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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 2 days

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One: “Thanks, I Hate You”

You and your arrogant PR client are bitter rivals, and there’s no length Loki won’t go to just to watch you squirm. Just when you think you’re going to get a much-needed break from the Great Redeemed Prince’s ego, you’re tapped to escort him to, of all things, a peace summit in Australia.

CONTENT WARNING: Loki's an asshole

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

MASTERLIST

“Mr. Odinson, tell me, how does it feel to be reformed for eighteen months now?”

“Mr. Laufeyson, actually, and it feels absolutely incredible, it’s as if my soul is free at last!”

“And you have no more genocidal urges or Asgardian instincts to kill?”

“Never again will I do harm to the people of this planet, who have so kindly agreed to give me a second chance after removing the influence of my--err---the scepter.”

Loki’s shit-eating grin unfolded across his face, but to the untrained eye, he looked every bit the contrite warlord who fell in love with the world he’d once targeted for conquest. He could twitch and tweak every muscle in his face into the optimal layout for ass-kissing, and the only ones who were ever wise were you and the rest of the team.

“At least he plays the part well,” you said bitterly to Tony, leaning over to mutter in his ear while watching the former ‘God’ play up the press like they were at a rock concert. Some of the reporters looked downright charmed, but you knew better. You were more interested in the snow flurries that were falling outside the window.

Tony shrugged. “Yeah, he’s okay.”

You sneered, rolling your eyes with disbelief. “Until the flash bulbs stop. Then he becomes a baboon’s taint.”

Stark muffled a snort of laughter with his fist. “Always one for eloquence. That’s why I hired you.”

“I’m also the only one around willing to wrangle that,” you paused, pointing at Loki as he folded his hands into a prayer pose, expressing gratitude for the praise he was receiving, “for your pittance of an asking price.”

“I pay you well,” Tony shot back in defense. “Loki knows how to keep up appearances--”

“--he took off his pants in the lunchroom yesterday to annoy me--”

“--most of the time.”

You folded your arms across your chest, glancing at the clock on the wall behind Loki as things in the press room wrapped up. In his very basic outfit: a dress shirt and tie, black slacks, and a tight, professional ponytail, he looked dashing enough. You’d known the truth about him for the eighteen months since you were hired to be his PR manager: Loki had all of the behavioral maturity of an eight-year-old high on pixie sticks. He loved attention, always jutting out his hips when he strutted about the complex, flipping his hair over his shoulder.

Loki loved to paint himself as the very model of a modern major comeback story. At first, it was for self-preservation. The terms of his parole as set forth by the UN were strict, and the best course of action to keep his freedom was to play by their rules. Over the next year-and-a-half, however, once it was clear that his image was evolving into that of a celebrity, Loki took the idea and ran with it, and he only used your unsavory opinion of his to fuel the fire he lit under your feet every chance he got.

It was almost as if he targeted you with most of his snarks and jests, always calling you every synonym for ‘boring’ he could muster. For a while, you could brush him off, but after the repeated comments, you began to push back…which led you to your current relationship status: tense at best, resentful and irritable more frequently.

You could not stand him! He never listened to your advice on how to conduct himself in public. One of his favorite pastimes was inviting the worst kinds of people over for sex, and then making you call them afterwards to dump them. “Loki isn’t sure he’s ready to fully commit to one person yet, but last night will always live in his memory…” It was degrading, gross, and such a slimeball move. You always sent each of his poor conquests a fruit basket the size of SoHo.

The only reason you refused to resign was that you really needed the money. Despite your repeated complaints, Tony was actually paying you very well. You could afford an apartment with a private toilet in Manhattan, anyway.

“And that’s all we have time for this afternoon, everyone,” Tony leapt onto the stage and gently nudged Loki away from the podium. “We’re all proud of Loki’s rehabilitation, as well as his decision to live among us and help the Avengers keep this world safe.”

The applause was thunderous. You bit your lower lip and got another glimpse of the snow squall outside while Loki bowed and mouthed thanks to his supporters. Every second you could successfully divert your attention away from the Asgardian was a victory. Alas, it was temporary.

As soon as he left the stage, he gave you a smarmy, evil wink. “Better than ever, wouldn’t you say?”

“Hercules couldn’t clean out all the bullshit in your stables, Loki,” you said with an exasperated sigh.

“Successfully convincing the world of your contrition is an art, you know.”

“So is painting on walls with shit, to some.”

Loki couldn’t help but snicker under his breath, You were the most feisty woman he’d ever met, aside from maybe Natasha Romanoff. “I see we’re fond of the scatalogical comebacks today. Doesn’t that mean your menses are coming on?”

You could have whirled around on your heels and punched him, but your restraint was enough to keep your professional demeanor, at least until you were out of public sight and in one of the private areas. There were still a LOT of people around and your entire job was keeping up appearances for both yourself and your charge. “I have a headache today, Loki, please shut up and let me do my job.”

“So it is your cycle!” he chortled, putting his hands on his hips. “Do you know what they say helps with menstrual cramps?”

“Don’t!” you warned between gritting teeth, giving Loki a glare of death. “I mean it!”

Loki paused, as if he was actually going to listen. Then he opened his trap, and it came out: “a good hard dicking!”

There it was. Your line. Loki had crossed it so far that he was about to meet customs on the other side.

You slapped him across his right cheek hard enough for his head to whip to the side. Of course, he was able to recover from it quickly, only to pout his lips and widen his eyes when several gasps from the reporters still in the press room silenced everything else. Loki’s snarky smile never left his face, especially as he looked back at you with a somewhat more venomous twinge.

“It’s 2024,” you scowled, “try something less sexist than blaming my period next time, assbag.”

“So violent,” he said lightly. “So attractive. No wonder you have so many dates…oh wait, that’s me!” he said mockingly, putting a hand over his heart and acting surprised. “I have all the dates, and you’re the one who resents that and takes it out on me by hitting me in front of all of my friends!”

He dropped his sarcastic smile, replacing it with narrow, threatening eyes and a thin frown. “Embarrass me like that again, woman, I dare you.”

“I only resent that you make me clean your dirty sheets afterwards, asshole,” you answered. “I don’t really care how many strains of herpes you intend to collect from the Greater New York area. You’re a pampered little twat, and I really do deserve more money for babysitting you.”

You started to leave, but you quickly thought better of it and walked back to say one more thing. “And I will gladly smack you in front of these people any day of the week! No one else is going to put you in your place!”

“And what place is that, Madam?” he asked, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow.

Nearby, a young blonde reporter who was clearly one of Loki’s fans had taken special interest, and was trying to shoot as many desperate glances at him as she could, asking for her turn in his bed with only verbal cues from across a crowded room.

“I’d say Hell, but you probably have a permanent residence there already.”

You noticed the blonde was starting to inch closer, and in her stupid, beady little eyes you saw your escape. “I think I see your Skank of the Day coming in for the steal right now.”

Loki turned to look at the blonde reporter, and he looked somewhat unimpressed. “I suppose. The only other creature in here with any sort of beauty is--”

He stopped mid-thought and decided to go back into his debonair facade, waving you away snobbishly and sticking his nose up. “You’re done for the day, I think. Now please leave me to woo this exquisite little doll who approaches…”

You did have some work you needed him for. There was a peace summit in Australia hosted by Amnesty International, and Loki was a keynote speaker, having been spared from the death penalty and turned into the Earth’s darling. He was the world’s most instantly-recognizable proof that anyone could be rehabilitated, which made him a highly desirable motivational speaker. The summit was in three days, and you needed to brief him on the PR person taking over your duties once he crossed the international dateline.

He could terrorize the Land Down Under for five days all he wanted. You were about to have your first vacation from the miserable fucker since starting your job. This was going to be your Christmas.

However, you didn’t feel like dragging him away from the little hopeful moving in on him, and instead you decided to begin packing your bag for your long-desired break from Loki.

“She what?!” you growled in anger, turning away from Stark and Banner to hide that fact that you were almost instantly upset by their news.

“Mrs. Donner resigned yesterday,” said Bruce Banner, twiddling his thumbs apprehensively, making him look like a human-sized pangolin. “She’s not taking Loki to Australia.”

“WHY NOT? She’s more qualified than I am!” you bullshitted, doing anything to try and convince these two to go after her. You knew what this meant, but you weren’t ready to accept it just yet. You were a fighter, and you sure as hell weren’t going to sacrifice your time off now.

“She’s also a Mormon. I’m surprised she put up with Loki’s harassment as long as she has,” replied Banner.

“Or maybe she enjoyed it so much she had to jet off to Planet More-Men or whatever heaven is for them,” Stark mumbled.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, brushing the air in front of you as if erasing something off of an invisible chalk board, “what does matter is who we are going to send him with. His parole terms state he cannot cross international boundaries alone.”

“C”mon, Y/N, you know where this is going!” said Tony with a wink.

“No,” you said firmly.

“It’ll be summer down there,” said Banner, “It’ll be nicer than here in New York.”

“No!” you repeated. “My vacation!”

Stark rolled his eyes. “I know, I know, that’s why I’m offering you a month’s paid sabbatical after you return.”

“No…I…what?” your fast, angry thoughts slowed on the conveyor belt as you began processing his counteroffer. “I was only scheduled for a week!”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, I’m quadrupling that right now, I’ll even get it in writing if you want. I can do that. I’m awesome like that.”

A month! A month without Loki poking fun of your ‘menses’ or humiliating you with jests and quips under his breath. A whole month of sleeping in late, dressing like a slob, and not worrying about how you or any client of yours appeared to the public. Tony Stark certainly knew how to play your game.

“You must be desperate,” you sighed, thinking about it.

“Well, if Loki can’t attend the summit, it’ll look kinda bad,” Bruce added, his low, bashful voice somewhat harder to hear than Tony’s confident tone.

“I’ll get you VIP passes to any club in the city for the whole month you’re off,” Tony added. “Four of them. And unlimited cocktail service. Live like a movie star for the next month, and all you have to do is babysit our little horndog for five days in Aussieland this week.”

“Deal,” you acquiesced at last, not missing a beat. “I’ll do it.”

“Excellent.”

All three of you turned your heads toward the intrusive new voice in the room. Loki was leaning against the doorway to the office, arms folded, a shit-eating sneer on his face. You felt your skin go hot at his sudden, unwelcome appearance.

“I was hoping that my exertions manipulating that old dowager into quitting would bear fruit, and now it seems I’m just time for my little trip with my dearest friend in the Realm!”

“Easy, Lokes,” said Stark, holding back a laugh. “Don’t push it, ok?”

You bit your lip to keep your temper. It didn’t make any difference if you kept protesting. You’d taken Stark’s carrot, and now you had five days of this jester’s extraterrestrial farts to sniff.

“Oh, I’m sure the next few days will include plenty of pushing about,” said Loki.

Tony raised an eyebrow and began following Banner as he snuck out of the room. “Be on the roof tomorrow morning. Oh, and uh, the quinjet has got some issues so it can’t go any faster than Mach 1.5 right now. Means it’ll take a little longer to get out there. Hope you two can get comfortable with one another real fast.”

“You…you set this up,” you hissed, your anger bubbling to the surface now that your employer was out of range. “I ought to ask your father to hang you.”

This only made him laugh. “He would only love the pleasure, I’m sure.”

And I would love to see your corpse swinging by the neck, you thought. “Why? Why did you do this?” you asked with frustration. “You hate me and I absolutely hate you, Loki, so why force us to be in closer proximity for longer than necessary?”

“Oh, I couldn’t stand the idea of being apart from you, sweet pea! It’s my greatest delight in life to always hover five paces behind you and piss you off. The mere idea of being so far away for so long!” Loki brought a mocking hand to his heart, expressing fake sadness in both his body and face. “My heart would only cry for you.”

“I should just make you go alone and make an ass of yourself,” you suggested. “Maybe some Australian hell-beast will swallow you whole.”

“Oh-ho! By all means,” Loki chuckled, throwing his head back. “Let me loose without supervision in a foreign country as the sole representative of the United States, the Nine Realms, and the Avengers. That will go over well for all of us.”

Your jaw hung open, no witty retorts for him, Unfortunately, he was right. Punking out would in one way or another, only serve to humiliate yourself and Stark.

“Ah, ah…” Loki tucked a finger under your chin, nudging your mouth closed by poking your chin upward, “You’ll catch flies.”

He left you there, speechless in the middle of the room, only turning back in the doorway to add: “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow, darling!”

