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#( and she specifically said no flowers )
disposal-blueeee · 8 months
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really really small guys
edgar belongs to jhonen vasquez
scriabin belongs to @zarla-s
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png ver. for some reason
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andddd the sketch. for some reason too
#vargas#vargas zarla#edgar vargas#scriabin vargas#zarla s#scriabin#look at themmm#scriabin looks so so so pretty here#i have a specific image of an angry scriabin on my head#and i think this is the closest i'll get it#even if he's not angry here. but. just add some angry eyebrows and tadah !#my eye is swollen for no reason aaaghhh help me#my little sister was watching peppa yesterday#and there was this one scene of them making flower crowns#she said something about wanting to draw scriabin like that#(she knows the characters because i can't stop talking about them hahah)#so i decided to sketch something with this idea and. we have this. credits go to my little sister for the idea.#she literally asked me like FIVE TIMES if i could give her credits on the post. sooo#this is so funny i didn't expect this to look so pretty#it's even better that the drawing i've been working on for the past THREE MONTHS#and this one only took five hours. alright#if anyone's concerned. my mental health is way better now :D#i convinced like five of my friends to read vargas too so that also makes life interesting.#also they're making fan art and it's such a nice sensation#i'm still kind of blocked though. i'm wasting precious vacation time !!! aaagggghhh !1!!#unhhh probably i wrote something wrong here but i don't want to check#i almost forgot edgar's scars hahaha i didn't drew them at first because they looked like eyebags on the sketch#also i wanted to draw edgar's eyes but it didn't look good soooo#i wanted scriabin to look angry?? but he looks flustered instead.#alright thats way too many tags. i should go to sleep now (i won't)
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sundial-girl · 8 months
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vFlwoer...you know teh ourple one...
ourple...
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My favorite song of theirs
ok i'm actually gonna be real i don't listen to that much flower 😭😭😭 SORRY. but the songs i have listened to are good she slays
i think given my blog theme though it's pretty obvious which is my fave flower song
Who I ship them with
OK SEE ITS COMPLICATED FOR HER im so torn 😭😭
ig(??) i do still for the most part think she's sapphic/has a preference for girls, and b/c of a friend my main thing was flowerin. i do like them v much and think abt them, they're cute. BUT a different friend of mine ships fukaflower and that's also really grown on me. BUT b/c of the internet and other mutuals too i've seen pikase and that's cute as hell too. so my mind somehow condensed that into the THREE OF EM (flower, fukase, piko) but i dont even know what tf i'd call that; its not entirely romantic but also not entirely platonic, something is going on and its made infinitely more complicated w/ how they all interact differently depending on what fucking timeline story thing we're in. and again flower & rin is also cute and flower has other cute ships too and AJKSDKJKJKJ 😭
i'll just say tho that the good thing about having several different story things where different things happen is i can do whatever i want and everyone can b happy. the bad thing is i end up overthinking it and also i have a tendency to not give the characters in my stories happy endings
My favorite part about their design
well for one i like how she has so many designs i think its funny lmaoo
v3 and v4 are my faves sooo... i do like the dress & longer hair of v3 actually, i feel its more like, actual flower-like so it fits (and maybe im a bit based b/c that's the design she had when i first vaguely knew abt her). but v4 is iconic, undoubtedly. its the first design that pops into my head when people say flower. i really like how its more ourple since her v3 is more like... black? hksjghkj. i like her striped armwarmer thing its quite funky. solid designs but theyre hard asf to draw imma be real 😭 i can never get them quite right
ALSO i know people dont like ci b/c she doesn't look like flower, but funnily enough i do kinda like that. the sorta uncanny valleyness, b/c u know its supposed to be flower and it vaguely does have some resemblance but its also not and something feels wrong. again though that might just be me b/c of how i twist that for narrative purposes and i have a lot of fun w/ angst shit regarding ciflower but sjkjdhjkshkjhakjhg
A random headcanon I have of them
you know those memes about people cutting/dying their hair after a mental breakdown? yeah that's her 😂😭
i don't think she actually dyes it, it's naturally that peppered white/black color sorta, but she does impulsively do shit to her hair sometimes, not necessarily when she is distressed but she has def done it as "distraction" from negative emotions going on. luckily there's some sorta thing going on that lets her grow her hair back really fast in case she fucks up, so she can test out as many hairstyles as she wants whenever basically. she does think fucked up hairstyles are really funny tho. probably once shaved her entire head just b/c she could
name a vocaloid in my askbox and i'll tell you stuff
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(Whispers to flicker) What happened to the real daisy.
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“I’m not Daisy. I’m just a hopeless Zorua’s fantasy.”
A voice calls for Daisy in the distance, gradually coming closer.
She doesn’t react.
@greedentstripes
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povlnfour · 4 months
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ੈ✩‧₊˚ .JPG (JUST PROPOSE GODDAMNIT) (LN4)
pairing: lando norris x girlfriend!reader
summary: lando’s childhood sweetheart has long since been the subject of his photography account. fans just can’t wait to see one specific post from the couple in the future
*face claim for y/n: edie rose (but please imagine her as you see fit!)
lando.jpg just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
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liked by daniel3.jpg, charles_leclerc and 95,602 others
lando.jpg life lately🧡
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user1 me checking y/n’s hand for a ring everytime lando posts her
user5 FELT i got so excited when i saw one here then realised it was her right hand
user2 SO REAL nearly 8 years im expecting it soon…
daniel3.jpg one of you looks super graceful w the food
landonorris gtfo
yourusername (affectionate)**
user3 SUCH A CUTIE
user3 y/n i mean xo
user4 MOM AND DAD
user5 JPG MR .JPG. JUST PROPOSE GODDAMNIT!!!!!
lando.jpg just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
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liked by daniel3.jpg, charles_leclerc and 97,602 others
lando.jpg my muse and me
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user5 lando i BEG just ask the woman to marry you
user6 his muse🥹🥹🥹 if someone called me that i would be a puddle
user1 oh she so has stops to pet random dogs energy
yourusername i love you my darling
user4 the third photo *faints*
user7 JPG!!!
user5 finally my legacy is catching on
yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
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liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 103,447 others
yourusername lando got .jpg-ed of his own for a change
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user3 the caption sounds….
yourusername @/user no comment
user8 MISS Y/N THAT FIRST PHOTO IS ILLEGAL
user5 i just gasped out loud at work in front of customers
user2 Y/N KNOWS WHAT WE WANT TO SEE
user1 i know we’re freaking over the first pic but his smile in the second one i’m so in love. how do you cope with him looking at you like that?
yourusername i quite simply don’t🩷
lando.jpg just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
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liked by daniel3.jpg, charles_leclerc and 95,602 others
lando.jpg holidays as captured by us
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user5 a whole fancy holiday to greece and stILL NO RING????
user7 mr. norris the next photo u post better be a damn proposal or god help me
charles_leclerc good decision to put her first, that way people don’t run away
user6 CHARLES😭😭😭
user1 JPGGGGG
user3 look at that GLOW she’s so main character (you’re cute too lando i guess)
yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
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liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 102,771 others
yourusername baby is away but still sending deliveries💐
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user7 flowers but never a ring… i could treat you better baby
landonorris 🤔
user3 ^^^ WHAT THEY SAID
oscarpiastri is this what you had to ask lewis for help with @/landonorris
landonorris international shipping isn’t my thing ok
user4 best boyfriend ever
user7 he COULD be the best husband ever, but🤭
landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
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liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 206,231 others
landonorris happy birthday babygirl. so glad u lived long enough to utter the words ‘get a picture of my boots dickhead they’re brighter than ur future’
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user7 so no bday proposal either😐
user5 SIR YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME
landonorris guys stop being mean i’m only small
danielricciardo he’s joking bullying turns him on
user1 lando you have to expect the marriage jokes in ur comments now
carlossainz55 feliz cumpleaños y/n!🥳
yourusername gracías, mi amigo🥹
user7 ‘my friend’ TEARS IN MY EYES SHES THE GRID BESTIE
yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
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liked by lewishamilton, carlossainz55 and 112,099 others
yourusername days in england are my fave bc it gave us my fav f1 driver (lewis hamilton)
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user4 Y/N/N U ARE SO REAL AHAHAHA
charles_leclerc i’m offended
yourusername ur my next favourite sweetie
landonorris IM NOT EVEN SECOND?
lewishamilton i expect you in a merc cap next race now
yourusername done king
lewishamilton visit soon🖤
landonorris absolutely not
user8 lando won’t propose so lewis said BET
lando.jpg just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
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liked by daniel3.jpg, charles_leclerc and 95,108 others
lando.jpg night at the opera
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user3 AT THE OPERA? AND STILL NO…? JPG!!!
user5 JPG!!! JPG JPG
user1 JPG
user9 JPG!
user2 JPG JPG JPG SAY IT WITH ME
user6 JPG JPG JPG
user7 JPG!!!!!!!!!
landonorris why are you all shouting a photo type in my comments
landonorris oh
lando.jpg just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
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liked by yourusername, daniel3.jpg and 100,072 others
lando.jpg singapore on film
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alex_albon JPG!!!
landonorris you have 3 seconds to leave my page
user8 IM IN TEARS OVER ALEX
user5 IT CAUGHT ON‼️
user1 definitely no ring☹️
yourusername reading your comments is like reading the latest tabloid
yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
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liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and 105,602 others
yourusername what do you mean we’ve been together for eight whole years??? what do you mean we’re not 15, young, dumb and in love anymore? i’d take another 8 in a heartbeat🧡
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landonorris eh we’re still dumb and in love, just maybe not the first one. love you baby🧡
fernandoalo_official you are still a child.
user4 HAPPY 8 YEARS TO MY FAVOURITE COUPLE☹️☹️☹️
user5 all the behind the scenes of him taking photos :(
user7 she really is his muse huh
landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
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liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 214,520 others
landonorris sometimes when i look at you i think it’s only been 8 seconds with how much i learn about you each day. hard to believe it’s been 8 years, and that i love you more each day. no one else i’d want to spend the rest of my life with. i know you’re just settling until you can win over lewis (or charles, or george, or oscar, or alex, or carlos) but i’m feeling pretty lucky it’s me you chose to do that with.
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lewishamilton mate you just gotta get on my level
oscarpiastri good taste, y/n
landonorris NOT YOU TOO
yourusername thank you bff
user8 me waiting patiently for the anniversary proposal post????
user1 wishful thinking oomf
danielricciardo all jokes aside pal, happy you’ve managed to keep her around for this long despite being you. big love for you both🖤
landonorris HOW was that all jokes aside
yourusername believe it or not, it’s always you. happy anniversary baby🧡
yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
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liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 107,821 others
yourusername lando caught the behind the scenes of my selfie taking and let me tell u the distance between me n him is important
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user2 this was not the post i was expecting but i’ll still take it
user5 i was hoping we'd get a different post but you still look good ma'am
user8 the fact he’s always there to take photos of you >> girl you have landed on your FEET
yourusername tell me about it. luckiest girl in the WORLD
lando.jpg just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
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liked by daniel3.jpg, yourusername and 112,562 others
lando.jpg y/n by me, me by me, me by y/n
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user4 so it’s official … no proposal?
user5 jeez man JPG.
user3 jpg!!!
user1 just propose goddamniT
yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
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liked by lewishamilton, alex_albon and 206,719 others
yourusername i don’t even have the ability to be mean to you this time. my forever person. thank you for putting up with me. this feels like a dream i cannot believe i am a fiancée. THE EASIEST YES IVE EVER SAID (and you once asked me if i wanted to snooze the alarm)
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user3 OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD AM I DREAMING
user7 WHAT THE JAJHDBSVJA
lewishamilton finally! show me the ring this weekend (congratulations)
yourusername facetiming u rn
user5 IM???? MY LEGACY HAS ENDED AND I COULDNT BE HAPPIER
carlossainz55 couldn't be happier for the both of you
alex_albon LILY AND I ARE SCREAMING CONGRATS TO OUR FAVOURITE COUPLE
landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚
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liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 377,290 others
landonorris took my time but got there eventually. ‘just propose goddamnit’ WELL LOOK AT ME NOW! gonna have myself a wife. i love you baby, thanks for screaming yes immediately so i didn’t have to wait to hear your answer
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landonorris @/user5 i hope ur happy now
user5 VERY.
charles_leclerc can't believe you pulled it off mate, congrats!
oscarpiastri sad i can't scream JPG at you in the garage anymore but happy for the both of you!
yourusername my oscar :( cannot wait to squeeze you this weekend
oscarpiastri @/yourusername i better be a bridesmaid
landonorris why not a groomsman????
oscarpiastri @/landonorris i like her more
mclaren wedding (mclaren's version)
----
a/n:
hello hello, i have had so much fun writing and creating this so i hope you like it!!!!
was going to wait to post but after the hell that was quali i thought hey why not now
thank you all for reading! as always, comments likes and messages are appreciated and whatnot🫶 take care of yourselves this week!!! the temperature is starting to drop in france so i am wrapped up warm and i hope you’re looking after yourself wherever you are
taglist (found here): @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicora @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @minkyungseokie @paolexsstuff @celestialpato @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @tsukishitm-a @moonypixel @champagneproblems17 @ironmaiden1313 @lqvesoph @sunflower-golden-vol6 @six-call @skatingiswalkingincursive @peqch-pie
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forbidden-sunlight · 2 months
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yandere!Alastor with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario
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Warning: aged-up!reader [in early to late twenties], obsessive behavior, implied violence, implied emotional and physical abuse, implied brainwashing, knowledge based on spoilers from the first two episodes of the 2024 series.
There may be possible triggers in this story.
If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your device or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.
You are responsible for your own Internet consumption!
Hey guys, welcome back to another Hazbin Hotel fic, starring Hell's one and only Radio Demon, Alastor! This is a collaborative piece written with @isuckatwritingsobenice, whom I share a mutual adoration for Violet Evergarden, the anime and titular character who is in my humble opinion, one of the best written female protagonists I have seen in anime.
As always, bullying is not tolerated here. If you have nothing nice to say, please do not say it. Furthermore, if you believe the warnings listed above will make you uncomfortable, please leave now.
For those who have decided to stay, sit back, relax, and let's see what's going for tonight's broadcast :)
Alastor is someone who thrives on entertainment and chaos. Seeing the scourge of Hell striving to redeem themselves in Charlie’s hotel, only to fail as soon as they gave into the vices they’ve been trying to cure themselves of? That’s the only reason he agreed to help the princess with her passion project. He needed some inspiration after lacking it for so many decades! 
