your hand in marriage is a large dark haired man. Prince Redfield, your lady-in-waiting whispers to you as you look down from your window, seeing the Prince’s entourage unloading the wagon. He stands apart from his size alone, a knight honed by battle you think to yourself. A servant enters your quarters and states that you have been summoned by the King to be introduced to this stranger. 

Meeting Prince Redfield is actually quite pleasant. He’s cordial and polite, if a little stilted in conversation. He’s as old as your father, you realize, hearing them discuss old crusades from their youth and battles fought together; it seems more of a social call than an actual interest in marrying you. The men talk long into the evening, countless cups of mead has the Prince slurring and clapping your father on the back good naturedly. 

“Aye she’s a fine lass,” he nods to you, brown eyes soft as his smile, “she reminds me of Claire.”

“How is your sister?” Your father asks, tipping more drink into Prince Redfield’s goblet. 

“She’s to be wed when I return,” he laughs happily, “a young Lord who fought bravely in our last scrimmage against the band of heretics from the mountains.”

The King nods along, “We are fortunate to live so far from such turmoil.”

“I’ll toast to that,” the Prince tips his drink to your father and downs the entire cup, “I think I shall call it a night, sir.”

“It is quite late and you leave early,” the King nods, “thank you for the visit, friend.”

“Twas no hardship,” he grins, standing up to bow; he kisses the back of your hand, “the man to wed you will be quite lucky indeed, my fair lady.”

“Thank you,” you duck your head shyly as you drop into a curtsy, “I bid thee a good night, Prince.”

When you raise your head, he’s staring at you in contemplative shock. 

“She could be her,” he whispers, eyes darting to your father, “do you—”

“I’ll walk you to your quarters.”

The King rises from his seat and grasps the Prince’s arm; his blue eyes turn to you and you press your lips together to stop any questions. 

“Goodnight, daughter.”

You curtsy once more, “Goodnight, father.”

You watch in slight confusion as the two men make their way out of the room at the same time your lady comes to guide you to your quarters. She fusses over you as your other ladies help you undress from your stifling dress and corset, helping you into bed and placing more wood on the fire to keep the chill at bay. You gaze into the hearth of the fireplace and wonder what the Prince was going to ask before your father cut him off. 

Drifting to sleep, you don’t notice the vase of roses blooming to life—unnaturally red and vibrant, their perfume strangely compelling. The next morning, you sneak from your room early, intending to see Prince Redfield off and maybe ask him what he meant the night before. However, when you enter the great hall you see your father walking from the castle entrance. 

“Prince Chris has already left,” he informs you, “he sends his regards and apologizes he did not stay to say goodbye.”

Disappointment sits in your chest, but you smile and thank him before making your way back to your room. The servants hush when you enter your quarters, quickly changing out the strange flowers on your bedside table and rushing from the room. Your lady-in-waiting waves off your questions and easily diverts your attention to your lessons.

It’s the last time you know peace and quiet. 

#a dozen roses #fairy tale au #chapter fic #dead dove do not eat #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n

[monzamash]

say yes to life — daniel ricciardo

daniel ricciardo x you (femreader) | 2.2k summary – a trip down memory lane. warnings – 18+ (sex, coarse language) prompt – 'you look good like this' from @percervall 💖 a/n – the third instalment of the #monzamashspecial and exists in the red desert universe (throwback to where this little blog began) x title inspired by the gang of youths song. masterlist

You wanted so badly to go back to the place you fell in love with him. Missing the way the campfire smoke blowing in the wind made your eyes water and the screams of elation coming from the water out in the distance. Daniel loved so freely; pottering around the campsite making sure everyone was happy, content, having the time of their lives. Especially you.

The two of you had only been seeing each other for a few months, a whirlwind romance turning all the traditional rules of dating on their head. He wanted to see you in his world, away from the lavish hotels and the fast-paced lifestyle that you both hated so much. Away from civilisation as you knew it, with him, alone in the wilderness with a case of Dry, singing around bonfires and sharing kisses hidden under the stars.

No manmade structures as far as the eye could see – just the handsome man who had picked you up and swept you off your feet to the other side of the world. Returning home.

“It’s so serene out here… Peaceful.”

Your unspoken wish was to stay out here forever with him, tasting the sea salt on his lips and feeling the sand beneath your sunburnt feet. Even though it was quintessentially Daniel, right down to the number 3 painted on the side of his buggy, it also felt like you. Like you belonged in his world, the missing part to life's puzzle.

Somehow, he had found you amongst the chaos, in the hoards of people taking everything from him. Every ounce of energy he had to give. But you never took anything. And he knew in that moment that this place would never feel the same without you in it.

You were his home.

“I knew you would love it.”

He whispered it into your windswept hair as you walked along the coast, hand in hand, watching his nieces and nephew splashing in the shallow water; zinc covering every inch of their little faces.

Daniel had promised you a night alone together before you left Perth for your road trip to Coral Bay, wording up his brother in law that the two of you would be sneaking off down the coast for some alone time.

I wanna show her everything, man; he'd confessed, feeling the pressure to make every second count, right down to the minute. You were laid-back and much to his surprise, his exact energy match but he wanted you to know him. Like, really know him. He wanted to tell you all of his silly little stories like the time he nearly cut his toe open on that rock over there, or when he swore he saw the ghost of Harold Holt out beyond the rip. He wanted to share it all with you.

And while he was worried about giving you the full Daniel Ricciardo experience, you were just basking in the chance to get to know him like this. God, it felt personal, intentional the way he pointed out little fishing spots that he and his dad would sit all day in the summer holidays, chasing the shade and shooting the shit; almost always catching nothing.

“One time I caught a crayfish but it was undersize so had to throw it back… Absolute heartbreak and I lied to everyone at school when we got back in Jan – said it was this big.”

Daniel held his arms out as wide as they would go, chest out and a smile as bright as the glowing sun above, “They all saw straight through me.”

Those small, insignificant stories he thought he was telling meant the world to you. It was a glimpse into the life of a man you were falling in love with, getting closer and closer to with each passing moment. They were off the cuff tales of his childhood, mentions of Michelle and his mum making lime cordiale icy-poles, homemade no less and each one made you smile wider. Buzzing with the thought that maybe, right now, you were making memories that you would pass down to your kids.

Someday.

“Are you ready for this?”

“Maybe we should have a safe word…”

“The same one we use when we...”

You didn’t need to stop his sentence, knowing that he knew better than to finish it with his 8-year-old nephew sitting on his lap – the smirking face showing his hand. The deadpanned look you were giving him made him laugh as he leaned down and turned on the van, shoving the gear stick into place so you didn’t plummet to your death down the cliffside.

The feeling was evergreen when you casted your mind back to that day, remembering the way Jonty jumped down from Daniel’s lap and all your travel companions waved you off, hollering I miss you already and don’t get lost as the two of you drove off into the red desert, even further from civilisation. You'd all been joined at the hip for over a week now, the idea of going it alone terrified you - until you remembered that all you needed was sitting right beside you.

Ready to show you what real adventure meant.

And boy, was it an adventure, weaving through saltbushes and spotting kangaroos from the passenger seat.

“Reckon you could fight one?” You’d ask Daniel, curious to know where the boundaries of his confidence lie, “Easy.” And part of you believed him – he could do it all, fearless as he drove up and over salt plains, making you squeal as the van hopped up a 90 degree cliff, all you could see was the clear blue sky above.