Before going to bed that night, curled up in your sad little futon in your one-bedroom loft, you prayed to every god that wasn’t Asgardian that there would be some kind of apocalyptic blizzard that popped up out of nowhere, forcing the takeoff to be delayed. Inclement weather was probably the only acceptable excuse for Loki to be a no-show down in Sydney. WHile the city didn;t necessarily get as much snow as upstate near the lakes, it usually took a few inches to shut the whole place down. There was hope. Perhaps the weatherfolks were keeping it a surprise…

This meant, of course, that the next morning was the first perfectly sunny morning New York had seen in weeks. In a small act of rebellion against the little shit you had to babysit, you chose to take your sweet time getting in. You purposefully dragged your feet down to the subway, your suitcase dragging along like a weight tethered to your wrist. You saw an abnormally-long line outside of a coffee shop and decided to stop in for an Americano.

By the time you made it to the rooftop of Stark Tower, you were over an hour late, which was not typical for you. The jet was otherwise prepped, the diminutive young pilot tapping his feet impatiently by the nose, Stark and Loki just tossing the last of his belongings in around the side.

“Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence,” said Tony.

Loki dropped what he was doing and shuffled up to you. He gave a mock bow, taking your hand and laying a big wet kiss on the back of it. “My escort, how lovely to finally see your bright face ready for our trip!”

“Die.”

Loki pouted. “Oh, is that any way to greet your business partner? I asked for you to be at my side all week long! Don’t you think I’m owed a little more courtesy?”

“Please die.”

“That’s my girl.”

Just before you boarded, Tony gave you a wink and one last piece of advice: “Remember, when the going gets tough, lie back and think of England.”

The last thing he saw before the doors shut was your middle finger.

Once the pilot got the quinjet into the air, he announced that he’d need to take his time in order to appease whatever yet-to-be-diagnosed tech issue the plane had, and prevent something from happening.

“Ugh, so what’s our ETA, then?” Loki asked impatiently, the saccharine facade dropping the instant he was out of Stark’s view.

The pilot shrugged. “I can get us there safely in five hours, maybe.”

“FIVE HOURS?” you groaned. “This thing is--”

“--gonna disintegrate if I don’t treat it gently,” he shot back. “Relax! It’s still a hell of a lot faster than if you were flying in a Boeing, okay?”

You and Loki looked at each other with annoyance. You sighed and went to sit as far away from the cockpit as you could, taking a green-jacketed book from your shoulder bag and flipping it open a bit too dramatically.

Unfortunately, Loki didn’t seem to take the hint, sitting beside you and peeking over your shoulder.

“You kept us waiting on purpose,” he accused. “You’re a bit of a brat, you know.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. Gently shutting the book, you turned to Loki with the most serious expression you could muster without losing your professionalism.

“Look, Laufeyson, you’re the one who set this up for us. If I had to venture a guess, it’s because you’re bored and needed a new way to make me miserable. But let’s make one thing perfectly clear: I hate you. I can’t stand your smarmy face and how you get off on making me crazy! Every time you open your mouth, it makes me want to drop-kick an orphan! I’d rather have a root canal while on ecstasy every day for the rest of my life than be sitting right here next to you.”

Loki didn’t blink. “...and how does that make you feel?”

“But I’m getting my big payout when this is all over, so for FUCK’S SAKE, let’s make this easy on both of us? You don’t bother me, I won’t bother you. You can find a kangaroo’s pouch to ride around in for all I care.” You went to open your book again, but Loki laid a firm hand over top of it.

“I’m hurt. Truly.”

You snickered. “Sure.”

“You know what your problem is?” Loki leaned back, crossing his hands casually. “You’re too uptight.”

“Uptight? You call me defending myself against all of your abuse UPTIGHT?” you growled from behind your gritted teeth.

“Well, it wasn’t abuse at first,” Loki added, “I was only making jokes to say hello!”

“Bullshit,” you said angrily. “The day we met, you called me a servant and asked if I would massage your feet.”

“Well, now it’s just fun for me to watch you lose your temper,” he admitted. “The thought of being alone with you to twist and push every button you’ve got just to see how loudly you’d shout…”

“Stop it, Loki! I’d rather this plane go down right now than be alone with you. Ever!”

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nothingbutsweetwords · 1 day

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ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢᴛʜᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"...ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ɢᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇʀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ ᴍʏ ʜᴀɴᴅ, ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ."

Word count: 4,300.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

MEETING - 2. Him.

Several nights had passed since he made his way to his father's chambers, who had summoned him. He vividly remembered the journey through the corridors of the keep, walking with a stupid smile on his face. Except for his racing heart, there was no evidence of his passage through the pit, as the water had taken care to erase them.

He was heading towards his destination without any idea, eager to share his new adventure and see his father's face change when he discovered that he was not a lost cause, like his brother. He truly possessed the potential and courage to fill him with pride if only he was given the chance.

Viserys had always been more focused on his elder sister, a reality he fully understood; after all, she would eventually occupy the throne. While Alicent had been too busy all the time, immersed in concerns, striving to cover Aegon mistakes at every turn.

However, the meeting with his father was anything but expected, worse, even. His mother had beaten him to it and had let him know the situation beforehand. He received nothing but a sermon, and Viserys let him go without even a gesture of affection, with a heavy heart and his eyes glassy from holding back tears.

He did not expect to be placed at the top of the priority list, although he wanted it with all his being. It was known that, as a second son, he could not expect it, but he did not think it was too much to ask for a minimum dose of attention and affection.

It seemed to be his destiny; his expectations always soared above reality, and he knew that he had to learn to accept it, for there was no one else hurt but himself. But how would he now abandon them, if she seemed willing to answer all his pleas? Or to stop his naive imagination, if she seemed determined to shame the image he had forged of her? Or to stop being a believer, if her delicate hand continued to bless him with caresses? How would he calm the beats of his racing heart if she continued to look at him and listen to him like no one ever had? As if he were brave, important, cherished.

She approached him with the grace of someone who doesn't know that's fulfilling desires that had inhabited his mind for so many nights, preventing him from thinking of anything else. He had so longed for this. While in his fantasies it had been him who took the initiative, at this moment the detail seemed as trivial as every unaccomplished aspiration he had harbored before.

A fleeting regret overwhelmed him as he realized that his excitement had prevented him from behaving with the chivalry he longed to demonstrate. His words flowed ceaselessly, revealing everything he had always wanted to share in each previous encounter. And now, they had to part ways. What if the next day her curiosity and interest faded? What if she considered him an idiotic and insipid egomaniac who did nothing but talk about himself?

"Forgive me, niece, I must have tired your ears," he muttered, his head bowed, before rising from his seat, "and I didn't ask about your stories; you must think me rude." He avoided meeting her gaze, fearful of finding confirmation of his words. However, he heard her melodious laughter once again, an echo that ignited his hope and relieved him.

"Not at all, I would have liked to keep listening to you. Besides, I don’t have stories as brave as yours, and I wouldn't want to bore you to exhaustion" she replied.

A latent worry gnawed at him; hopefully, having worn a mask to hide his emotions and thoughts from her for so long wouldn't allow her to glimpse the authentic feelings overflowing within him.

He reached the exit and, as he grasped the knob, said sincerely, "I do not think that's possible" his gaze trying to convey the truthfulness of his words.

He opened the door and waited for her to leave. Never before had he gathered the courage to engage in direct conversation with her; he had then preferred to demonstrate his intentions through other gestures. As long as he was present in the room, he would not allow a simple guard to open her door or escort her to her chambers.

They bid farewell with the promise of meeting again the next day, and he had the sensation that the night slid by with the most exasperating slowness he had ever experienced.

Each conversation was like a new chapter, a story filled with complicity and companionship. He proposed question games, and she accepted with a sparkle in her eyes. His mind seemed insatiable for information about her, and it was no surprise; after all, each answer added brilliance to the gem he was uncovering. Enchanted by her curiosity too, he revealed parts of himself that he had never shared before.

It was something new and refreshing to have someone who seemed to share the same ambitions and with whom he could express his darkest fears and boldest dreams. Every word and shared anecdote created a bridge between their worlds, one he eagerly sought to reinforce every day.

"What would you have liked your dragon to be like?" she asked. It no longer hurt him to have these conversations, he had grown accustomed to them, as she loved them. Always telling him the stories of the ancient ones and their brave riders, showing her fondness to one in particular. And lately, he had found that they gave him more determination to one day claim his own.

"I never really imagined it" he replied. They were both sitting face to face by the window, their knees touching and their gazes contemplating the sea, with its gentle murmur in the background. "But one big enough to carry two riders would be just perfect for me." She offered him a smile, understanding the longing for a new companion to take them both to new horizons.

"Can I tell you something?" he had said after a long silence. His voice trembled slightly, his vulnerability showing.

"Of course you can" she replied, turning gently to face him.

"I..." he took a deep breath, confessed, "I lied to you the other day."

"About what?" she asked, curiosity on her face as she awaited the revelation.

"When you asked if I was scared in the pit," he said, ashamed, "the truth is, I had never felt more terrified in my entire life." He sought her eyes, prepared to face the disappointment covering her delicate face.

She settled in, resting her face on her knees and looking into his eyes with tenderness, she said, "anyone would have been, my prince." She put another small smile. "You were brave to go in, and clever to come out." A wave of calm washed over him as he listened to her. "But do not feel the need to lie" she added, gently. "We're in a safe place." He nodded, grateful for her words, feeling the weight of his confession dissipate in the light of her understanding.

They had found a shelter there in the library; her warmth and tenderness had brought those corners to life, turning them magical, where entire afternoons and evenings slipped away unhurriedly, filling the place with whispers, laughter, and secrets. Where the books, once so revered, began to be less and less present. It was just them and their hearts laid bare, open like pages waiting to be read.

"I was planning on skipping my class tomorrow" she confessed as they walked arm in arm to the door of her chamber, "I'm not as good as Helaena embroidering, and I'm tired of pricking all my fingers." He laughed, sensing her frustration. "Maybe I could sneak into the training yard… and watch you?" she suggested timidly.

"Do you think they'll let you in? It's not exactly a place for ladies" he warned.

"I'll find a way." A spontaneous smile lit up her face, pulling at her lips.

"Then you'll always be welcome, my princess" he affirmed. She kissed his cheek goodbye and entered the room without saying more. He silently thanked that she hadn't turned back before closing the door, because she would have seen his clumsy gesture. His hand, futilely, over his heart, trying to keep it from escaping his body and follow her.

He felt renewed during the training, radiating spirits never seen before, and a spark of energy burned inside him. Saturated with excitement and anxiety that prevented him from focusing on anything other than the gates of the yard, his eyes fixed on them, awaiting her arrival.

Ser Criston fell silent when his nephews took their turn practicing with the straw dummies. This routine was nothing new to him, but he had never given it much importance until he heard Aegon whisper maliciously.

"Did you know that Cole used to be Rhaenyra's protector?" His brother's words hung in the air, laden with an insinuation he couldn't quite grasp.

"So?" A pang of intrigue stirred him.

"I heard the idiot was in love with her and she rejected him" he continued amidst laughter, "I bet that's why he hates the little bastards."

A furrowed brow was his only response at the moment. Though he was still too young to fully comprehend the weight of the words, he caught their meaning. Could it be true? Aegon didn't seem like the most reliable source, but he still planted a seed of doubt in his head.

Of course, he had noticed the visible difference between the young Velaryons and their parents, but it didn't seem really rare to him. Not every child was the livid image of their parents.

He cared little for an insult directed at his nephews, who, like his elder brother, constantly sought ways to hurt him with jokes that were never funny. But this blow reached someone else. Someone he cared about.

"Do not say that" he warned, trying to quell his doubt.

The taller one looked down at him, puzzled. "Why not? It's the truth, just look at them" he insisted.

Before he could respond, the knight overseeing the training interrupted. "Princes, your turn" he announced, his hands clasped behind his back, his face stern and his authority unwavering.

"Come on, brother! The Pink Dread deserves to be ridden by a good warrior" escaped his brother's mouth, followed by his nephews' laughter. However, amidst the noise, a warm presence enveloped him, and he vowed not to let them ruin his day or steal his motivation.

She gave him a smile from across the yard before stooping to plant a kiss on Viserys's cheek, who, seated, watched everything attentively from the steps.

With determination, he took the wooden sword and, gathering all the concentration he could muster, immersed himself in the practice.