When you had arrived at the hotel with nothing except the clothes on your back and a suitcase that protected your precious Remington typewriter, the Radio Demon would not deny that he was amused to see a sinner who actually saw his advertisement on the television. After all, no one was taking Charlie seriously, and who would? Apparently you did, but for a different reason: you were looking for a job, a purpose. You said so in the interview, and you were willing to learn. When Vagatha asked what would be considered a flaw in your work ethic, you took off your leather gloves and showed her and Charlie  the alloy prosthetics that acted as your new limbs after losing them in the war.
Why you still had them and why your appearance was wholly human, you did not know. Would this be considered a flaw? You were not sure either. You are still learning about modern technology, especially the handheld devices called cell phones. 
Although the staff was in dire need of someone who could advertise the Hazbin Hotel on the Internet, the princess found something you could do and might be adequate at: gardening. More specifically, being the hotel’s groundskeeper. Someone who can maintain the hotel’s outward appearance and make sure the hell-grass or weeds don’t  get too out of control. You stood up from your seat, feet planted together and saluted Charlie, promising that you will do your best in a monotone voice.
The poor dear did get a little flustered from your actions, but Vagatha did not seem to mind, asking you to follow her upstairs so that she could show you your new room and give you the key. Your first day will be tomorrow. 
Oh, this will be fun~! Alastor thought with a wide grin. Someone new to antagonize and watch fall into the fiery pits of failure! Husk was starting to bore him anyway. 
And he was not disappointed. 
He saw you struggle with holding a garden spade, laying down carpets of fresh grass neatly without trying to crush it between your prosthetic limbs, carrying fertilizer and what flowers to plant! These entertaining events happened within the first week of being here. Is he sorry that his shadows purposely swapped the fertilizer bags and replaced the seed bags to plant roses with rat bait? Absolutely not! 
The more chaos that he created, the more entertained he will be. The anticipation to see you crumble from the pressure and expectations of dear Vagatha and Charlie is almost palpable, he couldn’t wait! 
However, you were not someone who gave up as easily as he hoped you would. 
You kept showing up every day at the exact time, and worked in the garden until Niffty had to drag you inside to have lunch. Then you stayed outside for a bit longer, making sure everything was ready for the following day. You even tried to help out in the kitchen, though you were still struggling to properly hold a knife and chop up vegetables for his jambalaya or cracking eggs in a bowl to help Niffty bake a cake at nine o’clock in the evening because she was bored and wanted something sweet. 
You carried heavy crates of liquor for Husk and even massaged his temples when he complained of a headache. When you discreetly switched out the liquor in his booze for water one time he held a grudge against you for pulling that stunt for almost a week. He eventually forgave you by preparing a Shirley Temple on the house after you politely rejected a whiskey on the rocks because you did not drink alcohol. 
Sir Pentious, the wannabe overlord, was utterly fascinated with your prosthetic limbs and had asked you to let him examine them. That comment earned him a low, menacing growl from Vagatha, spear in hand. The Egg Bois seemed to like you well enough that they tried to help you out in the garden when all they really did was make your job a bit harder. You still thanked them anyway. 
Angel Dust tried to take you shopping for a new wardrobe since you always wore the same outfit every day, but his definition of fashion bordered on risque and flaunting his assets. You were not here to flaunt your appearance, you were here to work, but you thanked him anyway. When he came back to the hotel, staggering inside on wobbly legs and his face covered in black-blue bruises, you were the one who caught him and helped him settle on a table as Husk pulled out a first aid kit. You allowed Angel to put all four of his arms around you and cry on your shoulders, carefully placing your skeletal prosthetics around his back. 
How is it that a single sinner could empathize with everyone here except him? 
This singular thought, this curious idea, is what motivated Alastor to find out more about you. And there is no else in Hell who can spill the tea on someone as accurately as his dear friend Rosie. 
A trip to Cannibal Colony was in order~!  So he did go there, proclaiming he’ll be back before dinner and ignoring Vagatha’s cursing as well as the princess trying to calm down her short-tempered lover. 
As it turned out, he had heard about you, it’s just that the topic in question did not interest him at the time. Rosie conjured up some old newspaper clippings, pointing at the image of you fighting against an exorcist in hand-to-hand combat during the Extermination. This article had been written five years ago, and the one before that? Three years ago. It seemed like you were simply at the wrong place at the wrong time, and you fought back because that is what your life had been before; surrounded by violence, vanquishing enemy forces when they crossed your path. Yet when you did make an appearance, everyone in Hell clamored for any scraps of information. Anything to find out who is the mysterious sinner who looked like a human and could rip off an exorcist’s head bare-handed. 
Now, you were staying at the hotel trying to put whatever remained of your afterlife together. That is your true purpose and now the Radio Demon knew. 
Alastor thanked Rosie for the information and the company, leaving Cannibal Colony in a merry mood. Everything was in place. Everything made perfect sense now.
If you were looking for a way to be useful in his newest project, he can make that happen. All he needs to do is nudge you in the right direction without Charlie and Vagatha around.
They are adorable when they are taking turns being a guard dog around you, you sweet little darling~. 
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Taglist
@chroniccorvus
@imperfectbloodmoon
@doc-tooth
@nixie-writes
@riddle-simp
@tired-of-life-86
@blackmageoffandoms
If you would like to be tagged in future yandere hazbin x reader fics, please comment on this post here. If you do not comment, then you will not be added on the taglist.
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nonpoppin · 1 month
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BEGINNING OF THE END
Paul Atreides x Reader
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Summary: Things reach a boiling point.
Warnings: Sickness, hallucinations, talks suicidal tendencies, , blood, talks of medicine and needles! kissing, making out, brief dry humping. TELL ME IF I MISS ANYTHING!!
Notes: Look, this was supposed to be the end but it's a part two instead, please don't hate me y'all 😭 Part three is already in the works! This is like 8k words!! No cricket mention! Maybe in part three! The summary is sorta funny once you reach the end of the story please laugh-
PART ONE
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“You are being ridiculous.”
“When the worms feast on my flesh I hope I taste nice.”
The changing divider is just thin enough to allow shadows to pass through and because of this Paul sees the maid throw her hands up before he hears her curse in her mother tongue. Paul swallows a snort, a small smile playing on his lips as he flips through an old book— it's been like this for hours. Your new maid was kinder than your last and, her cruelest punishment was making you look like a proper lady, as proper as you could look when your sickness allows you to skip out on all the corsets, ties and uncomfortable bonnets with their big ugly bows and flowers.
Paul hears your maid curse, your shadows move and you giggle. It's a soft sound, so soft, he almost misses as he turns a page in the book he's pretending to read. Still, it rasps and he hears the little gasp of pain you take after the humor passes and he frowns. The new medication works but not well enough, it takes away your bigger symptoms but it puts new ones in its place. Pinching lungs traded for ones that squeeze and contract suddenly, your drowsiness swapped for the inability to sleep— the notes said nurses found you awake at all times of night, bleary eyed and delirious but filled with too much energy. Your lack of appetite was pushed aside for your constant hunger and its consequence was not being able to keep any solid down.
Paul flips another page, his frown falling into an indifferent line. He's not supposed to know that about you, he was specifically barred from reading your medical files— something about respecting your privacy and doctor– patient confidentiality. Paul flips another page, he hears you giggle and your maid chide you and tries not to twitch at the sound. You've been giggling a lot recently, not that he really cares, it's just… if the action brought you pain why do you continue to do so? How can you find humor in anything with your circumstances? Then, he wonders if it's another side effect.
Paul goes to flip another unread page when you finally step from behind the divider. You look… Paul clears his throat and politely looks away feeling exasperated. The maid, Lyra, is still busy with the workings of your dress— the deep green fabric falls off your shoulders, your breast barely contained by the sinking fabric, your hair wild but not horribly so, it almost looks purposely roguish but with the state of the rest of you, he knows that's not the case. You look at him, the smile on your face is a touch whimsical and your eyes misty and it's then he knows you're not all there— it's the early workings of your medication, he guesses, he was sent to fetch you not too long after a dose. “Paul, if you were a worm–”
Paul shuts down the conversation before it can even start. “No.”
It's almost cute, how you wilt into yourself. Lyra uses it as an opportunity to pull your dress up before it can fall and expose you completely. She fixes a few buttons and he hears a zipper, then the fabric is hugging your figure nicely. Lyra eyes your hair for a moment, a finger brushing away a strand that hangs in your line of sight and you smile at her, leaning into her hand with a hum. It only makes the woman frown.
“She’ll be fine once she gets some food in her.” She says to Paul. Though her tone is concerned, she pitches her lips into a soft smile, “Don’t think I like this variant much. She doesn't remember most of her day then she spends the other half throwing up.”
Paul doesn't think of your medical files. His nose doesn't twitch at the new information, he doesn't immediately file it away in his brain as another reason to hate this stupid new medication. Forgetfulness. The word repeats in his head and he closes the book, his fingers tapping across the cover before they stretch and repeat the motion– Lyra pretends not to notice it as she guides you back to your bed. It makes sense, he thinks, maybe you forgot the way you were supposed to be acting around him, the moment this medication was introduced you had dropped the formal address of ‘your majesty’, you had started to smile at the sight of him. His fingers twitch as you groan something to Lyra— your head hurts. Another side effect?
Paul is standing before he realizes. “I’ll talk to her doctors.”
Lyra looks a touch surprise, her eyes shooting away from you to the prince then back to you with twitching lips. “If that's what you want to do, my lord.”
He's out of the room so fast, she can't help the laugh that escapes her. “Oh, that poor boy.”
You blink up at her, “Hm..?”
She only pats your hand fondly. “I’ll tell you when you're more coherent.”
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Leto tries to outpace his son but Paul matches his stride. “–And she is throwing up her meals, what is the point of feeding her if she can not keep it down?”
Leto glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “I thought I banned you from reading her files.”
Paul blinks, but he doesn't stumble in his stride nor does he slow. “I didn't. I simply talked to her maid, she's very forthcoming.” He lies.
Leto turns a corner, Paul follows. So, the King tries a different tactic. “I thought you wanted her dead?”
That causes his son to trip a little. “I did. I do, but as future King I won't deny she is of more value alive–” Paul sees his father frown, the ends of his lips twitching downward and he rushes to add, “–but I also realize she is human, she's not that much older than me and she's sick and this variant seems to be making it worse.”
Leto slows to a stop, just a bit and actually seems to consider his words. “The doctors say this variant is working the best out of all the ones they tried–”
“Father, if you were to ask her, her name, she'd answer wrong.” Paul interrupts, his voice a touch annoyed as he thinks back to you. You'd probably ask about worms again or make some ill-timed joke about your possible death. His mind flashes images of you, sick, confined to bed to now; standing, delirious and breasts spilling out of your dress— he instantly puts a cap on that thought and clears his throat. “We are supposed to keep her alive and that is not living.”
“I’ll bring it up in the next meeting about her health–” Paul opens his mouth and Leto gives him a sharp look. “–No, you may not join. But, I'm sure Lady Balliol appreciates your sudden… interest in her care.” There's a touch of amusement in his father's voice and the King pats Paul on the shoulder as he moves to pass him.
Paul freezes as he tries to process that statement, “What?”
But only Leto hums in reply, his mind already elsewhere. Paul falls in step with him and tries again, his voice louder. “Dad, what do you mean by that?”
The man gives his son a sidelong glance before looking away, his lips pursing— suddenly any amusement he seemed to find in the situation is gone. “It’s nothing, really.”
“It’s obviously not nothing.” Paul says, “You never say anything without meaning, you, yourself told me that. So what did you mean by that?”
“It’s just,” The King starts carefully and Paul can see in his face that he is carefully picking his words. “You hated Lady Balliol from the moment you saw her, you called for her death– wanted her head to roll with her fathers’.”
Paul goes to interrupt but Leto continues, his brow dipping in thought, “If I listened to you the first time, the very girl you worry about would be dead, do you understand that? You brought me pages of what dead Kings would do to inspire me and now you come to me worrying about her care after talking to her, what, a handful of times?” Leto looks at him then, his eyes searching. “This switch is odd if not a little cute and this sudden interest; I can only understand if you grew fond of her in the moments you spent together. I am aware that you loiter around her room, after all.”
Paul goes pink in the face. “It’s not like that.”
King Leto frowns at him, “Isn’t it? Even in sickness, she is a stunning sight. Her wit, when she is sound, is astounding and I find her quite humorous— if you have a small fancy for her, it's okay. Truly, I would rather that than you see her as some type of pawn, she's—”
“Human.” Paul says, his face still pink as he looks anywhere but his father. “I know she is human. Flesh and bone like you and me.”
“And?”
“And what?” Paul asks, annoyed. “She’s sick.”
Leto has an odd smile blooming on his face and the sight of it makes Paul want to squirm right out of his skin. Whatever Leto sees when he looks at his son, it's enough of an answer but still; he is a father and can't help taking the moment to tease him. “You can still like sick people, you know.”
Paul seems to twitch at that. “Yes, I know.”
“There’s nothing wrong with it. In old times, when one was wed— they'd say ‘In sickness and in health.’ Nothing can really stop love, I believe.”
Paul stops walking, hoping that his father would continue without him. Though, his face falls when Leto stops too— the both of them are right outside his private office and Leto is still smiling like he knows something Paul doesn't. “In fact, I have even read some interesting works— The Kings of old marrying off their Princes to nations they took over.”
“Well, we don't always have to follow the ways of Old Kings do we?” Paul says, his face looking as if he sucked on a lemon. “We can see where they failed and learn from it, yes?”
“Oh, no, these marriages were quite prosperous. Brought peace to the realm and all that.”
“Dad?”
The King's smile grows, “Yes?”
“You’re going to be late for your meeting.” Paul inclines his head towards the office and Leto laughs.
“Oh, now you don't want to join?”
“I think I'm quite alright out here.” He says, his eyes darting away. “I have things to do, as you know.”
Leto chuckles and with a shake of his head, he slips into his office. Paul gets a brief glance of the men in there— at the doctors and their notes splayed across the table then he sees Duncan, two of them make the barest of eye contact before they both look away, though a thought crosses Paul's mind. If he couldn't have a say in these meetings— maybe he could convince someone else to be his voice.
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Lyra, your new nurse-maid, is a lot of things. She's a whole head shorter than you, plump and filled with curves and a mother. She gets nervous around you, treats you like porcelain when you cough or develop a wobble in your step but she's stern. Stern but not cruel, like your last nurse-maid and she tells you, you act like her youngest. A melancholy little five year old who knew a little too much about death and rot because of her father who happens to be a farmer. Lyra, stars-guide-her, treats you like you're her child and it makes you ache.
