#I am thrilled he’s keeping back parts of his life for himself!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

strawbeelemonade · 11 months

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We need more of spider punk❤️❤️❤️

ROMANTIC HEADCANNONS (Part 2!): Hobart brown

GIF by fizzytoo

SO many requests for this guy,,, i hope you like!

🕷 - hobbie likes watching you stand up for yourself.

🕷 - he knows you have spunk, no matter how deep down, it’s there.

🕷 - it thrills him to see you fight back, fills him with satisfaction. He will back you up in a heartbeat, no matter what it is he will fight with you and for you.

🕷 - he’ll fall back to back with you, you won’t have to worry when fighting along side him, let yourself go and spread CHAOS. He’s got your back

🕷 - he’s very deep thinking. He values your morals, your conviction and who you are in the face of hardships.

🕷 - He thinks real hard about what he chooses to put his faith in. And that includes you.

🕷 - he trusts you with his life.

🕷 - he’s a bit of a wanderer. There isn’t really a reliable routine he follows, so you might go a little while without seeing him.

🕷 - but don’t worry, he’ll always come back to you. He won’t leave you lonely for too long, gorgeous.

🕷 - he’ll pay you random visits just because!

🕷 - and by that I mean he’ll let himself in.

🕷 - its not uncommon for him to show up in the middle of the night, and if your not asleep, he offers to sneak you out for a few hours of fun.

🕷 - It’s alright, beautiful/handsome, there’s no safer place then by his side.

🕷 - If you live here, you’ll know that the UK can get pretty cold, especially at night. he’ll lend you his jacket if he catches you shivering

🕷 - Hobie will take you to concerts. You’re his first choice.

🕷 - he’s got a lot of connections and he can get you in easily.

🕷 - if you think he is anywhere other than right in the front then you are CRAZY. and he wants you right there with him.

🕷 - the music is so loud it’ll shoot through your chests, filling both your senses. sharing that exhilaration with you means a lot to him.

🕷 - he keeps you close to him the whole time, and makes sure you don’t get too roughed up by the other people around you.

🕷 - If it all gets too much don’t worry, he knows a cushy spot in the rafters away from all the people, and its a great view.

🕷 - when Hobie’s the one on stage he’ll be looking for you in the crowd

🕷 - he plays better when your there

🕷 - knowing your eyes are on him makes him more bold.

🕷 - don’t take your eyes off of him. Don’t you dare look away. He wants to see your face.

🕷 - he’s on the run a lot, so he’ll need to crash at your place often to lay low.

🕷 - “thanks, doll. I knew you wouldn’t mind.”

🕷 - if you play guitar he will play solo’s with you

🕷 - if you don’t know how to play he’ll sit behind you and rest his hands over your own, pressing your fingers into the right chords.

🕷 - his chest pressing in to your back are the least of your worries, though. His breathe is hot and his lips are soft. And, oh! your cheek and jaw, which are his favourite places to kiss, are completely exposed.

🕷 - good luck.

🕷 - he’ll give you piggy back rides.

🕷 - wrap your arms around him as tightly as you want. He doesn’t mind. his hair might tickle your face as he turns his head to give you a peck on the cheek, though.

🕷 - when you both sleep next to each other you won’t have to worry about his hair getting in your face. He’ll wear a wrap.

🕷 - his hair is NICE in the movie. those wicks were P R I S T I N E

🕷 - if you play with the little baby hairs poking out from the bundle then he’ll be all over you I bet he’d love that.

🕷 - if he loses his wrap then he might use his mask in a pinch. It’d be really fun if the inside was lined with silk just to keep his hair nice.

🕷 - If he sleeps in that then your gonna have to put something on the spikes to stop them from poking you 😭

🕷 - "nah fam i am not sticking marhsmellows on my head."

🕷 - Honk shoo

🕷 - he will pierce you ears for you.

🕷 - he knows how to sew. mending clothes are more cost effective, and punks have been DIYing outfits since the very beginning.

🕷 - if you don't know how, he can hem or mend your clothes. like i don't he he knows just surface level knowledge either. Hobbie is IN the sewing community

🕷 - he'd get zesty with it too!

🕷 - yeah, he could sew your clothes to look good as new, but have you seen visible decorative mending? there are so many ways to get creative with mending- his personality would really shine through in his work.

🕷 - your favourite pair of jeans that used to have a hole in the knee are now fixed, but with am embroidered spider web spriraling outwards.

🕷 - this is an example of how incredibly thoughtful he is. he spends lots of time and love to turn something broken into something new. and thats one of the ways he'll show you he loves you.

🕷 - you won't really ever be questioning if he loves you though.

🕷 - he's blunt. he'll let you know.

🕷 - tee hee

🕷 - Hobart doesn’t really get Jealous.

🕷 - But he LOVES rubbing your relationship in any clueless suitor’s face when he gets the chance.

🕷 - after watching the movie I am 100% certain that he is willing to clock someone over the head for you.

🕷 - intimidation tactics work great to ward off most creeps. But some people need a demonstration.

🕷 - his hand will snake around your lower tummy or waist, and he pulls you flush against himself

🕷 - he’d lean down to whisper “is this one bothering you?”. Real quietly so no one else can hear.

🕷 - if your friends with Hobart, your friends with Pavitr.

🕷 - and if your dating Hobart, then your basically gonna date him too LMAO

🕷 - Pav thinks you're both so cute! You have his full support. He is INVESTED. The moment he sees you after rough housing with Hobie he gasps! Hello you!

🕷 - he’s all over you.

🕷 - Pav thinks you’re a sweetheart. If Hobie isn’t there you can count on him to have your back.

🕷 - I’ve said this before but he’s canonically got a good read on people, and that’s probably especially so for his best friend.

🕷 - and so he sees how happy you make him. Pav absolutely treasures you.

🕷 - Chances are you'll end up getting close with Gwen too! she stays over in other universes since her situation back in her own isn't great. you guys end up hanging out because of it and ya'll grow close.

#spider man #across the spiderverse #spiderverse x reader #into the spiderverse #into the spider verse #spiderman x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobart brown x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderpunk #hobie brown #into the spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse x reader #itsv #itsv x reader #atsv #atsv hobie #atsv x reader

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undiscovered-horizon · 10 months

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Who am I to complain? - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

[emotional and verbal abuse, unhealthy parent-child relationships]

SUMMARY: When your parents come to visit, Nikolai finally understands why you've never been keen to talk about them. Being the King and your husband, he isn't afraid to defy them.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 4.5k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

"Have you listened to anything I've just said?"

Nikolai shakes you awake from being lost in thought. You look away from the insanely interesting skirting board you had been staring at for the past ten minutes. He’s watching you with raised eyebrows, awaiting an answer.

"I…” you hang your voice. At first, you wanted to just apologize and ask him to repeat himself but then a sense of dread sprouts in your abdomen - one you can’t quite put a finger on but it takes over your entire mind. “I'm sorry, Kolya. Please, don’t be mad at me, I’m sorry,” you plead, gradually speaking faster.

“I’m not angry,” he states firmly. “But I am growing concerned for you, love. What’s going on?”

“I just keep thinking about my parents' visit,” you confess while rubbing your forehead. “Ever since the letter arrived, I can hardly think about anything else."

"Yes, I've noticed you have been a bit absent for the past few days. I assumed you were going to talk to me when you're ready. Are you?"

"They're not bad people," you begin in a strange tone that makes Nikolai doubt your words right away, "and they've only done their best to give me a good life. Despite that, they have a tendency to bring out the parts of me I've grown to dislike."

“Isn’t that what every family does?” he jokes in hopes of easing your visible discomfort. But his good humour is gone the moment you look away with a sombre expression stuck to your features.

Nikolai always considered himself exceptional at self-control but something about your sadness makes him gradually abandon reason. As you forlornly stare into the darkness of your shared bedroom, he’s ready to stick feathers to his clothes and pretend to be a peacock just to make you laugh.

“Love,” he calls out softly. His hand rests between your shoulder blades. “You’re the queen. If you want, we can call their visit off right away.”

“That would be a little rude, no?” you ask in a meek voice.

“It’s a lot more crude to make you cry.”

“I will be alright, really,” you reassure him. That miserable look on your face is slowly creeping away. “It’s just three days. Maybe they’ve changed or they’re a lot better than I remember. I’ll be okay.”

Nikolai is unsure whether you’re trying to convince yourself or him but he doesn’t push. Despite not believing your clumsy words of reassurance, he trusts you - he’ll step in only when things really get out of hand.

Nervousness and excitement often feel the same and one might even fool themselves into believing that the mortifying tension in their muscles is actually an impatient thrill. Today, however, you don’t even try playing a little trick on yourself. The more you think about your feelings, the more you’re convinced that it’s not even nervousness but fear. Still, you don’t quite understand why exactly your parents’ visit elicits such awful emotions from you.

The door to the throne room opens and a man in a white and gold livery steps inside. He quickly walks halfway to the dais with the throne.

The servant bows as deep as he can and clears his throat before loudly announcing: “Presenting her most royal Highness’s, the Queen’s, mother and father.”

Only then do your parents emerge from the hall, walking hesitantly through the spacious throne room. Two guards are following them and your father spares them a confused glance every few steps. But the armed men only usher him to keep walking and not turn his back to the king until allowed to do so.

Feeling fear exploding in your chest, you grip Nikolai’s shoulder even tighter. Sitting on the throne, he has to look up to meet your eyes.

“Calm down, it’s going to be alright,” he says quietly. A reassuring smile curves his lips. “You said it yourself.”

As though he is a Heartrender himself, his words make you relax. You take a deep breath and let go of his shoulder. At that moment, Nikolai stands up to greet your parents as their son-in-law first and only then the king of Ravka.

Right then, your mother quickly runs up the few steps leading to the dais. Her face is red and a deep crease now separates her eyebrows.

“I have to wait to be announced to see my own daughter?” She’s barely containing her outrage. “Nonsense!”

“I’m royalty now, mother,” you explain calmly. Your voice almost doesn’t shake.

“And I’m still your mother, the one that gave birth to you. Do I not get any benefits from that?”

Maybe some people don’t actually change.

“I’m afraid you don’t.”

“Is this gold?!” your father exclaims in shock as his hand reaches for your heavy necklace. “So because of you most of Ravka is starving?”

Too occupied with the jewellery, your parents don’t notice the palace guards stepping forward to arrest them for such an accusation aimed at the queen. Nikolai spares them a meaningful look, waving them off. In his heart, he agrees with them.

“Actually, this is a gift from a businessman in Kerch,” you say quietly. Suddenly, you remember why you’ve never visited them since your wedding.

“Still, don’t you think this is a little distasteful?”

Your mother places her hand on your father’s shoulder. “She’s always been vain, darling,” she reminds him.

You’re not a queen anymore - at least you don’t feel like it. All of the gold, silk and jewels are gone and you’re back to being a scared, little girl with hay stuck in her hair. Tears sting your eyes.

Whatever you do is wrong. All of your efforts are underwhelming. Maybe they’d be happier if you weren’t there.

"You're crying?” your father asks with a hint of disgust in his voice. “Oh, don't be so sensitive, you know we’re only joking!” He’s still holding your necklace in his fingers, admiring the glistening crystals. Standing so close to you, he lowers his voice significantly to appear inconspicuous but Nikolai manages to pick up his calloused words. “Pull yourself together, this is embarrassing.”

As she usually does, your mother brings the attention back to herself. “She can be a bit much at times, so I hope you’re a patient one!”

The guards exchange questioning looks, silently asking one another if they should intervene this time. Most of the time they follow Tolya and Tamar’s steps but they’re left to their own devices on this day as Nikolai ordered the twins to take a day off. Perhaps it’s for the best - they’d surely escalate this already uncomfortable situation but it’s only because they care.

“I’d say it’s quite the opposite,” Nikolai answers, unaffected. Despite his speaking to your mother, he’s looking into your eyes. “I can never get enough of her.”

“For most of her life, I thought she’d never get married!” your mother continues. She’s gripping your arm with much more strength than her appearance suggests. “Men don’t like them independent, stubborn and opinionated.”

Nikolai’s polite smile doesn’t falter. “Three qualities of an excellent Queen.”

Your mother laughs obnoxiously. “Just wait a few years, dear.” She pats his shoulder. The guards look between themselves again. “You’ll be quick to send her off just like we were!”

Both of your parents laugh wholeheartedly while you and Nikolai exchange knowing looks. Now he understands why you have been so uneasy lately. This is going to be the longest three days of his life.

The perplexity continues as your mother suddenly places her hands around your waist, examining your torso in great detail. A sour expression forms on her face.

“Oh, honey, you’ve let yourself go,” she says in a worried tone. Her eyes trail the curve of your physique up until she looks at your face. With a serious glint in her eye, she advises you under her breath: “You can’t get fat and slobby if you want to keep the king.”