"Soften your knees" Ser Criston told him. "Keep your feet light and your hands heavy."

"This is the stuff, Lyonel" the king told the big man to his right. "Lads that learn together, train together. Knock each other down, pick each other up. They will certainly form a lifelong bond, wouldn’t you agree?" He said with a smile. Little did he know.

"That is the hope, Your Grace" the hand responded.

"Don't stand too upright, my prince, or you'll get knocked down." He adjusted his posture and continued to sword the mannequins.

The yard was filled with grunts, the sound of wood clashing against the straw created a symphony of skill, and the air was imbued with effort.

Once agitated, they turned to exchange places again, but Aegon lingered, his gaze following the sway of two servants passing through.

"Aegon" Cole scolded. He couldn't understand how his brother could have so little shame and respect.

The accused returned his attention to the training field. "I won my first bout, Ser Criston, my opponent sues for mercy" he declared with his usual lack of seriousness and a mocking smile on his face.

"Well, you’ll have a new opponent then, my lord of the straw" Criston retorted, turning to retrieve his black leather gloves and another wooden sword. "Let's see if you can touch me, you and your brother." He sighed and silently cursed his older brother, heading towards them. He didn't want to make a fool of himself in front of her, but backing down was not an option.

They began to fight simultaneously, trying to attack Criston from both sides, but he seemed undisturbed. Standing still, he effortlessly deflected every blow that came his way.

"You're gonna have to do better than that" his opponent said firmly.

He began to grow impatient, swinging the sword without any strategy, his breath ragged, showing the fatigue that already engulfed him. In the blink of an eye, both were on the ground, exhausted and defeated. He got up and leaned against the large table, trying to normalize his breathing.

"Weapons up, boys, don't give your enemies no quarter" Lord Commander Harwin Strong ordered, directing his words to the younger ones. Aegon nudged him in the shoulder, indicating that he should pay attention. "It seems the younger boys could do better with a bit of your attention, Ser Criston."

Both men exchanged challenging glances before Criston asked, "You question my method of instruction, ser?"

"Oh, I merely suggest that method be applied to all your pupils."

"Very well."

Jacaerys appeared grateful for the intervention, a smile briefly gracing his face, but it quickly faded when Criston roughly grabbed him by his metal breastplate, positioning him in front of Aegon, who watched all with amusement. He turned towards the stairs and upon seeing her face, he found concern. He tried to offer her a reassuring look, but she did not move her eyes from her twin.

"Eldest son against eldest son," declared the guard, initiating a new challenge.

"It's hardly a fair match" Lord Strong pointed out, indicating the clear disparity in strength.

"I know you've never seen true battle, ser, but when steel is drawn, a fair match isn’t something anyone should expect" he said. Once they were in position, he instructed: "Blades up. Engage."

Aegon crossed the field and violently lunged at his opponent. It only took him a moment to throw him to the ground. A laugh escaped his lips, inevitable given the clear injustice. His older brother not only towered over him and outweighed him, but he had also had more training time than Jacaerys. He called an end to the match, a mistake born of his narcissism, as Jace still held his sword. Turning his back disdainfully, Aegon was caught off guard by his nephew, who skillfully disarmed him. The elder grabbed the straw dummy and hurled it at his opponent, in a desperate attempt to stop him.

"Foul play!" shouted the commander, his voice resonating with indignation.

"I deal with him." Both men took hold of their respective fighters, pulling them apart to offer them their expert advice.

"You!" shouted Aegon, his face furious. His pride tarnished by letting his nephew outmaneuver him and embarrass him.

"Close with him" Criston said, guiding Aegon every step of the way. "Press him backwards. Stay on the attack." Jace was cornered against the wall, with no escape. "Use your feet!" A question crept into his mind as he observed everything, would his brother be capable of winning without trickery and instructions? A kick found Jace's chest, leaving him breathless on the ground. "Don't let him get up." he ordered.

His nephew fought with all his might, but it was in vain. Aegon managed to disarm him and prepared to deliver the final blow, intended solely to injure him, as the battle had already concluded when the younger was left empty-handed.

"Enough!" Harwin shouted, intervening and grabbing Aegon from behind, pushing him away.

“You dare put hands on me?" his brother roared in response, indignation palpable in every word.

"Aegon!" called Viserys, noticing his son's exaggeration.

"You forget your place, Strong. That's the prince."

"Is this what you teach, Cole? Cruelty towards the weaker opponent?" Harwin inquired as he gathered the swords to put them back in their rightful place. Jacaerys got up and went to his younger brother's side, shielding him with his back. When the Lord Commander passed by Cole, the latter threw his sword at his feet. Challenging him. Provoking him. He walked past, determined not to fall into the trap.

"Your interest in the princelings training is quite unusual, Commander" he began, his expression drawn. "Most men would only have that kind of devotion towards a cousin, or a brother..." noticing the direction the conversation was taking, he looked worriedly towards her. Lyonel Strong was trying to persuade the young princess to return inside the keep, but those pleas fell on deaf ears. "Or a son" Criston concluded.

Without warning, Harwin lunged towards Cole, knocking him down. Blows filled the air as the commander unleashed his anger on the guard beneath him, shouting thunderously, "Say it again." Blood flowed from the guard's nose, most likely broken, just like his lip, as he lay with his back against the rocks. "Say it again."

"What are you waiting for? Take her away!" the king's exasperated voice was heard, ordering the guards to intervene and search for the princess. He felt the urge to move towards her, but a circle of guards formed around him, enclosing him with his brother and nephews, ready to defend them in case Harwin Strong misdirected his wrath.

Jace recognized his twin's desperate voice, calling out for them. He took Lucerys's hand and quickly broke free from the guards, running towards her. He tried to follow, but Aegon stopped him with a hand on his chest.

By the time they managed to separate Harwin from his victim, the princess was nowhere to be found. "Say it again" he screamed once more, as the guards struggled to restrain him.

"Look at him" Aegon said, nodding towards Cole's limp body on the ground. He heard him mutter something, but couldn't discern the words, then he spat blood from his mouth, with a triumphant gesture.

In the days following the intense training, his heart beat with the hope of seeing her again, but his princess seemed to have disappeared into the shadows. Perhaps she didn't desire company, still haunted by the grotesque images that had wounded her eyes in the yard, or too saddened by the news. Harwin Strong, dismissed from the king's guard and sent back to Harrenhal, where the towers stood as silent witnesses to the tragedies that occurred there.

He had searched every room she frequented and every nook of the keep, in vain. She seemed to have vanished into thin air. He walked through the shared hallway, his eyes eagerly searching for the door that separated their worlds, hoping to see her open it and come his way.

The void left by her absence was palpable, stripping the soul of the library along with her, depriving it of all warmth and charm.

A new feeling invaded him, threatening to take root in the depths of his being. Has it all been a fleeting dream? He needed to see her face and make sure it had all been real, that she was still real and not just an echo in his memory.

He decided to seek solace in his sister, hoping her company could distract him from his unease or illuminate him with her usual riddles. The guard announced his arrival, and as he entered, found a familiar scene: his sister absorbed in her weaving, oblivious to his presence.

"Sister" he called softly.

"Brother" she responded, without taking her eyes off her work, as if the outside world were just a distant sound in her universe woven of threads and needles. "You can sit by my side" she murmured. He was accustomed to waiting for her commands; Helaena wasn't very fond of closeness. He walked the few steps that separated them, taking the seat beside her.

"Oh, sweet brother, your afflicted heart beats with sorrow" she whispered, furrowing her brow, laden with a wisdom that transcended words. She decided to set her sewing frame aside, taking his hand in her cold ones. Imaginary lines were drawn and read in his palm.

It made him uncomfortable to be so exposed, as if she could see beyond him, decipher his hidden secrets. His eyes avoided hers, filled with shyness, but his sister's gaze found him. "Do you not perceive the scent of roses in the air whispering to you?"

He tried to dissect her phrases, but it was more complicated than any philosophy book ever written. His furrowed brow showed his confusion. "The green awaits patiently for you" she concluded, refocusing on her former activity. A black spider adorned the fabric, formed by hundreds of delicate and meticulously planned threads.

He said goodbye to his sister, ready to go in search of her. Before stepping out of the room, he heard Helaena whisper a warning.

"Beware of the keeper of secrets." Still intrigued by the enigmas, he continued on his way.

Three knocks on the door, each one stirring his nervous breath and marking the beat of his racing heart. A fine mist of tension enveloped the air. His hands trembled slightly as they brushed against the wood, fearful of having made a mistake in coming here. He wondered if his visit would be well-received or if she would consider it an intrusion. Perhaps they didn't yet have such confidence in each other. These thoughts tormented him, suffocating his lungs. He decided it was best to let it be and wait for her to be ready to come out on her own. He would wait without haste, without hurry. He was about to turn around when he heard her low and soft voice resonating from the other side of the door.

"Who is it?" she inquired cautiously.

He hesitated for a moment, still with time to turn back, but before doing so, he replied firmly, "It's Aemond, my princess."

There was a brief moment of silence before the sound of the latch yielding and the door opening, revealing her before him. For the first time, he saw her wild hair loose, falling in beautiful curls around her shoulders, framing her tired face. It was usually up in braids. Her eyes were swollen, with bags under them, and her light blue dress slightly wrinkled, as if she had been in bed all day.

"Come in" she ordered softly, moving aside and gesturing for him to enter the room.

He thought it was exactly as he had imagined. Her distinctive and sweet scent filled the air. Shelves filled with books, her messy bed, hair brushes on her dresser, along with other items he couldn't identify... It was like entering a sacred sanctuary, where each object told him more about her. He turned his gaze back to her when he heard her speak.

"I missed you" she said, her voice barely a whisper, loneliness evident in her tone. She walked to her bed, not waiting for his response. She carefully smoothed out the sheets, apologizing for the mess, and sat down, patting the empty space beside her.

He still didn't know if it was appropriate to enter a princess's chamber, let alone sit on her bed. But she was inviting him, and he couldn't resist. He approached, his gaze fixed on her, moving his norms aside.

"I missed you too, my princess" he confessed, tenderly. She rested her head on his shoulder, taking his hands in hers.

"It's just us here, Aemond, you may call me by my name" she whispered.

Her name rolled off his lips like the sweetest secret he had ever kept. "Why are you sad?" he asked, concerned by what her eyes conveyed.

She hesitated, as if debating in her head what to say and how to say it. "I'm not sure I can tell you all my reasons" she admitted with sorrow. A small pang of disappointment inside him, but he knew that even in trust, secrets would exist. "I lost my protector, Aemond. He took my strength with him" she confessed.

Understanding fell on him. He wanted to offer empathetic words, but he didn't know which ones would alleviate her pain.

Why was she grieving that farewell so much? As if he were a father... or maybe just a very good guard. He wanted to believe the latter, but the words he heard in the courtyard echoed in his head, making everything increasingly clear.

There was nothing more to say; he didn't want to torment her further by asking questions.

"My mother wants us to go to Dragonstone" she declared.

He spun around quickly to look at her, surprised by the news, causing her to give a small jump at the sudden movement. How could he be so unlucky? He had found the companion of his dreams, only a few moons had passed, and now he had to let her go?

"What? Why?" he asked, unable to hide his dismay, a knot threatening to form in his throat.

"I do not know" she murmured, shrugging with sadness, and the tears that he suspected had been accompanying her these days returned, filling her eyes.

"When?"

"In a fortnight, perhaps, when everything is arranged."

"You cannot leave" he protested, his voice trembling with emotion. "You cannot leave me. You’re my only friend."

"I do not want to go, but it's not my decision" she replied with the same helplessness as him.

"Please, ask your mother to let you stay," he said urgently, determination in his eyes, "I’m going to take care of you. I really am."

"You're just a boy" she denied.

"I'll be two and ten soon" he reminded her, taking her hands again in his, searching her gaze.

"I'll train harder, I swear" he pleaded, not knowing what else to say. "I won't let anyone ever hurt you." His lips began to tremble, and tears fell from her green eyes, sliding down through flushed cheeks. He felt a deep pain in his chest at seeing her like this, and he didn't want to make this any harder for her, but he wasn't ready to lose her.

"Please" he whispered, begging.

"I'll talk to my mother, but I cannot make you any promises" she warned.

It was enough for him for now. He clung to that small hope, determined to fight alongside her and for her through whatever challenges fate had in store for them.

“Would you stay with me tonight?”