When you die, it will hurt her.
You don't voice this, of course. You've come to a certain realization that it's all you do— hurt people, curse them with an early death or the burden of your care. You had tried to warn your father off from it, tried to convince your brother to make him see reason and look where that got them; dead or banished for caring. You try to imagine what will happen to Lyra after your death, she just— she just cares too much and if she has her way, there will be a story about you twisted and pecked at till it made you look pretty. Your sunken cheeks passed off as high cheekbones, the dark bags under your eyes spun to be mysterious. You will die, yes, but some part of you will live on with a better life than you had now.
You sit, wrapped in thick blankets and an IV planted in your arm and your mouth chalky. They've been flushing the prior variant of medication out of your system— they had pumped you full of so much activated charcoal you vomited for a straight hour and now they're rehydrating you in preparation for the new variant. You wish they'd let you die, that someone would let that old maid in and let her pull the plug and bar the doors. You want to be put of your misery, you wish to save the time of every doctor and nurse experimenting on you and have them focus on something worthwhile like– like, you don't know, the creeping death that's been appearing on Arrakis?
But you are ignored. Of course you are— you are no princess and a lady of high standing no longer, you are a prisoner. A pretty one; a toy to play with until you give out and they get a new one. So, you pick at your fingers and think almost absentmindedly that you should be alarmed at how easy the skin peels and how you don't bleed and maybe it's odd because humans bleed but not you, not the King's favorite toy, you peel more and more and more and–
That's not right.
Your head is swimming but you are sure you bleed, you are sure you're human.
“You are something far worse.” Your father snickers and you flinch. You look up (— when had you looked down?) And you don't know how you didn't notice him the first time. He had always been a big man, commanding every space he entered and despite how ridiculous he looked in the small chair, he had a nasty sneer on his face, his brown eyes filled with hate.
That's not right either, he never looked at you like that. Your father loved you.
“I did, didn't I?” He mutters. “Loved you enough to forsake everything I built and this is how you repay me?” He gestures to you, the green and gray dress you wear with little embroidered hawks on the collar. “You would break bread with the enemy?”
“I have no choice,” You whisper and your voice echoes, thundering in your ears. “They won't let me go— they won't let me die–”
“I don't want to hear that.” Lord Balliol hisses, his face twisting. You can't help but to look away, his face is all wrong, too angry— too filled with hate. “You betray your blood with your very life–”
Your heart drops, this isn't right. He wouldn't say this, he wouldn't but he is and your lip wobbles, “Papa…”
“I wasted so much time on you.” He continues, his voice hard and it's like he can't hear you. “Do you realize that? Do you realize what you cost me?”
“I never meant to– I-I only wanted–”
“Be quiet!” He shouts and you flinch away from him. “You have cost me everything, everyone. My wife, my son, my people; you are nothing but a curse–” And when he spits your name, it sounds like it is. “You are my biggest disappointment, my worst regret and for that, I can not let you live.”
You are shaking, the blanket clenched between your fingers. “What?”
“I can't let you leave this room alive.” Lord Balliol says but he is warping; he is nothing but smoke when he throws himself at you. A creature made of darkness and death and smells of sulfur— his hands wrap around your throat and when he squeezes, it burns. You claw at his hands, only for them to faze through and then you call for him. For your father and not the monster that he becomes, he does not answer but his hands tighten.
When you wake it is with a scream. Your fist strikes the prince across his face but you are too blinded with fear to even notice. Paul falls back with a shout of surprise and you still don't notice because you are still screaming, clutching at your chest and heart as you scramble away with hiccuping sobs.
“Papa,” You cry as Lyra runs for you. The maid is at your side in seconds, catching you just before you fall to the floor and uncaring of your thrashing, “Papa, papa, I'm sorry!”
Lyra soothes you through your sobs, through the tremors that rock through your body, her hand smoothing over the silk bonnet that barely stays on your head and Paul watches. There's little else he could do now that he was nursing a bloodied nose.
Paul doesn't know what's more pitiful, the fact that you still call for your monster of a father in this state or the fact that you got a hit on him. He hates the thought the moment it crosses his mind — he is being mean again, he knows it's not you. Not really, he had caught the wild, dazed look in your eyes before you swung on him and honestly should have known better. You were having a night terror, he had been near your room the moment you screamed, entered only second to Lyra who seemed surprised to see you having one.
“It’s never this bad.” She had said, her eyes wide and her hands shaking. She had wanted to run to you instantly but this was— you had screamed as if you were being torn apart from the inside out and Paul knew he had to be the one to wake you, especially when you began to scratch at your chest and arms.
Finally, you had quieted. Your sobs turned into hiccups that tampered out to sniffles. Lyra holds you till you stop shaking and only pulls away when Paul calls to her, “You need to fetch a doctor.” He says and when she doesn't move, he uses what Duncan calls his princely voice, “Fetch them all if you need to, wake my father if you must. I'll stay with Lady Balliol.”
Still, she hesitates but one look at his face she disappears from the room. Paul waits a moment, then two as he wipes his nose, “You hit like a soldier.” He says it more to the air than to you but you respond all the same, forcing yourself to stand— using your bed as support.
“I was a soldier.” You mutter, “I was his weakest but I was trained.” Paul moves closer to you, his arms outstretched as if to help you climb back into bed but you curl away from his hands and his help and pull yourself back up on your own. The effort has you sweating and when you swallow, your throat burns faintly. Your hand shakes as you rub your throat and Paul sniffles from the spot near the door and the reminder that you struck the prince has your heart tripping over itself. “I’m–”
“If you apologize, I'll actually scream.” Paul says, his voice flat. “You have nothing to apologize for. I shook you awake during a night terror, of course you hit me.”
You fall silent, blinking at him owlishly. “But you're bleeding.”
“I doubt it'd be the last time I'll bleed.” Paul says, he smiles and it is small, “But if you want to get even, you can always tell me what you were dreaming about.”
Your eyes dart to the chair near the bed and you think of your father, of the creature he became and how it tried to kill you. You swallow and this time, you can't hide the wince it pulls from you, “It is nothing good.”
“Well, I suppose that's expected. You were dreaming of your father weren't you?”
You frown at him and Paul finds himself amused with how you bristle. You are nothing more than skin and bones but your hackles rise and he nearly expects you to hiss at him, instead you pull your blanket on to you, a barrier to separate yourself from him. “Why ask a question you already knew?”
“To see if you'd tell the truth,” He says, shrugging. “To see if you were lucid. It's nice to see that you are.”
You pull a face and it's almost so delicately confused, Paul nearly cooes at you. He missed this, missed coming to your room and having to argue his way into a conversation with you, he missed the you that despised him for who he was and what he represented. He draws closer to you and you don't budge from your spot on your bed, eyes following his every movement, almost unnervingly alert. He sits in the same chair your father sat in your dream and his is smaller, kinder as he finally breaks eye contact— looking away to grab tissue for his bloody hands. “Where’s Lyra?”
“Getting your doctors or my father.” Paul answers, “Why did the dream of your father scare you so much?”
Your lips purse as you look at Paul. He's still not looking at you, he's wiping fruitlessly at his hands. The blood smears but does not remove. You reach for your basin of warm water and grab a rag and when you hold a hand out, Paul's head snaps up almost automatically, “What do you–”
“Give me your hands.” You interrupt.
Paul hesitates before shrugging— what harm would you truly cause now that you're lucid? The only violence you craved when your mind was still was your own death. He gives you his hands and frowns when you begin to wipe them, you free his hands from his blood and in turn, you stain yours. Your hands shake as you pass over each knuckle and when his hands are clean, you reach out to his face— your eyes lock and Paul sees a girl. But not a scared one, you meet his eyes with a frown before they flicker down to the mess that is his nose and he watches you twitch at the sight of his blood. Your lip wobbles and Paul thinks you are about to ask permission to touch his face but he flinches when the cool rag touches his face.
You are gentle and he finds himself leaning into your hands as you wipe away the blood, another hand cupping his face gently to hold him steady as you do so.
Paul thinks you are disgustingly soft. Too soft to be a soldier, too soft to be the daughter of some deranged commander. He has only known you for a handful of weeks, nearly three months and he sees why you rot. You are too soft and it allows infection to dig its way into your flesh, you are being kept captive— a statement you had said plainly a hundred times over and you wipe at his face like he is fragile and that he is the one who had the nightmare.
Paul will miss you when you die, he thinks. He'll miss the arguments, the fights, the drug induced rants and most of all, he'll miss your softness.
It is a thought that has him yanking away from you. His stomach turns and he swallows back the sickness that creeps up his throat. You won't die, he forces the thought into his head, through the darkness that seeps into his mind— he isn't sure when it formed but he clears it as fast as he can. He promised you a cure, a long life and maybe, one day, when he is King– he'd pardon you. You couldn't die because he had plans for you, beyond you unsealing records of your family. Your softness, he realizes, must be contagious.
It's what's making him all gooey and twisty inside. It makes his cold heart melt and he forces himself to stand straight, his hands that are twitching, clenching and unclenching are forced behind his back as he clears his throat. He ignores how you frown at his reaction just as he ignores his urge to apologize. “Your dream?”
The rag feels heavy in your hands, and you twist it— wiping your knuckles clean. “It wasn't my father,” You say but your voice cracks as you drop the rag. “At least, not at the end.”
“Meaning?”
You blink at him, annoyed. “Meaning it was just a nightmare, my Prince. Not the key to the universe.”
Paul smiles like he knows something you don't, his eyes twinkling, “I find dreams to be forthcoming about future events. Maybe your dream is warning you?” You frown, a hand going to your neck and you flinch when you find the skin is raw. Paul frowns and takes several steps closer to you, bending at his knee, “Let me see.”
You hesitate but drop your hand and hiss when Paul's cool, prodding fingers brush over the flesh but he hushes you with a grimace. You try to pull back nervously but Paul follows your movement, standing and nearly climbing on top of you, “Paul, what are you–”
“These are burns.” He says, mystified. His touch is still gentle and it makes you shiver. “How in the world did you–”
King Leto clears his throat. Both of your eyes snap to him and the man is all but fighting a grin as your doctors linger just behind him, their eyes turned politely upwards. The sight they're greeted with is no doubt… scandalous, you are sure. The prince is all but straddling you, his hand while on your neck— are more caressing than choking or grabbing, his other hand is on your shoulder, keeping you steady. If you moved your head down or if the Prince moved his up, you’d be face to face and that thought has you instantly leaning away. You try to scramble from the bed— the King is before you and the proper etiquette is to bow before him but Paul keeps you to the bed, pushing you back when you try to get up.
“What are you doing?” He hisses, he shifts and his feet meet the ground again but he keeps his hands on your shoulders therefore keeping you planted on your bed. “Stop moving, you're injured.”
You swat at his hands, urging him to let go but Paul only bares his teeth in annoyance, his fingers curling into the fabric of your shift. “I need to bow–”
“You do not.”
“Your father is The King-!”
“And I am the Prince and I've yet to see you on your knees before me.” Paul snaps. Leto snorts and Paul feels himself flush red once he realizes what he's said but it seems to go over your head as you turn in his hold, Paul looks down, confused at your sudden silence but your hands sudden lash upwards, fingers tickling under his arm and Paul barks out a sharp laugh and bows away from you out of instinct. King Leto watches this unfold with wide eyes, his mouth opening then closing as you push yourself out of bed, ignoring Paul's glaring as you drop into a near perfect curtsy before him.
“Your Majesty.” You greet before you wobble just barely. Leto is quick to greet you back, his voice warm as he grasps your hand and pulls you from the curtsy. He's smiling but it drops once he gets a good look at you. His eyes flicker to Paul who stands only a step behind you, his arms clenched to his sides then to the room around you.
“There are no candles in here.” He says. Your brow dips in confusion but Paul takes a step forward, his voice low.
“Nothing in here can hold a flame. Nothing in here should burn. ” Paul says, he takes another step forward and this time his voice is worried, “Her medicine is not–”
King Leto’s snap to him, a frown forming. “Enough. It is not your place-”
Your hand twitches in Leto's grip and it makes him look at you— makes him realize that his hand is still linked with yours. You're frowning at the King and he blinks, surprised that you're showing him a negative emotion for once. He has only seen you witty and docile, you had sly tongue, yes. But you've only ever used it to plead for a quicker death, so to see this directed at him, it makes him pause and it's enough of an opening for you to speak, “Actually,” You start, your voice strong. “I would feel better if it was Paul's–”
Paul clears his throat. You blink, eyes flying to him and his eyebrows are raised and you stutter, face warm as you correct yourself, “I would feel better if it was the Prince’s place, Your Majesty.”
Leto drops your hand, his eyes flickering between you and his son with an odd look. The both of you are shoulder to shoulder, nearly pressed against each other and Paul shifts closer to you when his father lets go of your hand, as if bracing himself to catch your weight if you were to fall. Closer than strangers should be but neither of you shy away from each other, in fact,his son preens— his shoulders rolled back to stand straight, a smirk twitching at his lips. They make eye contact and it drops but Leto frowns. “Explain.”
“You all want me alive, yes?” Leto nods his head and you continue. “Well, with all due respect to you and the doctors– you're doing a horrible job at it. The Prince has been the only one keeping track of the side effects with each dose and if I'm being frank, he is the only reason I know what day it is. Sure, the new variant is keeping my heart beating but I don't– I don't remember anything, I am sure I'm losing taste and I keep having horrible nightmares and now there are burns manifesting on my skin.”
“The Prince has made it mission to see me every day and speak to me even when I'm choking on my own spit and asking bizarre questions. He sits and talks to me and it is the only interaction I have outside of Lyra, The Doctors and the rare visit from you, Your Majesty. You want me living but this isn't– Keeping me locked away in a little room is not that.”
The room is silent, Leto looking away deep in thought, his lips twitching. He can see why his son likes you— Paul had made the same argument but Leto had only brushed him off as a boy with a crush. He takes a breath and then— “Alright.”
Paul speaks first. “Alright..?”
“Your lady has spoken and it'd be remiss of me not to listen.” Leto says and he ignores Paul's huff. “The Prince will have a say in your health— in your medicine, that is. And you, Lady Balliol, may have your freedom.”
You make a face. “I always had my freedom. You said I did.”
“You do.” He agrees. “But I permit you to walk the halls, the garden— by the void, go horseback riding if you can muster the energy but I only have one condition.”
You look at him but the King is only looking at his son. “You are to be at her side and if you can not, you will be in charge of finding a suitable replacement. Is that understood?”
Paul looks at you from the corner of his eye then quickly away. “Of course.”