The man who announced your parents appears again but this time he walks all the way to the stairs leading up to the throne, although doesn’t dare climb them. His facial expression borders on emotionless and serious as though he’s more of a marble statue rather than a servant.

“Your most royal Highness.” The man bows deeply. “The room is prepared.”

“Excellent.” Nikolai uses the opportunity to cut the awkward conversation short in a diplomatic way. “Escort our guests to their chamber.”

“Right away, мой царь.”

When the butler disappears around the corner with your parents apprehensively following him, Nikolai looks at you with a grim expression.

“Are they usually like this?” he asks, disapproval hiding between his words.

“They’re worse at home,” you answer with a shrug. A lot of terrible feelings and thoughts you were convinced you had left behind are coming back and you’re unsure how to handle that.

“You’ve put up with this kind of disrespect for your whole life?”

“It’s not disrespect, just…” you hang your voice looking for the right expression, “tough love. They don’t mean any harm.”

“Don’t mean any harm?” he repeats in disbelief. “They’ve been here for fifteen minutes and they are yet to say something nice to you. Neither of them even asked whether you’re doing alright.”

A short, troubled sigh leaves your lips. Your fingers trail the golden embroidery decorating his kaftan. “I’m married to a dashing, handsome king and live in a palace. I think they know I’m doing well.”

His hand gently grabs yours, keeping it against his chest. “As much I like flattery, especially coming from you, you can’t pull wool over my eyes, love. It’s not a matter of knowing but principle. Remember our wedding? The guests kept asking how you’re doing so much, you kept saying you’re perfectly fine before they even got a chance to ask.”

The memory elicits a chuckle from you. Yes, everyone seemed to be preoccupied with making sure you were happy and satisfied. It came to such a point, you yelled at Nikolai’s cousin ‘Yes, I’m fine!’ before she gave you a weird look and asked if you wanted some vodka mixed with your champagne. Truly, the only royal thing about Marina is her ungodly fortune but maybe that’s why you’ve grown to like her a lot - she’s down to earth and easy-going.

Nikolai squeezes your hand in a gentle, reassuring manner. “Just say the word and I will personally throw them out.”

“Kolya!” You gasp at his offer but it quickly turns into laughter. “They’re my parents and your in-laws!”

“They also refuse to show care and respect towards my beloved Queen.”

That mellow, loving look in his eyes nullifies any annoyance you might feel at his stubbornness. You pull your hand out of his grasp and place it on the side of his face. Consciously or not, he slightly leans into your touch. “I appreciate your concern.” Not minding the guards in the room, you’ve grown used to their constant presence, you peck his lips shortly. “But they have just arrived. You’ll warm up to them.”

Nikolai doesn’t answer at first. He only reconnects your lips, kissing you deeper, more desperately. When you feel his hands coming up to your waist, you lean away from him. For a moment, you swear you can see a grimace of dissatisfaction on his face.

“Be decent,” you reprimand him but the wide smile you wear so well rids your words of all seriousness.

“You started this.”

“And I will finish if you play nice.”

Nikolai takes a rather long step back, away from you, just to make a point. He’s standing with his hands behind his back, an excited grin on his face. “You make an exquisite diplomat, you know that?”

“I learned from the best.”

The time for dinner came faster than you wanted it to. Anxiety bubbled inside your chest again. Still, you continued trying to soap up your eyes with thoughts that maybe when they sit across the table from a king, they’re going to withdraw their little jabs at you. As they say: Hope is the mother of all fools. And you’re about to learn that.

Nikolai raises his cup with wine. “A toast to our beloved Queen,” he announces in an official tone. Out of the corner of his eye, he spares you an adoring look. “Without her, I’d be a lonely, perplexed king. May we not know the world without her.”

To your horror, your father decides to join him. “May she get a grip and come to her senses.”

The dry wine tastes even more bitter as you take what’s supposed to be a celebratory sip. What if he’s right about you? It’s only the beginning of the evening and you already wish you can miraculously vanish or, worst case scenario, just run away.

You’re about to take a bite of the roasted pheasant on your plate when your mother looks at you with raised eyebrows. She points her fork between you and the plate. “Should you really be eating all of this?”

You don’t answer her. Whatever you say will only egg her on. Get a grip, you scold yourself and clench your fist to push fingernails into the sensitive skin of your palm. The pain is distracting, grounding.

"You know, sweetheart, you're not getting any younger,” your mother continues. She always does that - throwing poignancies one after another and seeing what sticks. Now, when she’s literally the mother of the queen, she’s even bolder than before.

“Mother-”

“Don’t interrupt me.” She points her knife at you. “All I’m saying is as a wife, especially the queen, you have only one duty and you shouldn’t wait with it. Things will only get more difficult as you age.”

Nikolai gives your mother a bright smile. “Have no worries,” he cuts in. “We’re not waiting.”

You almost drop your fork. Flustering people is definitely one of his strategies but must he really involve your sex life in his word games? Although mortified at his bluntness, you must admit it works - your mother’s face is about the same shade as the roasted tomatoes on her plate. She casts her eyes downwards, poking at the food in front of her.

The air is filled with awkward tension but Nikolai doesn’t seem to mind in. In fact, he looks quite proud of himself. You, on the other hand, aren’t as good at putting up a believable front.

“So,” you begin in hopes of easing the atmosphere”, how are things back in…” You hang your voice. You were about to say ‘home’, only to realize that it would be an honest lie. The little town where you grew up hasn’t been home in years. “...Tamboyevka?”

“Oh, you know,” your mother says as she makes a dismissive wave with her hand. “Same old, same old. Cattle and field, nothing interesting to someone of your sort, I presume! There’s never been much use of you anyway.”

Listening to your mother’s condescending words, you push your fingernails further into the skin of your hand to distract yourself from the feeling of shame that continues to grow inside your stomach and pull you down with it. Maybe the marble floor will swallow you whole in the next few minutes and all of this will be over.

Then you feel Nikolai’s warm hand sneak between your palms, breaking up your painful distraction. He leans towards you ever so slightly and whispers:

“I’d much rather you pinch and scratch my hand than hurt yourself.”

You look at his concerned face. Words of reassurance, ‘Don’t worry, I’m alright’, nearly push past your lips when your father chimes in, continuing the conversation.

“But your brother, he bought some land down south,” he announces with excitement.

“More land?” you ask. “Ha barely manages with what he already has.”

The memory of your brother’s tired, grey face flashes before your eyes. Every time you see him, he looks even sicker than before as though he never sleeps or eats, only works in the field. He even collapsed on one July day and your parents kept saying that this is a sign of an honest, hard-working man but you weren’t as quick to call a man throwing up everything he eats ‘healthy’.

“You know how he is, always helping others.” Your mother is beaming with pride as if she’s the one doing the farming. “His crops feed two villages and it’s not nearly enough for him! Said he wanted tomatoes and citruses.”

Then it hits you. It’s not a revelation in any way but rather something you don’t think about too often - most of Ravka doesn’t get fruits in winter, especially the ones growing in warmer climates near the Shu Han border. And you not only can easily get it even when snow covers the grassy fields but you’re essentially fed it. Like that one time, you shared a tangerine with Nikolai while sitting in front of a fire, talking about unimportant things.

Despite your mother sitting right in front of you, her voice echoed in your head as though she’s a phantom haunting your thoughts and not a real person: Selfish. Spoiled. Entitled. Ungrateful. People starve because of you.

You focus on Nikolai’s warm, rough hand that’s still holding your own. The pleasant sensation is gradually grounding you, pulling you out of your head and into the present moment.

“What for?” you ask as casually as you can, not giving in to the spiralling thoughts. It still feels like you’re underwater, desperately gasping for air as your lungs burn. Squeezing Nikolai’s hand, you break the surface of the vicious tides trying to drown you in panic and shame.

Your mother, on the other hand, appears completely oblivious to your plight. “Some child told him they’d like oranges and he couldn’t say no. He’s wonderful, truly. A living Saint! What a blessing to call him my son. You should take a serious cue from him, young lady.” She waves the tip of her knife in your direction again. “But enough about your brother. What do you do when you’re not wasting time? Lay around and smell nice?”

“Well,” you swallow nervously, already knowing that she won’t be satisfied with your answer, “I meet a lot of people, take correspondence, travel across the country or read if I find the time.”

Nikolai must notice the telling crease of disappointment between your mother’s eyebrows. He joins the conversation under a skilful facade of a proud, boasting husband. “Don’t sell yourself short, love. Our Queen,” he puts strange stress on the title, “has started a scholarship for disadvantaged children, takes the time to teach young girls sewing, foreign languages and arithmetic.”

“That’s quite useless, isn’t it?” your mother looks between you and your father, not acknowledging Nikolai’s presence. She keeps stabbing the roasted pheasant on her plate with a fork as though there’s still life inside the poor poultry. “Shouldn’t you try harder?” she hisses at you. “If you continue being this lazy, the whole kingdom will fall apart! What will our neighbours say then?”

Nikolai suddenly gets up. He’s still holding your hand but you can’t be sure whether he’s doing that on purpose or if it’s just an unconscious reflex. The candlelight from the crystal chandelier cascades off his face, pronouncing the clenched muscles of his jaw - he’s angry and barely holding it in.

“Our meeting at this table is adjourned,” he announces in a firm voice. “This is beyond unacceptable. I have overlooked your transgressions simply because of your affinity to my wife. Still, I am disheartened and disappointed with the way you address your queen in her own home. The guards will escort you back to your chambers.”

You hear your mother and father trying to argue and protest, saying something about you being ‘too proud’ and ‘forgetting your place’ but you’re so dumbfounded you can’t make out the details. The guards lead them out of the dining room through one of the tall pairs of doors. When they close behind them, everything goes silent - the brick walls muffle any turmoil your parents might be causing.

Suddenly, your throat constricts. It’s hard to take a breath. Has it always been so hot in here? The tips of your fingers tingle, blood never reaching them.

He threw them out and you didn’t say anything. If they didn’t hate you before, they surely do now. You’re a disappointment, not their child. They haven’t done anything wrong, after all. You’re no good, useless, ungrateful, dramatic.

Suffocating with panic, you run out of the room through a different pair of doors, across the dining hall from the ones behind which your parents had recently disappeared. You hear Nikolai’s footsteps behind you but they are muffled by the noise of bloodflow ringing in your ears.

“Hey, talk to me,” he calls out in a soft voice. You turn around to look at him. His hand is almost at the height of your shoulder but it momentarily drops as though he just backed out from touching you. “What’s going on?”

For a man as smart as him, that’s a really stupid question.

“Why did you do that, Nikolai?” you snap at him.

His eyebrows furrow slightly. A gasp of disbelief brushes past his lips - he clearly thought the two of you were on the same page. “They were insulting you over and over again. I couldn’t just sit and listen to that.”

Truly, you should have expected that. He’s been adamant about standing up to your parents from the very beginning. Still, you’re angry that he just had to be stubborn and do the one thing you explicitly asked him not to do.

“What happened to laugh at insults? Isn’t that your own advice?”

“It is.” Nikolai finally finds it in himself to place his hands on your shoulders. “But I found myself unable to remain collected when the bitter words were aimed at you.” His palms brush against your dress and the skin of your neck until they’re cradling your face.

“I can,” you state firmly. “You should have let me handle this, I’m used to this.”

You escape his loving grasp and he lets you. Walking forward away from him, you’re not quite sure where exactly you’re heading. ‘Away’ would be a lovely direction but quite impossible when you’re confined to those four walls of marble and gold.

“You shouldn’t be,” Nikolai calls out after you.

Suddenly, you halt. You look at him around your shoulder. “What?”

“You shouldn’t be used to being treated like this,” he says in a defeated tone while walking towards you again. “They just keep putting you down, humiliating you. You’re not even slightly upset about that?”

“Of course, I am but…” you hang your voice, finally questioning your own feelings towards your parents. “It’s unfair for me to be angry with them. Ungrateful. I never went hungry or cold. They gave me medication when I was sick and made sure I went to school. Every year they’d give me something for my birthday. Neither of them has ever raised their hand against me. They’ve done all they could to give me a good life. Who am I to complain?”

“You’re the Queen,” he drones the word. His hand holds the side of your face again, thumb lovingly brushing your cheek. “People say your name in the same breath as the names of all the Saints. When I don’t know what to do or what decision to make, I always ask myself what you would do. And I’ve never once regretted that. There are important people who have agreed to my invitation only after hearing that you’ll be there too. You change everything. So you get to be angry when someone refuses to see that. I know you can take a few mean words but I don’t want you to.”

For a moment, the two of you stand in comfortable, intimate silence. Your absent gaze is stuck to the floor as you’re pondering his words. Whenever you’re about to accept that maybe, just maybe, you’re doing something good and important, the voice of your mother echoes inside your head: ‘Vain’. But Nikolai wouldn’t lie to you, would he? At least not in those circumstances.

“Can you keep a secret?” he speaks up quietly, bringing your attention back to him.