@callsignwidow @helaenaluvr @purplegardenwhispers ♥︎

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon #house targaryen #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen fluff

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thekeeperof-thefandoms · 11 hours

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Headcanons of Lucifer watching his s/o and Charlie getting along and maybe even having a little musical note together I just know he'd be getting all teary eyed and shit seeing his baby girl having some form of mother figure or someone she can really look to for advice currently present in her life ❤️ Thanks sm hope u have a good day/night!

Absolutely!

I think at first the relationship between Charlie and anyone her dad dates is awkward because she's so nice and trying to be supportive and Lucifer's new s/o would be trying too hard to create that bond. But steadily, you two would find real things you have in common and begin spending time together.

I'm going to use myself for reference here, but I personally really like arts and crafts kind of stuff and am willing to listen to pretty much all genres of music as long as I like the beat/rhythm. So I imagine most of your bonding is done making posters for the hotel, doing crafts with the guests, and just in general vibing to music together.

Like, one suggested activity for the group is coloring because it's a good outlet and it becomes so popular you guys just have a permanent stack of coloring pages and books available with marker, pens, colored pencils, and you, Charlie, Lucifer, and Vaggie are all just coloring and talking, Lucifer's telling embarrassing stories about baby Charlie for you and Vaggie, and you share a few embarrassing stories of yourself to make Charlie feel better and the absolute relief on her face is palpable.

Charlie is nervous because some sinners critiqued her hotel, her appearance, how her dad had to bail her out in the fight against heaven and it's all just making her upset. And of course her dad and her girlfriend are gonna say stuff about how she's beautiful, the hotel is a wonderful idea, and she was so brave in that fight. And like, yeah you're dating her dad and you've been super nice so far, but when you sit down next to her and ask quietly, "Can I offer you some advice?"

"Please? I feel like I don't know what I'm doing."

You laugh, patting her shoulder. "You're young, Charlie, you're not supposed to have it all figured out. But one thing you can do, is decide not to let judgemental pricks get to you. Take every criticism with a grain of salt. Improve, adapt, and filter out bullshit. You can't make everyone happy, and you'll exhaust yourself if you try. So as long as you're happy and at the end of the day you can say you're proud of what you've done, that you tried....well, that should be enough, right?"

Charlie thinks about it and nods. There's a visible shift in her attitude. "Thanks, I needed to hear that....Do you think you could help me read through some of the reviews and stuff? I want to improve if there's any genuine issue that I can address and Dad and Vaggie are....a lot. They just keep trying to tell me everything is perfect."

"They're just trying to hype you up. They love you a lot, so naturally they want you to feel successful and excited. Come on, let's go make some big bowls of ice cream and read through those reviews using silly AI voices. It'll be hilarious."

You and Charlie head off to do just that, talkin and laughing, and neither one of you notices Lucifer absolutely melting into the floor from a few floors up, as he clings to the railing he was leaning against to ease drop. He's gonna need a few minutes to recover. He's crying happy tears. His little girl is grown up and getting along with his partner and they're spending time together and enjoying things together. You're giving her advice and offering her comfort and meeting Charlienat her level and he's just more convinced you're perfect.

He may or may not be ring shopping in the near future. Probably with Ozzie and Bee. They've always had good taste and will probably be thrilled to help him. And if Ozzie is also casually looking for a ring while they're out, well, Lucifer won't say anything.

#fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader

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avroravia · 3 days

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hi! i love your writing sm, could you write dallas x f!reader whos super mother-like and loves babies? basically baby fever lol

tysm!

𝔟𝔞𝔟𝔦𝔢𝔰?

𝔡. 𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔫.

𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔰. 𝔣!𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯, 𝔟𝔞𝔟𝔶 𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔨, 𝔱𝔬𝔬𝔱𝔥-𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔩𝔲𝔣𝔣 <ᙣ

there wasn't anything enjoyable about living at buck merrill's house. the constant odor of alcohol that spread into your clothes, the music that blared all hour of the night, or the un-hygienic behaviors of the numerous couples who leave and go. dallas would be lying if he said having his sweet girl by his side didn't make it tolerable, however.

that's why he was sat in the small double bed, head in your lap as your fingers intertwined with his brunet hair and a cigarette dangled from his rosy lips. dallas was never the talker between you two, he preferred to listen; and he would listen to every word you had to say.

"…and when i was at the store, this real cute baby waved at me." you smiled, recalling the random story you'd forget eventually. he wasn't paying much attention, but you didn't mind much. "i wanna have babies real soon."

that, however, caught his attention real fast. it made his brows furrowed together, and his eyes were painted with a look you didn't recognize. he took a drag of his cigarette, the smoke leaving his nostrils before he responded. "BABIES?" a slight chuckle escaped his lips as he sighed. he wasn't fond of the idea, but he'd be lying if he said it wasn't entertaining.

"what?" your lips curled into a smile as you spoke, letting your previous words sink into his head.

"you want babies?" dallas frowned, his question sounding more like a confirmation with himself.

"yes, as a matter of fact." you smiled a bit more, "i do."

"course' y'do..." he mumbled, taking another drag of his cigarette.

dallas was quick to drop it, not willing to start an argument over a hypothetical problem. he just continued to quietly listen to you review your day over with him, occasionally commenting on something random.

as you both fell asleep later that night, he'd be lying if he said the thought didn't cross his mind once more. maybe you'd both have a pretty daughter, with your eyes and his nose. maybe a boy with his father's recklessness and his mother's love. or a baby in between, maybe one with their mother's hair and their father's smile.

dallas winston would be a liar if he didn't admit that he fell asleep soundly that night, with thoughts of his pretty girlfriend and their babies floating around in his mind.

[ᙣზᔦ 𝔚𝔒ℜ𝔇𝔖]

𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯'𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢.

sorry about the fact i've been inactive all month pretty much! life's been crazy lately, and this request was pretty good timing since my sister just had her baby! i'm wrapping up a few other requests as of lately, and i'm getting back on track with my writing soon!

#dallas winston #dally winston #the outsiders dally #dallas winston x reader #dally winston x reader

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coralnoodle · 1 year

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someone signed too many contracts

#danny phantom #dp x dc #john constantine #dp x dc fanart #my art #ignore me as i do not know how to tag this #anyway my danny phantom phase came back to haunt me #it has possessed me #ok enough puns #had this idea so i had to doodle it out #i have more ideas if one is willing to listen #tldr danny is taking care of infinite amount of paperwork of the infinite realms

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nandermoenthusiast · 8 months

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i do think it is a crime that i dont have any video editing skills because sometimes i hear a song and i see an amv that could make us cry so clearly in my minds eye…

#spotify randomly made me listen to a song earlier #and god i need someone to make that amv #specifically i love when talented people make them fast paced when the music swells thats so fucking good #like could not be me cause i have no idea what clips could go there but #for reference the song was called something like holy feeling and i listened causally but halfway through i was like this is nandermo #specifically from nandor pov #at some point it says give in to me but it sounded more like give it to me and it would be perfect when nandor takes the stake from his #hands to stake derek lmao. also the song goes like #what your god cant give you but id be willing HELLO and also it says something like #youre the only thing that makes me feel like i have enough…. s4 nandor #and his wishes #hes such a fool #the beginning of the song too is like peak nandor feeling gizmo pull away in early s5 ah i would love to see it #anyway!!!! another amv ive always visualized was like a bellarke one set to long live ❤️#text pots #nandermo #what we do in the shadows #wwdits

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wonder-worker · 28 days

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A.J Pollard’s biography on Edward IV was so cringe lol (generic; minor but frustrating inaccuracies; intensely judgmental at times and oddly dismissive at others while never considering the broader context; entirely diminished and trivialized Elizabeth Woodville as both queen and wife of his main subject in the name of "defending" her; created a false dichotomy between Edward and Henry VII’s styles of ruling and lauded the latter at the former’s expense even though Henry literally followed Edward’s example for the very things Pollard was criticizing Edward for; had a downright nonsensical and thoroughly misleading conclusion about Edward’s legacy & Richard’s usurpation that was based entirely on hindsight, Pollard's own assumptions, and the complete downplaying Richard’s agency and actions to emphasize what Pollard wrongly and misleadingly claimed were Edward's so-called 'failings', etc, etc)

I wanted to buy his book on Henry V but after reading this shitshow and the synopsis of that book, im guessing it's going to be 10x worse, so...no thanks

#history media #this was written months ago im posting it to get it out of my drafts #it wasn't necessarily BAD. it was generic and readable. but it was very disappointing and misleading and its conclusion was just nonsense #listen I have no patience for the dumbfuck idea that edward somehow had the ultimate responsibility for his own son's deposition because #of his 'policies' during his reign. like I said it's based fully on hindsight and entirely devoid of actual context. it's bafflingly stupid #literally everyone expected Edward V to succeed his father and 'both hoped for and expected' (Croyland's own words) a successful reign #Edward V's deposition was richard and solely Richard's fault lol this should not be difficult to understand #the reason Richard's usurpation was possible in the first place was bcause everyone expected E5 to succeed and didn't expect Richard #do to what he did. nothing would have happened without his initiative and decisions. it had nothing to do with Edward's 'policies'#Edward's policies were fine. henry vii - who pollard vaunts to no end - literally *followed* them #and claiming that he failed to unite England under the Yorkist dynasty is just plain stupid #buddy if he truly failed at that then neither Richard III nor Henry VII would have thrones lol. both emphasized continuity with #him when aiming for the throne. like the whole point of 1483-85 was that it was a conflict WITHIN the 'Yorkist' dynasty #it was not an external threat against it.#'his legacy failed' his legacy didn't fail his brother destroyed it (while also presenting himself as his heir because logic what's logic?)#henry's victory was very much the triumph of his legacy (a claimant chosen by his supporters as the husband of his daughter)#like this is really not my interpretation it is literally what happened #i'm not trying to glorify e4 but his son did inherit the throne in a more advantageous circumstances than any other minor king of england #and frankly than most other adult kings. dumping blame on Edward's literal corpse rather than acknowledge Richard's agency is so tasteless #the problem isn't that edward made a mistake in trusting his brother. many other kings including Henry V also trusted theirs.#the problem is that his brother was willing to break that trust in a way that was unprecedented and broke all political norms of that age #ie: Richard's usurpation occurred because of Richard who re-ignited conflict to make himself king. please drill this into your head #also btw this illogical 'interpretation' is based entirely on Charles Ross' hatred and derision towards Elizabeth Woodville and her family #if you agree with this inteterpretation you agree with his vilification of them 🤷🏻‍♀️#anyway if you want a better interpretation that's actually analytical and looks a relevant rather than a flawed retrospective perspective #i would recommend rosemary horrox's 'richard iii: a study of service' and david horspool's 'richard iii: a ruler and his reputation'#anyway one last time: STOP downplaying Richard's agency and actions. historians who do this are stupid and embarrassing. bye.#(i should really post horspool's glorious takedown of ross and Pollard huh? it was very entertaining to read)

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dutybcrne · 12 days

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Thinkings thinkings of Fatui!Kaeya have been reawakened in reviewing Arle's teasers/animations