Leto nods. “Good, that starts tomorrow. Now leave us.”
The room snaps into motion at the Prince's dismal and suddenly Paul is on the other side of the room, being guided at the door by his father while the doctor's prod at your skin and usher you back to bed. Lyra loiters in the corner of the room but you don't look at her, instead you keep your eyes on Paul and he gives you one sharp nod before the door is closed.
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Paul took to his new orders like a fish took to water.
For the next week, he's at your door— prim, proper, with his hair curled and dressed comfortably. You had been in a much worse state, your neck wrapped to your ears in bandages, your eyes were bleary and your mouth had been thick as if filled with sand but every morning Lyra had dressed you in a cute dress that didn't reach your ankles in fear you'd somehow trip down stairs. Paul would always look you over, his lips would quirked up and say,“You’re beautiful.”
You had bare your teeth at him each and every time and he'd chuckled, unfazed by your intimidation. “You jest.”
Paul would look away but still offer his arm to you and you'd take it easily, stumbling into a steady pace with him. “I would not joke about one's beauty.” he'd say as he turned a corner, he would stop and let you look at the paintings on the wall. He'd bite back any cruel comment he'd spit in other situations and watch with a small grin as you took in every detail. “Would you rather I called you hideous?”
“I would rather us walk in silence.”
The second week, The Prince did just that much to your annoyance. Though, this time your trips were no longer in the castles but the endless courtyards and gardens. He'd offer you his arm, his lips sealed yet drawn in a tight smile that only grew when you'd turn to him and ask him questions of the statues or plants or ask him what he had for breakfast. The Prince would look at you, his lips unmoving but head tilted— he was teasing you, you realized. You had asked for silence and he granted easily knowing you'd soon ask him to help you fill it. Not willing to beg for him to speak to you, you had turned to childish tactics— you had tickled the Prince when he refused to answer your questions, chased him around the ground when he tried to escape your hands and threatened to tickle him more if he kept to his silence.
By the third week, you realize your Prince was a chatterbox. He'd talk about anything if you let him and you did— Lyra looked almost bored as she stood behind you watching as Paul ranted about the side effects of a new variant they wanted to introduce you to. The three of you had been nestled in one of the gardens, Paul had wanted to teach you chess but when he saw what a poor student you were, he simply gave up and allowed you to move the pieces mindlessly around the board.
“And get this– one side effect was urinating blood.” Paul threw his hand up then he glanced down at the board and moved a piece at random. “You would not believe how hard I had to fight to keep that out of the equation.”
You shoved his piece with your own, knocking it off the board but Paul caught it before it could hit the ground. “You should have let me try it, at least. Maybe it's the cure.”
Paul shot you a withering look, “It would have shut down your kidneys.”
You had met it with a sarcastic grin, “Oh, yay.”
The fourth week doesn't start the same. Paul isn't there to greet you in the morning and you try to swallow back your disappointment as Lyra helps you undress to get more comfortable. Once that's done, you dismiss her with a wave of your hand, you ignore her gentle concern and tell her you only mean to stay in bed for the day. You have spent weeks on your feet, you confide in her and while it is fun, you are tired. She leaves with little fuss, pressing a kiss to your hairline and promises she'll be back before lunch. You watch her go with a smile before you turn to your window.
Nothing says freedom like a room with a barred window but you know better than to take it to heart. You had spent the first few weeks begging for your death and now some still feared if they left you alone long enough, you'd throw yourself from the window. You had thought to do so once but now you just stare, watching with a small frown.
Distantly, waves roll and crash against the beach, dragging out sand for a moment only to push back new sand in its place. Seagulls squawk as they take flight, sparrows flitter about, sometimes a few land on your windowsill peering past the bars and meeting your gaze before taking flight once more. Distantly, there are servants of all ages and genders bustling about the castle, you can hear them talk, hear them laugh, you hear them living.
It is a strange thing to realize, that everyone, everything, is living in some way. That even the sand and waves will have someone who will look back on it fondly. That the people outside your room have family, friends, and legacies to carry their memories. It is strange not having that to yourself— with your father and his closest supporters dead, who will remember you kindly? Your maid and her silly stories? Your brother? The thought had your eyes watering, your brother was everything to you— he had allowed you to feel like a child when everyone else had treated you like an experiment, you remember his smile, his hugs and how he frowned when you coughed. It is with kindness, you hope the Royal family tells him you are dead.
Paul had told you he was safe, far away on a planet where hurt and sickness was unimaginable. You hope with him free of you, of your father, he worries for nothing and sleeps all day in the sun.
You turn in your bed, pulling your blanket high as you sniffle. Your mind races when there's nothing to occupy it and you find your thoughts settling on your Prince. You wonder how he'd remember you when you were gone— if he remembered you at all. Surely, your memory would get washed out by grander things, his coronation, the first day the crown sits on his head and he's referred to as a King. You try to picture it, him dressed in greens and gold, a beautiful lady on his arm— his Queen, your mind supplies and it has your mood souring even more.
The universe had cursed you. A sickness that could not be cured, it was shutting down your body even with the countless medications Paul makes you try. The void haunts you, a sickly little crush that clings to your skin and tears through flesh whenever you and Paul spend time together. You two have grown close— impossibly so. It was rare to see you not on his arm, you not poking at his sides, it was rare to see him not looking after you. His warm eyes trailing after you as you talked to Duncan or some other guard, your mind wanders and you wonder when the line had become so blurred between you two, you wonder when his absence began to hurt so much.
You are so lost in thought, you don't hear Paul enter the room. He crouches, his eyes meeting yours as his hand reaches out, he feels your temperature and frowns when finds you warm. “Are you okay?”
You blink at him, squinting through your lashes. “You’re late.”
Paul hums softly. “I am, I'm sorry.” His hand moves down, caressing the side of your face. This is also new; the touching. He's always doing it now, linking fingers or fixing stray baby hairs. “Have you waited long?”
You lean into his touch, a sigh leaving your lips. Paul is cool against your heat and your heart slows when he doesn't pull away. “I didn't wait at all.” He runs a thumb over your cheek and smears a tear into your skin, “Don’t be so full of yourself, Paul.”
“I’m sorry.” He says again, his voice is soft. He's still rubbing drying tears into your cheek and he opens his mouth again and you let out a tired breath.
“Paul, if you say sorry again, I'll shut you up myself.”
Paul's thumb freezes and it makes your eyes open, “Will you?” He murmurs but he's smiling at the familiarity of your words. His thumb starts its pattern again, “Is that a threat or a promise, Balliol?”
When you only stare at him, your eyes narrowing, he swallows. “I’m s-”
Paul's lips are soft. Softer than yours and that has you pulling away just as fast as you kissed him but you are not prepared for Paul to follow your lips with a sharp breath, his hand on your face curling to keep you close. He turns your soft kiss, hungry, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip as he gently leads you back against your bed. Paul doesn't break the kiss as he crawls on top of you and though he is gentle, the pressure makes you gasp and Paul slips his tongue into your mouth. The feeling has you squirming under him, you've only been kissed once and that was only a peck before the guard you convinced to do so felt bad and scampered off— you're new to this, to making out and kissing with tongue and Paul doesn't seem to mind, you're a little lost on what to do but you suck on the tongue that Paul swirls around your mouth, you're awarded a soft moan that has you heating up.
To say Paul was guiding you would be a stretch— Paul was only kissing you, pressing into your body and knocking knees until he fit close to you. He's careful with his weight, with how he moves himself but he's only kissing you, he won't stop kissing you. Even when you break from his lips with a small whimper, his lips only move down to your chin then your neck, his tongue swirling across your healed scars and when he nips, a small moan bubbles from your lips, your hands clenching at the fabric on his chest. Paul pulls away from you and he looks ruined, his face is flushed red, his hair is wind whipped and his lips as pink as they are swollen, glossed with your shared spit and he licks his lips as if your taste doesn't bother him. His lashes are fluttering with each breath, his chest heaving, “We must stop.”
The noise you make is tortured, your fingers tightening on his shirt. “We mustn't.”
One of Paul's hands clasps over yours and he presses your palms flat against his thundering heart, “We must,” He says again but he's still looking at you like he wants to swallow you whole, he's still on top of you. “You are sick.”
Your hands pull at Paul's shirt and he goes easily, “It’s not contagious.”
Paul breathes a soft laugh and rewards you with a kiss to your nose. He shifts and he's in between your legs, pulling your leg up to wrap around his waist. “You’re warm.” He tries.
Using your leg, you draw him closer. “I wish it were warmer.”
“My clever, darling girl.” He murmurs before kissing you again. You smile into the kiss, gasping when your Prince rolls his hips forward and it is a pleasure that you've never known before. Your hips buck to chase the fleeting pleasure, a whine leaving your lips. “Yeah?” Paul mumbles into the kiss, he stops his hips for only a moment before pressing deeper, his clothed dick grinding against your core, “You like that?”
You nod, face flushed and heart pounding as Paul grins and goes for a deeper kiss—
Lyra knocks twice against the door frame and Paul is slow to pull away, he sighs against your lips and runs a thumb over your warm cheeks. “Go away.” He orders but Lyra doesn't so much as move from the door.
“Time for her medicine and her lunch.” Lyra says her voice stern. “A lunch she is meant to have with the entirety of the royal family.”
“We can reschedule it.” Paul says but he's already climbing off of you and you're shaking in his absence— this is embarrassing but Paul acts like it's any other day. You refuse to look at Lyra even when she makes her way to you, clicking her tongue.
“I have a daughter around your age too.” She sniffs, settling the tray over your knees. Your attention goes from the wall to your medicine, the many needles and pills on the tray. “It is not the first time I've seen something like that. Expected better from the prince though.”
Paul's face is pink once more. “She kissed me first.”
You shoot him an offended look and he instantly apologizes, hands thrown up and Lyra laughs, disinfecting your arm. “That’s even worse. Making her do all the hard work.” She preps the needle. “Please go and clean up, Your Majesty. You look… disheveled.”
Paul wrestles a hand through his hair the moment she says it, his tongue darting over his lips. “Right.” He says, he smiles at you and takes a step forward, bends and pecks you on the lips. “I’ll see you soon, Balliol.”
You are left gaping as your Prince all but skips from the room and Lyra lets out a soft laugh. “Do brace yourself, my lady. You have opened a door I fear you can not close– here, don't tense your arm.” She pulls your arm straight, the needle presses against your skin and it breaks. It snaps and Lyra flinches back as it flies to the floor. She pulls your arm closer, her breath hitching. “My lady–”
The blood that leaves your arm is boiling. Bubbling and so dark, it's nearly black. You are so very warm but this— even as the blood leaks from your arm, you do not feel pain. Why do you not feel pain? “Well,” You mumble, watching as your blood stains your sheets. “No closing this door.”
Lyra lets out a near hysterical laugh.
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appocalipse · 22 days
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selfish - spencer reid
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summary: someone sends you flowers at work. spencer hates it more than he likes to admit.
a/n: i'm watching criminal minds again so...yeah, there we go. 2.1k words. ily if you read & reblog. ♥
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"Coffee?"
The question takes you by surprise as much as the voice that says it does—you've been so absorbed in your work you almost forgot there was anyone else on the floor aside from you. Almost being the key word here, since it's pretty hard for you not to notice Spencer Reid.
You turn around in your seat, a little startled, but when you see him standing there, leaning slightly against his desk and looking at you expectantly, you immediately smile. You let out a heavy sigh and take a look at the papers scattered on your table.
"Yes, please."
Spencer smiles back and turns to head towards the kitchenette. When he comes back, cup of steaming coffee in hand, you're trying to re-arrange the chaotic mess that is your workplace as best you can. You'd never been particularly organized — your mind works differently than most people, always bouncing around from one thing to another — and even after seven years of working at the BAU, you still have trouble keeping everything in order.
And today there's something you don't often see sitting on top of the stack of books on your desk: flowers. Generic, vibrant red roses, to be specific; something straight out of a grocery store parking lot display, wrapped in brown paper and tied together with string. It’s the thought that counts, you suppose, though maybe putting a little effort would’ve been nice. There’s a little card attached that reads "Thanks for last night  - Zach".
You wonder what Zach, last night’s blind date, is thanking you for. He had seemed nice enough during dinner, sure — a good conversationalist, quick-witted, easy on the eyes — but by the end of the night, you had already made up your mind that this wasn't going anywhere. You didn't let yourself think too much about the why, though. It would've led to questions you didn't want to answer.
"Here," Spencer says, bringing you back to the present, and you take the coffee cup from him. His brow furrows as his gaze trails downwards, until it settles on the small bundle of flowers.
You know he had already noticed it earlier, when he walked into the bullpen this morning, but he hadn't said anything then.
"You're a lifesaver," you say, ignoring the way your stomach churns, and take a sip of coffee. Unsurprisingly, it's exactly the way you like it.
Spencer hums, doesn't look away. "Did you...have a good time last night?" he asks carefully, almost cautiously.
"How did you..."
"Garcia," he replies simply, before you can even finish the question.
"Ah...I should've guessed."
Of course she would tell Spencer — she tells everyone everything, but especially Spencer, who has become her best friend over the past several years.
"Sorry," he says sheepishly.
"Don't be, you have nothing to apologize for." You shake your head, let out a light laugh. "It's Garcia we're talking about."
"Right," he agrees, but it sounds absent, somehow.
And suddenly his gaze flickers up, catches yours. You inhale sharply. Something is there, in the way he's looking at you, in the way his lips part slightly as if he wants to say something, but no words come out. You stare back at him, your heart skipping a beat, and you wonder if he can see it; the pounding of your pulse under the smooth, bare skin of your throat. Or worse, the reason behind it.
"So...did you?"
"Hm?" You blink, confused, still somewhat dazed from just looking into those warm, golden-brown eyes. "Did I what?"
"Have a good time," Spencer repeats, with the slightest tilt of his head.
Oh. Right. The date.
"Uhh...sure, yeah, it was great," you respond, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. A little too quickly. You hope, in vain, that he doesn't notice the slight waver in your voice, the rush of color that floods your cheeks. "The guy seemed really nice, very polite."
Polite is safe. Polite doesn't betray how much of a lie this whole thing actually is.
"Polite," Spencer echoes, a strange inflection to the word that makes you almost feel defensive, like you have something to prove.
But he isn't looking at you anymore, his eyes are trained somewhere over your shoulder, on the small notecard attached to the flowers.
You'd like to disappear right now. "Okay, you got me. It was absolutely boring and dull and awkward," you blurt out in frustration. Then, quieter, almost as an afterthought: "Maybe it's me, I guess."