“You trust me, yeah?” He asked, looking down at your hand white knuckling his thigh, long nails digging into his bare skin. I do, you whispered with conviction because you did. Wholeheartedly, but that didn’t mean your heart wasn’t in your throat the entire time, wheels screeching as the van bumped it’s way over the ledge, revving red dirt and creating a cloud of dust.

“We’re here,” Daniel cheekily announced as the dust settled and you were met with a picturesque view of the ocean – waves crashing into the cliff side, already lulling your racing heart. It was adrenaline, pure and simple. You were dazed and confused until you felt Daniel’s hand on yours, clasping your fingers with his and asking if you were okay.

You were more than okay.

“I am… that was exhilarating.”

You were wide-eyed, stunned at how beautiful it all was; how beautiful he was. You didn’t even think twice, frantically unbuckling your belt and launching yourself over the console into Daniel’s body. He could see in your eyes how charged up you were when he grasped your face in his hands, desperate to have you close after a couple of long hours of driving. You melted into his kiss until your knee accidentally nudged the gear stick, lurching the van forward.

“Fuckin’ hell!” Daniel gasped, a loud laugh following closely behind as you held onto him for dear life. Whoops, he chuckled as he turned the van off and grabbed a handful of the flannel material hanging loosely over your shoulders, matching his. In one smooth motion, he was dragging you over the gear stick again; carefully this time and making sure you were settled in his lap before he captured your lips in a strong kiss, continuing what you started.

“What a view.”

Daniel’s compliments always made you blush, still to this day but back then they washed over you like a wave of reassurance, that he felt the same way – desperately in love. Almost. They were never obnoxious or over the top, just small little words of affirmation sealed with a kiss to some inch of your skin, noses brushing from the nearness. And now every time you felt the tip of his nose tracing down your neck, breath hot on your skin, you remember that day. Like it was yesterday. The way his hands pushed up your shirt, fingertips searing across your hips and holding you up so you could really feel him.

“Thought about this all week,” He whispered as your hand made quick work of his jeans, shimming him out of the thick denim and the boxers hugging his delicious hips. Me too, you barely hummed as you arched your back and tried to rid yourself of your own shorts, accidentally pushing back on the horn and making the two of you erupt in laughter.

Daniel wrapped one arm around your waist and leaned to look under his seat, roughly pulling a lever that sent him backwards and you forward over his shoulder, a quiet squeak slipping from your lips. He could do it all and looked even sexier doing it.

“That’s better, ey?” He asked, grinning from ear to ear as he leaned back in his seat and slid his warm hands under your shirt, squeezing your sides so that you knew he had you. Always.

“Much,” You simply sighed as your fingers danced down his own buttoned up flannel shirt. One by one, each button revealed more and more of his strong chest, mouth agape at the sight of the man you were falling for, head over heels. He did the same to yours, pushing the soft material from your shoulders and reaching behind your back, unclasping the latch on your cotton bra, the feeling of his fingertips sliding it from your warm skin sending chills down your spine.

“You look good like this.”

That was the first time he muttered those words to you but now it was something he told you every single day. They were the first words he would whisper in your ear in the morning as the dawning sun-rays stretched across your rosy cheeks and they were sometimes the last words he’d groan into your neck as he came undone above you, shortly before you fell asleep wrapped up in his arms. “You look so good.”

“Show me,” You whispered against his parted lips, “Show me how good I look.” It was a simple request, one you hoped to god he would fulfil. It was your first time having sex in the driver’s seat of a car, but not your last as it happened. Daniel was nimble, able to shimmy himself into the perfect position, teasing you with his slick tip, glazed with the promise of you wrapped around him. It turned out that he loved taking you like this; in a van, in his HiLux, on the back of a motorbike but especially in his Porsche. Seats back, windows steamy.

You were two pieces of a puzzle, cut from the same cloth and it made you emotional thinking back to the early days. The way his cologne mixed with your perfume was like an amalgamation of pure love, the scent to this day making your heart flutter. And it always transported you back to that day in the van, so many years ago now. The taste of his tongue colliding with yours as he swallowed you whispered moans, hyper aware of how pin-drop quiet your surroundings were. There was nothing but ocean and desolate land each way – solus.

“No ones here, darlin’ – we can be as loud as we want,” Daniel reassured you, circling you back and forth on his cock, filling you to the absolute limit as you held onto the steering wheel behind you, needing to grip something as he set your body alight.

“Don’t think I can be quiet when you touch me like that.”

A moan slipped from your lips as Daniel licked the pads of his fingers and found your clit. Visions of that day come swirling back every time you touched yourself, conjuring a memory of him pushing you to the edge to help you along on those lonely nights without him. The angle, the intensity, the intention to get you off as quickly as humanely possible, knowing round two would be taking place in the back of the van shortly after – desperation spurred you on.

The darkness in his eyes as he watched you squirm, rutting on his dick without a single care in the world but to make yourself feel good. That vision of you above him inspired his own high to build, the knotting in his stomach undeniable as you lurched forward and licked the soft skin below his ear, curls damp from sweat, skin salty and freckled from your day spent under the sun. It was unforgiving, the way your orgasm began to crescendo, riding it out slow.

Wanting this moment to last. Etched in your memory forever.

“I’m coming, Dan.”

You didn’t really need to say it because he knew. He knew from the way you gripped the roof of the car and controlled the way his hips moved with yours, holding your ground and keeping that toe curling pace he’d been teasing you with. He also knew from the violent blush creeping up your bare chest and the way your eyebrows stitched together in concentration. Identical to his, mouth left agape and in complete awe of how fucking unreal it all felt. Heavenly.

“I’m coming too, baby. Fuck, right there...” Daniel’s breath was jagged, curls unkempt from your fingertips doing their worst. Tangled and dark, a mess pressed between your foreheads as you leaned down and kissed him through your high, aching to have him close as you came undone, hips rolling and squeezing everything you had to give and taking back just as much. He always had a lotta love to give.

“I love you.” You whimpered in the afterglow. And it was the first time you’d ever said that to someone like him, someone you genuinely loved with your entire heart. Someone who, without a second thought, said it back; I love you more.

There were a lot of firsts on that trip to Coral Bay, ones that you cherished until this very day, standing in the spot where it all happened. 10 years of memories all rolled into a camper van and a couple of swags. Reams of sheets messy from reliving it all, indulging like you did as young twenty-something’s, now with real life responsibilities and on the precipice of your whole life changing.

“I can’t wait to bring her here.”

Daniel swept your hair behind your ear as you cuddled into his side, the same sound of the waves lapping against the cliff below like they did back then, lulling you into serenity again. He smiled and cradled your cheek with one hand, and your growing belly with the other. Enamoured beyond comprehension, speechless by how strongly he felt and content with where his future was headed. With you and the family you were starting together.

“I know she’s going to love it. Just like her mum.”

But for now, you could be those kids again. Dumb and falling in love. Sharing kisses under the starry night sky, holding each other close, reliving the good times and most importantly, saying yes to life.

Just like you did back where it all began.

a//n – it's danny ric week so it felt fitting to release this on the eve of the ausgp. thank you to mar and the anon who requested the prompts used in this fic. love ya's x masterlist | askbox

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 smut #daniel ricciardo one shot #monzamashmasterlist #the monzamash special #dr3 #f1 writing

[eluminium]

Skizz week day 2 lets GOO!!!!

I apologize for the lack of polish on these. I have seemingly caught a cold and am also in the middle of important schoolwork. But hey, it's better than nothing!

Anyway, this is kind of a sneak peek into an AU I've been working on. It doesn't have a name yet, but it sure exists! I hope I can post about it more when I have more things to work with!