“Don’t tell me you put a wild racoon in my parent’s bedroom,” you joke, surprising yourself at your newly-found humour.

He scrunches his nose. “Alright, can you keep two secrets?” The echo of the empty halls carries your bright laughter. “To be honest, I wanted to marry you the moment you argued with me about stealing that merchant frigate in Kerch.”

“I could tell,” you answer with a slow nod. “You had a really stupid look on your face, all dazed and absent. In fact, you wore the same one on our wedding day.”

Nikolai’s lips turn into a playful smile and he’s about to say something definitely smart and smooth but a servant interrupts him:

“Your most royal highness,” she says nervously as she curtsies, “your mother wishes to see you. She seems thoroughly upset, if I may say so.” Judging by her fearful, wide-open eyes, she must have gotten a taste of your parents' hurt ego.

Anxiety once again floods your mind. Maybe you should go, apologize and pray they won’t go on a tirade about ‘raising you differently’. But then you hear Nikolai inconspicuously but meaningfully clear his throat.

‘You’re the queen’, his voice echoes in your head. A queen doesn’t cower and bow her head, does she?

“Tell her I don’t take visitations tonight,” you order the servant.

“Right away, моя царица.” She can’t hide the waver in her voice. Judging by her already fearful demeanour, she can guess quite well what will happen the moment she relays the information.

Yes, you will have to warn your parents that they actually can’t hurl insults at your servants. It’s going to be challenging, yes, but this newfound confidence is a ferocious beast, driving you to own up to the title of the queen - not in the way your mother and father want you to but in a way that you need to.

“Oh, one more thing.” The girl immediately stops and turns around at the sound of your voice. “Make sure they don’t leave their wing until either of us says so. I don’t want them wandering around my home.”

“Of course, my Queen.”

The servant bows again and leaves the two of you in a rushed step. Nikolai waits until she disappears around the corner to let his hand drop to the small of your back. He leans in close, indecently so. “I love it when you get all commanding,” he whispers against your neck.

An airy laugh leaves your lips as he pecks the soft skin behind your ear.

____

мой царь [mo-ee tzar] -> my tsar/king

моя царица [mo-ya tsa-ree-tsa] -> my tsaritsa/queen

#nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lantsov #nikolai x reader #nikolai lantsov x reader #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bones x you

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devildom-moss · 6 months

Note

idk how to verbalise this idea properly so bear with me but: mc whose entire logic in life is 'fuck it we ball' including when it comes to romance, so they just completely go along with any attempts at flirting in a sort of "yes, and-" fashion

which probably only encourages said suitor and then mc has the Audacity to be surprised when it gets intense enough for them to realise they're actually being seduced lol

gn mc with just the brothers for now pls!! thank u for your services

Hopefully this request is what you were looking for. Honestly, I had a bit of confusion while writing, but I tried. I went with headcanons because that seemed like the best fit. Thanks for the request.

gn!MC who casually flirts back with the demon brothers headcanons

(and then has the audacity to be surprised that they're being genuinely pursued)

(Suggestive)

Word Count: +2700

Lucifer

Lucifer is an awful flirt, trying so hard to fluster MC and convince them of his dominance. (Where’s it at though? I don’t see it.) His flirting is so suggestive that it’s actually pretty easy to just assume it’s a bit of playful teasing between friends.

For MC, it plays out like those posts that say something and then escalate immediately – something like “Kiss your homies goodnight. Kiss them with tongue. Eat their ass.”

Having an MC who flirts back with him can be a bit embarrassing, and it gets Lucifer’s hopes up so much. (“Could you pour me another cup of coffee, MC?” “Third one this morning, Luci. Not sleeping well?” “I’m afraid not. Perhaps you should come over and help – but then again, we might not get much sleep if you do.” “Aw, Luci, do you want me to fuck you senseless to help you fall asleep?” “If you’re offering, who am I to refuse.”)

He’ll be frustrated that MC keeps flirting with him, but they never follow through.

Lucifer is so horny that it’s absurd. MC could be completely normal, and this man would be thirsting. (“I really don’t want to do this lesson. This chapter is so boring.” “Normally, I wouldn’t use positive reinforcement, but if you complete your work, I’ll reward you.” “What kind of reward?” “Come to my room tonight and find out.”)

Poor MC doesn’t realize they’re being seduced until Lucifer has dragged them into his bed.

“Sleep with me.” “I’m not really tired, Lucifer.” “Good. Then you’ll have plenty of energy to make out and maybe even fuck me – if you want.” His touch would be so intimate – rubbing their inner thigh or groping their ass. “IF I WHAT?!?”

Lucifer would turn pink up to his ears. Part of him thinks MC is just teasing him again, but he would quickly realize that they’re being genuine. He’d feel absolutely humiliated. Did they not want him at all? Did all of that flirting mean nothing?

Before he could die from the shame, Lucifer would manage to blurt out, “Do you want me or not?” He wants some honest commitment in return for his affection, and if MC won’t bring that, that’s unacceptable. Of course, there is some thrill in a chase, but in that moment, Lucifer won’t have it in him. It would be a battle to fight some other day.

If MC tells him no or gives a half-hearted response, he will ask them to leave his room with one hand covering his blushing face. He wouldn’t even be able to look at them as he closed the door – and he’d probably avoid them for a day or two. (Also, he might cry a little after the door is locked).

If MC insists that they do want him, he’ll be especially needy while also acting all sadistic – attempting to tease them to distract from his own embarrassment. This poor loser will require so many kisses to reinflate his ego.

Mammon

To be fair, Mammon would bring this upon himself. He loves to act like he’s uninterested – constantly interrupting his fawning and puppy-like following of MC to save himself from the absolute humiliation of being *gasp* honest about his feelings.

I can see Mammon regularly initiating flirting, but this man can’t follow through to save his own life (maybe to save the life of someone else, though). An MC who reciprocates his flirting would leave him a blushing, flustered mess. Most of the time, his embarrassment cuts the interaction short.

“Ya just can’t get enough of the Great Mammon, can ya?” “Of course not, you handsome devil~” “I- uh! Hmph! Damn right!” he’d say it, crossing his arms and avoiding eye contact while the blush rises in his cheeks. How is MC supposed to respond?

If they tease him further and flirt more, he’ll just yell and tell them to knock it off. If they just shrug it off and move on, Mammon will be too flustered to make another move on them that day. The flirtatious spark just kind of fizzles out like a defective firecracker.

It takes a lot of boldness on Mammon’s end to get MC to realize he’s being serious. And honestly, Mammon is so adorable, MC may have the opportunity to take the initiative and push things a little further first. (You want to tell me most MCs could just flirt with Mammon, reducing him to a blushing, aggressive mess, and go back to watching that movie or playing that video game upon Mammon’s belligerent demand, and not want to kiss his face? Okay, sure.)

But let’s ignore that thought and say MC follows Mammon’s flirting in the “yes, and” fashion. After Mammon continuously sabotages his own chances, eventually, he’s going to get so frustrated that he will smother his own shyness long enough to get what he wants.

He’ll get MC alone and string together some make-shift confession – a plea for more. “Ya know, if ya wanna kiss the Great Mammon or somethin’, I’m not gonna stop ya – like, I mean, I want a little more outta ya. So, don’t hold back just cause ya think I don’t want to or nothin’.” (translation: Please kiss me. I know I act like I don’t want you, but I really, really want you to kiss me. Please, please, please.)

His face will burn, and a blush will work its way up to his ears. It’ll be hard to deny the intensity of his feelings, and it will weigh down on MC – a truth previously held in a bag on their back, tethered to dozens of helium balloons that disguised its weight, and then suddenly found every string cut loose by Mammon’s admission. He really loved them. For his confession, all Mammon would get was a stunned but heartfelt “oh.”

He gets so upset and embarrassed that MC didn’t realize he was being serious before. He went on a rollercoaster of emotions; meanwhile, this whole time, they hadn’t even taken his advances in earnest. It’s practically offensive.

The only remedy for Mammon’s bruised dignity is for MC to immediately hold and kiss him until he’s temporarily satisfied. (“Ya owe me big time for not takin’ me seriously.”)

Leviathan

I mean, he kind of has to flirt before MC can flirt back – unless we’re going to count accidentally blurting out his innermost perverted desires as flirting. Sure, I suppose it’s basically flirting to tell someone “It’s sexy when you tell me what to do. I can’t stop imagining you doing that in other settings.”

He’s so bad at flirting that nothing will happen for a long time after he realizes he’s head over heels. Levi is fine spending the rest of his (or at least MC’s) life pining for them – or at least he believes that. But the longing and desire will start to creep in, and he’ll wonder how much he can ask from MC. Friends can hold hands and maybe even cuddle, right? Maybe even kiss? Could they even –?

The thoughts eat away at him until he can’t wait for MC to make the move anymore. It slips out of him like some mating request written by Dr. Suess: “Would you –? Could you –? With an otaku? A gross, disgusting one, too?”

Levi is so visibly flustered that he doesn’t leave much room for ignorance. Even the most extreme masochist wouldn’t subject themselves to the furiously blushing, trembling state that Leviathan had worked himself into. He’d be on the brink of tears. All his hope in the world would be precariously perched on a ledge, awaiting your response.

I can’t see MC not knowing that Levi was attempting to seduce them, but perhaps the timing of it came as a surprise. Or perhaps they had never taken his affection seriously. He has so many favorites that he can’t pursue; just because he has a massive crush on MC doesn’t mean he had plans to act on it.

He will get even more embarrassed and down on himself to know that MC didn’t take him seriously at first. He understands, but that doesn’t make it any less hurtful.

He will require physical reassurance – as much of it as MC is willing to give him. And honestly, if MC doesn’t end up kissing him until he forgets how to think after his confession, he’ll probably hide in his room for a few weeks purely out of shame.

Satan

With an MC like this, the back-and-forth flirting goes on for an inordinate amount of time. Satan is not a flirt by any definition, but when there’s someone he likes, he knows how to turn on the charm. He’s smart, passionate, and mentally quick on his feet; he’s a natural charmer for the right audience.

Satan moves pretty slow when romance is concerned. If Levi wasn’t such a hopeless cause (affectionately), Satan would probably be the slowest to escalate a romantic relationship. He and MC will have a dozen dates under their belts before the desire for more had become an unbearable burden for Satan to silently ignore.

Eventually, Satan would find himself reading in his room with MC, unable to hold back anymore. He would ask, “Would you mind if I kissed you?” “No, I don’t mind if you want to.” “Could I kiss you now?” “Eh, sure.”

Everything up to that point could have been misread as platonic or some casual interest – maybe even curiosity on his end.

But he was serious, and it was evident in the way he approached MC to collect that kiss. He would straddle their hips, set their book aside (face down to mark the page like a real gentleman), and lean down for the kiss. Then, his lips would move against theirs, and the smallest sigh would escape him like a quiet release of sexual tension that had pressurized his entire body. Then, it would all click for MC.

Surprisingly, he wouldn’t be upset or humiliated if MC hadn’t taken him seriously before. In fact, he sees it as more of a personal failing, and in a low, seductive voice, he would tell them, “Allow me to prove how genuine and deep my feelings are for you.”

Asmodeus

He flirts with everyone, so how was MC supposed to know??

He asks them on dates so often. He’s probably the only one who could make out with MC and they’d still think, “yeah, we’re besties” because when Asmo pulls away with a giggle and a grin, telling them how much fun that was, it doesn’t feel serious.

It would take a moment of angst – either Asmo feeling like MC doesn’t take his advances seriously enough (and they don’t) or MC getting down on themselves – for them to realize.

Asmo would pull them into his room and leave small kisses all over them, peppering in compliments. “You’re so gorgeous, and I adore looking at your face.” Then, he would kiss their cheek. “You’re such a sweetheart.” Then, the other cheek. “I always have so much fun when I’m with you. I don’t ever want you to leave my side.” He would kiss their forehead. “I want you to feel confident; you’re such a wonderful soul.” (He would probably add more compliments if MC was feeling self-conscious.)

His words would get sweeter and more honest. “I feel seen in your eyes – like every part of me is accepted. I don’t have to play it up or try.” He would work his way down their neck with soft pecks to their skin. “I want to share everything beautiful in this world with you.” In part to avoid meeting their gaze. “I want to make you smile with everything I have.” And in part so he could whisper the words into their ear. “I want to help you whenever you need me. I’ll sit right next to you through any pain and hardships you encounter.” No one else had earned the right to hear his praise and affection. “I want to be a comfort for you – someone you can return to like a home.”

Finally, he would face them with a striking affection. “You know I’m in love with you, right? It’s not just lust and fun. You’re everything. You matter the most – after me, of course. It’s me and you and everything else.”

Asmo seduces everyone. That isn’t shocking. But this was more than seduction. It was genuine courtship. He won’t fault MC for being surprised. It caught him off guard too.