#☆ ┆ ( .ooc. );#//Whether it's Dad!Pierro or not; I do love the idea of him being left in the care of the Fatui/House of Hearth #//Tho timelines considered; he prolly would be in Pierro's personal care while Arle goes through her Traumatic Matricide Experience #//Doubt the man would want to leave him out of his sight; Khaenri'ahn/Alberich ties considered #//Or maybe he was raised/trained to fight under Signora. Or even for Columbina (her namesake's ties to Pierro's; considered)#//Tho also do LOVE the idea of Kae and Taru growin up together in the Fatui ranks and being the disastrous + shy boi duo #//Tho Kae'd prolly have less to hide/fear with them when it comes to his heritage. The strictness he'd be raised with though...#//Eh; Taru could bring him out of his shell even still jdbgfkf. If anyone can; he deffo could. His little wintry sunshine #//So maybe he'd grow into his peacock self a little more naturally; even if perhaps still out of necessity/for ease of his missions #//Less of a facade to hide his grief/missing pieces tho; more like the way Taru is charming & goofy to lower people's guards #//Still has his little habit of testing people deffo is Much worse and much more sadistic when it comes down to it #//Particularly towards fellow Fatui who disrespect him or their comrades; or just someone he ends up disliking in general #//Does 'test' new comrades; but is more willing to step in & help them if need be. Wants UTMOST trust; determination & loyalty in his men #//So will only ever take those who push to complete the mission at all costs; even themselves/willingly ask him for help when they need it #//Dislikes those who run; & LOATHES cowards who abandon comrades to save themselves; he WILL deliberately make sure they don't make it back #//Still employs his intel gathering methods as normal verse; but has preying mantis tendencies when it comes down to it nbcfjgf #//ESP if they try to take advantage of/blackmail him in some way. Or worse; those who betray him. He is meticulous & VERY ruthless abt it #//His signature is decapitation & an unmelting (Abyssal energy-laced) ice shard through the heart; around which he'd carve a stylized one #//If those informants keep being useful to him; they are safe; and treated so lovingly by him; spoiled rotten with gifts & favors aplenty #//Once they lose their usefulness...well; regrettably he cannot leave any loose ends. These become frozen as statues for him to keep #//'Precious mementos of lovers & conspirators'; he'd call them. He'd keep them in his private home in Snezhnaya #v; glacialis pavonis (fatui!kaeya)#//If he had to have a Harbinger title/name (maybe bumped up for when Scara erases himself); he'd prolly be l'Innamorato #//Fitting of his methods (is also the remaining role of Commedia dell'arte lololol). He is saccharine sweet; pretty & deadly as a belladonn #//Deffo would have tango-based motifs rather than waltz; would favor frost-laced roses. Might even leave those with his victims too #//Can you tell I listened to Rondo Across Countless Kalpas as I wrote this up jhbfjgkfhf #hc; kaeya #//I mean yeah lol. I have so many more thinkings abt this verse aaAAAA #//Am torn if I want his to use a Cryo Delusion; or have him with Cryo Vision and an Anemo Delusion. Do like that for Cryo Swirls #//Then his rage/scorn could be likened to a Blizzard. Do like that image. Deffo favors his Abyssal powers more tho; maybe THAT'd be better

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danidoesathing · 1 year

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still thinking about Hurricane is the only song listed as a theme to a character. like yeah some of the songs have listed narrators/writers but Hurricane specifically is Johnnie's song and his song alone

#what does it meeean #more like what DO it mean HA #im hilarious (lie)#making myself emotional over this because of my own headcanons #just like. the vn movie heavily implied Johnnie isnt actually part of the PR #(or at least they're willing to play without him and not notice his absence)#but like. he's the narrator of two of their songs #either A. they wrote about him either pre or post his death or B. he wrote the songs and they performed it #im more partial to B because like. he's the youngest and both of his older brothers are the leaders of something (either TWE or a band)#and like. ok maybe it's a personal interpretation of him because im me but he always seemed like he was trying to prove himself kinda #he's the youngest. the wild child. the reckless one. both your brothers are so talented and recognized and then....there's you #you just want to be seen and listened to #like he can help improve the world enders if he can get Alex to listen to him. if he could prove to Alex that his idea would work #hurricane is *his* song. that's something *he* made and I imagine he'd be proud of that #ugh none of this canon and we dont even have confirmation that johnnie even is the youngest (he is)#but here I am making myself emotional over this dumbass #anyway ignore me im having a moment of projection. despite being the middle child I DO remember what it was like to be the youngest #dani speaks #lord huron #johnnie redmayne

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potatoesandsunshine · 1 year

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so maybe they got me. maybe they did.

#anna's fic notes #me 2 episodes into a show: damn i wanna write about this show.#i really think it's the strength of the setting that's getting to me like #i always love when something is new to me and i can fill in the gaps before i actually know what's up #this probably won't turn into a whole fic? or it'll get folded into one once i finish the show #but i have gotten wildly attached to my 'late-night radio taking calls from these horrified children and playing 70s songs' idea #so that might be something someday. i have a playlist of songs that are period appropriate. more black sabbath please #i don't know what people were listening to in england the biggest problem for me about writing about this #is that just. i'm not willing to go through it and try and use slang appropriately. instead i'm just doing my best not to use any i guess?#all i know for sure right now is there WILL be the radio fic and there WILL be something for all those poor kids that we lost in ep 1 #when media says 'and this is two years later' that's the greatest gift i as an author can ask for. like yes. a million small things happened #in that time

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astridianmayfly · 2 years

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this is, perhaps, my most controversial take of all time,,,,but I don’t think Brendon Urie deserves to be treated like the antichrist for saying offensive shit 6+ years ago he apologized for and allegations that were entirely made up? Wish we could have a nuanced discussion about the privilege white-passing men have in the music industry while also allowing people space to improve themselves (to be clear--SA is always unforgivable). I just find it a little fucked that the celebrity y’all had to chase off of the internet was the one who’d dedicated their entire online presence to philanthropy and human rights activism. like lmao was that really worth it

#the tags are where I come to point out the illogical nature of this entire discussion #number one: when you make this conversation about band drama that is literally 13 years old at this point you detract from what we should #actually be talking about which is white people should NEVER say the n-word under any circumstances! you cannot reclaim a slur for a group #you are not part of and this is what we need to be talking about here.#he did not SA a band member. you are taking quotes out of context about a cheoreographed sequence he did with ryro during their debut #in which he played a character that was supposed to make unwanted advances on his bandmates. for years at panic shows various band members #come up to one another and do suggestive things #all band members joke about it and do it in good fun #including ryro who also nonconsensually did the same #things to brendon #next: sorry if you do not like pop music. if that is the case just do not listen. you are entitled to your own opinion but it is fucked #to perpetuate lies simply because you do not like the direction the sound that the band has gone in.#this is already getting too long but I am willing to have a civil discussion about these things simply because I feel like it is incredibly #weird to talk about parasocial relationships and celebrity culture while not realizing that simply assuming someone is evil who you don't #even know in real life is just as bad as any other parasocial relationship.#this is also not to convince you to like him. I do believe personally that the sheer amount of death threats I have seen just in a casual #corner of the internet is disturbing and unwarranted. And I think that in a broader context #if you identify as left-wing or progressive in any sense you must be more open to the idea that people can correct their behavior #and if you do not believe this you are supporting ideas that would be impossible without many individuals simultaneously changing their #behavior. I think that is a fair argument to make and I think that this conversation is important.#p!atd #panic at the disco #panic! at the disco #patd #ryan ross #dallon weekes #idkhow #anti brendon urie #viva las vengeance #brendon urie

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coalburiedinwarmashes · 18 days

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First week working in the best place ever completed🤩

#so grateful for the 30 euro I found in my wallet and the half day Friday #yapping #clonturk art coming up to the submission of the leaving cert booklets what was I thinking get me out of there but also it’s so exciting woah #I feel exhausted and hateful… and yet. full of love and joy #grateful for coira and emma dn and nicole and rían who is the only one I believe doesn’t hate me #guys it’s kind of the best thing ever when u sugest something and the child’s eyes like genuinely light up and they’re like that’s #cool idea thank you and then like ugh they’re so much more willing to listen to you then woah I hope every child in the world lives a life #full of love and has some adult who cares to listen woah ugh especial love the queer kids who think it’s cool I have blue hair #but 6 hours straight standing and walking no sitting down ever is the worst #and hearing that the 6th years were talking shit also not fun but also so get it like of art worst ever I’d also hate if someone came in #trying to talk to me even if they were trying to help I’d have killed them so maybe I should be grateful #they’re all so cool tho shou out Bea and Sean especially #shout out Nathan the faggiest person I may ever have the pleasure of meeting #shout out my brothers friends who r chill and one of them up is doing a cool snake turtle sculpture sick #shout out Alice woah I should put full name damn but shout out everyone every I love them all #so freaking tired everyday and I come home and I can pt rest at all because constantly trying to get this house together like painting #cleaning radiators moving shit furniture is so heavy when ur core strength is gone from just standing all day #I miss my room and my kitchen boooooo change booooooooooo #my therapist is being very nice to me tho

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javiscigarette · 3 months

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Teacher's Pet

Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Summary: 25 years old, anxiety-ridden, and still a virgin, you ask your friend Joel for advice on your upcoming date. But you're more of a...hands-on learner. And he's more than happy to help.

Warnings: PWP, unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, first kiss, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), frequent check-ins, soo much banter and Joel is a menace also so soft and sweet :')....(ends on a cliffhanger but there will be a part two I swear).

w/c: 7.7k idk what happened

a/n: I am resurfacing for your monthly reminder that I do in fact still write!! Inspiration for this came out of literally nowhere but I took it and RAN with it and I think I like it?? As always, thank you to my baby love @undrthelights for helping me with this and always listening to my rambling and for being my biggest enabler Ilysm

Part Two

my masterlist

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever." Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck pound in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed. "A what?" "Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head. "No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?”

"Seriously, Joel. Fuck off" you snap but with no bite or heat behind it. You bring the sweating bottle of beer to your lips and finish the rest of the now lukewarm liquid off in one gulp.

"What? I just find it hard to believe that you've never even had a kiss. Didn't you go to high school? Didn't you ever get invited to a party? Didn't you go to college? College kids do the do like all the time”

"Clearly not all the time" you mutter, a tad bitterly.

Joel raises his hands defensively and takes a sip of his own beer. "Just seems crazy is all. There's gotta be some chick or dude out there willing to take pity on you and pop your cherry."

You audibly gag at his choice of words. "I don't need a pity fuck, thanks." You stand from the couch and head over to the fridge. The bottles of cold alcohol inside are calling your name and you want something that will help soothe your nerves. You're not a big drinker, but when Joel is prying into your love life like he is now, you wish you were.

"Okay,” he starts from the living room. “Maybe I worded that wrong. What I meant to say was, there's gotta be someone out there who would be more than willing to show you a good time."

You groan and let your forehead fall against the fridge door. "That's the whole point! I came here to get advice for my date, someone who might actually be interested in me, and all you've done is make fun of me for not having fucked anyone yet. So thanks, Joel. You're a real pal."

You push away from the fridge and slam the door shut, a second beer in hand.

"Alright, alright, calm down." He says, hands in the air as if you were holding him at gunpoint as you head back to the couch. "Look, if this guy really likes you then he's not gonna care. Probably won't even be able to tell if you are or aren't."

"You think so?" You ask hopefully.

"Well, I mean, unless you're like... super bad."

Your heart drops into your stomach and you glare at him, "Joel."

"Oh come on, I'm kidding. You're not gonna be bad, okay? Just, go into it with an open mind and just relax. If he tries something you're not comfortable with or makes you feel weird, tell him. And if he gets pussy, dump his ass."

"That simple, huh?" You scoff.

"Well, yeah. You're the one who made it complicated by thinking it was a big deal."

"It is a big deal, Joel! I know nothing!

"Nothing? You ain’t ever watched porn? Jesus, I had no idea you were such a prude."

You can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and slapping the back of your hand against his arm. He yelps and laughs, rubbing his arm.

"I've watched porn before" you retort.

"What kind?" he asks with a wiggle of his brows.

"None of your fucking business" you respond, feeling your face heat up.

Joel's lips quirk into a shit-eating grin and you're quick to smack him again.

"Okay okay, sorry!" he says through his laughter. "So what exactly are you afraid of?"

You're not really sure how to answer. It's a combination of so many things, most of which are irrational fears and insecurities. Sure you've seen it all done before, but you're well aware that none of it is realistic. At least, not completely. And just the fact that you're freshly 25 years old without a single notch in your bedpost makes you dizzy with anxiety. It's not like you're saving yourself or anything, it's just that hook up culture has never agreed with you and there's never been an opportunity that made you feel like it was the right one. That is until now, with your cute coworker who you thought was miles out of your league asking you out on a third date. And now, the prospect of being in bed with him is looming over you like a dark cloud and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.

"I guess, I'm just afraid that he's gonna be disappointed, or I'm gonna weird him out, or I'm gonna do something wrong and embarrass myself.” Joel nods along and listens. "And if it is bad then we still have to work with each other and then what if it's awkward and everyone knows about it and then he hates me and--"

"Okay, whoa slow down there, buddy" Joel says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "One, you're overthinking this. You're literally thinking like, five steps ahead of what's actually going on. It's a date. And even if it does end up in the bedroom, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. No one's forcing you, okay? He can't. No one can."

"I know, but I want to," you reply quietly.

"Alright. Then do."

"I don't know howwww!! " you whine, flopping backwards into the couch.

Joel groans and sits up a little straighter, scrubbing a hand down his face.

"Well, there's no magic trick, I don't have a secret sex manual I'm holding out on ya."