Spencer's brow furrows. "Why would you think that?"
Because I can't get you out of my head. Because I want things I shouldn't.
"It's complicated."
"It usually is," he mutters, "especially when feelings are involved."
You think of Maeve, because that's probably who he's thinking of, too. It still feels like a punch to the gut.
"Yeah...they have a tendency to make you do stupid things."
Things like going on dates with people you're not even remotely interested in.
"Tell me about it," Spencer says with a sigh.
A beat of silence passes between the two of you, thick and heavy, and you let your gaze fall, focus on the coffee in your hand.
"Well, at least the flowers are pretty to look at."
Another sigh — much louder, heavier — and when you look back up at him, you see him glaring daggers at the flowers, almost like they'd personally offended him. He doesn't even notice you staring, you think, and there's something else on his face, in his expression, that's hard to read, even for you.
"Spence?"
He jolts, as if startled by the sudden break in the silence, and glances back over at you. "You don't even like roses," he states.
There's a sudden tightness in your chest, a pressure behind your ribs, as if someone had reached in and squeezed your lungs until the air rushed out in one big gust.
"I...they're not my favorite, no," you say slowly. "But, you know, it's the thought that counts."
That seems to snap him out of it; he shifts, runs a hand through his hair, lets out a shaky breath. "Right. Yeah. You're right. It's...the thought that counts."
His fingers fidget with the cuffs of his cardigan, the tension in his shoulders melting away.
"I would have gotten you carnations," he continues, his voice so low that you barely hear him.
"Carnations?"
"Red ones."
The coffee cup feels slippery in your hands; your palms are suddenly clammy. You're almost afraid you'll drop it. "Red ones," you echo, unable to keep the wavering note out of your voice this time.
Spencer looks at you — really looks at you — and his gaze softens, pools like honey in the light. "They're more personal."
You nod, dumbly, and your brain has already started jumping to conclusions. "Personal," you parrot again, like a broken record.
Spencer nods, hesitantly.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For being selfish."
Your stomach twists itself in knots. The pounding in your ears is so loud, you wonder how Spencer can't hear it.
"You're the least selfish person I've ever met, Spence."
He sighs. "Not when it comes to you."
The confession catches you off guard, and your grip on the mug falters.
It shatters on the floor.
"Shit," you mutter, bending down to pick up the bigger pieces, only to recoil in pain as, of course, you manage to cut yourself.
You've cut yourself on the edge of the shattered mug; it's a small nick in the flesh of your palm, red beading and trickling along the length of your palm.
"You're bleeding," Spencer says, kneeling beside you.
You take a moment to glance at your hand, at the scarlet dripping onto the floor, then look back up at Spencer. "I am."
You don't know why you say it, except that he's so close — closer than usual — that you can feel the warmth radiating off him in waves, can smell the lingering scent of cologne.
"Hold out your hand," he says, his voice slightly raspy.
You do.
His thumb brushes against your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. If he notices, he doesn't say anything.
"It's not deep."
"Good to know."
"Come on," he says softly, pulling you up to stand with him. "Let's go clean that up."
You let him lead you into the kitchenette, let him rinse the blood away in the sink and press a napkin to the cut until it stops bleeding. You let him dab iodine into the wound, watch him gently wrap gauze around your hand and secure it with medical tape. You let him do it, even though you could have done it on your own, because it gives you an excuse to stay this close to him for a few seconds longer.
"There," he murmurs, examining his work one last time before looking back up at you. "Good as new."
"Thank you," you whisper.
"No problem."
You study each other for a minute, caught in the spell that always seems to descend upon you whenever you're in the same room together, a bubble of tension that you never seem able to break.
Then, in unison: "I should go."
Neither of you move.
"Work..."
"Yeah. I have to send these emails."
"I have...reports. To finish."
Spencer is the first to move, to start to turn around and leave. But then, without warning, you reach for him, your good hand closing around his forearm.
He stops dead in his tracks. Doesn't turn around.
You swallow hard, try to calm the racing of your heart. "Wait," you say, quietly, because anything louder would be too much in this moment, right now. "Are you...what did you mean? Earlier, when you said you were being selfish with me."
It's silent for a few moments. You think he might not have heard you.
And then—
"You already know," is his reply. It's so quiet you can barely hear him, but it resonates, nevertheless. "You know what I meant, what I'm trying to say."
"I'm not sure."
"Yes, you are. You're smart."
"Not as smart as you," you quip, because it's easier to make a joke, to hide the quivering in your voice, the pounding in your ears. "And I don't want to assume, because if I'm wrong—"
"You're not wrong."
"—but if I am, this is going to be incredibly awkward and embarrassing and I don't think I can handle that on top of everything else."
"You won't be wrong," he repeats, with such certainty that your heart leaps in your chest.
You have to say something, anything to release the pressure that's building in the air around you.
"The problem wasn't really the flowers, you know," you confess, letting out a shaky exhale. "I would have loved even those stupid roses...if they came from you."
Spencer's posture stiffens, tense underneath your touch, and for a split second, you worry you've misread the situation entirely. That you've made a complete fool of yourself and any friendship you and Spencer had managed to cultivate over the past several years would be irreparably damaged.
But then, he turns around to face you, his gaze searching, probing. Your grip on his arm loosens, and he takes a step towards you, tentative.
"Do you mean that?"
You nod, swallowing hard, and it suddenly occurs to you that you've never been this close to Spencer before — at least, not like this, with no one else around. Not in a place where you can breathe in the subtle notes of his cologne, where you can see every freckle, every eyelash.
"Because if you do," he whispers, leaning in, his eyes locked on yours, "then you should know that I've been thinking about you for a very long time."
He waits, the pause dragging out... until you realize he's waiting for your consent.
You answer by rising up on your toes, reaching up to cradle his jaw in your hands, and pressing your lips to his.
It's soft, hesitant, a question. Spencer leans into the kiss, tilting his head slightly, and the change in angle sends a shiver down your spine, makes your knees go weak but you don't care. His hands find your waist, and you pull him even closer, until there's no space left between you.
When you finally pull away, both of you out of breath, Spencer rests his forehead against yours, lets out a contented sigh.
"Sorry," you murmur, your voice hushed. "I probably should have, um, asked first."
He laughs, and you can feel it reverberate in your chest. "I would have said yes."
You smile.
"Still, sorry."
Spencer pulls away just enough to look at you, and his gaze is so warm, so tender, that your heart aches. "Don't be, okay?" He kisses your cheek, and you let out a quiet sigh of delight. "And just so you know, I'm going to bring you carnations next time. The prettiest ones I can find."
Next time.
"I would like that."
"Good."
And this time, neither of you goes anywhere.
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storiesfromgaza · 4 months
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Do you see this beautiful girl whose face the sun borrows its light from? Her name is Mesk, Mesk Imad Al-Sousi. In Arabic, the name Mesk means Musk, extracted from deer and used as a beautiful fragrance.
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It is said that children laugh about 400 times a day, which is more than necessary to brighten the day of every human on this earth, as we derive our light and joy from them
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On May 18th, 2022, the day of Mesk's birth, her mother posted:
The birthday of Princess Mesk, my daughter, on this day and month, you opened your eyes to life, and I felt a love and tenderness that never ends. My precious daughter, the most precious thing I have in my life, You're the most valuable gift bestowed upon me by the Almighty Allah. Every year, you are the source of light to my heart, the source of joy to my soul. Happy birthday, my dear, may God protect you, and I wish you a long life. May God keep you and bless you every year. I pray to the Almighty, the Most Exalted, to protect you, and I wish for you a long and prosperous life. May Allah protect and watch over you every year, and may you be well and have a happy birthday. Happy birthday to my dear daughter! Today marks the birthday of my beloved heart. Today is the birthday of my beloved! Today is the birthday of my dear daughter, my love. Today marks the birthday of my cherished daughter! Happy new birthday, and every year, may you be blessed and in good health, my most precious. Today is your joyful birthday. Every year, you are the source of light and joy to my soul. My daughter, my princess, my flower Mesk.
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Mesk became a martyr, falling victim to the treacherous bombardment of the occupation just days ago. Her body was recovered, but this time, her light has faded for eternity
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Six days ago, specifically on November 10th, her father, Imad Al-Sousi, last posted, "Oh Allah, my daughter Mesk is in Your hospitality, so grant her the finest hospitality"
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Mesk died without committing any crime in her life, except that she breathed her first breath in Gaza in a dark world filled with monsters and she paid the price by exhaling her last breath in Gaza too. Just as they pulled her alive from her mother's womb on the day of her birth, they pulled her lifeless body from beneath the rubble...
Do not forget Mesk; she is not just a number.
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tlouadditc · 7 months
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to the brim ... <3
dom!abby x fem!sub!reader
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!! not my pic !!
warnings: fluff + smut [MDNI and MEN DNI.] modern!au / no apocalypse, established relationship, softdom!abby [?], i couldnt think of good gifts dont mind it, abby is a gamer confirmed bc i said so, breeding [duh], abby has a breeding strap, filthy talk omg :(( ah!! i think thats it
a/n: ever since i read @seattlesellie's ellie breeding fic... i've been a changed woman. so here's my take on abby! p.s.: no desc. of hair, skin color, size, etc. :) this is also kinda long but enjoy my loves!
you and abby had been together for around 3 long, happy years. the happiest years, you could say. it was weird; you never thought you'd end up like this. never.. imagined being happy with someone, especially someone as outgoing and brave as abby. you were complete opposites, you being more introverted and kept to yourself while abby was loud and proud. even the way she asked you out [buying you your favorite flowers, making you dinner, AND two cute little matching rings] was memorable and creative. you've always loved everything about her.
today, in present time, is your anniversary. every year, you attempt to top the last year. always remembering little details and bookmarking whatever she sent you just for this moment. abby's currently at her office job; "busiest day of the year, but i'll be back in time for dinner," she explained earlier that morning. "promise!" you take this as an opportunity to buy her gifts and plan out a romantic dinner for the night.
lately, she's been wanting these lego flower sets [specifically the orchid ones since they reminded her of you.. :,)], so you quickly bought one. that isn't enough, you think, so you also get custom lego keychains of both of you, making them both wear wedding dresses and smile as bright as the sun. while you're at it, you get her favorite cake, chocolate with strawberry sprinkles, and have "happy 3rd anniversary, my love" on the top. you smile as you reach your apartment, already visualizing her surprised face. i'll get her this year, you think as you step inside.
── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱──────────
hours later, you hear a slight knock knock knock on the door. perfect timing, you think, quickly fixing your hair and looking over your outfit. you're wearing a black maxi dress, tight-fitting over your curves, but simple in style. it's kinda casual, but abby insisted on staying home. "it's for my surprise," she argued, a smirk forming on her face as she said it. she always had some quick trick up her sleeve, but you're even quicker.
well. most of the time.
you peek in the peephole, and there she is. she's wearing her glasses today [her bluelight ones you bought for her your last anniversary since she always complained about her headaches], dressed in all black and her hair flowing down her shoulders. her hands hold onto the handle of a medium sized, deep red giftbag. she probably feels your eyes on her, because flashes a pearly smile up to the small opening. no matter how much she smiles, you never get tired of it. you quickly unlock the door and open it widely.
her pale skin turns a slight dusty shade of pink as she looks you up in down, lovingly taking in your beauty. her mouth opens to say something, but all that comes out is a soft, "hi, baby," before she pulls you into a tight hug, exhaling as she wraps her toned arms around you. she feels like.. like something familiar, but nothing you've ever felt before. something comforting. like home.
she pulls back, placing her hands on either cheek. her eyes move back and forth from one eye to another, almost as if she's trying to read your mind, hear your thoughts. "missed you so much, bun." she leans in, giving you two small pecks on the lips before pulling you into one last hug.
"missed you more abs," you murmur, "more than you'd ever know."
she pulls back, smiling as you mirror her expression. after a couple of seconds, she finally looks around the apartment. "babe?" she questions, clearly in shock. there's big, red heart balloons and her favorite candles are lit all around. she's completely enveloped in the candlelit room, gasping when she looks down and sees rose petals scattered beautifully on the wooden floor. you see her eyes lock onto two red, nicely wrapped gifts on the coffee table. "oh. my god," she looks from the living room back to you, astonished. "no, you didn't."
"oh, yes i did," you giggle as you close and lock the front door. she walks carefully over the fresh rose petals into the living room. she sits on the couch, looking up at you with doe eyes. "babe, if this is what i think it is..." she pauses and exhales. all you can do is smile; your excitement cannot be contained. "open them up!" you cheer, sitting down in the armchair beside the sofa.
she picks up the smaller box, cautiously shaking it. she was always great at guessing your gifts. but this time, she furrows her brows in confusion. she shakes it once more, a little harder this time, deep thought written across her sharp face. the scrunch in her nose makes you laugh a bit. "is it.." she starts, but cuts herself off. "i don't know.. actually."
you shrug, "then open it, babe." she sighs before accepting defeat and opening the small package. as soon as she gets the paper off, she gasps and looks up at you. "oh my god!" she exclaims. "wait, are these-" she looks back at the package, back at you, and holds it up to your face. "oh my god! it's us!"
you smile and laugh while she gushes over the fact they look exactly like you two. "how did they get my hair perfect? and the little dresses! i mean, look at it, oh my god." she admires them silently for a few seconds before uttering, "this is gonna be us, bun. i promise."
the uncontrollable urge to smile takes over your face, making your cheeks hurt a bit. she's muttering a thousand "thank you"s before opening the next one; the one you're the most excited about. she's been talking about this since last year, but she never had the time to get it or start it, matter of fact.
she tears the paper once again, immediately stopping in her tracks. her eyes move up to you once again and her jaw goes slack. "oh my FUCKING god," she yells, ripping the rest of the paper off. it's almost like she's a child again; the way her face lights up makes your entire day worth while. she proceeds to nerd out over the set once again, "this is so... oh my goodness i can't even explain how excited i am. thank you so much babe... wow.. i got so lucky..."
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you made her favorite dinner that night, having it freshly prepared for her and still warm on the stove. she just rambles about how she's the luckiest woman in the world to have a beautiful girlfriend and how much she loves you. she continues this throughout the entire meal, making sure she can treat you with the same treatment whenever she can; wiping your cheek when anything got on your face, getting you whatever you needed with no questions asked.. anything. basically, your everyday treatment with her.
after dinner, you both sit on the sofa, talking about your days. mid-conversation, abby randomly gasps.
"and then he was li- uhm... abby?"
"oh my god. i almost forgot!"
"what? what's the matter?"