Beelzebub

Beel is not super flirty, but he makes it known that he cares through his actions. So, there aren’t many opportunities for MC to “yes, and” flirt back with him.

He asks them out to get food often and brings them snacks, but that doesn’t signal any romantic intentions. Sometimes he might stare at MC affectionately or admit how happy he is to spend time with them, but it’s nowhere near intense.

Sometimes, he asks for something more selfish. It starts small: petting his head, holding his hand, hugging him. None of those register as seduction from Beel for MC, especially compared to the affectionate nature of his twin. In fact, no one would fault MC for thinking these were platonic wants. After all, Beel has been through a lot. Sometimes this sweet, big baby boy just needs physical affection.

Then, he would get a bit bolder with his requests: “Could you feed me?” “Can I feed you?” “Would you hold me?”

As innocent and platonic as Beel may seem, he makes a lot of off-hand remarks that sound a bit perverted. “I bet MC’s lips would taste good.” “I wonder what you taste like.” “MC has nice hands. I bet they would feel good…” These comments could open the door for some flirting from MC, though. “Wanna taste me, Beel?” “Should I give you a massage? Or maybe something more?”

MC flirting with him would make his heart race. Even if MC didn’t follow through with their flirtatious offer, it would encourage Beel to keep pushing his luck.

Finally, he would ask, “Can I kiss you?”

Beel would look so shy and embarrassed, holding his hands awkwardly to his chest, that it would be hard not to take him seriously. The question – and his desire – would be a slight shock. Beel wouldn’t mind that MC was surprised, although he would be disappointed if he was turned down.

If MC takes him up on that offer, they will come to realize that his ravenous hunger showed itself through a kiss, too – as if he had been starving for MC’s touch and affection.

Belphegor

He’s so affectionate and cuddly. In that way, he’s similar to Asmo; it’s pretty hard to tell how serious and intense Belphie’s feelings are. He’s just kind of like that.

It’s common for Belphie to ask to be spoiled with affection – head pats, feeding him, hugging him, sleeping together, going out with him, praising him, holding his hand, being his pillow, etc.

His need for attention doesn’t cover up for how flushed his face gets when MC is the one to give him affection. His neediness doesn’t explain how much he clings to MC or how he blushes and tells them not to stop touching him.

So, actually, he’s less flirty than he is demanding of attention. Going along with his demands only encourages him to vocalize and act on more of his desires. He’d even ask permission to kiss them and to be kissed.

MC probably wouldn’t figure it out until Belphie starts sleepily trying to make out with them.

“Belphie, are you half-asleep?” “What? No. I’m awake. Why?” “That was a really heated kiss.” “Of course it was. Can we keep going?” “I’m sorry, what?”

“Don’t you like me back? We sleep together, go on dates, cuddle, and you even let me kiss your face and neck whenever I please. Don’t you want to go further?”

It hits them. Belphie can read the look of surprise on MC’s face, and it makes him pout. MC really should have known how he felt by then, but he’s confident that his affection is reciprocated before MC even responds.

“Sheesh. You’re really difficult, you know? I’ve had to do a lot of the work here because you’re so dense.” Belphie would straddle MC’s lap and take off his shirt. “I’ll let it go this time, but you better start putting in more effort from now on.”

A/N: Only about 1 hour left to vote in the poll. And we just got to 100 so y'all are getting 2 posts this month. Genuinely, I typed this a/n up, talking about only needing one more vote, checked it again, and the one vote is no longer needed. Good job, y'all. I swear if there are ties...

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gardenofnoah · 7 months

Text

the last part of all the times i told you. i am still ~not here~ but i started writing this ages ago and am ready to put this sweet little series to rest. talk soon love u

to watch you flit around the room makes his fingers ache. katsuki has no idea how many times you've gone back and forth between floors and from inside to back out, but to watch you makes him tired. for the first time in his life, all he wants is stillness. he wants you on this couch with him.

“c’mere.”

it's less of a command and more of a warning that comes too late, his mouth moving only after he's reached an arm out to catch you as you passed by his spot on the couch.

he pulls you until your back is pressed against his chest. you huff, squirming a little, and he doesn’t let up an inch. refuses to, now that he's got you where you should've been all afternoon.

“take your shirt off,” he mutters into the nape of your neck.

“what? it's been a long day, kat—“

“i’m not fucking you,” he groans, pressing his forehead into your warmth, “just... wanna feel you.”

he feels you go soft at his admission. you tap at his forearm to get him to let you up, and he's reluctant to but he does, electing to keep one arm around your waist as you sit up and pull the material over your head. his eyes follow the movement of it, committing the shape of you to memory like it could be ripped from him in the next second. you settle back down, facing him this time. he pulls you until there's not an inch between his chest and yours. he feels your heart kick against his own.

“missed you today.” years ago Katsuki would've rather died than admit something so vulnerable out loud, but things change. he takes a deep breath in at your hairline, soaking tissue deep in you and all that you've done today. he likes you best like this—soft, maybe a little sweaty. alive and in love.

“yeah?”

“mm.”

your lips quirk up softly, and you reach to trace the outline of his collar bone with the pads of your fingers. he cracks an eye open, glaring at you without an ounce of heat just to hear you giggle at his petulance. you tilt your head up to press a kiss to his jaw, and he feels like he's won something.

“i miss you all the time, kat.”

“maybe i want to hear it.”

“do you?”

“from you? no fuckin' way.”

you snort and roll your eyes. tucked under his chin, you don't see the smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth, always thrilled at the way his brashness doesn’t phase you. he leans forward to press it into the crown of your head. sometimes he feels so lucky it makes him a little queasy.

“i miss you all the time,” you say again. quieter, with a little more weight to it.

and he knows—he knows you do, because he does too. that feeling sits like a rock in his chest—it's there every time he wakes up too early and has to rip himself from the bed you share, all to make sure someone else can roll over to their love in the morning and not let go too soon.

it felt selfless, in the beginning. the right thing to do, a call that he answered willing. now it only hurts.

he smooths a palm up the curve of your spine to rest at the nape of your neck, and you press closer to him. sometimes he can’t believe you still do. he’s left so many times and missed so many things and somehow you still let him cling to you like it doesn’t shred your insides every time he pulls away. he thinks about how brave you’ve been—about how all the times he’s been praised for his strength or his commitment to peace, he'd deserved only a fraction of it compared to you.

he doesn’t want you to have to be brave anymore. if he’s honest with himself, he’s not sure he wants to be brave anymore, either.

“…asked Aizawa if there were any openings at the school.”

your fingers pause over his heart, and he thinks he can hear the gears in your brain turning. you lean back to look at him and he can’t read the expression on your face.

“why did you do that?”

“well if anymore of those old bastards quit those brats will be fuckin’ teaching themselves—”

“no,” you tap his chest with your fingertip to shut him up and he has to fight to suppress the smile, “no. why did you do that?”

he sighs softly, sliding his thumb down the length of your neck.

“don’t want to leave you anymore.”

“...oh,” you breathe, blinking at him like you’re still trying to catch up. he gives you time—pressing into the sides of your neck to try to will away the tension that still hasn’t left. thinking about the dimly lit moments he'll spend tracing the slope of it, just because he can—because he'll have them, now.

“you want to teach?”

“i want to come home to you in one piece,” he says, with more honesty than he thinks he's ever been capable of, “but hangin’ out with those brats shouldn’t be too bad either.”

you snort. “you think Aizawa felt that way when he taught you?”

“fuck off,” he says through a grin, “i was a damn great student.”

you smile and shake your head, and then you go quiet.

“i don’t want you to do this for me,” you whisper, like you don’t fully believe what you’re saying but think you should say it anyway. it makes him ache—it’s just like you to sacrifice for him, even now.

“not for you,” he murmurs just as gently, leaning forward to tap his forehead to yours. “because of you, a little bit, but i—“ he pauses, inhaling deeply and trying to be brave. “i want to be around. don’t like missin’ out on so much.”

and that is the truth. Katsuki thinks about the way you shuffle over the creaks in the old wooden steps every morning and he regrets that he’s not there to greet you at the bottom of them when you do. he hates the way you make breakfast alone, the way you sit at the dock without him. the way your families visit the house you bought together and he’s never in it to see them. he doesn’t know what it would be like to lean into that domesticity—into intimacy without urgency, without the tick of a clock that neither of you can see but are painfully aware of—but at this point in his life, he desperately wants to learn.

you let out a shaky exhale, wiggling closer to him. he lets you hide your face in his neck, arms coming around your back to keep you there. he thinks of how many times this has been reversed—of how many times his mind has run away from him and the only tether has been the weight of your arms around him.

“what’s the world going to do without Dynamight?”

he snorts. “they can start thanking him for beating some brains into their little shit gremlins.”

he feels your smile against his skin and it warms him. it’s another truth—and really, he does want to teach. he wants another reality for the next generation—one where they’re kept safe as long as possible. where they learn to be heroes the right way—the long way.

“love you.”

he feels it more than he hears it, rumbling from your chest to his. he pulls you closer still, leaning down to press his lips to the curve of your bare shoulder. he closes his eyes and breathes you in again.

“i love you, angel.”

#fic: all the times i told you #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou fic #mha fic #mha fluff #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction

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fiendishfables · 3 months

Text

Future (short) series idea

pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Fem! Angel! Reader (I’m probably going to make different versions for each, so a Male and GN, as well)

Feedback on the idea is very much appreciated; I would love to hear y'all lovely peoples thoughts on this concept I am stuck on. Its nothing special but still, haha-

Also don’t forget, my requests are always open! Please, request, request, request! I need things to write! :D

Synopsis/General idea: Reader is one of Adam's assistants/part of the exorcist angels and Lucifer comes to visit Heaven with his daughter, Charlie Morningstar, Princess of Hell and owner of the Hazbin Hotel.

Lucifer is instantly entranced by the reader, as he recognizes them from back when he used to reside in Heaven; when he too used to be an angel all that time ago. The reader and Lucifer, when they both had been in Heaven, had snuck around and hooked up a couple times, but it had never gone public and was never intended to.

He is staring at you throughout the whole meeting with Adam and Lute, (when he's not busy glaring and making smug faces at the 'first man' from across the table), oblivious to what his daughter is preaching or trying to. The reader is well on Charlie's side and on-board with her ideas; she tried many times to convince Adam before and now, or to atleast think about it.

The reader ends up coming to hell with Lucifer and Charlie because she wants to ‘check out’ the hotel and this cooperation Charlie is trying to make with Heaven. Lucifer looks about ready to burst from excitement.

(End of part 1?)

Maybe there is a day before she comes down to hell, and not right after the meeting. Lucifer could be standing in his room in front of his mirror, trying to pep-talk himself into making a good impression on you. Charlie is possibly there to reassure her dad that he looks fine and that he won’t mess things up(again); she’s secretly so thrilled that the reader is able to make her dad feel so giddy and happy, especially after Lilith. He needs someone to keep him company and you seem like just the soul to do it. But of course there is the problem with the reader being in Heaven and Luci being in Hell; good ol’ forbidden love

Charlie ends up showing the reader around the hotel when she comes down from Heaven, and Lucifer sort of just stands by awkwardly. The reader is a bit cold towards him, but they are mainly just scared that he might disappear from their life again, and maybe even a tad resentful at him for being so stupid and doing whatever it was that made him fallen in the first place.

But then of course they end up having sex in the hotel after Charlie offered the reader a stay for the night so they didn’t need to go back to Heaven so late in the night. Make-up, angsty, lovey dovey, etc. Reader may also slip up and call him Luci a couple times instead of Lucifer; she only called him Luci back when they were both in Heaven together and good friends

Honestly- I have no fucking idea where this is going, but if anyone would be interested in reading this small series I’m coming up with, please interact/let me know! I plan to start working on it after I get some requests done. Just had to get this spew of word vomit out of my head-

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greenorangevioletgrass · 1 month

Text

fever pitch (b.b.) - part three

previous part | series masterlist

soundtrack: don't blame me - taylor swift pairing: footballer!bradley x popstar!reader synopsis: you and bradley spend the night, but the road to heaven is full of obstacles; some are external, others are self-inflicted. warnings: language, public scrutiny (will be a recurring theme in this fic ha!), bradley is a stand-up guy all round, fluff, smut (d/s elements, praise kink, bit of a bratty side?, fingering, oral [f receiving], dirty talk, size kink, bradley is PACKING, protected sex) notes: i'm back! life has been crazy since i posted the previous chapter, but i just wanna say thank you so so much for your patience and your kind words about the fic so far! big shoutout to @gretagerwigsmuse and @teacupsandtopgun for being absolutely GEMS in brainstorming ideas-- this wouldn't have happened if it weren't for y'all <3 happy reading!

✨I do not have a taglist. Please follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notification to get the latest update on my fics✨

The Langham, Sterling Suite. Ask for Holly Golightly ;)

Bradley smiles at your text, and the cheeky “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” reference. He shoots up a quick reply as he makes his way out to the lobby, fighting hard not to be grinning like an idiot to any unassuming passersby, until—

Click-click-click-click! FLASH! FLASH! FLASH!