You sigh, shoulders sagging as you look over at him. The idea comes out of nowhere, well, not exactly from nowhere, but it pops in your head so fast that you then have to bite your tongue before the words bubbling up from your throat come tumbling out.

It's not a bad idea, not necessarily.

You've been good friends with Joel ever since you moved in next door last year. An unlikely pairing, a 40 year old contractor and an almost 25 year old office worker. But after offering him a six pack as part of introducing yourself to the neighbors, you'd gotten along famously. He fixes things around your house and you send him home with hot dinners and warm, gooey cookies.

It's an easy friendship, open and honest and supportive, and Joel has never given you reason not to trust him. He's a good guy, if not a little brash, but you know deep down he means well. And it doesn't hurt that he's objectively attractive, with his tall and sturdy frame, strong, calloused hands, dark messy curls....It's not a bad idea.

It's an absolutely insane idea.

You continue to stare at him, clenching your teeth together to hold back the question sitting on the tip of your tongue.

"What?" he says, looking back at you.

"Nothing" you mutter, eyes flicking away.

"You've got that face you make when you're about to say something really stupid, so just get it out."

You glare at him again, not enjoying the way he can read you so well.

"I wasn't gonna say anything."

"Well now you're lying."

"I'm not."

"You're doing it again!"

"Doing what?!"

"That face!"

"I'm not making a face!"

"Yes you are! Just spit it out!"

You groan and hide your face in your hands. You blame it on the one beer even though you know you’re not anywhere close to being drunk because how else would you justify what you’re about to say? You wait a moment, thinking about the weight of it but your mouth opens before you can stop yourself.

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever."

Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck and hear it in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed.

"A what?"

"Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head.

"No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?”

His eyes are wide, and he looks incredulous. You can't blame him, because the more time that passes between your suggestion and now, the more ridiculous the idea seems.

"I’m sorry, that was…It was stupid. Pretend I didn't say anything. Let's just watch a movie." You move to grab the remote, but Joel's hand covers yours, stopping you.

"Is that what you want?"

You look at him, searching his expression for any sign of disgust or apprehension. But all you can see is the same Joel you've known for months, patient, warm, and understanding.

"I know. I know it's stupid. But I can't get this date out of my head, Joel. It's all I can think about and the more I do, the more worried I get and I just don't want to fuck it up. And I know we're friends and this is weird and gross, but I just thought that... maybe, I could have some practice, so to speak."

He doesn't say anything. Just keeps looking at you, the panic rising in your chest the longer the silence stretches. You start to fidget, wringing your hands together in your lap.

"I'm sorry, that was way out of line" you say, moving to stand up, your skin sweaty and hot with embarrassment and your feet ready to run out the door and never come back.

But Joel catches your wrist, gently pulling you back down to sit next to him.

"Joel" you whine, not wanting him to humiliate you any further.

"It's okay, come here."

His voice is softer than before, and his eyes are kind. You let him pull you closer, the two of you sitting knee to knee. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, not with your cheeks and the tips of your ears burning like they are, but Joel doesn't push. He simply moves his hand from your wrist, sliding it into yours. His palms are rough and warm, and the simple touch alone is comforting.

"You really wanna do this?” he asks softly. You can feel his eyes boring into you. “I mean, I'm not exactly a prize winning catch. And it's not like there's a shortage of willing men out there."

You shrug and chew the inside of your lip.

"Yeah, but you're my friend and I...I trust you."

There's another pause, and you wish that you could just disappear into the couch and erase this moment from your memory.

"How drunk are you?" he asks, glancing at the beer bottle on the coffee table.

"You saw me finish one bottle. And half of another. I’m barely tipsy."

"Not drunk?”

"Nope."

"You're gonna remember this tomorrow."

"Uh huh."

"And you still want to?"

You groan for the millionth time and squeeze his hand.

"Yes I want to! Look, if you don't want to then that's fine. It was just a dumb suggestion and we can just forget this ever happened."

He hums, considering your words. His hand slips out of yours, and you think that's it, you've scared him off and washed the friendship down the drain. That you'll have to hide from him from now on, that you'll have to pack your things up and move because the mortification would be too much, and that he'll hate you, and—

His two fingers sliding under chin surprise you, and he tilts your head up. He's looking down at you with that same even expression, eyes big, soft, and warm as he slides his hand over to cup your jaw in his palm.

"If you want to stop at any point, just say so, okay? I won't be upset and we can go back to the way things were before. Got it?"

You nod, your throat suddenly too tight to speak. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone, the tender touch is enough to make your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this is actually happening. That your first kiss is going to be with your 40 year old menace of a neighbor. That you’re going to, how did you put it, get a sex lesson from him. His gaze flicks down to your lips and back up to your eyes and you’re positive you’re no longer able to breathe.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks softly. You nod.

You're sure he can hear the thumping of your heart in his own ears as he leans down. His other hand comes to rest on your hip and when his lips touch yours, a soft, tentative pressure, you're not prepared for the electricity that shoots through you.

He's barely done anything and already you feel like you're floating. Your own hands reach out to clutch his shirt, keeping him close, afraid he'll pull away and leave you cold and wanting if you don't. But he stays put, pressing himself against you, his lips working gently against yours. You follow his lead, kissing him back while trying not to overthink it.

It's nothing like the kisses in the movies or the books, where fireworks explode behind your eyelids or where your foot pops up in the air. It's far more subdued, more quiet and subtle. But the warmth that pools low in your belly and the goosebumps that erupt on your skin when his tongue slides against the seam of your lips, light and quick, makes you absolutely melt.

He pulls back before you can really react, and you're left with a dizzying rush of both blistering desire and excruciating anxiety. You want to pull him back in and never let him go. But your heart is beating so fast you can hardly breathe, your nerves are buzzing, and the urge to run and hide is nearly paralyzing.

"Was it bad?" you ask tentatively, cheeks heated.

"No" he replies, giving your hip a squeeze as a smirk plays on his lips. "It was fucking awful. Worst kiss of my life"

"Shut up!" you hiss, pushing him away with a hand on his chest. He laughs, the sound easing some of the tension in your body.

"I'm just teasing" he says, voice dropping lower. "C'mere, we can work on it."

His lips find yours again, and you try not to smile into the kiss but it's hard when you can feel the way his lips are quirked up as well. It doesn’t take much else to get you to relax and let yourself fall into the moment, into the gentle press of his mouth and the warm hands on your hip and your cheek. He swipes his tongue against your lips again, his fingers pressing lightly into the hinge of your jaw to tilt your head back and coax your lips apart.

You let him, sighing as his tongue glides across yours, hot and smooth and sweet. Your hands slide up his chest, finding purchase around his shoulders, and when you move forward, pushing yourself against him, he grunts softly but lets you. He kisses you until the both of you are gasping for air, and when he pulls back, his lips are wet and red and you're certain yours must be as well.

"Better?" you ask, a bit breathless.

"Getting there" he answers with, his breath warm where it fans across your cheek.

"You're such a liar" you say with a goofy smile.

"Yeah, I know. Now try again, practice makes perfect.”

You roll your eyes but lean back in nonetheless. It's a bit more heated this time, the feeling of his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip making you squirm. His hand rounds over your hip, palm smoothing to the small of your back to pull you closer, the heat of his body radiating through your clothes and warming your skin. Your hands move on their own accord, no thought behind the action as they slide up to his shoulders and then his neck, your fingers finding home in the curls at the base of his skull. When you give them a slight tug, you're rewarded with a muffled grunt from Joel. Emboldened, you pull back, lips swollen and tingling.

"You’re a good kisser,” you pant. "Is that something people usually say?"

"When it’s true" he says, grinning at you. "And since I know you're gonna ask, I'd say that was a C+, maybe a B-."

You scoff but blush furiously at the smile he flashes, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Well then, tell me what to do next. What do I need to know?"

Joel hums as he thinks for a moment.

"What do you want to do?"

You stare at him for a second, blinking.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you" you say, shaking your head a bit.

"Well, how far do you want to take this?"

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy. You can’t deny that when the idea popped in your head it was accompanied by the mental image of you naked, spread out on his bed, but the actual act of asking him, or better yet, actually doing it is... intimidating to say the least. Are you really about to let him go all the way, to see you bare and vulnerable, let him pop your cherry as he would disgustingly put it? All just to “prepare” for a date with a guy who might not even like you that way?

Yeah, probably.

"All the way" you answer. “I want to go all the way”

He doesn’t pounce on you like you expected, doesn’t press his lips against yours in a frenzied kiss that you had half hoped for. Instead, he simply looks at you, his brown eyes boring into yours, searching.

"Are you sure? You can always say no and you're not gonna lose me as a friend if this isn’t what you actually want. I don’t want you thinking that."

You can't help the laugh that bubbles up and slips out, because of course Joel, your kind, thoughtful Joel, would say that. He's a good man. A great one, even.

"Yes, I'm sure. But if you don't, I get it, I can just leave and-"

Joel laughs, the sound traveling up from deep in his chest, the rumble vibrating against you.

"Sweetheart, I wouldn't be doin’ this if I didn't want to. Just makin’ sure this is what you really want."

"I want it.”

He squeezes your hip and swipes a thumb over your cheekbone once again.

“Alright then.” He nods, firm and resolute, and then looks around the room. “ We’re not doing it here, though. If you're getting the full Joel Miller experience, we're gonna do it right.”

Your eyes roll reflexively, but your heart picks up its pace regardless.

"I’m not gonna do anything if you call it that ever again."

"Fine, fine,” he relents. “Let me show you what a good, thorough fucking feels like. Better?"

Your jaw drops, and he's laughing at you, his body shaking with amusement.

"Fuck you" you grumble, shoving him away while trying to hide your coy smile.

"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping for," he says with a wide, self-assured grin.

"I'm leaving" you declare with a false sense of offense as you rise to your feet. Joel is quick to do the same and before you can take a single step away, he slips a finger through the belt loop of your jeans and tugs you back into him, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I’ll stop, I’ll stop. I'm sorry" he says, not sounding it one bit.

You huff, but let him pull you closer until you’re pressed against his chest and you have to tilt your head back to look at him.

"I’ll be good. I promise."

"Liar"

"Well, yeah. But I can promise that I'll make you feel good."

You can't help the giggle that spills out and he kisses it away, his lips warm and plush and sweet against yours. The hand not resting on your lower back comes up, curling around the nape of your neck and keeping you close. You sink into him, and the fog creeps in again, dulling the rest of the world, making it seem fuzzy and distant, like the memory of a dream. All you can focus on is him, the warm solid weight of him against you, the strong arms holding you, the way his mouth moves against yours. And then he’s pulling back all too soon and you have to stifle a whine.

"Come on" he says, tugging at your hand.

His bedroom is dim, the little lamp on his nightstand and the faint glow of the moon through the curtains providing the only light. You swallow and take a deep breath as you step inside, your bare toes digging into the plush carpet, his hand warm and large where it grips yours.

He holds onto you as he sits on the edge of the bed. You step forward, letting him pull you between his knees. His hands settle on your hips, and you can feel their heat through the fabric of your shirt.

He doesn’t ask if you're sure again and you’re grateful because you’re not sure if you could form any kind of response right now. Instead, he slides his hands up and under your shirt, fingers dancing across your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your breath hitches as his hands smooth over your ribs and around to your back, the tips of his fingers mapping out the curve of your spine, skimming over each notch and bump. They climb higher, the fabric of your shirt bunching around his wrists.

“Can I take this off, baby?”

Your heart jumps to your throat but you nod anyway. He grabs the hem and tugs your shirt up and and you lift your arms so he can slip it off over your head. He tosses it aside, the fabric falling to the floor beside the bed. You’re left exposed, vulnerable and bare, save for the worn out bra you wear, a few too many washes and a few years past its prime.

Your hands itch where they hang by your side with the instinct to cover yourself, hide the imperfections that you know so well, the stretch marks, the softness of your stomach, the way the cups of your bra are just a bit too small and spill over the tops.

But then he’s pressing his lips to the space just above your navel, his scruff tickling your skin and making the muscles in your abdomen jump and twitch. His hands find your waist again, and when his lips continue their path upwards, his palms follow, skimming up your sides, thumbs tracing the outline of your ribs before stopping at the band of your bra.

"This too?" he asks, voice quiet and husky.

"Yeah" you answer with a squeak, and he grins like a kid in a candy store.

His fingers undo the clasp deftness that makes your knees go weak, the straps slipping from your shoulders and the whole thing sliding down your arms, landing somewhere near your shirt.