Once again, thank you to @skizzlemanweek for todays prompt!

Prompt 2: Hybrid/AU

-

Impulse has lost his mind.

That's the only logical conclusion to this situation. To him sitting here on his dead best friend's bed while talking to said best friend who's apparently ascended to godhood? But he doesn't know what kind of God he is yet somehow? He also may have given Impulse some knowledge about the divine that Impulse is 75% sure he isn't supposed to know, even as his best god friend's semi-accidental oracle and/or priest. Probably. Maybe.

It's been a rough couple of hours, to say the least.

"Impulse! You're not listening to me!" A voice, Skizz's voice, echoes through his head. Impulses hands fly to his ears as he groans in pain. "Control your volume, dude! You're gonna blow out my ears!" He hisses.

"Oh...! Sorry...!" Skizz whisper-yells in response, although not without a mischievous giggle. Oh gods above, Impulse was gonna have to deal with SKIZZ. TALKING IN HIS BRAIN. UNINTERUPRABLY. FOR THE FORSEEABLE FUTURE. He shakes his head to try and get rid of that awful realization and quickly moves to change the subject before Skizz catches on.

"Alright, so. You became a God, but you don't know what of. So you appeared back here and found me. And you want me to help you figure out what you are the God of. Did I get that right?" He summarizes, looking at the faint blue outline of his best friend sitting on the same bed they spent years having pillow fights on in their youth-

Skizz sticks out his hand and does a so-and-so motion. "Well, yeah...But since I picked you as my oracle, as in my special important mortal representative guy, you're also gonna have to start my cult and get people to worship me!" He exclaims, clearly excited at the prospects. 

"Wow, we really got a Mr. Humble Guy over here," Impulse deadpans.

"HEY! You know I'm not in it for the fame, man! Even though I am really handsome and my godly muscles are huge!" Skizz huffs in mock offense. Impulse rolls his eyes in response.

But instead of another sarcastic quip, the barely visible parts of Skizz's face soften into something dangerously genuine. "I mean it, dude. Think about it. Think about how cool this is gonna be. Think about how deadly we are as a duo now that we have divine power behind us. Think about how many people we can help!"

"But we don't even know what you're the God of!" Impulse snaps with a glare. "How are we supposed to get people to join in on this when we can't gurantee anything?! And don't say 'We'll make something up', you KNOW I'm a TERRIBLE liar! I can't lead a whole freaking cult by myself! I need yo-"

His throat closes up. He can't say that. Because that would mean Skizz couldn't help him, that his best friend was...not with him in some way. That he was alone in this, for now. No, no it's too raw. He breaks eye contact as his eyes snap towards a corner of the room. He draws in a shaky breath and blinks rapidly. 

"Dipple Dop..." Skizz's tone is...sad. He reaches out towards Impulse before remembering that he can't really...touch him. Nor can he touch anything mortal, really. He needs belief for that, followers who believe in him. 

A sigh leaves him as he retracts his hand. "I know this is a lot for you. To be honest, it's a lot for me too. You're scared, and I'm scared. And you're probably thinking something like: 'This is a total disaster, we're so screwed'-"

Huh, that was...exactly what Impulse was thinking. To the word. Weird.

"-but man, dude, my homieh buddeah-"

Impulse can't help but snort at that one. The man is a god now, and yet he's still just Skizz.

"We got all the time in the world to do this. We don't have to rush this. We'll make a plan. We'll do our research! The big fancy library we used to study at had a bunch of books about the gods and stuff, remember? Maybe we can find the step-by-step guide to finding your godly trait and a "How to Cult for Dummies"! Gee, wouldn't that be convinient!"

They're both giggling now. Why? They don't fully know. Probably the absurdity of sneaking into a royal library to read the most suspicious books of all time is getting to them. But, somehow, there's a glow of warmth in Impulse's chest. A feeling he's been missing ever since Skizz unwillingly left the mortal realm for the divine.

Hope.

As the giggling dies down, a timid smile settles on Impulse's face. Gods, how does Skizz do it? How does he make Impulse believe in some new goal that fast? Well, he supposes he can blame it on magical god powers now. Hell yeah.

He takes a deep breath in, jumps off the bed, and stands up. "Alright, I'm in. What's the worst that could happen?" He says with attempted confidence. Despite Skizz certainly detecting his lingering anxiety, he jumps up (or well, floats) up in the air beside him with a barely seeable hand pumped up in the air.

"Allllright!!! Imp and Skizz are reunited and back on the case! I love it!" He cheers.

Impulse wastes no time in heading to their shared kitchen and grabbing a snack for the road. The library isn't far (perks of living in the capital) but hey, emotional rollercoasters tend to leave ya a bit tired. A snack for the road never hurt anybody!

Skizz unexpectedly chuckles. "Except that one time you decided to shove jello in your backpack," he points out.

Impulse freezes.

"...Are there more things in my head than just your voice?" He questions while slowly turning around to face Skizz. Skizz, in response, raises an eyebrow.

"Of course! I know everything going on in there! That's what happens between a God and their oracle!" He says like it's common knowledge.

"So you know all my deep dark secrets now?"

"Well, kinda!"

"Does the "kinda" include how much I missed you?"

"Awww yeah!!! I know you love me soooo muuuchhh now!"

"God damn it- I hate you. You SUCK." 

At Impulse's overly sulky tone, Skizz giggles like the sacred bastard he is. And once again, something cozy and soft glows and grows in Impulse's chest. It feels...good. Happy. Like it's right as it should be. And looking at the faded form of his best friend, he knows Skizz feels it growing too.

Maybe, even with all the responsibility and having Skizzleman but now with divine powers in his head 24/7, this won't be so bad. 

Maybe this could become something great.

#skizzleman #impulsesv #skizz week 2 #skizz week #my writing #Unnamed God Skizz Oracle Impulse AU #hermitfic #THE COLD MIGHT FUCK ME UP BUT THE GRIND NEVER ENDS PEOPLE #I WILL COMPLETE SKIZZ WEEK

[nekrosdolly]

albert whiskers (fluff)

after umbrella disposes of him, albert finds himself in a shelter for abandoned hybrids. lucky for him, he's exactly what you're looking for + extra lil bit at the end!

a/n; another option on the 100 followers special poll- i just rlly wanted to write all of these i'm sorry guys... also i do not have energy to write sex now that i'm working more sorry!!! no sex in this one

tags; @whiskers-my-beloved

the fan whirs overhead, another noise that fades into the background with pathetic barks, meows, and clucking from the other hybrids in the shelter. being older, more people passed by his kennel in favor of other, younger hybrids. he's been here for at least a few years, and the pattern is always the same. new people flood in, walk right past him, and leave with a younger, sweeter hybrid that has more energy and can give them more love.

you're just looking for a pet. someone to love and adore, but not tire you out with endless wishes to play. you've always had older animals growing up, so why would a hybrid be any different?

walking through the path between multiple cages, many younger hybrids try to garner your attention, but none of them really piques your interest. as you reach the back end, you notice that there's not as many hybrids back here, and if there are, they're older and somewhat sad. you assume they've been here for a while, which rings true based on the acceptance dates on the information plagues hanging off their cage doors. most of them don't look at you, though the occasional one raises their head in curiosity and mild hope. it really just breaks your heart.

at the last cage, you stop to read the plaque as you've done with the other older hybrids in the more dim half of the room.