“Hey, it’s Bradley Bradshaw!”

“Oi, Bradley! Give us a smile, mate!”

“Bradley, did you get to meet Y/N inside?”

“Did the boss let you out on a school night, Bradley?”

”How are you feeling about the Sunderland game this weekend?”

It’s a meager distance from the steps of Annabel’s to the curb where the valet has brought out his car, but holy shit. It doesn’t usually get nearly as crazy as this. He’s partied here with Harry Styles, and nobody bat an eye when the guy stumbled out drunk with his left tit out. But maybe it’s because Harry lives in London sometimes, or maybe because he was on a break… unlike Miss Americana on her world tour right now. It makes him pause and rethink how careful he needs to be.

Bradley gets into his car and drives off, trying to tread between the fine line of quick and careful. He can’t help but look over the rearview mirror more often than normal. Fuck, is this how you feel like all the time? He’s no stranger to the spotlight, but rather than the occasional run-ins, nobody has ever been interested in where he went to dinner on a random Tuesday night.

The Langham is barely a mile away, but Bradley sees photographers parked across the hotel with their long-lens cameras and disgusting disposition, and he keeps on driving. Thinking. Restrategizing. Hoping that his vintage aubergine Ferrari isn’t causing suspicion for driving by the second and third time.

He finds a basement parking lot behind the building and pulls up, hoping it’s the right entrance to the hotel. The attendant looks starstruck as he nods and points the way, sending him off with an eager ‘Come on you Gunners!’. And just like that, he makes it into the lobby out of the pap’s sight.

Be cool, he reminds himself, you’re only as suspicious as you seem to be. He comes up to the reception desk, and the girl behind it greets him warmly.

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to the Langham. How may I help you?”

“I’m here to see Ms. Golightly at the Sterling Suite,” Bradley says smoothly. “Holly Golightly.”

“And who am I speaking with, sir?” The girl looks at him like he seems familiar, but can’t quite place him.

“...Paul Varjak,” he states, unable to bite back the smile. Oh, the thrill of giving out a fake name with the very real possibility of getting called out on his shit.

But she nods and grabs the telephone, dialing into your room. Blissfully ignorant of the pseudonym he just gave her.

Good.

Let this inside joke be the two of yours alone.

The elevator ride up is peaceful—too peaceful that he can hear his heart beating and his palms sweating. Even the carpet mutes his footsteps towards the double door. Before he even presses the bell, a bodyguard opens the door for him.

“Mr. Bradshaw,” he nods curtly. It’s one of the guys from the restaurant earlier. Middle-aged, stout and rather short, sporting a permanent scowl and a vibe that indicates he’s seen some shit.

“Hi. Sorry, I haven’t got your name…?”

“Guy,” he deadpans.

Bradley wonders if that’s his real name or he’s just saying it so Bradley would get off his case, but smiles anyway. “Nice to meet you, Guy.”

Guy hums gruffly and ushers him into the foyer, an identical hallway of the hotel, with a room on each side. “Through here,” he leads him towards another set of double doors at the end of the hallway.

Meanwhile, you are full-on freaking out in your living room. Should you get changed? You’ve taken off your heels, but getting everything off feels so premeditated… You don’t even know if he wants things to go that far. Maybe you can break your little rule and bring out the wine for liquid courage? Gosh, nothing feels right. And it’s been so long since you’ve last done this that you’ve actually gone rusty.

And before you get to decide—in the long, wasteful twenty minutes or so you’ve been pacing, you hear a knock on your door.

“Coming!”

You rush over to get the door and there he is, coming out victorious through the hurdles, smiling at you.

“Thanks, Guy. I’ll take it from here,” you dismiss your security a little too quickly, nodding over Bradley’s shoulder. You’re sure Guy is rolling his eyes all the way back to his room over your lovestruck teenager behavior.

But it hardly matters when this man before you is looking at you like the sun.

“Hey, you.” Bradley beams at you from his spot. As if afraid to invade your space somehow.

And so are you. This feels like that night in the garden all over again. You have to remind yourself that this isn’t some pocket of a park you stumbled into; this is your hotel room.

Quiet.

Private.

Safe.

“Come on in.” You let him cross the threshold, closing the door behind him the warm foyer light cast golden upon his face. You’re not sure if it’s the fact that you’ve ditched your six-inch heels, or that there’s no one else, but Bradley looks even taller than you remember him. Broader. More… imposing.

“I’m sorry for taking so long. There’s cameras everywhere and I had to—”

“It’s okay,” you try to reassure him. It feels rude to ask if he got caught on camera, but at this point, you had to ask. “Did you… Did they…?”

Bradley quickly shakes his head. “No, I took the basement entrance, out of sight. We’re good.”

”I’m, uh… sorry for the fuss.”

”Hey, it’s no trouble at all… Ms. Golightly,” he tilts his head, grinning at your chosen pseudonym.

”Yeah, it changes every time. My last stop in Tennessee, I was Clarice Starling,” you admit, making him laugh. “Although I’m glad you got the reference… Mr. Varjak.”

He simpers, very proud of himself. And with that, he takes a step closer to you. Towering over you. Crowding you with his smile, his scent, his body heat… and neither of you makes the first touch. You’re painfully aware of how his gaze keeps dropping to your lips. Bodies drawn towards each other but tied in place for some reason. It seems like despite all the flirting you did at the restaurant, everything goes out the window once you’re alone.

You’re just two strangers, caught in a thrilling game of push and pull. Too scared to tip over and just… fall.

“Can I kiss you…?” Bradley breathes out. He feels foolish for asking, but it’s the only way to make sure he’s not ruining the entire evening.

But you sigh in relief and nod your head yes, and it gives you the push you need to close the distance from him. You don’t know which one happened first; touching his lips with yours, grasping his arms for balance, or standing on your tiptoes on his shoes. He keeps you there, his strong hands securing your waist.

“You’re making me feel like a kid…” It makes you giggle into the kiss, and he can’t not possibly fall in love with the sound of that—with the feel of your lips pulled up right against his.

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing…” Bradley runs his hands down your sides gently. “Besides, I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

“All night? You mean you’ve been thinking about making out with me while I tell you my life story?” you gasp, feigning shock and offense.

He laughs again. “Maybe for a moment or two there, I’ll admit.”

“I thought you were a gentleman!” you give him a playful smack on his behind, and there’s a flash of… something in his eyes. A spark, or a darkening. You’re not sure what it is yet, but it sends butterflies into your stomach yet again.

Bradley tucks some loose strands of your hair behind your ear. “I’m still a gentleman.”

“Really? I don’t believe that…” you sway his hips lightly, “I think you’re very… very bad,” you purr out, your lips barely touching.

He meets you halfway, and it feels like less of a shock this time. You gladly lose yourself in him, knowing you’ve crossed the line now. You finally notice how his mustache scratches your skin in a nice way, how he holds you flush against him, how he just melts into you in the kiss… enshrouding you in his warmth and lighting you on fire at the same time.

Bradley pulls away, barely just. His forehead is still pressed against yours, your noses are bumping, and his breath melding with yours. He licks his lips and you swear you can almost taste it. “You’re making it really hard for me to be a gentleman, kid…”

You can’t help but chuckle at the nickname. It’s not one you expect, but it sounds right somehow. “I didn’t invite you all the way here to be a gentleman.”

The twinkle in his eyes darken. Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of him. “Is that right?” Bradley’s hands slide down your hips, finding the swell of your ass and giving it a firm squeeze.

The air catches in your throat, and you swallow lightly. “Mm-hm.”

Instead, you lead him into the bedroom. Bradley is right behind you, barely a step behind. His hands have found a home on your hips and he seems adamant to stay there for a moment. Insisting to hold onto you because he worries he’ll get ahead of himself before you’re ready. But gosh, you’ve been ready all night and you’re practically twisting your arms around trying to reach the zipper on the back of your dress.

“Come here, I got you,” he rasps, his heart skipping as he drags the zipper down your back. He’s not sure which one he loves more; the dip of your spine that he wants to trace with your tongue, or the way the dress falls to the floor and reveals what’s underneath that prim and proper pink dress.

A tiny scrap of lace held by a black strap on either side of your hips, framing the swell of your ass perfectly.

And he swears, for a split second, he thought he had died and gone to heaven.

“Fuck…” he breathes out.

You can’t turn around fast enough. It might be a good ‘fuck’, but what if it’s a bad one? “What’s wrong?”

Bradley just blinks at you, for no other reason than how your nipples are poking out the side of the skimpy triangle of your bra. And that your lipstick is smeared on the edges from kissing him.

But of course, your mind is already racing from the lack of response and you’re already thinking, oh no this was a bad idea I shouldn’t have worn this—

“Hey, hey…” he sees your face fall and your arms come up to cover your chest and he immediately steps in. Holding you close, hoping to give you comfort. “Is this all for me?”

Oh, shit. Maybe if you close your eyes tight enough, you would melt to the floor. “I know, it’s a little much—”

“No, that’s not what I asked…” Bradley tilts your chin up, making you look him in the eye. “I said… Did you put these on for me?”

Your breath comes up short, and you nod ever so slightly. You don’t even trust your own voice not to betray how much you want him to like it. How much you want him.

“It’s perfect. I love it. Thank you.” He smiles into your lips, kissing you there. Spelling out how he feels with his hands on your ass, his mouth on yours. “Such a good girl…”

That flips a switch in your brain and he can see it. Your eyes go wide, your posture changes, and all of a sudden, you look so… small in his arms. So vulnerable, so beautiful. So perfect.

Suddenly, he’s holding the world in his arms. The sexy little thing you call panties is a pesky little nuisance now, and he can’t wait to get it off of you. His broad shoulders are keeping your legs open, his nose nuzzling your pubic bone as he looks up at you.

Bradley lowers you down on the side of the bed, settling on his knees before you. Committing every inch to memory by touch, from your ankle to your knee, up the inside of your thighs. When he reaches the scrap of fabric at your core, he feels it slick. He smirks. “What do we have here?”

Your face heats up. How the fuck are you supposed to answer that? No words are coming to your head—not when he’s drawing patterns over your pussy, making the lace glisten all over. And when your panties are positively ruined, he draws his hand back and licks the offending fingers in earnest.

And all it takes is a taste to send him into a frenzy.

“Fuck honey, need to taste you…” he murmurs between feverish kisses all over your legs. “Can I?”

You nod fervently, feeling like he’s got you under a spell.

“Use your words, kid.” He grins, playfully biting the inside of your thigh.

The sharp sensation makes you yelp, and you grip his hair in reflex. “Yes, want your mouth on me, please…”

“Good girl, asking so nicely…” he chuckles, satisfied with your response. Then, he pulls you to the edge of the bed. That dainty scrap of lace you call panties is a pesky nuisance now, and he couldn’t wait any longer to get it off of you. With your legs hiked up on his broad shoulders, he dives into you.

A taste, as it turns out, is an understatement because what Bradley does is devour.

“Oh, fuck…” you gasp sharply at the contact.

With one hand pinning your thigh open, he laps you up in earnest, figuring out the many ways he can make you squirm. Time ceases to exist because it feels like he makes you come in no time, but also he’s been down there forever. But he goes on and on and on until his name comes out in a desperate chant of lust and need.

“Bradley Bradley Bradley…” she grinds shamelessly into his mustache now, an unfamiliar but not unwelcome sensation on your part. “Please, I’m gonna…”

“I know, honey. I got you. It’s okay.” It’s an oddly wholesome thing to say in a moment like this, but maybe you’re a hopeless romantic at heart, because sweet nothings get you off.

Your orgasm strikes like a thunderbolt, and you find yourself arching into his mouth. The more you take, the more he gives—or is it the other way around?— It seems like he takes as much pleasure in it as you do. Maybe even more, as he holds onto you as you squirm away overstimulated.

“Bradley… wait.” You grab a handful of his hair, trembling breathlessly.

His mustache glistens when he comes up for air, and he finally (finally!) takes off his suit jacket as he stands up. He eases up on the throttle and lets you breathe for a second. He rolls up his sleeves to his elbows, watching you spread out like a feast for him. Legs open, bra askew, hair fanned out on the pillow… God, he’s so lucky.

When he returns on top of you, you’re eager to pull him by his belt buckle, but he brushes your hand away. You frown in protest. “But I wanna touch you—”

“It’s not your turn yet, honey,” he chides you teasingly.

“You just had your turn!”

He shrugs, nosing your cheek. “Well, it’s still my turn, so…” Bradley closes the gap again and kisses you openly.

The taste of your arousal on his tongue makes you dizzy, but it can’t distract you from the buzz of his fingers rubbing your devoured pussy, sending shivers down your spine. It’s entirely too much, and you keel over from the contact.

“Somebody’s a little sensitive, huh?” He grins, easing the throttle a little.