"God, baby, look at you" he murmurs, his hands cupping the underside of your breasts, his thumbs sweeping over the tops and then down the slope and around your nipple. Your breath hitches, the gentle touch sending a shiver up your spine. "You're fucking perfect."

The praise is unexpected and it sends a jolt of heat through your core. You whimper quietly and his hands are on you again, the calloused palms rough on the soft skin of your breasts. He kneads the flesh, squeezing gently before rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling and pinching and teasing.

He pulls you closer and ducks his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes dark and hooded, and his pupils blown wide with desire.

"Can I?" he asks.

"Please."

He leans in and wraps his lips around a peaked nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, the gentle heat of his mouth on your skin making your knees weak.

His mouth works on one breast, tongue flicking and teasing while his free hand continues its work on the other. Pleasure builds and coils deep inside, the sensation unfamiliar but certainly not unwelcome. You whimper and he pulls away, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before giving it a sweet parting kiss.

He turns his attention to the other, his teeth grazing over the stiff peak and drawing a whine from your lips. He sighs when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at the strands until he groans softly against you. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, the flat of his tongue pressing against it and dragging up and around, swirling and flicking. You’re already breathless, panting, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.

"Feels good, Joel," you whisper shyly.

"I know, honey" he says, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he pulls away. "Feel good anywhere else?"

He doesn't wait for a response, simply slips a hand between your thighs, cupping you through the denim, the simple action making you squeak.

"Here, huh?" he says, the heel of his palm pressing against you.

You gasp softly and nod, biting your lip, too shy to say anything.

"Get on the bed, baby."

You comply, crawling onto the mattress and scooting backwards towards the pillows, sitting at the head of the bed as you watch him. His eyes never leave you as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Your heart thumps as you stare at his bare chest, his tanned skin dotted with a light dusting of salt and pepper hair. He's broad, his shoulders thick and chest solid. Your fingers burn with the urge to reach out and touch him, so you do, extending a tentative, slightly shaky hand.

He watches you closely, eyes flitting down to the palm pressed against his chest before meeting yours again, his mouth curling into a smile.

"You can touch" he says, reaching down to curl a hand around your wrist and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm before guiding your hand back down to his chest. "I think most people would enjoy that."

"You're having entirely too much fun with this,” you mumble while your fingers spread out across his pec.

"It is fun" he counters, his own hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the seam of your jeans and rubbing up and down. "But it'll be more fun once these come off"

Your lips part, a puff of air rushing out.

"You gonna take them off?" you ask, the words slipping out, bold and unbidden.

He grins, his brow quirking up.

"Look at you, being all bossy"

"You like it" you say, finally feeling some of the anxiety slipping away, the familiar and comfortable banter between the two of you slipping into place in a new, unfamiliar situation.

His smile takes up nearly his whole face as moves closer.

“I sure do.”

He looms over you, bracing himself on an elbow next to your head before ducking down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into your mouth, warm and insistent. You sigh into it, your hands finding the warm, bare skin of his back, muscles gliding beneath your palms as you slide them up and around, fingertips digging into his shoulders. He's so warm and solid and you can't help the little noise that slips out, a soft, needy moan. You're about to break the kiss and beg him to touch you, give you something, anything, but he pulls back before you can.

"Impatient. I like that too" he says, voice barely above a whisper.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin. He continues his path, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones and down the valley between your breasts, his beard tickling your sternum.

His palm presses into the top of your thigh, and you instinctively open your legs for him, his hand immediately moving to cup you through the denim, thick fingers pressing against the seam and the bundle of nerves just below. Your hips rock up, seeking more pressure and he grins, entirely too pleased with himself right now.

You huff, and he laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest, but he relents, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans and tugging the fabric down, revealing the pair of pink panties underneath.

Joel sits up, pulling your jeans down your legs and letting them drop off the side of the bed, the sound of the denim hitting the floor indicating that you've officially crossed a line that neither of you can come back from. But if the hungry, desperate look on his face and the way you're practically vibrating underneath him are any indication, neither of you want to.

"I'll start with just my fingers, yeah?" he says, his hands running up the insides of your thighs, touch light and teasing, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. You nod dumbly, at a complete loss for words right now.

He ducks his head, his lips landing on the smooth skin stretched over your hip bone. You squirm, ticklish, and he grins. His mouth is a great distraction from his hand, which has found its way back in between your legs, his fingers now pressing against damp fabric.

"Shit" he curses, his touch firm. "Fuckin' soaked already. Am I just that good?" he quips with a smirk.

"Jesus do you ever shut up" you gripe, but the effect is ruined by the whimper that escapes you when his thumb sweeps up, pressing hard against your clit.

"Oh, that's a pretty sound" he murmurs, repeating the motion to pull out another one, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Now," he starts, his tone shifting to the same one he uses when he's about to impart some life lesson. "This guy you're gonna see, or any man for that matter, should always take care of you before himself. That's just common fuckin' sense. And if he doesn't, you send him on his way" he continues. "Because a man that don't wanna see a woman get off is no fuckin' man at all"

You're about to interrupt, tell him he's an idiot and ask him to please, please, get on with it, but his fingers sliding under the elastic of your panties, swiftly pulling them down your legs steals the breath from your lungs. Your pulse sky rockets and you shift underneath him, crossing your thighs in instinctual effort to hide yourself from him.

"M'sorry I didn't shave or anything" you blurt out, your throat tight with anxiety and embarrassment once again

Joel just shakes his head as he pries your legs apart.

"Baby, I could not give less of a shit about that."

"But-"

"No" he says, the word firm, an edge of command to his tone. "You’re not apologizin’ for that. And if a man gives a shit, he's a fuckin' child who doesn't deserve the honor of bein' between these thighs" he says, pushing your knees further apart.

You nod and bite your lip, the words that are just so very Joel, settling in your chest and easing the tension in your body. You let out a long, slow breath and relax, trying to ease the nervousness.

"There ya go" he says, his fingers dancing along your slit, gathering the slick pooling there. You shudder at the gentle touch, your hips rolling up just a bit before you force them back down into the mattress, trying to keep yourself still.

"Nuh-uh. None of that" he says, immediately noticing the movement. He slides his free hand under you, his palm pushing into the small of your back and encouraging you to move again, to lean into your pleasure. "You take what you want, baby. Show me how good it feels. That's all I wanna see."

You squirm and whimper, the simple, almost lazy touch driving you insane. You've touched yourself before, brought yourself over the edge while imagining what it would be like to have the things you read about and watch in videos happen to you. But you've never managed to make yourself feel this good, never felt pleasure so intense, never felt a burning pressure in your abdomen so demanding that it radiates all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

And he's barely touched you.

"How's that feel?"

You can't even form the words, so you just nod and hum, the sound a mix of a whimper and a moan, your hips rolling up against his palm. He chuckles, and then the pressure increases, the friction building, his fingers slipping down, collecting more of your wetness to ease the drag against your skin.

He moves his fingers down, down, down, the tip of one circling your entrance, gathering the wetness pooling there. You whine loudly, any shame and modesty you once had replaced entirely with desperate need and pure desire.

"Please, Joel" you whisper, voice shaky.

"I gotcha" he says, dipping his fingertip in, just barely, and pulling a moan from deep in your chest. "Gonna give you what you need"

You groan, a long, low sound as he slowly sinks his finger into you. It's nothing like your own, so perfectly thick and long/ And you found the spot before, the spot that he curls his finger up into, but never at this angle, never with the perfect amount of pressure that he's applying right now.

"Mmm, look at that" he coos as you clench tightly around his finger.

"Joel, god, feels so good" you whimper pathetically.

"I know, honey, I know."

You clench again, the cockiness and self-assured attitude that usually gets under your skin now ignites your whole body in an entirely different way. He keeps his eyes on your face, watching as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, your head tipping back as the pleasure builds.

"Another" you beg, the fullness not nearly enough.

"Greedy girl" he chides, but he pulls his finger out, and slides two back in. You swear that you could come from this alone, but he doesn't let you, the hand that was supporting your lower back disappearing, only to reappear between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with firm, steady strokes.

White hot pleasure wraps around the base of your spine, the dual sensations of his fingers and his thumb sending you spiraling. The sounds falling from your lips are unrecognizable, high and desperate as your mind goes blissfully blank, your entire focus on the heat coiling in your abdomen. Your eyebrows pinch together and you bury your face in the pillow next to your head, trying to hide the ridiculous expression you're surely making, but you inhale the traces of his shampoo and cologne that cling to the fabric, the scent pushing you even closer to the edge.

You try to hold back. Surely you're not supposed to come this quickly, not just from two fingers and a thumb. Surely that's a sign that you're an easy lay, or too inexperienced, or-

"Just let it happen, baby. I can feel it, Just let go" Joel says, his voice cutting through the thoughts racing through your mind, his fingers crooking inside you and dragging across the spot that makes your hips stutter and a cry fall from your lips.

You can't hold back any longer, the pleasure cresting and crashing down around you. You squeeze his fingers, your back arching, the heels of your feet digging into the mattress as you roll your hips up into his touch, seeking more and more and more. And he gives and gives and gives, working you through it and drawing it out for as long as he can before you melt into the mattress, bones and muscles liquid and warm and satisfied.

He pulls his fingers out, and the sudden emptiness draws a disappointed whine from you, his answering chuckle making you smile.

"That was- fuck" you sigh, not quite capable of coherent thought.

"Absolutely mind-blowing? Yeah I know" he teases. You roll your eyes but don't say anything because it's true, and his cocky grin fades into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you return to Earth.

"Can I- can I return the favor?" you ask, your gaze flicking down to the noticeable bulge in his jeans.

He grunts and shakes his head.

"Not yet. Got somethin' else in mind."

You frown and push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he shifts from his position. You're about to ask what he's going to do until he's settling himself on his stomach between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath as you realize exactly what he's got planned and your heart jumps, anxiety clouding your mind once again.

He rests his cheek on your thigh, his eyes meeting yours.

"Alright?"

You swallow and nod, licking your lips.

"Yeah. Just... no one's ever-"

"Yeah, I got that much, that's why we're here" he says, smiling smugly when you glare at him.

"But what if it's not good? Or I don't taste good? Or-"

"Stop" he says, the single word halting your runaway train of thought. "You need lessons in relaxing, not sex. You're so fucking tense all the time"

"Sorry" you say, immediately cringing.

He sighs, his breath ghosting over the skin of your inner thigh, making you shiver. "What did I say about apologizin'?" he says, his tone slightly sharp.

"I know. Sorry- shit, sorry! Fuck!"

He barks out a laugh and you huff, bringing up both hands to scrub over your face.

"See what I mean?"

"Yes, yes, you're very smart and know everything"

He hums and nips at your thigh.

"Damn right I do."

You want to snark back, but his mouth is moving, his lips trailing down the inside of your thigh and towards where you're aching for him, slick and wet and throbbing. He takes his time, laying kisses on your thighs, hips, and stomach, his scruff scraping the sensitive skin, huffing out a laugh when you start to squirm, your patience wearing thin.

His hands smooth over the soft flesh of your inner thighs, urging you to spread them wider before spreading you open with his thumbs, exposing you completely. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and the urge to close your legs and hide yourself from his gaze is overwhelming, the embarrassment making your skin burn. But before you can even think about closing them, his tongue is on you, sliding up the length of you and circling your clit. The moan that escapes you is embarrassingly loud and high pitched, but the mortification is easily swallowed up by the pleasure.

He hums against you, the sound and the feeling sending a shudder through your body. Your hands grip the pillow behind your head and you try not to buck up into his mouth, but your attempts are futile. He doesn't seem to mind though, in fact you think it spurs him on, his tongue flattening against you and lapping at you messily, the wetness he's coaxed from you smearing across his mouth and chin.

The sound is lewd and obscene, the sloppy, slick noises and the soft grunts and groans that rumble in his chest as he works you up. He pulls back, his breath coming out in pants, his chest heaving as he looks up at you, his eyes dark and hooded.

"Don't know what you were worried about" he says, his voice low and raspy. "You taste fuckin' divine"

His beard is shiny and damp, his lips glistening, hair messy from where your fingers were tangled in it. The sight of him looking so completely disheveled and filthy has you clenching around nothing, the ache almost too much to bear.