"albert whiskers..? how cute," you murmur, smiling softly. you peer inside the cage to find said albert whiskers and find him sitting in the corner of his cage. he looks up at you through (what you assume to be) prescription sunglasses, his tail flicking curiously. he's handsome, his platinum blonde ears twitching as he sniffs you out from afar. his tail matches his messily slickbacked hair, his pupils widening. he wasn't expecting to see someone both young ang cute in front of his cage, not since he was thrown here. of course, he doesn't get his hopes up quite yet, but his tail and ears betray him.

"well hello there," you say, placing a hand on the cage door, "i take it you're mr. whiskers?"

he stares at you for a few moments more, wondering whether or not he should engage you. it's your subtle head tilt at the end of your question that gets him to do it.

"…yes, that would be me." he says coolly, trying to appear a bit more cold. it doesn't work all that well, and you find his voice to be nice.

"you've been here quite a while, huh?" you sit down in front of his cage, placing your hands on your knees.

"i have," he resists the urge to scoot closer, "a few years."

oh, how your heart bleeds for him.

"well, can i take you home?"

"are you not looking for a more… youthful companion?" his ear twitches with interest.

you shake your head softly.

"no, i wouldn't be able to care for a younger hybrid. i work too much for that. i was hoping to find someone older."

he's silent as he figures out your true motives, if you're really trying to get his hopes up only to leave the moment he agrees.

"if it helps," you add, "i live alone. it's just me and myself, no other animals or people, i'm pretty quiet, i won't force you to cuddle, and i'm just tired of being alone in my home."

albert nods softly, rubbing his wrist as he considers what you've said. your words are tempting, and truthfully, it sounds as though you could provide him with what he needs- stability. not to mention how cute you are. your eyes are so sweet and part of him aches to just lie down in front of you and let you pet him all over.

"… alright. i suppose that will do just fine."

and like that, you take him home. he adjusts after a few weeks of overly cautious behavior. the two of you fall into a routine- you work while he busies himself doing menial tasks around the house, and when you come home, he's there to listen. he's replaced the role of a boyfriend for you, honestly.

so when you come home from work tired, and as usual, albert greets you at the door. he moves to hug you, but you brush him off.

"hi, alby." you mutter, walking right past him in favor of your bed. he follows you with hesitance.

"dear," he says, watching you crawl into bed without so much as changing out of your work clothes.

"hm?" you don't look up from the comfort of your sheets.

he walks over to the bed and climbs in bed beside you, his ears flat against his head.

"are you upset with me?" he asks quietly, unable to help the slight desperation in his voice. he'd been missing you all day and really, all he wanted was to cuddle with you even if he won't say it outright. instead, he reaches out and places a clawed hand on your shoulder, trying his hardest to avoid kneading you should you end up kicking him out.

"no, honey. i'm just tired, alright?" you say, gently brushing his hand away. clearly, something's wrong, but he doesn't press. he just lies beside you, his tail curled anxiously on the bed.

you can feel the anxiety he exudes rolling off of him in cold waves, and despite you being tired, you roll over to face him.

"just come here…" you sigh and push the sheets off of you, patting your chest. reluctant and still somewhat hurt by your initial dismissive rejection, he scoots close and presses his face into your chest. once your hand tangles in his hair, he's purring and nuzzling closer. the softness of his hair and the fur on his ears isn't lost on you. he's so happy to be with you after a full day of being alone. he's not used to such solitude without you around. even before, when he was working at umbrella, he wasn't alone.

though he feels silly about snuggling up to you like some needy pet, he can't help it. he's become somewhat dependent on you since his arrival, though he wouldn't admit that to anyone, not even you.

the calm silence is familiar and soothing, nothing but the sound of your breathing filling the air. his tail flicks happily, his ears perked up as well.

evenings like these weren't unusual. after a few moments more of lying in bed, you finally sit up and press a kiss to his forehead.

"i missed you, kitty. sorry for being mean." you mutter, stroking his hair still as you look into his hazel eyes. his heart flutters, slitted pupils turning round within seconds.

"it's alright, dear. i only missed you is all," he takes your hand and kisses the back of it, keeping his eyes locked on yours, "it's too quiet without you somedays."

the blush that dusts your cheeks is unmistakable. his free hand creeps up your arm to cup your head and pull you in for a soft kiss, one he'd been looking forward to all day. you reciprocate it with love, his gentleness only something you can coax out of him. his lips are soft and honey-sweet, his whiskers tickling your face. you pull away giggling at the feeling.

"let's get you out of those clothes, hm?" he mutters, rolling the both of you over so he's on top. you blush more and nod softly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"it's time for me to take care of my owner. you've been so good to me." he starts kissing down your jaw, his whiskers brushing against your skin.

-

extra!

it's the weekend and you've been out for too long, something albert's grown suspicious of. you're never out this long without explanation or good reason. he waits on the couch, tail swishing with irritation. his ears twitch when he hears footsteps approach the front door, yours accompanied by a pair he's unfamiliar with.

you open the door soon enough and he doesn't bother to greet you, pissed off at you for taking so long. not to mention, that nasty smell you've brought in, it almost smells like-

"albert, i got you a friend! come here, honey!" you call, holding chris's leash loosely. you shut the door with your hip.

his ears perk up and he quickly gets out of his seat, turning around to see chris redfield standing by your side, glaring at him.

"chris!"

#bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ #albert wesker #resident evil #albert wesker x reader #resident evil fanfiction #bunny's fics ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ #hybrid au #cat hybrid #cat hybrid albert wesker #hybrid!albert wesker #albert wesker fanfic #albert wesker smut #albert whiskers

[artificial-transmutations]

Replacing Prince Alaric

This is a sequel to "Nothing but a jest" that was requested by one of the mighty subscribers of my page! If you, too, want to see your idea come to live, don't hesitate to visit my riot page!

"You can hardly be serious, your majesty!" Lord Darius Whitewell protested.

The king was looking down at him with a stern expression on his face. "I am most serious, Lord Whitewell. Even though I agree with you that prince Alaric's behavior was not tolerable, and I even agree with the punishment, the fact remains that the kingdom needs a prince."

Lord Whitewell stood in the middle of the throne room, surrounded by several ministers. He had been brought before the king for punishment, for cursing prince Alaric and turning him into a jester.

"So, for you, the situation is simple. Either you replace the prince, or you will be beheaded for bewitching royalty." The king continued.

"And if I choose to replace the prince, how would that even be possible?" Lord Whitewell asked. "I certainly possess the magic necessary to change the body and mind, but I cannot instill the intricate knowledge needed to be a fit ruler into a fool!"

"And that is why you will replace the prince yourself, Lord Whitewell. The choice is yours. Turn yourself into the prince or suffer the consequences of your actions."

Lord Whitewell looked around the room and saw all eyes on him, judging him. There was only one answer he could give.

"I accept," he said slowly.

"Then get to it immediately!" The king ordered.

"Right here and now?" Lord Whitewell said in surprise.

"What else did you think you were brought here for?" the king said angrily. "Your life depends on this, Lord Whitewell! No time like the present."

Lord Whitewell sighed. There was certainly no way out of this. He would have to pose as the prince for some time and would need to come up with a better solution later. With a bit of concentration, he summoned a ball of magic in his left palm and brought it to his heart. Immediately, the magic washed over him, starting to change him.

First, his hair turned a bright blond, similar to that of the late queen. He put his hand on his face, which was changing too. His cheekbones got more pronounced, his eyes greener. It was not perfect, but it was a close enough look to fool people who didn't look at him closely for more than a minute. His skin straightened up and cleaned, which gave him a youthful appearance and hid the scars that years of experience had left on his skin. He felt his body growing as he continued the process, becoming more fit and well-shaped. At the same time, his height decreased somewhat, until he matched the height that prince Alaric had before he became a fool.