"your gift!!"
she practically jumps out of her seat, striding over to the counter where she left the giftbag. "can't believe i forgot my gift for my special girl." she scoffs at herself and sits while handing you the bag. it's not heavy, but it's also not lightweight. you scan through your memories of things you've mentioned to her: cats, a wedding ring, books... but it didn't seem like any of that stuff was in here.
you give up, opening the top and looking inside. your jaw drops. you see a long, light pink box. there's fancy gold lettering across the front that you can't read. you take the box out, and unwrap the ribbon bow from around it. as you lift the top up, you see plush flowers and.. a small hello kitty stuffed animal in between the flowers. you squeal as you put the bag down and hug abby tightly, muttering thankyouthankyouthankyou!! all she does is smile and whisper "of course, princess." you think that's it before you realize there's a small pink card and a even smaller box inside the bag.
confused, you pick up the card and analyze the cover. it's a baby princess themed card; such an abby thing to do. you glance over at her to crack a smile, but you realize she has on that devilish smirk plastered across her face. uh oh, you think. "why're you smiling like that, babe?"
"like what?" her smirk grows wider.
that's even more 'abby' like than the card.
you roll your eyes jokingly before deciding to open the card up. inside, there's a paragraph written:
"dear y/n,
happy 3rd anniversary, my love! i'm so glad you're in my life, even after all this time. you'll always be special to me and i see that we will grow old together. i know you've been wanting that bouquet for a while, but i noticed you've been obsessed with something more.."
you glance up at abby once again. she's watching your reaction with that same smirk. what is she up to? you continue to read:
"i hope you noticed the cover of the card; of course, you're my princess, and you always will be. but i always see you looking at baby clothes when we're out, gushing over baby videos at home, etc etc. and even though we technically can't make one.. i can still give you the experience. ;) love your [nonofficial] wife, abby"
you feel your face heat up as you close the card. abby's large, warm hand suddenly starts stroking your leg through the dress, jolting you back to reality. she chuckles, whispering, "mm, you want that, right? you want me to knock you up?" she's getting closer, her hot breath hitting your neck, making you shudder. "want me to fill you to the brim, baby? hm?"
she's kissing your neck, small pecks turning into full-on hickeys. she loves the way you whimper and squirm, the way you turn your head to give her more access. "i'll take that as a yes," she breathes, a small laugh leaving her mouth. her hand travels from your leg, up to your neck and chin, making you turn and kiss her.
"so pretty like this," she coos in between kisses. she's lost in your big eyes, your noises; lost in you. she toys with the thin straps of your dress, subtly signaling to take it off. you, of course, rush to peel it off. after you do so, you're almost completely naked while she's completely clothed. the drastic difference makes you feel small under her predatory gaze. she taps her thigh twice and demands, "come here, princess."
you straddle her lap, your clothed cunt slightly gaining friction against her pants, making you whimper. "such pretty noises," she murmurs, mostly to herself. her hands rest nicely on your sides, right above your hips. "so, tell me," she starts. "how you wanna do this, mama?"
the new nickname makes you feel a slight heartbeat in between your legs. "oh, you liked that, huh?" she comments, smirking as she looks up at your pretty little face. "well, if you want me to take control, i'll do it. i'll do whatever you want, mama."
"use me," you blurt out, desperately needing her right at that moment. you move your hips back and forth, grinding against her crotch to relieve the ache in between your thighs. abby lets out a breathy laugh, "oh, you want it that bad? god, you're so cute."
before you can respond, she's wrapping her arm around your waist and standing up. you wrap your legs around her waist and your arms around her neck out of instinct. she's walking you to the bedroom, just like her little princess.
when she gets into the room, she lays you on your back, legs behind held back by her large hands pinning them under your armpits. your breath is shaky, heartbeat practically bulging out of your chest. she leaves a trail of sloppy, wet kisses from your neck alllll the way down to your bellybutton. "f-fuck, abby," you shudder, her face getting closer and closer to your heat. "what's wrong?" she asks, "what you need, baby?"
"need you inside," you beg, not caring how pathetic you sound now. "oh, i know, baby," she coos, "but i wanna make this special for you, okay? no rushing. just us."
you appreciate her genuine care with your intimate experiences with her, but at this point, the ache was growing more and more painful as time went on. you whine, moving one of the hands pinning your leg to your cunt. "please, abs. need it."
"fuck, babe," her voice is low and husky, almost a growl. "okay, okay, i got you, mkay? i'll treat you right, promise."
her pointer finger ghosts over your swollen clit, forcing a small moan out. small little circles stimulate your bud, drenching your already soaked panties. she groans, "always so wet f'me, my god." as if she can't take it anymore, she practically rips off the small cloth off your aching pussy. the cold air meeting the warmth of your core makes you gasp, squeezing your thighs together in response.
abby's warmth comes back and divorces your legs apart, pinning them back to where they were originally. "gonna take such good care of you, mama," she mutters, kissing your inner thighs. after what feels like an eternity of teasing, she finally lays small, short kitten licks on your cunt. the small feeling of her warm muscle against your clit relieves the burning ache in your core, but only for a second. she lays a flat tongue, collecting your slick as she moves up. your small "oh"s egg her on, fueling her ego as she spreads your lips apart and latches onto your bud. your moans grow louder and louder, legs slightly trembling from how good it felt. little did you know, she's getting off on your pretty little reactions; she's moaning against your bud, vibrations making your legs shake even more.
"ffffuck-," you cry out, gripping the sheets from pleasure. the vibrations send you over the edge, the familiar tingly feeling in your abdomen unraveling. "m'cumming- oh my god," you wail, attempting to close your legs to get away from abby's tongue. her hands grip your thighs, forcing them apart once again. she continues to suck on your clit, overstimulating you. "t-too much - fuck!"
your juices and her saliva mix, coating the bottom of her chin. she finally unlatches from your sensitive, swollen bud and wipes her chin. "sorry, bun," she says, heavily breathing, "you just taste so goddamn sweet, i had to!"
as abby starts to walk away [you assume it's to help you clean up so you guys can sleep], you slowly drift away into a deep sleep..
"nuh uh, 'm not done with you, mama."
your eyes force open, eyes immediately landing on abby's bare chest. she was almost never topless around you - except when you two showered together - but it wasn't a norm in the house. you unintentionally whisper, "you're so beautiful," causing a wide smile to go across abby's kind face. "thank you, baby," she replied, "c'mere." she patted the edge of the bed. her usual black strap was buckled on, intimidating you from the end of the bed.
you crawl to the edge, sitting on your feet when you reach abby. she giggles, "get on your back, babe. you know the drill." you follow her orders, slightly chuckling at your mistake. as she lines herself up with your slit, she caresses your face, just telling you how much she loves you; "love you so much, bun. i'm so lucky to have you, y'know that, right?" she peppers small pecks along your face in between, smiling at your perfect face.
"'m gonna go all in, okay? jus' let me know when i can move," she warns. you nod, slightly nervous. the strap seemed bigger than usual; a bit wider too. it made you think she'd rip you apart with this thing! but as she bottomed out, the sharp painful sensation was short lived and replaced with a more pleasant sensation, the feeling of being full. and not just full, but full of her.
you start to slightly grind on her cock, trying to get any pleasure. the desperate motion making abby smirk and slam into you again, this time earning a loud, pathetic yelp from you. she continues to slam into you, holding your hips for leverage. "yea, keep makin' those pretty sounds for me," she groans, almost in an animalistic way. all you can do is tell her how good you feel, hands gripping onto her toned biceps.
she brings a hand down, right over your abdomen, pressing slightly. "you feel me right there, yea?" there's a slight bulge where her strap is; the sight makes you drool slightly. you nod feverishly, focusing on her voice and her dick pounding into you. her hips snap back and forth, squishing sounds filling the dimly lit room.
she, on the other hand, is hyper-focused on watching the black silicone disappear inside your gushing cunt, a vague white ring forming around the base of her cock. the sight alone has her pussydrunk and practically forming a pool in between her thighs. "such a messy fucking cunt," she murmurs. "wish i could fucking - shit - fill that little pussy up."
your moans become louder, your grip tightening on the meat of her muscles. your head goes back, putting the hickeys she gave you on full display. "oh, you fucking like that, huh?" she places both hands on either side of your head, still fucking you at a relentless pace. every thrust she does, her tits bounce slightly in front of you. her hair frames her face perfectly, the sweat beads racing down her skin as she pounds into you.
"holy fuck," you whimper. her cock, buried deep inside your greedy little cunt, hits that spongy spot inside of you, making you go insane. she smirks, she knows what she's doing. "what? speak up, princess," she speaks, a mocking tone laced in her words.
"s-so good," a choked moan cuts you short.
"you like the way 'm fucking you? like the way that dick got you going crazy, huh?"
a string of yesyesyes's is all you can get out, too lost in your own pleasure.
"wan' me to fuck my baby into you?" she's out of breath, start to whimper, but she doesn't slow down or stop. she just keeps. on. pounding. she's chasing her orgasm, clit bumping against the base of the strap. you're just a wailing, helpless mess under her, begging for her to cum into you. "i need it, p-please, abs!"
she moans loudly as her thrusts get sloppier, slowing down slightly. you feel a thick liquid unleash into your hole, filling you up. the new feeling causing you to gasp, looking down at where you two met. abby fully pulls out after a few seconds, when a gush of white liquid slowly drips out of your stuffed cunt. she whispers, "fuck, that's a pretty sight to see." using one hand, she spreads you open, your fucked-out hole on display, just for her.
you're still trying to steady your breathing, getting more tired by the second. abby sits on the bed next to you, pulling you into her lap. she caresses your face once again, "did so good f'me, baby. happy anniversary." she kisses your forehead, cuddling you close to her body. before you fully fall asleep, she picks you up, bridal style.
"wh- what are you doing?" you question, half asleep.
"gotta clean you up, babe." she giggles at your sleepy voice.
── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱──────────
after a long, warm bubble bath together and a small cleaning session, you and abby finally lay back on the couch to watch a movie and cuddle.
"y'know what, babe?" she asks, shoveling chocolate cake into her mouth.
"what?"
"i wish i could actually get you pregnant."
you slightly giggle at that, "me too."
"i also want to marry you. really badly." she's looking at your face now, reading into your soul.
"we should get married," you speak, thoughtfully. what's the point of her bringing this u-
she gets up unexpectedly, walking over to your giftbag. confused, you ask, "what's up?" she pulls out that small box you saw earlier. "oh, nothing.." she walks in front of you, then dips down onto one knee.
you gasp. is this really happening? right here right now?? someone pinch me.
"y/n, you've made me the happiest woman on earth for the past 3 years we've been together. not to mention the first 4 of us being friends. now, i'm not gonna give a long, sappy speech during this amazing moment," she slightly chuckles, "but i want to ask you.. will you be my wife?" she opens the box, a shiny ring glistening in the light.
you can't see it that well since tears well up in your eyes. you could've never asked for anyone better than abby. she's made you a better person overall. she's been there for you, even in your darkest times. you nod, wiping your tears.
she's slightly chuckling, which you don't realize until your eyes clear. it's.. a minecraft ring. specifically a minecraft rose on a thick band of gold. you laugh and let her slide it on your ring finger.
"i'm sorry," she's still giggling as she gets up from the floor, "i saw this while i was out and i was like 'this is perfect.'" you're also giggling, "it is perfect. thank you, baby."
── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱──────────
a/n: abby's such a jokester! anyway hope u guys enjoyed this took forever!
taglist: @unicycl @xnoviee @aouiaa @akenosimp167 @njplatesruler [if you're striked out, i can't tag u!! :(]
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hxzbinwrites · 2 months
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Can I get a Vox x Female reader pls omg
Vox x Fem! Reader Headcannons
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Warnings ⚠️: None!
(Since there wasn’t a specific plot you wanted anon, i’m making some general headcannons to tie everyone over until lovestruck 2 is out 😭)
Vox can’t STAND you when you first met. Not Alastor level hate, but it’s on up there
Thinks you’re so full of yourself, not wanting to partake in his precious VoxTech. Blames Alastor for this as well, saying he ‘manipulated you’ into thinking he stalks people on it (he does)
When he attends Overlord meetings on the rare occasions, he just can’t keep from glaring (staring) at you. You’re just so arrogant. So arrogant. I mean, who denies him, VOX, of what he wants?
Definitely asked you to join the Vees like he did with Alastor. Your answer of no hurt him worse than Alastor. I mean, Alastor was just a fossil, but you? Oh you’re better than him, don’t stoop down to his level…wait what? Nevermind, he doesn’t care. You’re arrogant and the worst, case closed. But is it?
Val and Velette can’t stop teasing him about his obsession. They said you were just a Grandma who couldn’t understand his vision. He disagrees, desperately trying to convince his fellow Vees that you’re an extremely valuable asset.
Velvette noticed his feelings for you before anyone else. It was when she was showing off some of her newest lines of clothing, when he suggested that instead of all of the blue, she should incorporate (your color of choice). She thought he was having another server lag, but no, he was serious.
Wouldn’t stop bugging Vox for weeks about it, before he finally came to the conclusion that she was right. He had a crush on you.
Promptly shows up at your house the next day, 10 o’clock sharp. Clad in a nice suit, a bow tie resembling (your color of choice) and a bouquet of your favorite flowers.
You’d never seen a TV blush so bad, glitching between different error signals when you grabbed him by the bow tie and started locking lips with him.
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rowretro · 1 month
Text
𝔹𝕠𝕪𝕗𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕕?
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✧warnings: fluff, slut shaming, kissing
♡synopsis: The bad boy Riki, has fallen for a rather girly girl, the kind of girl that many girls wouldn't expect guys to fall for. Y/n in her stylish outfits which were always admired by all, had the attention of Riki, and that seemed tick certain girls off.
✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧
Riki groaned as he saw you walk down the hallway. One would assume it's because of how much you dress up just to go to school, or the supermarket. That's not the reason. Fuck he loves it, your style, your creative, the fact that half your accessories, or very pretty clothes were made by you. He loves that you're like a fresh wave of energy that suddenly brings a dry, dead, withering flowers, to life again. Sometimes, though, the boys love your outfits, for all the wrong reasons.
"Y/n for fucksake pull your skirt down!" Riki said, audible enough for just you to hear, he pulled you to himself. His eyes scanning the pink, delicate shimmer on your eyelids, Pretty, spikey eyelashes that were perfectly stuck on, Oh and how could he forget those glossy, kissable lips? a few, tiny iridescent hearts evident. Pink bows decorating your braided hair. "but why? it looks cute when it's short" she said, it's not like she was ever going to need to bend, she can't anyway, not with the 5 inch heels her feet carry around all day.