He doesn't say anything else, just ducks his head and gets back to work, his mouth moving with a renewed urgency, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart, allowing him better access.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, a constant stream of moans and whines and babbling pleas and praises falling from your lips, but you're not really sure what you're saying, not really sure of anything except the intoxicating pleasure coursing through your veins.

You hear him moan, can feel the vibration against your skin, and you glance down at him, and that's a mistake. The sight of him, his eyes closed and brows drawn together in concentration, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucks and nips and laps at you and– is he fucking grinding his hips into the mattress?

You're fucked.

A throaty moan tumbles past your lips as your hips start to rock, a rhythm forming as you chase your orgasm. His hands leave your thighs and he slides one arm up, the weight of it resting against your abdomen to keep you still while his other hand snakes down, fingers dipping inside again, finding the spot that makes you see stars.

"Fuck, Joel, please, oh my god, I'm so- please"

He groans in response, the hand on your stomach pressing down harder to meet the two fingers curling and stroking inside of you. You cry out at the increased pressure right as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud, his fingers moving faster and faster. Flames lick up your spine and spread throughout your body, threatening to burn you alive.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you and turning your limbs to jello. Wave after wave of blinding euphoria crashes over you and all you can do is cling to the pillow and arch your back, your toes curling as he continues to work his fingers and tongue, happily letting you ride his face and grind into his mouth.

He doesn't let up, not until you're a whimpering, trembling mess, physically pushing his head away when it becomes too much. He pulls back reluctantly, a wicked grin plastered to his face, his chin and mouth absolutely soaked. You're panting, struggling to catch your breath as the aftershocks make you shiver despite the content warmth spreading throughout your entire body.You feel sated and sleepy, a bone deep satisfaction making you feel boneless.

But as you come down from your high, rational thoughts start to filter in and you suddenly remember the reason this all started in the first place.

You're here to learn, he should be teaching you how to please a man.

How to please him.

You watch as he gets off the bed and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. Your eyes shamelessly rake over him, the dusty pink flush that decorates his neck and chest, the curve of his belly down to the impressive bulge in his jeans.

You push yourself up, ignoring the way your arms tremble with the effort. He looks at you, his eyes scanning your face no doubt looking for signs of distress.

"You ok?" he asks, eyebrows pinched together in his typical concerned Joel fashion.

"Yeah" you say, a little breathlessly. "But I still want to..."

Your voice trails off and you glance down at his crotch, hoping he gets the message.

"That's alright, baby. It's a lot, we don't-"

"No" you interrupt, a hint of desperation in your voice. "You said you would teach me. Please, Joel. I-I wanna learn" You hope it's a good enough cover to the fact that you really just want him, your original goal forgotten. "I just don't want to embarrass myself" you add, pouting slightly for good measure, praying to god that he can’t detect the underlying want for him and him only.

He watches you for a moment, seemingly contemplating his decision. And then his eyes narrow, because of course he knows. There's never been an instance where you succeeded in lying to this man. He always, always knows when something is off.

"Alright" he says, a slow smile spreading across his face, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. "Dick sucking class is now in session"

You groan, your face twisting with visible disgust.

"Oh my god, that was terrible."

"What? It's true" he says with a shrug.

"That is- no, no way. Never say those words ever again. Ever." you say, pointing a finger at him accusingly.

"Or what?" he challenges, taking a step towards the bed.

You gulp and lick your lips.

"Or..."

He waits expectantly for a response. You have none, so you just shake your head and look away.

"Yeah, that's what I thought"

You glare at him and then sigh.

"You're a bully"

"Am I?” He asks, taking a step back to give you more room. “ 'Cause you're the one that asked me to teach ya. On your knees, kid. Let's see whatcha got."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress a grin. You don't know how he does it, but his ability to make a joke or a quip out of anything always has a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, even when the jokes are awful and the puns are terrible. Even when the joke is about you getting ready to suck his dick.

"You're a bully and a pervert" you say, sliding off the bed and sliding to your knees, the plush carpet doing a decent job at protecting your joints.

"And proud of it.”

"Pride is a sin."

"So is premarital sex, so I'll see you in hell, honey"

You snort and look up at him from your place on the floor, grinning widely.

"You're ridiculous"

"You love it"

And that's the thing, isn't it?

Because you do. You love his innate ability to make you laugh, to make you smile even when he's about to take your fucking virginity. He knows how to comfort you, how to put you at ease, when to push you with his teasing and when to pull back and let you take control. You've never met a person who has so effortlessly made their way into your heart.

And here you are, on your knees for him under the false pretense of practicing for a man who's name you can't even remember right now.

You shake your head, the motion clearing the thoughts and the emotions that were swirling in your head, the ones that make you want to stand up and kiss him, kiss him until your lips are numb and you're left gasping for air.

"Joel?" you say his name softly.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Teach me."

Part 2 is already in the works I promise hehehe thank you for reading I hope u all enjoy!!

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller #pedro pascal characters

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writing-fanics · 3 months

Text

more than anything

Lucifer Morningstar x F!Reader

chapter i > chapter ii > chapter iii

[summary: Charlie Morningstar arrives in hell and meets someone from her dad's past when he was an angel.]

warning: mentions of depression: angst: seemingly unrequited love: loneliness: charlie might be ooc:

Charlie gasped her eyes widened with joy, clasping her hands together jumping up and down excitedly. "Are you Y/n?!" She asked, and the angel looked at her shocked, "You already know about me?" the angel looked at the princess of hell, in disbelief.

"Of course, I do!" She exclaimed, remembering the stories her father used to tell her about, [Y/n].

"My dad would tell me stories about you when I was little!" She said smiling, at [Y/n] who's body tensed up for a moment and her cheeks darkened a little. "Really?" She mumbled, under her breath looking away from the princess for a moment. "I thought he'd forgotten about me." She mumbled, her smile faltering for a moment. Before shaking her head. Forcing a smile on her face.

Charlie looked around the angel's office curiously, "So, your father?" said [Y/n], looking over at Charlie, smiling as she continued to look around the room. "So what did your father tell you about me?" She asked, and the princess of hell nodded.

"Good things I hope?" She said, and the princess of hell looked at the angel. "Of course, he said you were the only angel that believed in him." said Charlie, and the angel smiled reminiscing on times that have long since passed.

"We shared the same dream even adding some ideas onto each others, expanding on them. " said [Y/n], looking down her angelic wings seemed to go limp at her side as she frowned, "That was eons ago," She said, looking down.

Their conversation went on for what seemed like hours, the angel saw so much of the one she loved in his daughter. [Y/n] talked about Lucifer, and stories that he never told Charlie. Charlie watched as the angel's eyes sparkled as she talked about memories. [Y/n]'s heart seemed to swell, and then to suddenly falter back to sadness as she remembered, that she was to shy too scared to confess her feelings for the man she loved.

“You loved him didn’t you?” asked Charlie, and the angel looked over at her in shock and smiled softly, and chuckled softly. “Loved?” said [Y/n], and she smiled her eyes closed as she turned towards Charlie. “I still love him?” She said, her smile forced.

She said, “I couldn't bring myself to tell him,” She wrapped her arms around herself, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh. “I was afraid of ruining the friendship we already had.” She said, placing her hand on her head her thumb resting on her cheek, as she turned away from Charlie. Letting out a sigh, “I-If he didn’t accept my feelings, I didn't wanna lose what we already had." She bit her lip nervously, and turned back towards Charlie.

“S-So I didn’t." She said, looking at Charlie. The Princess of Hell, could see the sadness and loneliness in her eyes. Eyes that were filled with so much regret, "So, I watched as he fell in love with another." Her voice cracking slightly, clearing her throat she continued.

She pursed her lips inward, "Did and said nothing as he was banished to Hell," She looked down, "But, I can't take back what happened eons ago." She said, forcing a smile on her face as she looked at Charlie.

"So tell me about this Hazbin Hotel, I've been hearing so much about?" She asked, curiously and Charlie's eyes lit up. "Your father, wouldn't of set up a meeting with Heaven, without a reason." She said, and Charlie nodded.

[Y/n] listened intently about Charlie's plan, even though she was going to hear it again in court. She nodded in response smiling, "Sounds intriguing." the angel said, looking at the girl. "I do agree that everyone deserves a second chance." She said, a smile growing across Charlie's face.

"If those sinners that come to the hotel are willing." She added, placing her hands on her desk and sighed. "But, it isn't me who you are going to have too convince." She added, and Charlie looked at her, "But, I believe in the cause." She said, smiling looking at the princess of hell.

[Y/n] looked at Charlie and saw so much of her father in her, her heart couldn't help but ache. "You remind me of your father." Charlie looked at her and smiled, "Thank you, if it wasn't for him I wouldn't be here right now." said Charlie, “The apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree.” said [Y/n] a hint of sadness in her voice.

Charlie smiled softly, "You really do love my dad don't you?" asked Charlie, and the angel looked away closing her eyes for a moment. Taking a deep breath and with a solemn look on her face, she turned back towards Charlie. "More than anything." said [Y/n] sadly, the room filled with silence. She still loves him even after eons have since passed they've last seen each other, "Sorry, I shouldn't even be saying this to you." She said shaking her head.

She scoffed at herself, "Telling you his daughter that I've got some silly crush on him," She shook her head and placed her head on her desk, "Ugh, I'm so pathetic!" She groaned, into her desk. For eons, after Lucifer was banished to Hell. [Y/n] hasn't been the same since forcing a fake smile on her face, while doing her daily angelic duties. With a fake smile plastered on her face.

One the inside she was hurting. She was lonely. She was depressed. Filled with so much regret being the cause of her own lonely existence. If she wasn't such a coward maybe things would've ended up differently maybe they wouldn't?

Charlie placed a hand on shoulder causing [Y/n], to lift her head and look up at her. "I'm sure he misses you just as you miss him." said Charlie smiling, trying to comfort the angel as much as she could.

"He used to tell me so many amazing and wonderful things about you," She said. [Y/n]'s lower lip started to quiver as tears welled up in her eyes, hiding her head into desk. She glanced over at the clock on the wall; lifting her head up from the desk. She wiped away her tears, "I-It's almost time for the court meeting. You should probably get ready." said [Y/n], as she stood up from her chair.

"Maybe, you can visit once this is all over?" Charlie said, and the angel looked at her and smiled, "I'm sure that would make both his and yours day." The angel really could see so much of the man she loved in his daughter, "That sounds like a dream to me." said [Y/n], as she walked towards the door and placing her hand on the door knob.

She missed him dearly and for many years she stayed in heaven, wallowing in self-pity and regret. Loneliness and heartbreak. Grieving over the lover she was to cowards to confess her feelings towards.

"But, I don't know. Right now you should focus on convincing the angels." She said looking at the young demon, as her gaze drifted towards the ground. "I-I shouldn't of even mentioned what I said today." She said a solemn look on her face.

"You have nothing to apologize for." She said, looking at Charlie and smiling, "I have only myself to blame." She smiled sadly, and Charlie and the princess of hell a gave her a sympathetic smile. As Charlie left the room, "Charlie?" The Princess stopped and turned around, "When you see him again." She said, "L-Let him know." She stammered, nervously biting her lip her wings limp at her side.

"L-Let him know that I miss him more than anything," She said sadly, and Charlie smiled and nodded. [Y/n] watched as she walked away, and closed the door behind her and turned away. Leaning her back against the door, she sank to the ground and brought her knees to her chest and cried. "I really am pathetic," She sniffled, once again wallowing in self-pity.

"E-Even, if I were to go and visit would he even wanna see me?" She mumbled, maybe she should. She didn't expect anything from it but, maybe it would fill the hole in her immortal heart. The thought of seeing him again brought a smile to her face, she really did love him with every fiber of her being. She envied Lilith and was jealous of her not in a hateful or spiteful way.

She just..[Y/n] sighed, wiping away her tears. Standing to her feet and dusting herself off, taking a deep breath in and exhaling. As she placed her hand on the doorknob, sighed, leaving her office and making her way towards the courthouse.

If only she knew how much he truly did miss her, as on his desk. Sat a rubber duck that shared the same angelic features as her, wings and all. If only she knew how is heart would ache, as he would glance at it.

if only she knew

how much she truly means to him

a/n: ngl..i kinda wanna maybe make her charlie's stepmom.. i mean she still loves lilth of course but.. i mean.. like.. come on.. i should..

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer morningstar x y/n #lucifer morningstar fanfiction #lucifer morningstar #charlie morningstar x reader plantonic #charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfic #angst #seemingly unrequited love #unrequited feelings #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin

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