Inside his robes, he felt his privates stir - a feeling that had become rarer with each passing year. But now the virility of youth returned to him. Prince Alaric had counted twenty summers, so the body Lord Whitewell was changing into was in his prime of masculinity. He felt his cock hardening slightly as he thought about the possibilities this body gave him in bed.

Finally, he opened his eyes again. The room around him looked the same, but he knew he looked the same as the prince.

"Your majesty, I present you prince Alaric Thornehart," he said and gave a low bow.

"Only better behaved", the king said in a satisfied voice and dismissed him with a wave of the hand.

As Lord Whitewell made his way out of the throne room, he felt strangely proud and satisfied with his new body. Initially, he didn't want to become the prince, but he had to admit it had its perks. Prince Alaric was certainly handsome and fit and being a member of royalty had certain perks as well.

The first thing he had to do now was to change his clothes. He could hardly walk around in some old man's robes. With a shrug, he did not return to his own quarters but to those of prince Alaric. For everyone who did not see the events, he *was* prince Alaric now, so why should he not use the proper wardrobe?

When he arrived at the room, he disrobed immediately and regarded himself in the big full length mirror. What a body! A nice set of muscles on his arms, his chest and his back. A well-toned abdomen. He admired the view for a while, running a hand across his body and feeling how different his touch was to that of an old man. Without further thought, his wandering hand reached his manhood, stroking it lightly. The touch alone brought a slight flush to his cheeks and he could feel himself harden under his own hand. His eyes grew dark with lust, and he began stroking himself slowly.

Suddenly, he heard a high pitched gasp. When he turned around, he saw one of the maids who had come into his room to clean up and had seen him stroke his royal meat.

Lord Thorn... no, Lord Whitewell was conflicted. His first impulse was to be ashamed, cover himself and hope that the maid hadn't seen too much. It was quickly replaced by a second impulse that his throbbing manhood seemed to dictate: Take advantage of the situation and lay the maid right here and now. To the advisors surprise and dismay however, the thought of fondling the full breasts of that women filled him only with abhor. And thus came a third impulse, the one that the newly minted prince at once acted on:

"What are you staring at?" he said in an arrogant voice. "This is not for you! But quick, go and fetch Worric the stableman, I am in need of his immediate assistance!"

With those words, he shoved the maid towards the door, closed it and turned back towards the mirror. He quickly got dressed in some loose pants and threw on an open vest. He knew the stableman was well built and handsome, and today would be his lucky day. It was weird to think of men as he used to think about women, but this new urges were just too strong to resist.

It didn't take long until there was a knock on the door. When Darius Thornehart opened the door, Worric stood there in all his glory.

He was tall, strong and well-proportioned, and had a rugged look about him, similar to that of a soldier. His muscles strained against his clothes, and stubble framed his handsome face. Apparently, he came right from his workplace, since he was covered in sweat and did not wear any shirt. Alaric felt his stiff member throb at the sight.

"You requested my presence your grace?" the stableman said politely.

"Yes, come inside," Alaric said with an easy smile. "You're looking quite... sweaty today, Worric."

"Yes, your grace. The horses need some attention. Especially the stallions when it's breeding time," he said.

The prince nodded. "Yes, it is breeding time indeed. That is why you are here. Get in and close the door!"

With that, Alaric threw his vest on the bed and pushed down his pants. He was naked, but the stableman didn't seem to mind. The young man's eyes widened at the sight of the prince's manhood, which was straining to be set free. Alaric smiled and slowly stroked himself, making sure Worric saw all of it.

The stableman quickly approached him and got down on his knees. With his head low, he began kissing Alaric's leg and worked his way up to his inner thigh. Then he grabbed the prince's cock and took it into his mouth.

Alaric smiled down at him as he felt the stableman suck on his shaft, loving how warm and wet it felt. He placed a hand on Worric's head and began to move his hips lightly. He was fully erect now and was getting impatient.

"Stand up and get naked", Alaric ordered.

As Worric stood up, Alaric grabbed his pants and threw them to the side, followed by the man's shirt, leaving him completely naked. His muscular chest and abs were gleaming with sweat, and his bulging member pointed up in the air like a mast.

"Bend over, peasant!" Alaric said as he pushed the man towards his bed. The stableman obliged immediately, leaning over the edge of the bed and sticking his ass out in front of Alaric. He quickly grabbed the stableman’s cheeks and pulled them apart to reveal his virgin hole. Alaric wasted no time and thrust himself into his target with no further warning.

Worric let out a high pitched moan as the cock of his prince filled his ass for the first time. Alaric moved his hips back and forth, enjoying how tight the stableman’s ass felt. The man's hole was so hot, he could barely think. He felt like his whole body was on fire and it was almost impossible not to let loose. He kept going, slamming himself in and out of the man's ass, who just moaned with pleasure.

Finally, he reached his peak. With a few final thrusts, he felt his orgasm coming and slammed himself deep into the man's ass, causing Worric to cum as well.

"Yes! Fill me!" he cried out.

"You filthy animal", Alaric said and gave the man's ass a playful slap. "Now go to your work and be grateful for having received my cock!"

The stableman nodded, picked up his pants and shirt and left the room. Alaric laid back on his bed and closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath. He has been mistaken: Being the prince would be most enjoyable indeed. Prince Alaric could hardly remember having been anyone else anymore.

#male transformation #old to young adult #straight to gay

[zcorners120]

Can you do mick x vet reader

yes ofc i love this trope sm sm MASTERLIST

synopsis; you fall for the one boy that was off limits.

warnings; 18+, mentions of sex

Having the famous Sebastian Vettel, formally infamous by any anti-redbull believer, it's an interesting life. Following him around the paddock and having the opportunity to meet amazing drivers and celebrities is exhilarating.

"Papa, I promise I'll be good, it's been years since I've come!" You pleaded the blonde, who looked rather unconvinced.

"I'm sceptical Y/N, I don't want to see more disgusting articles about who's house you're stumbling out of the next morning." He slyly shot at you, leaving you agape.

"I just got slut shamed by my own father. You had a hoe phase too! Or are we forgetting multi-21 flirting?" You fired back, presenting you with a quirked eyebrow from him.

In all honesty, as you grew up with the drivers, right around the age of 17-19 you were known to have flings with drivers. Not to name names but a certain Leclerc and Gasly. And right after it was leaked to the news, you got a ban from your father to go to the races.

And here you were, 2 years later, begging to go.

"Okay okay, I'll let you start coming again but only if you promise me one thing. Stay away from Mick." Said sternly, with a warning eye.

You tried to not take it as a challenge, knowing he'd be furious if you did.

"Okay, but if he tries first that's not my fault!" You shouted out in a sing song tune, skipping away.

He sighed and shook his head, hoping you wouldn't try with Mick. He mentored Mick closely and treated him as one of his own; in his eyes he was a sweet angel.

Hockenheimring; Germany

Walking up to the familiar hustle and bustle of the paddock you felt relaxed, finally home. Paparazzi and fans stunned by your sudden appearance, a frenzy of pictures as you streamed past the crowds.

Popping into different garages and greeting old friends you wound up in the Haas garage. In your mind you were looking for Kevin, hoping you could slightly bump into Mick.

When you got your ban from watching the races in person it was before Mick joined, having never actually meeting him apart from hearing him from Papa.

"KKKKK-MAG!" You announced like a sports host, seeing him jog up with his arms open for a hug.