“Fuck you…”

“Well, if you say so.” He slides his middle finger in.

“Ohhh… Bradley…” you buck up your hips and moan. But in comes another finger, and you swear it feels like all of him.

He’s wound differently this time, like a man on a mission. With his fingers crooking and stroking your silky walls, beckoning you to come closer, while you grip his shoulders, willing yourself to hold on. But his teeth yanks the edge of your bra to set your nipple free, and his sly tongue finally gets a taste… all resolve goes out the window.

“Come on, honey. I know you got another one in you…” he breathes out, undoing the front clasp of your bra so he can suck your tits with all his might, willing you to come.

And frankly, who are you to say no?

The burst of pleasure hits you from your core to your fingertips. If he wasn’t pinning you down on top of you, you would have probably floated away. But you’re firmly laid on the mattress and feeling everything. Your eyes blink back into focus as you come down from your high.

You pant, staring at him in disbelief. Nobody has ever put that much attention on you in bed before even taking off his clothes. “You got a baseball bat in there or something?”

“Something like that.” He rolls his eyes playfully. Jokingly, you assume.

You take his arm, kissing his wrist, “Can I touch you now?” sticking your tongue out to lick his digits clean of you. Putting on a show as you suck his fingers. “Please?”

He throws his head back and groans. “Fuck.” He can’t resist that doe-eyed look you’re putting on, nor can he resist you undoing his shirt buttons. He can play dominant all he wants, but he knows that the truth of the matter is, he’s all wrapped up around your little finger. “Okay, okay. You win.”

It’s a mess of unbuckling pants, kicking off shoes, and tossing clothes to the floor. Your hand reaches out to trace his gleaming skin, every ridge of his abdomen. You’ve seen the Calvin Klein campaigns and the Men’s Health covers— and gosh, he looks like a dream. But when that thing just springs up to his stomach when he pushes his boxers down…

You didn’t expect him to manifest straight out of your wet dream.

“Holy fuck, you weren’t kidding about your baseball bat,” you breathe out, head tilted as you stare at his thick cock. The vein that runs along the side, the way it curves slightly to the right, the length that makes you clench at the mere thought of it… Fuck, it’s pretty.

Bradley chuckles sheepishly. He knows how big it is, he’s heard all the jokes in the locker room, but hearing it from you hits different. “You scared?”

You should be, a little. But without flinching, you bite your lip and look him in the eye. “Nah, I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

Gosh, he loves you. He’ll have to remember not to blurt that out too early. “Okay, big girl,” he chuckles, kissing you one last time before rolling off of the bed.

His sudden disappearance out of sight makes you frown. “Where are you—” you prop yourself up on your elbow, seeing him fish out a packet of condom from his trousers pocket, “Right. Safety first.”

Bradley nods, tearing the packet open with his teeth and rolling it on. There’s something so hot about how a man looks just before he fucks someone. “Mm-hm. Gotta make sure we’re both covered.”

“Do I need goggles and a helmet, too?”

He pauses as he straddles your hips. “Maybe next round,” he cheekily quips back. The idea of you wearing nothing but a helmet and safety goggles weirdly makes his cock stir, too. But you’re already lying naked under him, and he doubts that much will deter his hard-on.

Bradley pushes himself into you a little, and your eyes water as you whimper out in a blur of pain and pleasure. And here you thought two of his fingers felt full…

He stops in his tracks, trying to gauge your reaction. He nearly lost his mind over how tightly you’re clenched around him, but he doesn’t want to presume. “Too much?” He asks softly, stroking your cheek.

Your breaths run ragged as you look up at him, almost in awe. “You’re just… so big…”

He laughs breathlessly. He hates to brag, but it’s true. And as much as he’s enjoying the way you flutter under him, he has to ask, “Want me to pull out?” Please say no, please say no, I don’t think I can handle it…

“N-no…” you wrap your arms and legs around him, clinging to him for dear life. “But I don’t know if it’ll fit.”

Bradley smiles at what has to be the most adorable look he’s ever seen from you. He kisses your forehead in reassurance. “I’ll go nice and slow, okay? I promise.”

Feeling this small and vulnerable so soon after meeting someone would usually set all kinds of alarms in your head. You never know how a guy would take it. But in this moment, nestled in the crook of his neck, among the mix of his perfume and aftershave and his natural musk… all you want to do is stay. “Okay,” you nod softly.

“Let’s try again then, hm?” He kisses your temple and whispers in your ear, “Open up, love.”

With a deep breath, you bite back a whimper as you take him deeper, still not quite all the way in. “Hurts…”

Bradley stops again, his concern fully taking over now. “You sure you want me to keep going…?”

“Yes!” You surprise yourself with how quick and desperate you answered him. Your eyes shut, trying to offset the warmth setting over your cheeks, as you make the dirty admission, “I… I like it when it hurts.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Bradley has to remind himself not to come on the spot, because holy shit. He wouldn’t go this hard on a woman so early in the game, but… his head is dizzy from how innocently you said it. He takes a breath to pull himself together. “Tell me if it’s too much, alright?”

The air is heavy. The room is silent. You can hear the shift in the tension as you smirk, “Yessir.”

There you are, you little devil. Bradley simply grabs you by the hips and bottoms out inside you. Your face goes slack while your cunt tightens around his cock, and it blows his mind.

He starts out slow, torturously so. Stuffing himself inside your crevice and dragging himself out, willing you to feel every inch. Every ridge. Until your body loosens up and twists around in the throes of passion. Your mouth falls open, your little gasps and moans coming and going as he pleases.

The unhurried pace is nice for a few minutes, when you’re still adjusting to his size. But now that he’s snug inside you, you’re simply aching for more. Your hips arch up into him halfway, a little more urgent, disrupting the rhythm with a pleasant stutter.

He notices this and smiles. “So eager… what’s the rush, hm?”

You answer with a groan. He has a penchant for asking you questions you can’t answer, this man. “You feel so good, baby…” you murmur headily, hands desperately grasping on him—his arms, his shoulders, his back…

”You feel even better.” He nips at your pert nipple, relishing in your angelic little filthy cry. Fuck, he can feel the exact motion of your pussy tightening for him. “I’m not gonna last long if you keep doing that…”

”Then don’t.”

His eyes flicker onto yours immediately. You’re gonna be the death of him, he swears…

You grab his hair by the fistful, keeping his gaze. “I want to feel you come inside me.”

”Oh fuck—” he doesn’t stand a chance. His body reacts faster than his brain could compute, and he holds your hips flush against his as he buries himself as deep as he can. Every twitch of his cock sends you reeling, and your pussy clenches and unwinds in your climax, following him down from his high to yours.

Free falling, hand in hand.

Bradley rolls off of you and you would complain, if it weren’t for the way he immediately pulls you into his chest. Thank fuck. You’re not quite ready to untangle from him yet. Not when your breaths still run a bit ragged, as if accidentally catching each other’s. He presses a kiss to your forehead, and it feels unlike your regular out-of-town hookup. No, this one’s different. But not a word is said between you on that for different reasons— each of you holding your cards close to your chest, as close as you’re holding each other.

#nowhere to go but up from here on out folks!!#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x reader #footballer!bradley #footballer!bradley x popstar!reader #top gun imagine #top gun au #ava writes #fever pitch

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andreafmn · 11 months

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Speak | Chapter 9

Word Count: 3.6K Story Description: Bella Swan was a disaster when Edward had left. Deciding she needed a little help, Charlie Swan receives with open arms his younger daughter (Y/N) Swan. She helps Bella during her depression and becomes inseparable from her long-lost friend Jacob. What she didn’t expect was falling for a hotheaded short-tempered silver wolf. Chapter: 9/? A/N: one day I'll upload early, y'all. but I am truly trying to keep to the schedule I posted, as hard as it is. But thank you for bearing with me. You guys have no idea how much it means to me 🥰🤍 My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts to support me and my love of writing or buy me a coffee TikTok • Instagram • Business | MASTERLIST If you’d like to be tagged in this or any other story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post! Taglists for Twilight get filled quick and Tumblr only lets me tag up to a certain point. Notifications are your best bet.

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Chapter 9

The Swan sisters had been raised with a misconstrued idea that the new year meant a fresh start, a clean slate. That it could magically erase any and all afflictions the year before had caused. That it truly was the first page of a new chapter.

And maybe that’s all that (Y/N) was hoping for that New Year’s Eve. That the coming year would be the first page of her new chapter in Forks. That whatever was happening with Paul would die that December night. That Bella would finally turn over a new leaf and forget Edward. That she could move forward with her relationship with Jake.

Because that’s what she wanted.

That’s what she had always wanted.

The thing she most needed was to get over whatever fluke it was that had made its way into her life. Whatever breach into her timeline that had decided to make her heart flutter out the sound of someone else’s name. It had been too sudden and unexplainable to not be a mistake.

Paul Lahote had no business settling into her heart in the way he had, and she would stop at nothing to pluck him as quickly as he had attached himself. Even if she looked forward to seeing him in her dreams at night, even if her heart skipped a beat at the mere thought of him, even if all she wanted was to get as close to him as possible.

(Y/N) wanted —at least she thought she wanted— to go back to being excited that Jacob had finally set his sights on her. She wanted the same thrill she got about Paul with Jake. He had been the crush that had withstood the trials of time. It could not be trampled over by a guy she barely knew.

Yet, she could not stop thinking how his favorite color was red, how he moved to La Push after his parent’s divorced when he was eight, how he didn’t remember much of his mother even though he had been old enough to, how he had never been in love but desperately wanted to know what it felt like. (Y/N) could not stop picturing the way his eyes would shine under the warm glow of the setting sun, how his smile would grow as he listened intently to every word she spoke. Nor could she shake off the feeling of his warm skin against hers, how soft his hands had felt where she believed they’d be rough and calloused. He was everything and nothing like she had thought, but she knew that was as far as she could go to know him.

“Well, don’t you look mighty nice?” Charlie’s voice broke his daughter out of thought. “I think you’ve been to more bonfires this month than I have been to in years. People might start forgetting the sheriff’s face around there.”

“I doubt that’s even possible, dad,” she chuckled, smoothing over a piece of hair that had been unruly for the better part of the day. “Really wish you could join us, though. Since Bella won’t be making it out there, I wanted a Swan there for moral support.”

“This about that Paul fella?”

The question took (Y/N) aback. She had thought no one but Jake knew about that whole fiasco, and she was certain he had not said anything to her dad. “How do you…?” she stammered.

“Bella muttered a thing or two about him. Said he was the one you had been with the other night,” her father said. “Something happen with you and Jake?”

“Nothing happened,” she muttered. “I’m just making new friends seeing as my stay in Forks might be longer than anticipated.”

“Well, that’s a good idea. Just be careful of the people you keep in your company.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Jake might have mentioned this Paul Lahote character is not the greatest influence,” Charlie added. “He thinks he might not have the purest of intentions with you, (Y/N). I just don’t wanna see you get hurt.”

“Well, I can tell you right now that you have nothing to worry about,” (Y/N) smiled comfortingly. The last thing she wanted was for her father to worry about her when his other daughter was still no more than a statue in their home. “I have only hung out with him that one time and I don’t think it’ll happen again. But thanks for checking in.”

“Just wanna make sure your transition back here is as smooth as possible, kiddo,” he responded warmly. “I know it’s gonna be hard to settle back here after being with your mom for so long. Forks might be a bit slow but it’s truly home.”

“I’m actually excited about staying. Even if it wasn’t the plan originally, there’s something about this town that’s just begging for me to stay,” she confessed. “Even if I came to help with Bella, I’m glad I decided to stay. It will also keep mom from taking us both back to Florida —at least for a while.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” The older Swan said before she nodded in response. “I’m just glad you two wanted to spend time with your old man. Even if I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“You’re doing good, dad,” (Y/N) chuckled. “I will say you got the shortest end of the stick having to be the one dealing with this breakup but I know you’re doing the absolute best you can. Hopefully, this new year brings us all the fresh start we so desperately need.”

“I hope so too, kiddo,” he sighed in defeat. “But have fun tonight, (Y/N), and make good choices.”

“Have I ever done anything else?”

“Very funny, kid,” Charlie chuckled. “Well, I’m off to work. I’ll probably not be here yet when you get back, so happy new year, (Y/N). And have fun.”

“Happy New Year, dad.”

Everything in Forks seemed to move at a punishingly fast pace, even if at times it felt like the town was stuck in time. But (Y/N) had been there almost four weeks which had already felt like a lifetime.

In comparison to living with Phil and her mother, in the midst of travel and adventures that she had loved for a time, (Y/N) had forgotten the calmness of remaining stagnant, of going to sleep and waking in the same home. She had forgotten what walking the halls of a school felt like, of having a group of friends that lasted more than a year.

Forks would give her that opportunity, or at least she hoped it would. The town had already started to change her and given her more than she could’ve hoped for. And that night she truly believed would set everything in the correct motion. Everything she had wished for with no more flukes.