"You want to know what your outfit is missing? a nice leather jacket. Here have mine." He said, as he dressed you in his large leather jacket, ignoring your protests. You looked adorable in such a big jacket. You had no problem with leather jackets either, but this one specific Riki jacket made you look ridiculous. But there were people who had a bigger problem with it. Hwang Mihi.
Hwang Mihi would be described as a conventionally attractive, powder faced bitch. From her ridiculously rolled up short skirt, cakey makeup, and extremely bitchy personality. The girl had a problem with everyone and everything, specifically you. She's heard more people praise you than they praise her, you have more followers than her, and overall, you have the man she wants. Nishimura Riki.
"Rikiiii please~ it'll look good on you I swear!" you whined as Riki frowned. "I'm not wearing lipstick!" the man whined as you whined again "It's not a lipstick! it's a lip gloss stick it's not like you'll turn in to barbie with one swipe, idols wear this you know?" you reasoned as he sighed, leaning into you face. With a smile, you carefully applied the creamy, lip gloss stick, his eyes locked on your focused face, the close proximity making his heart beat faster than Usain Bolt ever ran. It fucking pissed Mihi off.
"How the fuck does a pink barbie carbon copy like you have MY man?!" She yelled, yanking at your braided hair, her tug so tight you had to bite her wrist to get out of her hold. "UGH U PASTE FACED FUCKER- U RUINED MY BRAID!" you yelled as suddenly a different person slapped the shit out of you. You could've sworn your brain left your body then entered it again. your head hit the wall behind you painfully hard, but as you pulled away to even process the first slap, you were painfully pushed up against the wall, and there before you was a much bigger male.
"You're such a pussy! you can't fight me yourself so you're using some guy who's dick you sucked?!!!" she asked, clearly knowing the man was one of the seniors that she used to be fwb with. Just for that, the male slapped her again, chocking her. "It's that fucking tongue isn't it?! If I rip it out you'll stop talking right?" Mihi asked as you frowned. "I have another way to silence her..." the male said with a smirk, his grip on your throat tightening as he tried to place his lips on hers.
Before his lips could even reach her lips, The male fell back, some of his teeth knocked out, his mouth bloody. "The fuck are you doing to my girlfriend?!!!" Riki asked as y/n stared at him in shock, heck even the girls were shook, they were fucking scared, never has Mihi ever seen her crush so pissed off, it was fucking scary. "J-just uh..." "Just what?! beating my future wife?! do u want to be scalped and dipped into lemon juice?!!!" He asked cracking his knuckles as the girl stuttered and ran off with her minions.
Riki didn't even get the chance to check on you, as your horrified scream filled the hallways. "Fuck y/n how bad did he hurt you?" he asked, kneeling down before you as you stared at your forehand in horror "MY NAIL SNAPPED! SO LONG OF HARD WORK BROKE JUST LIKE THAT." she exclaimed as Riki stood up, sighing. "I'll take that as a yes" he mumbled.
"Girlfriend? Future wife? what was that about?" you asked staring up at him as he smiled "I guess you called call it my confession..." he said as you frowned "Try again" you said as Riki snickerred "Y/n... I love you, and I want to fucking show you that everyday, so give me a chance baby" he said as you blinked. She felt her own blush, he's perfect, everything she needed, but never did she think your dream man would love you.
"Hmm but what if I don't want to?" you teased. as Riki helped you up "My sister knows a great nail tech, she's expensive but worth the price, how bout you treat your pretty hands for some prettier nails, and I'll pay all the expenses?" he asked as the girl pouted. "You don't need to bribe me like that... let me do it instead." You said, then kissed his lips, his eyes widening in shock as you smiled. "Lets skip school im gonna treat you to the best shopping spree you'd ever experience." He said as his arm snaked around your waist.
✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧
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rose-pearls · 2 months
Note
Hi! Could request something for clarisse x reader? Where reader is daughter of persphone and she’s sweet and kind but also strong and intimidating and can stand for herself and that’s what clarisse likes abt her
Hi! Thank you for the request! I hope you like it!!
Main Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989 (open)
Percy Jackson Taglist: @niktwazny303 (open)
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Clarisse loved her girlfriend, but she could sometimes be too kind towards others, most specifically towards a certain Poseidon’s son.
“I don’t understand why you dislike him so much, he is a sweetheart,” you tell her one evening, wrapped in her arms as she tries not to fall asleep as your fingers brush against her skin delicately.
“I just don’t like him, he brings too much attention to himself,” she says, feeling a bit annoyed at the turn of conversation but as she smells the delicate smell of honey blossom, she feels herself calm down. Every child of Persephone had a certain smell of flowers that followed them, but it could change due to their mood. The only flowers she could pinpoint in yours were honey blossom and roses when Clarisse managed to make you blush or when you got angry.
“He doesn’t do it on purpose, just give him a chance,” Clarisse was happy when you then turned the conversation to another topic, not wanting to spend more time than necessary on the stupid topic of Percy Jackson. 
Everyone knew you were kind; it was something that was known around camp when you helped others around, but it was also known that you were Clarisse’s girlfriend and that you were fiercely loyal to the Ares daughter. Some people saw it as a flaw, your unwavering loyalty, but she only saw it as proof of your love.
Kindness was often seen as a weakness, but Clarisse could make a whole book about you where she proves that entire point wrong, you had proven that to her when playing capture the flag. You weren’t just as sweet as a blossom but just as deadly as a rose, she had seen you throw a dagger at the head of a camper, only slightly cutting the skin of his cheeks.
“Try to take the flag again and this time I won’t avoid cutting your face entirely,” the sweet daughter of Persephone had said with a tone that would make even the god’s tremble. And that is how Clarisse had fallen for you; hard and fast as she saw you cutting through the other team as if you were just helping the Demeter kids growing flowers. 
She had been waiting patiently, or not as she had no patience, for Chiron to reveal who would be on which team in Capture the flag. Rules had been made at one point that the Athena and Ares cabin would always be on opposite teams as they couldn’t get along, just like their parents. But the other cabins were often mixed up between the two.
“I can’t believe he would do this to me!”, Clarisse screams, and a couple of children scramble away at the angry daughter of Ares.
“Clarisse?”, you ask softly, making her slightly relax as she smells the comforting smell of flowers. You seem worried, hands on your hips as you look at her with wide eyes.
“Chiron put you on Annabeth’s team, I’m sure that little devil is really happy right now,” she murmurs the last part, crunching the paper in her hand as she begins to plot her revenge.
Your hand softly covers her, and she feels your fingers slowly stroke a pattern on her hand to try and get her to loosen her grip on the paper. When she finally does let go you take a look at the paper, humming to yourself as you see the teams.
“You have the Hermes cabin, which means you have Luke. Not all is lost my love,” Clarisse can’t help but blush at the nickname, you didn’t say it that often but when you did it would turn her into a blushing mess, just like right now.
“I would rather have you then Castellan and the other pipsqueaks,” she says, going back to her grumbling but she looks at you as you laugh softly.
“Common, it will all be alright. This is good, now you can already mentally prepare yourself to lose,” Clarisse raises her eyebrows at your statement, a smirk can be found on your glossed lips.
“Oh, really? And what you think that you are going to win this?” she whispers as she gets closer to you and you nod, confidence radiating off you.
“Of course, I will, and I will enjoy wiping the floor with your bodies,” you say and Clarisse doesn’t know if she feels competitive or hot and bothered at the sight of you so confident.
“Better prepare yourself to prove that statement princess, wouldn’t want to see you crying on the floor at the end,” Clarisse says, and she enjoys the scoff you let out at her words.
“Give me your worst La Rue,” you tell her, and she can only whisper it back before brining you into a heated kiss, efficiently bringing the conversation to a stop.
--
She should’ve known Annabeth would be using you against her, after all the girl was smart even at the age of twelve.
“Funny seeing you here,” she hears you say, and she can’t help but snort at your words before seeing a dagger in your hand.
“Common princess, really? Just one dagger?”, she can’t help but say, feeling already like they were going to win this game of Capture the flag.
“I don’t need more, you on the other hand seem to have a lot of weapons on you. Isn’t that too much weight?”, you ask her, with that sweet voice you always used on her, if you had been a daughter of Aphrodite, it could’ve been seen as charm speaking. But then again it only seemed to work on her. 
You get closer to her, much more than how close you would usually get to an opponent, but she doesn’t say anything as she can only enjoy the touch of your fingers as you adjust her strap.
“You look so stunning in this, like a real warrior,” she knows you are trying to get to her, get her to lower her guard and it works, of course it does.
“Please don’t be mad at me?”, you whisper and before she can ask why you push her in the direction of the water, her sibling quickly falling with her as an invisible Annabeth pushes him.
“Percy, now!”, Annabeth yells and the boy manages to crash a huge wave on them before they can try to get up. The girl takes the flag and puts her cap on before running as fast as she can through the forest.
“Good job water boy,” you tell him as he comes out of the water, somehow already completely dry with a smirk on his lips. 
“This was fun!”, he says before he sees a glaring Clarisse starting to stand up and running away in the direction of the blue flag.
“I cannot believe you just did that,” the Ares girl says with furrowed eyebrows, and you can see the glare in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, it was Annabeth plan, and I couldn’t really tell her that I wasn’t going to do it,” you tell her, but she grumbles under her breath, still looking beautiful even completely wet.
“I’ll make it up to you,” you tell her as you get closer to her, and she raises her eyebrows in interest.
“Really? How?”, she asks, and you smile as you wrap your arms around her neck, smiling even wider as you feel her arms slowly circle around your waist.
“You can decide, I’ll do anything you want for the rest of the day,” you tell her, and a flicker of mischief appears in her eyes, and you know far too well what that means.
“Except for pushing Percy into the water,” you tell her, and a pout appears on her lips.
“Fine, I want you to spend the rest of the day with me and give me your dessert at diner. I also want a back massage,” she has a smirk on her lips, and you quickly nod in agreement, excited to spend the rest of the day with her.
“And one more thing,” she says but before you can ask what her hands on your hips twist you around and push you into the cold water. 
As you come back up, you can’t help but laugh at your satisfied girlfriend.
“Now we’re even,” she says before taking her armor off and joining you into the water.
--
Requests are open!
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harunayuuka2060 · 11 days
Text
MC: *in the middle of arguing with the 3rd-years* No. I'm not taking any of you in Devildom.
Cater: But why, bestie~? We want to meet hot demons too! <3
MC: ...
MC: Are you serious right now?
Trey: That is not the point, actually. What we want to suggest is to have an exchange program between Devildom and Twisted Wonderland.
Rook: Oui! It's for the sake of learning!
MC: ...
MC: I can't deny that you have some point there; however, I need to consult Dia first.
Lilia: The Devildom prince will probably agree.
MC: That will take a considerable amount of paperwork. *sigh* You guys really enjoy putting a lot of work on my plate, don't you?
MC: Anyway, if it gets approved, I will only be choosing at least two to three students.
???: If I may make a suggestion, would it be possible to choose the most beautiful individuals among them?
MC: Eh? *turns to look who it is*
Queen Rose: *smiles warmly* Hello, MC.
Epel: Dame event?
MC: Yes. It's an annual event held for Queen Rose. *smiles* Everyone will dress as ladies and is expected to move and act with grace to a high degree.
Epel: ...
Epel: Oh. Okay. I'm not participating in this one.
Vil: You can't, Epel.
Epel: Why not?!
MC: Before Queen Rose came to me, she had already spotted you and made a specific request to see you at the event.
Epel: !!!
Epel: But... I don't want to...
Vil: Everyone in Pomefiore will be joining.
Rook: *chuckles* I can't wait to witness everyone dressed as elegant dames.
Epel: T-Though can we ensure the safety of students that will join?!
MC: It will happen here in NRC.
Epel: Oh, yeah? Then how about the others? Is it only Pomefiore?!
MC: Savanaclaw also signed up for the event. Same with Heartslabyul and Diasomnia.
Epel: ...
Vil: Just give up now, Epel.
MC: If you don't really want to dress up as a girl, then being elegant will suffice.
Epel: ...
Epel: Really?
MC: Yes.
Epel: ...
Epel: Hehe! Thank you, MC!
Professor Crewel: Pup, have you also become a dame in this event?
MC: Yes, Professor Crewel. I think twice.
Professor Crewel: Oh? And how was the experience?
MC: ...
MC: It wasn't good.
Professor Trein: Why? What happened?
MC: I almost caused a stampede.
Professor Crewel and Professor Trein: ...
Professor Crewel: Oh now, child. I want to see you as a dame.
MC: Uh, no. But Solomon is free.
Solomon: *who's with them reading fashion magazines*
Solomon: Why me?
MC: You're more beautiful, Sol.
Solomon: Eh... But I didn't cause a stampede. *chuckles*
MC: *frowns a little*
Lucifer: Queen Rose, The White Wolf of The Frost Flowers...
Diavolo: What is it, Lucifer?
Lucifer: Are you not wondering about it, Diavolo?
Diavolo: Well, I'd be lying if I said it didn't bother me.
Barbatos: There is nothing to be concerned about this.
Lucifer: What do you mean, Barbatos?
Barbatos: I have returned to Devildom to see how things are going.
Barbatos: And certain news arrived to my ears.
Diavolo: What news?
Barbatos: That MC has achieved what Solomon has.
Lucifer: ...
Diavolo: ...
Lucifer: Are you saying-
Barbatos: Yes. *smiles* Thirteen confirmed it herself.
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helluvapoison · 22 days
Note
heyy i was wondering if you could do like Lucifer x reader getting married if ,you want to ofc🫶
btw i love your work so muchh, thank you!!🫶(also english is not my first language so i hope i didn't write anything wrong)
Absolutely I Do
Lucifer Morningstar x Reader
a little insight to your wedding with the king
[part ii (18+ only)]
ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ
• What would be a tamer version of a bridezilla? Not quite lashing out at everyone and their mother over the tiniest details but blowing a fuse when white roses arrive and he specifically asked for white gardenias?
• That would be Lucifer
• Asmodeus is his best man and the other Sins are his groomsmen, they’ll handle the flower debacle and any other matter that needs saving
• Good natured Charlie was given, arguably, the easiest task of holding onto the rings! She’s more than capable of planning the entire event on her own (and she asked to… twice) but Lucifer wanted her to enjoy this wedding as he wouldn’t be having another
• It’s part of why he wants this to go perfectly!