He turned around swiftly, face lighting up to his signature smile. You considered Kevin to be like a second dad, as your dad was away quite a lot even when in the same paddock.

"Y/N!" He gasped, pulling into a small hug before you broke into your usual small talk-gossiping sessions.

"No way! Did he actually say that-" Kevin gabs, before pausing mid sentence.

You see him look confused, almost as though he was looking through you. You feel a light tap on the shoulder, breaking you out of your puzzled face. You were met with a handsome boyish face, adorned with piercing blue eyes.

"Y/N isn't it?" He spoke, a soft smile painting his face.

"Uhm yeah. You're Mick right?" You lied through your teeth, fully knowing it was him. It's not like you spent an hour googling him after your dad said not to do anything more than saying hi.

"Mhm. What you doing talking to this old dog?" He joked, lightly punching Kevin on the shoulder, who in turn did not look impressed.

"We're catching up, matter of fact, I've been told that I have a youthful soul." Kevin retorts, giving a small eye roll.

"Love to hear more of this catfight, but unfortunately have to run to the Aston garage. Bye guys!" You called out, swiftly walking out.

"Bye!" Mick loudly yelled, earning a strange look from Kevin.

"You like her already? God you're desperate."

"I only said bye." He muttered back.

AFTER THE RACE;

mickschumacher started following you.

y/nvettel started following mickschumacher.

BREAKING IN F1; Y/N VETTEL SPOTTED STUMBLING INTO TAXI OUTSIDE MICK SCHUMACHER'S HOUSE! CLICK TO SEE MORE.

Imessage:

Papa; What did I tell you?

#mick schumacher #ms47 #mick schumacher one shot #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher fluff #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher smut #f1 fandom #aston martin f1 #f1 #f1 fic #formula one #formula one smut #formula one fic #formula 1 #sebastian vettel #sv5 #sebastian vettel imagine #mick schumacher angst #mick schumacher blurb #sebastian vettel drabble #mick schumacher drabble #fluff #smut #fic #imagines #fiction #haas f1 team #haas

[flowersandbigteeth]

Your dragon boss saves you from marriage

General Plot: You're engaged to a dragon prince, but you aren't exactly thrilled. Neither is your boss.

Dragon (Calista) x female reader

Word Count: 2.5k

W: slight yandere vs. yandere vibe, sfw dragon fluff, threats of bad haircuts

“Put that down (Y/N),” your boss Calista growled in her irish accent, “you’re not even supposed to be here today, love. Fox is gonna piss ‘imself if you’re not at the hair salon.” 

You blinked up at her and froze with the reports in your hand. 

“Do I really have to go?” you groaned. 

She gave you a quick sympathetic look but schooled her face. Calista didn’t care for your fiance and her nephew Fox. His clan of dragon shifters had all but adopted you when you were a teenager and it turned out the payment for that kindness was his father expecting the two of you to be married.

You weren’t even a dragon, but Fox was a spoiled dragon prince and he got what he wanted. He wanted you to be his wife so his father put aside eons of tradition to declare you, a random human commoner, to be his fiance. 

The two of them had been picking out wedding venues and dragged you to a dozen samplings from everything from wine to cake to florists. Fox thought you were the cutest, tiniest human and wanted to do nothing more than dress you up like a cupcake and prance you all around in front of his friends, showing off his improvements. He’d gotten you braces to straighten your teeth and paid for expensive facial treatments to fix your acne.  

If it weren’t for him and his father you would have never graduated college or gotten this killer job as an accountant for Calista. You owed them everything, still…you just weren’t in love with Fox. Sure, he was handsome. He was eight feet tall with pretty red horns and golden skin, but he was a bit immature and he treated you like you were dumb as a rock, even though you’d done most of his homework for him in college. 

Calista sighed and rubbed her eyes, seeming to be working on some inner conflict. 

“I’ll escort you,” she finally said, taking the papers out of your hands and flopping them on your desk. 

Your phone rang and you groaned when you read Fox’s name on the screen. 

“H-hello?” you said into the phone. 

“(Y/N) the salon called and said you missed your appointment. Don’t tell me you forgot about our dinner tonight and went to work, silly girl?” he chuckled into the phone, “you’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached to your neck! You’ll have to go to the hair salon after the nail salon and then the stylist.” 

Of course you didn’t forget. You didn’t want to go. Fox had been going on and on about you getting a different haircut before the wedding and how cute it would make your face, but you didn’t want to cut your hair. 

You were supposed to be preparing for a royal dinner with all of his prissy dragon prince friends from across the country who had flown in for the celebration. He only wanted to show you off, you wouldn’t be expected or even allowed to speak. 

You were supposed to look cute while he talked about what a saint he was for marrying a human, even though this was all his idea in the first place. He loved to go on and on about how he and his father had rescued you from poverty, but that wasn’t entirely true. 

Calista is the one who had discovered you initially. She’d been volunteering with young women at a math bootcamp put on for underprivileged youth and you’d been the teen she’d been assigned to. She’d been impressed with your intelligence, even though you didn’t have any natural aptitude for mathematics and made it her project to give you some skills that would feed you in the future. 

She’d brought you around her office when you graduated high school to give you an internship and that’s where you’d met Fox and his father. Fox had immediately stolen you away, being your same age, insisting that the two of you attend the same college, have the same friends, and eventually date. 

Suddenly he was paying your tuition, your rent, your car note, your food, everything. You felt so indebted to his family for what they’d done for you, you didn’t feel comfortable saying no. So now, to your dismay, several years later, you’d somehow committed yourself to walking down the aisle with him. No one really even asked you. He just showed up with a ring one day and declared you were his fiance, being sure to mention how grateful you must be to be chosen as a dragon’s princess. 

“Sorry, I got caught up at work,” you said robotically, “Calista reminded me and is going to take me over.” 

“Great!” he said, “I’ll send her the picture for the hair dresser. That woman’s got a mind like a steel trap.” 

That wasn’t a sarcastic comment. Calista was the only reason the lavish dragons could stay afloat. She did financial miracles to counteract their ridiculous spending and she was a genius with corporate strategy. The whole place would fall apart without her to hold it all together with tape and glue. There was a ding and Callista’s long fingers extracted her phone from her navy blue suit pocket. Her ice blue eyes narrowed on the picture Fox had sent her. 

“Bangs?” you saw her mouth with distaste. 

“Hang up the phone,” she said suddenly. 

You glanced up at her and quickly mumbled goodbye to Fox, pressing the red button to end the call. 

“Everything okay?” you asked. 

She looked at you for a long time. Calista was beautiful, with white-blonde hair and sky blue eyes, framed with a few smile lines that hinted at her age. She was tall, like every dragon, approaching nine feet not including the shimmery blue horns emerging from her head, with a thick, curvy form. Your eyes had always lingered on her rather large bosom, to your own embarrassment. It was just hard to miss and at your height more often than not you were face to face with them.  

Her fingers drifted up to your cheek and she gave you a small smile, before taking your hand firmly in hers. Her heels clicked on the shiny marble flooring as she hurried you through the building. 

“Stay here for just a second,” she said, leading you into her corner office. 

She pushed aside a picture to reveal a safe and opened it, hurriedly pulling stacks of cash from it and shoving them in her purse. 

“I don’t think the hairdresser will cost that much,” you said, confused. 

She laughed to herself and grabbed a few other things, a pistol, some documents, and some jewelry. 

“Grab my laptop,” she said so you would be looking away when she extracted a magical sword that could pierce dragon scales and transformed it into a reasonably sized pocket knife she could stuff in her purse. 