An hour later and from the street she heard the honk of a horn. She gave herself a once over, not feeling completely comfortable with the way she looked that night. In part, she felt it was merely the nerves of seeing Jacob after the altercation with Paul.

But there was another part, the bigger part, that knew it was because of Paul. There was a calming thrill to him that she couldn’t explain. Even the juxtaposition of the thought made no sense to her. As much as she wanted to stay away from him, she wanted to get closer. It scared and excited her all at once.

Yet, the person that was waiting for her was not him. It was Jake, waiting impatiently behind the wheel of his truck.

“What took you so long?” Jacob grumbled as (Y/N) got into the car. “We’re already late as it is.”

“Sorry, Jake. I couldn’t find my jacket.”

“It’s fine, (Y/N). It’s just that Quil came back from his trip, and I wanted to catch up with him before school starts,” he said. “I also haven’t seen Embry since last weekend since he was with his mom visiting some family.”

“Yeah, I get that,” (Y/N) responded meekly, sinking into her seat. “At least we have the rest of the night to hang out with them.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he smiled forcefully. “What about Bella? Is she not coming?”

“No,” she said through gritted teeth. “She wasn’t up to coming. Still bummed about this Edward guy.”

“What a shame,” Jake sighed. “Being around people would be good for her.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she mumbled. “But I can’t really force her. This guy did a number on her and nothing dad and I are doing is working. I’ve even decided to…”

“Maybe you guys don’t know her as well as you thought,” he blurted. “I mean, no offense but she’s not the same girl that left Arizona. She’s not even the same girl that came to Forks.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t help her, Jake. And that’s what we have been doing this whole time. Still, we can’t help someone that doesn’t want to help themselves.”

“I’m not trying to start a fight, (Y/N),” he grumbled. “I’m just saying that maybe your efforts have not worked because she’s not the same Bella you knew.”

The girl remained quiet, anger filling her body instantly. Bella remained a sore subject in the new relationship, always being brought up by Jacob, reminding (Y/N) that he had liked her sister first –and, deep down, she knew he probably still did. Still, wanted to remain in the delusion that he had chosen her for as long as she could.

“It’s fine. Let’s just drop this, okay?” (Y/N) pleaded. “I just want to enjoy tonight. Please.”

“Alright, yeah. Whatever.”

The rest of the ride went by in silence, a heavy tension filling the air and suffocating her. At that moment, more than ever before in her life, she needed to believe that the new year was truly a fresh start. A new beginning for her sister, a new beginning for her relationship, and a new beginning for her life in Forks.

As soon as the truck rolled to a stop, Jake was out of the car and heading to the beach, mumbling something to (Y/N) that he was gonna see his friends and that he’d catch up to her soon enough. Then, he left her in between the small sea of cars that lined the border of the beach.

The younger Swan was left dumbfounded, completely perplexed at Jake’s reaction. His outburst had made her feel small and unwanted. And as she stood frozen at her spot, watching the community celebrate before her, she wondered if there was any reason for her to be there. Because maybe the best thing she could do, for everyone, was leave.

“I’m glad you came, (Y/N),” a voice startled her. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Paul, hi,” she blushed, looking down at the black jumpsuit she wore under a white coat. “Thank you. You look great too. Especially with my sweater.”

“Oh, it was cold tonight and it was the first thing I grabbed,” he chuckled. “I promise I was gonna bring it back to you, not use it like it was mine.”

“Honestly, it looks better on you than it does me. Sometimes I feel like I drown in it.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. Your look great in a paper bag,” he grinned. “But I really am glad you came tonight.”

“And why is that, Paul Lahote?”

“Because I wanted to apologize for the other day. I never wanted things to end the way they did,” he said. His eyes searched hers in the darkness, wanting nothing more than for his hands to reach her, to feel her skin against his once more. “I’m sorry if I caused any trouble between you and Jacob. The last thing I would have ever wanted was for you to be blamed for my actions. You don’t deserve that.”

“Thank you, Paul,” she smiled, her hand unconsciously reaching for his, giving it a comforting squeeze. “But it’s not your fault. I was the one that agreed to spend time with you knowing that Jake would blow off the handle. If anyone is to blame for what happened that night, it’s me.”

Paul couldn’t help himself as his free hand flew to rest on her cheek, cradling her face in a soothing manner. “Nothing that happened was your fault, (Y/N),” he said. “Jake simply showed you who he is. You never did anything wrong. We didn’t do anything wrong.”

In that split second, (Y/N) remembered Jake’s words. She broke away from his contact, as though his touch had burned her skin, turning away from the enchanting trance his eyes held over her.

“What’s wrong?”

“It's just that Jake said something about you and… your past,” she sighed. “He said I was just an attempt to make your body count higher.”

“I hope you know how untrue that is,” he said, seething on the inside but not daring to show it to her. “You are special, (Y/N), and I would never do anything that would make you feel otherwise.”

“But why, Paul? What is so special about me? To everyone, I’m just Bella’s little sister.”

“You have to know that that is the least interesting thing about you,” he said. He reached out to her, needing to look her in the eye again. “You’re funny, you’re kind, you’re smart and witty. And that’s merely the tip of the iceberg. I may not have known you for long but I know there’s so much more to you than you let on. And all I’ve wanted was to learn about those parts that you hide from everyone else.”

“I still don’t know why!” (Y/N) responded, frustration pooling beads of tears in the corners of her eyes. “How can I trust someone that somehow says everything I want to hear but won’t give me a straightforward answer? Why me, Paul? Out of all the people in the world, why do you want to know me?”

At that moment, he felt he would spill everything. He wanted her to know just why it was her, why the universe had decided that it had to be her. Paul wanted to confess what bonded them and would keep them for the rest of their lives.

And he would have, but the fear of putting her in any danger could not let him say the words. He could not bring himself to utter any of the words that would throw her life up in shambles. “Why not you, (Y/N)?” he asked her, biting his tongue to keep what he wanted to say from spilling. “Is it so hard to believe that I could have seen you and be intrigued by you?”

“You saw me for a split second, Paul. Someone you’ve never known of cannot be worth all this trouble.”

“You are worth it, (Y/N).”

“And you are frustratingly vague,” she finally cracked a smile. “Why can’t you just answer me? What is it that you’re hiding?”

“You’d never believe me if I told you,” he copied her smile. “And isn’t a little mystery fun?”

“It could be if it didn’t get me in trouble with my boyfriend.”

“That could be fixed by breaking up with him, you know,” Paul teased. “A lot of things could be fixed if Jake was gone.”

“Are you threatening my boyfriend, Paul Lahote?”

“I would never,” he laughed. “But I still believe that he doesn’t deserve you, (Y/N).”

“Will you ever let that go?”

“Don’t think I can.”

And maybe she knew he was right but it was too hard to admit it, to him or to herself. She had wanted Jake for the better part of her life and one night could not change that. She wouldn’t let it. “Then you’re gonna have to if there’s ever gonna be some sort of friendship between us,” she said. “Might be hard to spend time with someone that’s always trashing their boyfriend.”

“I mean, you’ve only got a couple more weeks before you have to go back to Florida, right? I think I can control myself in that time.”

“Actually, I decided to move to Forks with my dad,” she smiled. “Bella isn’t getting better and I’ve honestly gotten attached to this town. It might be that some people have made this place so enchanting.”

“Then I guess I’m gonna have to work harder on pretending that I like Jake,” he grinned. “But I am glad you’re staying. The town wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“I’ve only been here for three weeks, Paul,” she laughed.

“And nothing has been the same since.”

“You’re something else.”

“I could say the same about you,” Paul added before noticing Jared calling him over. “And on that note, I will have to leave you. I’ve got a couple of things I have to do. But not before you give me your phone number.”

“My number?”

“That way I’d we ever wanna see each other it doesn’t have to be by me showing up at your house or running into each other at a bonfire.”

“Right,” she chuckled, handing him her phone. “That’s smart.”

“I’ll see you around, (Y/N),” he smiled before kissing her on the cheek and disappearing down the beach.

As soon as he was out of sight, (Y/N) looked around, hoping that no one had witnessed what had just happened. As innocent as everything could have been, in such a small town, everything was known.

Once she had calmed down, she finally walked toward the commotion of the beach. Feeling as confused as she had been since meeting Paul, but at peace. Being around him made her feel serene, tranquility spreading through her veins. Though he made her heart race, he didn’t make her chest feel tight. It was a feeling that made her feel equal parts uneasy and calm.

“Where were you?” Jake asked as she joined him and his friends, a hint of annoyance dancing between his words.

“Just around,” she smiled. “I was actually planning to get something to drink. Do you guys want anything?”

“We’re good,” Embry smiled kindly. “But thank you.”

“Just hurry,” Jake added before becoming more interested in the conversations he was having before she had gotten close. “And bring me back a water, thanks.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

(Y/N) left him quickly, needing to compose herself before heading back toward him. She could feel how annoyed he was at her. Ever since that afternoon with Paul, Jake had become distant and rather cold toward her but she could understand why. As much as it pained her, she knew why and that she had to do something to make it up to him while keeping what angered him a secret.

“It’s good to see you around, (Y/N),” Billy said as he joined the girl’s side at the refreshment table. “I was wondering when I would see you again.”

“Hi, uncle Billy,” she smiled. “I’ve been meaning to go by the house but I’ve been busy these couple of days.”

“And things have been heated between you and my son.”

“How did you…?”

“Small town,” he smiled softly. “But I’ve already had some words with my son about his behavior toward you. It was completely unacceptable.”

“It might have been an overreaction but it was warranted,” she said looking down. “I knew what I did would anger him but I still did it.”

“That doesn’t mean he can chastise you in the middle of town. My son is young and can be quick-tempered,” Billy sighed, taking one of (Y/N)’s hands in his. “He says and does things that he doesn’t know he will regret one day, and you don’t deserve to be in the receiving end of that.”

“Thank you, Billy,” (Y/N) smiled, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “But I’m sure he’s sorry for that night and we’ll work through it together.”

“You know, I love my son, but he can be quite stubborn when he wants to. Even at his own detriment. Still, I hope this new year brings you both clarity and growth. Both personally, and if the gods want it, in your relationship as well.”

“I hope so too, uncle Billy.”

“My son is lucky to have you by his side. Even if he doesn’t know it.”

(Y/N) felt a new surge of confidence as he joined Jake and his friends once more. Knowing Billy was watching her back made her feel stronger about her relationship with Jacob and that it was worth investing her heart and time into. She knew her heart yearned for Jake and all she felt toward Paul was a strong sense of friendship.

As the hours passed and the tension between her and Jake seemed to dissipate, her resolve simply solidified itself. She would do anything possible to fix her relationship with her boyfriend and keep her friendship with Paul separate from Jacob.

But there was the smallest part in her that replayed Paul’s voice. He kept telling her how she deserved better and that Jake was not the right person for her, even if that was who she had wanted for so long.

Still, when the clock struck twelve, Jake was the one she kissed, and wished things would work out between them. She wished for him to only see Bella as a friend and finally give his whole heart to her. Wrapped in his arms as they cheered the new year, she begged the universe to give her the chance to have everything she had wished for.

Yet as her eyes found Paul’s in the crowd, she doubted if it was what she truly wanted or if she was holding onto a silly childhood dream.

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the-whispers-of-death · 1 month

Text

Reader is male & his hair is described to be long enough to reach his nape (long hair symbolizes a time of peace in his culture). I just made up kingdom names. Part One, Part Two

After a morning in council with your advisors, seeing to your subjects and their grievances, you were in desperate need of some stress relief. So you put on your armor and made your way to the training courtyard where veteran knights and trainees alike where training, your hands itching to have a sword in them.

"My king!" Several knights around the training courtyard cried out at the sight of you, bowing. But your eyes were trained on Ghost, who ha stopped the training match he was overseeing.

"Sir Ghost, I wish to spar with someone. And I figured you were the best knight of mine to spar with," you said, walking over to Ghost. You smiled at him, able to look him into the eyes easily since you were around the same height. "If you're up for it, of course. If not, I can spar with someone else."

Ghost shook his head. "No, I can spar with you, my king." He gestured for someone to bring you both training swords and shields. "It would be honor to help you keep your swordsmanship skill sharp."

You laughed at that, placing your hands in gloves before taking a training sword out of the two you were given and taking a shield in the other hand. "Are you keeping my swordsmanship skill sharp or am I keeping yours sharp?" you teased, waiting until he held a sword and shield before getting into position.

"How about both, my king? Neither of us can get rusty."

You nodded in response and those were the last words spoken between you two as Ghost strikes first, swinging his sword. You parried with your own and pushed him back, quickly striking back just as quick as he struck first.

Since they were training swords, they barely made dents into either of your armors. Still, the act of swinging and wielding the sword was enough for you, enough for you to love the thrill it gave you to spar with your knight.

Parry, block, strike.