• He never thought he’d find another love after Lilith. He didn’t even realize that while you were delicately filling in the crater she’d left, he was falling more and more in love with you
• The other part, his pride and perfectionism aside, is that while it may be his second wedding, it’s your first. In his eyes you deserve only the best and he’ll be damned all over again if he doesn’t deliver
• You told your fiancé (FUCK he loved that word coming out of your mouth, almost as much as he was going to like husband!) to at least try to not go overboard. To which you received a “Me? Overboard? Darling, I would never! Simple and elegant, that’s what the headlines will say!”
• The many, many, many vision boards said otherwise. However you already knew damn well “simple and elegant” translated to grandeur and extravagant– and that’s exactly what it was. To Lucifer’s credit, it wasn’t gaudy or blinding. It really was a gorgeous spectacle
• Per his request it’s an all white event, a stark contrast to the overall location. The guest list is massive. After all, Lucifer’s still a king and certain people would be offended if they missed an occasion like this. Everyone goes all out. Bodies pour into chairs, everyone dripping head to toe in white garments and glamorous jewels
• Lucifer preened and primped, checking the mirror a couple hundred times and asking whoever was in the room if he looked ok. Anything less than “outstanding” had him groaning as he turned back to the mirror
• The wedding suddenly seems like a terrible idea. Not because he has cold feet (he’s rather sweaty, actually) but because the moment he sees you he just wants to steal you away
• You are positively and wholly breathtaking. The stars are jealous over how you outshine them! He can’t do anything but stare in amazement as you walk down the aisle
• Does he, Lucifer Morningstar, vow to protect, love, cherish and serve you for all eternity? Undoubtedly. He adds a few his own too like spoil you rotten, compliment you hourly, never ever never let you feel like you’re alone— all things he’s already done but wanted to make it “official”
• “It’s been an honor to be your confidant and friend… but I’m dying to do that and more as your husband.”
• Then do you take him to have and to hold, for better or worse, richer or poorer?
• “I do.” You answer proudly, squeezing his hands ever so slightly
• Forgetting present company, forgetting he’s a king and supposed to act dignified, Lucifer doesn’t wait to get permission to kiss you. He jumps slightly, knowing you’ll catch him instantly. Hugging your neck he crashes his lips onto yours
• You giggle against him, returning the kiss briefly before setting him down. (Hell knows he’d get carried away and forget much more if you didn’t)
• “I do believe you’re my husband now, Luci.”
• The entire wedding may as well have been a surprise party the way his eyes widened, as if it only just set in what the ordeal was for
• “Oh my golly, I’m your husband. I’m your husband! Hey everybody, I'm their husband!”
~
╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ don’t apologize, you did great friend! thank you so mochi and i hope you enjoy
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kaziwi · 7 months
Note
one piece boys reaction to a f!reader who cries whenever she is angry (include whoever you want, but put Law, Zoro and Sanji please)
agagagaga i love requests like these <3 sorry it’s a bit long but i hope you enjoy!!
Character(s): Law, Zoro, Sanji
WC: 1,460
Reader Who Cries When Angry
Law
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It was just a simple misunderstanding...why did you get so frustrated???
No. It wasn't your fault...it was HIS
Your boyfriend, Law, had asked that you accompany him on exploring the newest island, YOU, like only and specifically you
Of COURSE you thought this was a date kinda thing because it had been like 100000 years since Law had taken you out and omgomgomg you were so excited
You had put on a little bit extra makeup and did your hair nicer as you met Law on the docks
"You look nice," he commented. You screamed and did a little dance in your head but put on a calm smile for him
It seemed Law had made up his mind on where you two were going because instead of heading to town, you were both trudging up a hill in the middle of the woods
Maybe he was bringing you to a flower field....OR maybe he was going to give you a big old kiss under a cherry blossom tree
Ok maybe you were a bit ahead of yourself...but you couldn't help but wonder???
Then Law abruptly stopped in front of you and crouched down over a bush. You decided to repeat his actions to find out what he was staring at. There were small berries in the bush, all with different colors and sizes.
He opened his bag and pulled out a notebook and pen and handed it to you.
"Write as I talk," he commanded, and who were you to disobey your captain.
Law went on for what seemed like forever about these berries and described them all in detail. You wrote down as much as you could till your hand started to cramp, but thank god by then he was basically over.
He mumbled a small thank you as he took the notebook back, quickly revised the notes you had taken, and stood back up.
"Alright lets head back"
What...did he mean...head back...
WHERE WERE THE FLOWERS AND THE KISSES?????
"Law...." you asked calmly, "what are we doing out here?"
Law looked at you a little funny and said, "Well I read that these berries are only found on this island. I read about their different properties and wanted to see them for myself."
"And why did you choose me of all people to come out here with you..?"
"Well you have the neatest handwriting."
That had done it.
You wanted to scream and yell and make angry hand gestures at him....but all you could do was cry
It was like a dam broke and you just couldn't stop
Law looked more confused than he had ever looked in his life...then rushed over to you like the good boyfriend he SHOULD HAVE BEEN
Law continued to ask what was wrong...but all you could do was cry
When you FINALLY calmed down...you explained to him that you thought this was a date...and were ANGRY at him for not making it one
Lets just say this story ends with Law buying you icecream and giving you a million kisses mwah mwah
Zoro
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In his defense he had no clue you were gonna start crying
He just wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine
You always LOVED to prank him along with Luffy and Usopp
None of those pranks were CRAZY...just little silly tricks like banana peals on the floor to slip on or throwing water balloons at him...but either way they annoyed him
SOMEHOW he thought of the genius idea to prank you back...
Though Zoro's definition of a prank IS NOT what you'd think it was.....
The crew had just arrived on a new island and everyone went their separate ways to explore
Zoro had insisted that you and him take a walk in the woods, and even though you were against it since he ALWAYS gets lost…you reluctantly followed along…
Zoro had the perfect plan in his head….he was going to walk ahead…hide behind some some trees..and then SCARE YOU (he’s not the most creative with these things)
He had suddenly ran ahead..saying that he spotted something and leaving you alone
He SWORE he only ran only a minute or two ahead, just enough where he could wait and hide…
But that was an hour ago…and Zoro was waiting FOREVER..till he heard you..
SOMEHOW in running 2 minutes ahead he got himself lost
So there you were frantically calling his name while the sun quickly set
You really REALLY didn’t wanna be out here in the dark looking for him… and the creepy forest sounds did not help
A small rustle caught you attention..so you walked closer to the sound…till ZORO in all his glory jumped out of the tree and yelled boo
You were so startled that you fell back and hit the forest floor..while Zoro started CACKLING
You were tired…scared…hungry…and PISSED
As much as you wanted to scream your head off at him and punch him 10000 times…all you could do was start to cry
He stopped laughing as soon as he heard your sobs and felt frozen when he saw you crying
He never cried when you pulled tricks on him..SO WHY WERE YOU??????
“WHY ARE YOU CRYING,” he yelled, meaning it to come off more comforting
“CAUSE YOU SCARED ME,” you yelled back while still crying
After some back and fourth yelling..Zoro admitted he was wrong..but SWORE he didn’t get lost..you did
And you were so gonna prank him back for this one
Sanji
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Now Sanji RARELY ever made you mad
You always laughed when you heard people complaining about their partners because your boyfriend was just perfect
Though one thing did kinda piss you off….his flirting
Now don’t get it confused you LOVED when he flirted with you…but it was the flirting with every woman he saw that bugged you
Usually you brushed it off and reminded yourself that he loved you more…but this time was different
You were helping him pick supplies at an island you stopped at, a usual job between the two of you
Though your palette wasn't as refined as Sanji's, you still were good at picking what food was best for the crew
Sanji had spotted a stand in the market with fruits native to the island, which were apparently very rare
He looked like a kid in a candy store while talking to you about the fruits, and all was well UNTIL the shop vendor came over
Now this girl was GEORGOUS like looked like Boa Hancock your jaw dropped when you saw her....and so did Sanji's...
Immediately he showered her with compliments and praises, just the usual....but instead of turning him down like the usual girls do...she flirted back...
Whatever...who cares...I mean it was bound to happen soon...but surely Sanji wouldn't take it too far...
You honestly didn't care too much...only a little jealous...TILL SHE INVITED HIM TO HER HOUSE
The vendor basically had said that she would show Sanji some of her new recipes that she made with the fruit and would love to talk about technique....IN HER HOUSE
Why couldn't they just do that here??? and even better why don't they just end the conversation now!!
Deep down you BELIEVED in your boyfriend and knew he wouldn't accept the invitation....until he did
A quick kiss on your forehead and a quick goodbye he left with the vendor and started to walk to her house...
What. Just. Happened.
So first he leaves you to hangout with this RANDOM lady...AND THEN LEAVES YOU TO FINISH THE SHOPPPING
It was later in the evening when he came back to the Sunny...a new recipe book in tow
He was excited to show it off to you, and was happy to hear that you finished the shopping for him!!
Sanji found you in the kitchen, putting away the food in the pantry
"Y/N!! Look at this amazing new recipe book I got from that vendor, you'd love this one-"
He looked up from his rant to notice that you were crying...
Sanji dropped the book and ran to you, begging you to tell him what was wrong
You wanted to stay silent and angry at him, but the tears kept pouring out and you just wanted him to hold you
You told him how upset his flirting made you and how him leaving with the other woman made you furious
He immediately apologized and honestly didn't stop for the rest of the night
He swore to you that he would tune down the flirting and that he would bring all his attention to you
And he kept that promise well, minimalizing the complements towards other women, even dialing it down around Nami and Robin
He truly was sorry and vowed to himself to never make you cry again
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blkgirl-writing · 1 month
Text
Valentine's day drabble HCs for the men of BG3 x Reader
These are a collection of small drabbles written in different styles for valentines day! Warning Gales is the longest, whoops.
Gale:
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Gales cold warm hands grasped around your waist from behind, squeezing your skin gently as he rested his head on your shoulder.
"The earl grey lavender, please-" He kissed your neck softly, speaking in a quiet tone. It was a perfect day inside his tower, the rays of sun beaming through the stained glass, fluttering rainbows across the cozy kitchen. The kettle whistles quieting down as you took it off the stove.
"It's already in the mug, lovely" You gestured to his favorite mug, a heavy stoneware piece decorated with flowers of purple and pink encased in a golden heart, he said it reminded him of when he realized he had loved you. You never fully asked why, but it made enough sense to be sweet.
"How you know me so well." Gale Smiled. You finished pouring the water and handed him his extra-strong tea. He leaned against the counter, blowing on the drink a few times. "Maybe I should have told you earlier, but I do have a surprise for you."
"I thought we said no gifts!" You batted his shoulder playfully, "though I'll admit, I didn't follow that rule either."
"is that so?" Gale leaned in to kiss your lips through a smile. "We just can't seem to help ourselves."
"So what's this gift?" you asked. He set down his own mug, ducking into the pantry to retrieve a box, unwrapped and simple. He placed it on the counter and patiently waited, his excitement barely hidden in his smile.
You opened the small box to reveal a mug, a matching mug to his, but a dark blue with purple and red flowers, with a silver heart. It was gorgeous, less heavy than his and somehow it felt built to hold within your two hands.
"Oh Gale, it's perfect." You kissed his cheek, refusing to let go of the mug quite yet, the hug would have to wait.
"I had it specifically made by the same artist. Tara now has a similar water bowl as well. She felt left out" Gales hand slipped around your waist yet again. "as much as I love it when you steal my mug, I thought it was beyond time you had your own as well."
"Oh so you didn't want me using yours?" Your teasing turned into pecks, which led to kisses- "Your gift is waiting in the bedroom," You smirked, hand caressing his messy hair. "If that's ok, of course,"
"I was secretly hoping that was the case." His hand intertwined with yours, nearly sweeping you off your feet.
Wyll:
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Wyll had been staring at you for some time before you'd woken up, the sun shining down on your resting face, the definition of peaceful. Wyll hadn't remembered pure peace, it had been years since he'd felt fully at rest, but with you, calmness was as easy as breathing. All he had to do was look at you, and he remembered serenity.
He had made sure he was the best man for you, the best man he could be. He loved you with all his heart and made sure you felt like a goddess above every waking moment of your lives together, however long that may be. He loved the small moments you shared, like when you'd tripped and nearly fallen, but straight into his arms. "Well I didn't think you'd be falling head over heels for me this fast," He'd said. And you'd laughed and smiled, and he swore he'd do everything to keep that smile on your perfect lips.
He remembered your first date, where he had tried so hard to reserve a seat at the best restaurant in baldurs Gate, but ended up in a dingy bar, getting more drunk with each cup, and instead of spending the night entangled in each other's bodies, you'd shared barely cohesive thoughts and stories from lives long past. He learned your favorite color, your old friendships, and the star that you felt most connected to, the smaller details that never seemed to have enough time for during your big adventure.
Or the time you'd styled his hair into braided buns, which he'd kept in until his hair was frizzy and far past wash day. But you'd worked so hard on it to be perfectly symmetrical that he never wanted to take out your work. He asked you to help him with his hair, after that, not just because you were good at it, which, hells, you'd made him feel confident in himself for the first time since he grew his horns, but because your light touch sent him into a nearly meditative state of bliss. The way your fingers carefully combed through his hair, spending time to detangle each knot with such care that he had barely noticed it at all. And eventually, you'd taught him how to do your hair, too. Eventually wearing matching styles (if he asked politely), and took turns in the "hair chair"
"Honey?" You whispered, groggy and barely awake, "have you been staring at me again?"
"Is it a crime?" Wyll asked, placing a light kiss on your forehead.
"Only if I was drooling"
"Oh, but you look too adorable when you drool." He chucked, holding you closer to his warm chest.
"Shut up..." You pouted, eyes fluttering open and closed, trying to force yourself awake. But sleep had you tight in it's arms, and so did Wyll.
Astarion:
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Red was his favorite color, after all. The room was dripping with it, black, gold, and dark, burgundy. Candles dripping hot wax down into careful carafes, soon to be poured and decorating your skin. It was romantic, it was warm, and it was lustful. Astarions eyes never left you, dancing across your body in pure sin, he clearly knew exactly how your night would unfold, and the only hint he'd give you was the devilish smile on his lips.
"It's going to be a long night, hm?"
"Oh yes, darling" Astarion purred, his hand sliding into your hair and pulling downwards, revealing your neck to him. His fangs scraped against your bare skin, but not piercing it, no, that was for later, with much less clothing and a lot more sweat, when all you could see was his snow-white skin and the blood rushing through your veins.
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@shyminnie07 @makers-breath @claryvoyantfray @black-sapphic @fapqueen
─── ・ 。゚☆: .☽ . :☆゚. ───
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