You hurried back with the laptop confused as to why Calista was packing so much stuff just to take you to the hairdresser. When she was happy she had everything she needed she looked down at you, dragging you close to her by the waist. 

Your eyes widened, confused by the sudden contact, but your cheeks flooded with color. 

“Calista…” you started. 

“Shut up,” she said and to your utter shock pressed her lips to yours. 

You blinked for one second and then your eyes closed and you sank into her lips. She smelled like lilacs and tasted like honey and green tea. Moaning into her mouth you tipped your head to the side to grant her entrance. Her agile tongue licked yours and the cave of your mouth, tasting you. Groaning you hopped into her arms, winding your ankles around her back, hiking your skirt up and she pressed you back into the wall behind you. She pulled back. 

“I’m not letting you marry that fucking brat,” she gasped, pulling you into her lips again and speaking through frantic kisses, “but what I’m going to do…is dangerous...I might have to kill him…and my brother.” 

“I’m scared,” you gasped, sharing breaths and searching her eyes, “I don’t want to lose you.”   

This wave of passion hit you like a freight train. Suddenly every gentle moment you’d ever shared with Calista came rushing back to you. She’d always been there to hold your hand or wipe away your tears and better yet she always put you back on your feet and convinced you to keep fighting. 

You saw Fox when he made you two spend time together, but Calista is who you sought out for real companionship. You’d shared with her your secrets, your firsts. She knew everything about you. You didn’t want Fox to die, but if you had to choose…you wanted Calista more. 

Your phone rang again and Calista jerked it out of your pocket, dropping it on the floor and stomping it with her heel. Her nose brushed yours and she tipped her head forward to let your eyelashes mingle. 

“We have to go now,” she whispered and you nodded even though you were grinding your hips into her ribs. 

She kissed you again, before reluctantly pulling away and tossing you over her shoulder like you weighed nothing. You didn’t know how many times Calista had held herself back from you or even more often held herself back from decking Fox as he slobbered all over you. 

She’d found you. You belonged to her, not some spoiled prince who could barely tie his own shoes. But she was a mature dragon. It had never been in her nature to paw at you like a lovesick schoolgirl, but as she carried you to her Jag she wondered if her discretion had all been a mistake. She’d let him take things too far and now she was blood thirsty and furious. 

You were too young for her, she’d thought at first. That’s why she had waited so long. She was hundreds of years old, you weren’t even 50. She’d convinced herself the proper thing to do would be to stand by your side and protect you discreetly. She held sway with her brother because really she pulled all the strings.

Wyatt was a helpless idiot who ruled mostly on his good looks and her creativity. She could watch you, making sure that idiot Fox never really harmed you. But that had been a foolish lie she was telling herself, wasn’t it? She’d never truly intended to let him have you, had she? She’d been putting off the inevitable all along. 

To hell with that, she thought as she peeled out of the parking garage with your big, wet eyes on her. 

When you reached the mansion, where Calista, you and a few other inner circle dragons lived with Wyatt you watched her pull the pistol and oddly a pocket knife from her purse and shove them into the pocket of her suit jacket.

Then she pulled her long blonde hair into a ponytail and dragged you out of the car with her, holding you like luggage. You could have argued with her that you could walk, but the look on her face told you to keep your fucking mouth shut. You’d seen her make this expression a few times before when she marched into a boardroom and overtook a company. 

One of the guards met her at the door and she gave him a nod, saying more than you understood because he and a few other dragon guards fell in line behind her as you made your way through the mansion. 

You found Fox and his father in their study, drinking and laughing. They were immediately on alert when Calista walked in with death on her face and six dragon guards at her back. 

“What’s the meaning of this Calista?” Wyatt asked, his face full of shock, “is there an emergency?” 

“(Y/N) is mine,” she said flatly, “the kid doesn’t touch her.” 

They both spoke at once. 

“What the fuck do you mean kid?!” 

“You’re joking Calista!” 

“I’m serious as a fuckin’ heart attack, he puts his rotten hands on ‘er I’m cuttin’ ‘em off,” she said and your eyes got large sitting in her arm, “we can do this one of two ways. You can go on playing regents like good little lads and leave ‘er to me or I lob your heads off right now and then go for a pint with the boys here. No one likes you. No one wants you and I’ve only kept you around because you make good decoys. My kindness goes no further.” 

The father and son’s wide eyes glanced over Calista’s shoulder to the assembled guards who were in no uncertain terms on her side. Calista had fought for them to get health insurance and mental health days worked into their contracts. Wyatt and Fox had brushed off their concerns, saying dragons didn’t get sick or depressed, which wasn’t at all true. 

“(Y/N)!” Fox shouted looking at you and crossing the room, “don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m not gonna let her do this to you.” 

Wyatt hurriedly put his arm on his son’s shoulder to stop him and you shook your head. 

“Don’t call me that, Fox, I’m not yours,” you said from the safety of Calista’s arms, looping yours around her neck. 

His face immediately dropped at your betrayal. 

“You sneaky bitch! After everything we did for you?! You’re in on this?!” he snapped. 

You shook your head, offended. 

“I’m not in on-” 

“Shh, love,” Calista said, a creepy smile appearing on her face as she set you down and took as step forward, reaching in her pocket for her knife, “I’m gonna cut the lad’s tongue from his-”

“I think that’s quite enough,” Wyatt said, pushing himself in front of his boy, trying to save his son’s life. He knew his older sister was terrifying and wouldn’t feel bad in the least for mangling his child. She came from a different time, a time when spoiled princes got bloody lessons for pissing off the elders next in line for the throne. 

“Obviously,” Wyatt interjected, “you feel strongly about this, so we would never want to get in between you and clearly your mate.” 

“Father!” Fox cried, but Wyatt just slapped him. 

“Shut up, boy, if you want to live,” he snarled. 

Calista stopped and frowned. 

“Pity,” she said, crossing her arms and looking Fox up and down. She’d really been looking forward to paying him back for all of the kisses he’d stolen from you, every unwanted grope and touch she planned to get her revenge for. But that would have to come on a different day. Fox was young and stupid, he would give her an excuse. 

She sighed and turned her back to him, letting him know she wasn’t in the least bit afraid, picking you up. 

“Shall we go get that pint love?” she asked and you gave her a small smile, nodding. 

#monster romance #dragon oc #dragon romance #monster girlfriend #dragon girlfriend #sfw romance #fantasy romance #fantasy fluff #dragon fluff #monster fluff #yandere fluff #female yandere

[earthpleasures]

BUTTERFLY'S QUARREL WITH THE GALAXY !

Prologue | butterfly's quarrel with the galaxy

Summary: After being saved by Cedric, you two made a list of hope for you.

Warnings: swearing, suicide attempt, mention of scars.

Word Count: 1.7k

dividers by @benkeibear

Y/n once read in a holy book, though she didn't remember which one was, it said: “On the Day of Judgment, the stars will fall upon the earth.”

In her dreams, stars fell upon her, coating her in light and dusts of hope. Maybe that was why they were called mere delusions, real life was much more cruel than dreams.

Y/n've been witness of many things, endured endless torture of her so-called family to the point there were nothing but Annie left inside her brain.

Do it for your sister.

How can you be so selfish?

What about Annie's reputation?

Everything lead her to this moment, a final decision on attaining peace.

She looked down at the foothills of Hogwarts from astronomy tower, sharp rocks stared back at her. There would be no return from this fall, one slip and every agony of this unfair fate is gone. Cold air was crushing her lungs as she took deep breaths to give herself at least a sliver of courage.

No one would care even if she was gone, only upsetting thing would be absence of a slave for her sister. The role crafted for her was tiring enough not to consider any possibility of leaving someone behind.

Her hands trembled when they reached for the railings. Metal was icy as it was biting her skin. Nibbling at her lower lip, she set one of her feet on the other side of railings. Harsh wind blew her hair to her face, blocking her view partially.

Initially, she reconsidered her decision. Maybe life would give her another chance to get her mind and youth back. However her sister's words and parents’ abuse played non-stop like a record in her brain. They had no intention of setting her free.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

A soft voice interrupted her inner debate on jumping down or stepping back to safe borders of tower. Cedric Diggory's worry filled green eyes scanned where she stood. He cautiously took a step forward to prevent her from panicking.

“What does it look like, genius?” Y/n spat while her grip on railings unconsciously tightened. A part of her didn't wanna die. A part of her wanted to walk on a way flooded with happiness.

“Does it really worth, Y/n?” He was almost halfway through the distance between them. She didn't even realize him getting closer as her eyes focused on his handsome face. It was strange, golden boy of Hogwarts knowing who she was, a meek girl like her.

“Oh you have no idea how much it will worth.” She laughed in pain, something about taking a second shoot on her conclusions was quite scary and unsettling. Thinking more meant to calculating more, which would lead her to eventually regret even coming here.

“C'mon, we can talk about it. I can listen to you and your troubles.” He slowly raised his hand to hold her arm. His action triggered her ready-to-activate panic. She recoiled, her hand accidentally letting go of what she was holding onto. Horror flashed through her face. She was really going to die.

Cedric's breath choked up in his throat as he launched forward. His fingers wrapped around her wrist before she fell backwards. He pulled her as hard as he can to himself. Their bodies collided, meeting with hard floor of tower while tangled to each other.

Her chest heaved with reality of what was about to happen if Cedric wasn't fast enough. She could've been there, body thorn to pieces. At that moment it didn't matter how foreign she was to him. She buried her face to his chest as tears wet his sweater. Cedric sighed with relief after closing his eyes.

His fingers gently fidgled on her hair, waiting for girl to calm down. She was literally having a histeric episode by the way her shoulders shook and hiccups teared her throat. He first propped on his elbows to fix their position, then he completely straightened his back.

Y/n sobbed, she didn't care what Cedric thought about her crying in his arms or her clinging to a boy she barely knew by his name.

“It's okay, I am here. Just let everything bothers you out.”

That was what she needed. Just a few words of sympathy instead of being dead. Her vision was blurred with tears as she looked up to him. “I am sorry for burdening you with myself.” He smiled softly.

“Don't be sorry, be happy because you still can say these words.”

About ten minutes passed for her to completely calm down, and her mind to function without mislead of horrible thoughts. Now both of their backs were pressed against the wall beside the door. For the first time in her life, she actually looked at the stars and admired their beauty.

“Family problems?” Cedric's curious voice cut the silence engulfed roof they were sitting on. She pulled her knees against her chest and wrapped her arms around them. The obvious scars left by a sharp object immediately drew his attention to themselves. However, he managed to hold his tongue back and didn't blurt an inappropriate question.

“Is it that evident?” Her voice cracked mid-sentence while she wiped the tears off her cheeks.

“I mean, you don't seem to be type of girl that would throw herself from astronomy tower over a boy or stupid friends. It can't be because of your grades, because if I remember correctly, and I always do, you have quite good grades.”

She arched her eyebrow as he finished his last sentence. “You seem to observe me a little too much for a person who never knew me personally.” He averted his gaze back to navy blue sky.

“Well, I must admit you striked my curiosity even before this… situation.” Y/n let out a half hearted laugh. “How so?”

“Once I sat next to you in one of our classes together. I saw your drawings, and the butterfly shaped birthmark inside your wrist. I really wanted to ask about the drawings, especially the butterfly and girl ones but you seemed to be very tense. Like, one word and you were going to punch me.”

This wasn't the answer she was expecting. Any memory of Cedric Diggory sitting with her didn't even exist in her mind. Mayne her expression was the thing gave away her shock because he narrowed his eyes what seemed to be offense.

“You don't even remember, do you?” She shrugged since she had no answer that would make him happy.

His eyes stayed still on her face for a few seconds, taking deeper into her reckless expression. “How we make a deal?” Y/n stopped peeling concers of her nails and looked back at him. “What deal?” He smirked.

“Let's make a list of ten things to make you happy.”

She grimaced with idea. Her happiness lied with getting away from that nightmare like house. However it was impossible, atleast for now.

“You have to take me out of that hell of family, which is not something you're not capable of.” She murmured last part to herself. At this point, every offer seemed pointless to her.

He sat straight and gathered his legs under himself. “Don't be such a pessimistic. I am sure you have things you wanna do. For example, do you like books? Let's find the thickest book in library.”

She couldn't help but smile. “You're annoyingly optimistic. I think… it's likeable.” He clapped his hands with joy. “Then we do the list.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

He pulled a notebook and pencil from his pocket, it was small enough to find inside his palm. She narrowed her eyes to see patterns on the cover better. “Did you really bring a notebook here?” He answered while flipping the pages. “I always have a little notebook with me. Sometimes I write my random ideas or thoughts.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sounds like a hassle.” He stuck his tongue out to her to make fun of her, causing her to laugh without even noticing. “Maybe we need to get idea of being optimistic to your head first. Anyways. Start with hobbies.”

She tried to filter her hobbies from tons of things she liked to do. “I like… going out to walk in school's garden, exploring Hogwarts, stars, books, practice to smile.” He stopped writing. “Pratice to smile? Interesting hobby, butterfly.”

“Butterfly?”

“Yeah, like the birthmark on your skin. You're a caterpillar now.”

“That's rude.”

“Don't interrupt me, Y/n.”

“Sorry.”

“You're a caterpillar right now, but I will help you to tear your pod out and fly free.”

She snorted. “Are you reading too many philosophy books?” He poked her cheek with back of the pencil. “Try to think metaphorical, it really helps to be creative.”

“Okay, anyways, golden boy. I like lying down in common room of Gryffindor, and lastly, watching people and trying to guess their moods.”

He finished writing, satisfied with the result. Turning the notebook to her, he made sure her to see yellowish paper properly.

“I've made a list regarding your hobbies.”

She snitched the notebook from his hand and began to read his notes and takes on her. His thoughts about her made her smile time to time.

“So, that's the list. When are we starting?” Cedric scratched his chin. “Tomorrow. Do we really wait more than a night?”

Her thumb brushed against little poorly drawn doodles on corner of paper. “No, we don't. I hope we can complete the list.”

“See? That's an optimistic view.”

“Sure it is, though I can't battle with you.”

Cedric pressed his lips together as one more idea crossed his mind. “We should name it.” Y/n raised her eyebrow. “Is it necessary tho?” He furrowed as revised their options. “Of course it it! And I have the perfect name. Butterfly quarrel with the galaxy.”

She almost let out a histeric laugh. “What?” Cedric held her hand tightly as if he was preventing from escaping. “And butterfly is gonna win the quarrel.”

“You're really strange, Diggory. Even more than me.”

“Are you complementing me?”

“No.”

“I will take it as a compliment regardless.”

“Cheeky bastard.”

“And you already begin to like this cheeky bastard.” He smirked knowingly, making her smile to.

That night, moon witnessed a strange pair of two people come together. For better, for worse. Who knows?

@2024 earthpleasures do not repost, copy, translate, modify

#harry potter #cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory #angst #hp fandom #hp fanfic