The movements seemed so rhythmic, your sword and shield an extension of yourself. Even then, exhaustion was wearing on you both as you could feel it settle in your bones and see his balaclava and white mask start to get soaked with Ghost's sweat. Your movements were starting to slow down, but neither of you were giving up yet.

That was, until Ghost unarmed you. One second you were thinking of parrying his upcoming strike, the next he was sending your sword flying in the air and away from you. You heard it clang against the ground, signaling the end of the match.

"Well done, Sir Ghost," you said, panting. A small smirk made its way onto your face. "Though I'm quite glad that my knight is good enough to best me. Means I'm placing my life in the right hands."

Ghost straightened up from his hunched stance, nodding. "You gave me a run for my money, my king," he said, though that might've been to make you feel better about losing the match.

You chuckled and followed him to where his canteen of water was, watching him pull up his balaclava enough to reveal his mouth. You greedily watched him take a sip of water, a few drops dripping from his mouth and down his chin.

He must've seen you watching him because as soon as he finished drinking from the canteen, he didn't cap it again, instead he offered it to you. "Are you thirsty, my king?"

"Oh, I can't drink from your canteen, it's yours. I'll be fine," you replied, trying to refuse the canteen, but he wasn't having it.

"Nonsense, you must be thirsty after out sparring. Drink, I don't mind," he murmured, his gruff voice softening just softly.

Ghost didn't let you hold the canteen, instead tilting it himself so you could drink from it. Your eyes closed as the water hit your tongue. It was an intimate gesture, but everyone else in the courtyard was too busy training to watch you two.

You made sure not to drink too much of his canteen, pulling away when you were done. "Thank you."

You watched him cap his canteen again, nodding in response to your thanks. Silence washed over you two for a few seconds and you were about to excuse yourself when he spoke.

"You seem troubled, my king." Ghost turned to you once his canteen was set down on the bench again. "Come, sit with me please. Talk to me."

He sat down on the bench and you hesitated before sitting down. Your weary bones felt relief at sitting down. Sure, you best the morning sitting on your throne, but you hadn't relaxed since you woke up, not until now.

"My advisors are worried that I don't know how to rule this kingdom during a time of peace," you murmured, your voice soft so no one else heard word of your advisors basically thinking you were unfit to lead the kingdom during an era of peace.

It was true that when you took the throne from your father when you were twenty-four, Eridies had been in war with Loria for at least a year and the war lasted until six months ago which meant the kingdom had been at war for eight years. Your reign had started with war and a warrior king was what you had been for eight years. Just because you ushered peace to the kingdom, didn't mean that you knew how to keep peace.

Ghost huffed at that, clearly thinking differently. He hesitated for a few seconds before he rested his gloved hand on your knee.

"My king, you've been doing a wonderful job of ensuring the peace you've won stays. You might have been a warrior king for the past eight years, but you've had a kind heart and a heart of a peaceful king. You care about Eridies, its people," he said, rubbing his thumb against your knee. "I have no doubt you'll continue to keep the peace alive."

Your eyes flickered from his hand on your knee to his own eyes, holding eye-contact.

This man, a man you had never fully seen his face, was a steady presence by your side for the past eight years. You never went into battle without knowing he'd be covering your back, your own personal shadow. You knew him like you knew yourself, he was like a sword; an extension of yourself. You didn't know what you were like without him and you found, you didn't want to know what life was like without him by your side.

A smile graced your lips and you rested your hand on his, squeezing it gently. "You know, I think as long as I have you, I won't mind listening to the people's grievances over one farmer stealing the other's crops," you said, intending on lightening the mood.

Judging by the soft chuckle, a sound only you managed to get from him, your response had its intended effect. Ghost turned his hand over so your palms were facing each other and he could intertwine his fingers with yours.

He knew what he was doing was dangerous. He should be keeping his distance from you, but you pulled him in like no other. Every time he wanted to pull back, his heart drew closer to yours. It felt like your soul was intertwined with his, trying to come together to form a whole soul.

"I'll be by your side for as long as you need me to, my king. As long as you'll have me."

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

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bruhstories · 2 years

Text

blind

summary: after four years of being ignored and abused, y/n decides to teach aegon a lesson OR how aegon actually becomes king

pairing: aegon targaryen x lannister!reader (aged up, ofc)

warning & content: canon divergent, aegon is a piece of shit, unprotected p in v, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), bit of degradation (if you squint), a lot of manipulation, fem bodied reader

wc: ~4.5k

a/n: i have no words for this. i am a slut and i embrace it. not edited because we die like men

Every time Aegon took another of Y/N's maids to bed, a part of the her heart crumbled to dust. He was simply not interested in her, despite once being good friends. And it wasn't as if she could play the same game, no. Y/N had to patiently wait for her husband to drunkenly stumble back into his chamber, falling onto the bed into a deep slumber until his mother would wake him up with a slap and a string of insults.

Y/N could not possibly fool around with other men without the realm finding out. She could not run away to Essos, nor could she change Aegon. He was far too irredeemable.

Alicent, however, was great with her. She made sure to treat Y/N with respect, to listen to her complaints. No matter how loving and caring Y/N tried to be, Aegon did not want her, which was a problem, because she hadn't given him an heir in four years. After their wedding, Aegon was too intoxicated to perform in bed, barely taking her maidenhead before passing out, leaving Y/N awake and distraught at what her life had become.

Whenever her husband was away, she would spend her time either reading in the Red Keep's library, or listening to Helaena's strange, yet intriguing dreams, or stroll through the gardens. Y/N liked Helaena. She was soft and sweet, and loved by everyone in King's Landing, despite her awkwardness and timidity. Y/N tried to be like her, to be kind and gentle, but her Lannister nature unfortunately made her vain and selfish, and it was taking a lot of willpower to mask it.

So, she decided to be exactly that — vain and selfish.

On Aegon's twentieth name day, a tourney was held, with knights from all around Westeros entertaining King Viserys' first-born son. Although Aegon himself wasn't much of a fighter, he enjoyed watching the men compete, and eventually fight each other to the death. And if the wine in his cup was sweet, and the maidens pretty, he could not ask for more.

"Where is your lady wife?" Otto scoffed at Aegon's disinterest in Y/N and interest in the wine he had accidentally spilled.

"How should I know? Shit, this was good wine!" The Targaryen smacked his lips in annoyance, only to feel his grandfather's hand tightly around his shoulder.

"Don't make me slap you in front of everyone, boy. You should be grateful Y/N married you. Who else would want a miserable, pathetic excuse of a man such as yourself?" Otto's words were harsh and they cut deep, but Aegon stopped caring a long time ago.

"You find her, then. In fact, I am thrilled she didn't come. She would embarrass me, sitting down, looking like a septa." The Targaryen scoffed, releasing his shoulder from Otto's grip, focusing on his tourney.

Alicent watched the scene between her father and her son unfold, and after exchanging looks with Otto, she knew exactly what was going on. Nothing she could do would change Aegon. She got up, straightening her green dress, and as she turned on her heels, she was faced with Y/N.

"My lady." She bowed in front of her mother-in-law. "My apologies for being late. I couldn't find something appropriate to wear for such an important day."

"Nonsense, you are beautiful wearing anything." Alicent complimented her.

"As are you." Y/N smiled before making her way to the empty seat next to Aegon.

She offered him no words, no curtsy, no smiles, instead giving her favour to Ser Criston Cole. It was then when Aegon noticed the corset around her waist was tight, and her dress was red and gold, the colours of her house. For a moment he thought he maybe drank too much, for he rarely saw Y/N wearing something so bright and bold, and when she sat down, he could see how low the cut of her cleavage was.

"How long have you been hiding those tits from me?" Aegon whispered in her ear, his breath reeking of wine.

"They were always there, you just did not bother to look, lord husband." Y/N beamed and waved at Ser Criston, but her voice lacked the warmth of her smile.

He leaned back in his chair, rolling his eyes at her response. Only because she had decided to wear a tighter dress did not mean she was good enough for someone like him. Not that the servants or the whores he slept with were, but they were easy. They would never say no, they would not complain, and they would most certainly not talk back in such a disrespectful manner.

Indeed, it was Aegon's fault for not paying his wife more attention. To give her credit, she tried her best to show him affection, to care for him when he was too drunk to even stand, and to even defend him in front of his family. But Aegon never took the time to appreciate all of that because, like his grandfather put it, he was a pathetic excuse of a man.

When the tourney ended and he stumbled into his chamber, Aegon couldn't find his wife. Normally she would be there, waiting for him, helping him undress, despite him calling her all sorts of names in his drunken state. But that night, she wasn't there. His mind went blamk and he fell asleep, half-dressed, with stains of wine all over his chin, and his hair a knotted mess.

And when he woke up, she still wasn't there.

Aegon's head was hurting, regretting the decision of drinking so much the other day, and he lazily and clumsily managed to get dressed in clean clothes. When he looked in the mirror, he was disgusted by his own reflection for the first time in four years. Every night, every single night since he had been married, Y/N washed him and brushed his hair before bed, and without her he looked like an imbecile. Perhaps his grandfather was right — who else would willingly marry him when he couldn't even dress himself?

The Red Keep was particularly cold that morning —or perhaps it was him who was cold — and Aegon made his way down the stairs towards the kitchens, only to be stopped by the sound of laughter. He turned on his heels, taking a left instead of a right, and followed the melodious voice that seemed vaguely familiar. The Targaryen found himself in front of the dining hall, and the guards stepped beside the doors to allow Aegon to enter. Confused, he stared at the people gathered around the table — his siblings, his mother, his grandfather, and his wife.

"Finally!" Alicent waved at the maids to bring more food and mead.

"Uh, what is happening?" His ears were ringing, his temples burning. Aegon sat down next to his wife, and again, she was not dressed in her usual garments, but a pale green dress, with golden earrings and rings. She rarely wore rings, he thought.

"Your lady wife had the beautiful idea of breaking fast together this morning." Otto poked the sausage on his plate with a silver fork.

"Has she now? And where was my lady wife last night?" Aegon's eyes darted towards Y/N, watching her gingerly cut a piece of meat.

"In my chambers." She simply answered before chewing her food.

"Since when do you sleep in your fucking chambers?"

"Aegon!" Alicent slammed her cutlery on the table.

"Since last night." Came her response, bored and indifferent.

"To see, you must close your eyes." Helaena whispered. "To win, you must lose."

"Aemond, tell your wife to stop talking in riddles. My head is aching." Aegon devoured a piece of bread, helping it slide down with mead.

"Or, you could go back to your chambers." Aemond suggested, holding his Helaena's hand in his.

Aegon shrugged, already tired of everyone around him. He silently ate his food, considering his brother's idea of going back to bed, until his eyes landed on one of the maids, and her figure. He closed his eyes, imagining what she looked like under the dress, but all he could see was the silhouette of his wife. The Targaryen shook his head — clearly he had drank too much at the tourney, and the mead did not help.

"Y/N, thank you for the wonderful idea of eating together." Alicent got up. "If you will excuse me, I shall go see the King. But we must do this more often!"

"And next time tell me so I don't come." Aegon snorted, proud of his harsh words. He watched his wife get up, and instinctively, he wanted to ask her where she was going, however he resorted to sneering at her.

"Why do you think I haven't told you this time?" Y/N smiled before excusing herself, and even Aemond chuckled at how she barked back at her husband.

Aegon waited for the doors to close behind his wife before slamming his fist onto the table, startling Helaena. Not even the gods could understand how much hatred he held for her.

"What is her problem?" He asked, expecting his grandfather and his brother to side with him.

"You are her problem, you buffoon." Aemond got up, offering his hand to his wife. "Come."

Aegon watched how his sister looked at Aemond with so much love in her eyes, and how his brother gently held Helaena's hand every time they were together, despite how aloof Aemond normally was. Was that what Y/N wanted? To have him hold her in his arms? To whisper sweet nothings in her ear? How could he do that when now she stopped sharing his chamber? Of course it was her own fault for the treatment she received.

Weeks went by after the tourney, days spent drowning in wine and ale, but something changed — Aegon's cock wasn't buried in some whore's cunt. He tried. By the gods, he went to brothels as often as he could, but the women there just did not appease him anymore. If he closed his eyes, he would see his wife, and if he held them open, he would think of his wife.

Aegon hadn't seen her in days, and when he did, she would be busy — sewing, reading, sleeping, riding horses, taking baths, anything to keep him at away. He finally understood what it meant to be wed to a Lannister, because every time he would ask Y/N what she wanted from him, she would reply with incredulous requests — the finest Myrish laces, the sweetest wine from Pentos, the greenest emeralds from Lys. Aegon truly believed her, and complied, only to find out Y/N requested such gifts to spite him, to give him a taste of his own medicine — because if she wasn't good enough for him, then he wasn't going to be good enough for her.

It drove him mad that she wasn't there to take care of him anymore, that he had to rely on maids who did not know what he needed. Y/N knew exactly which clothes to pick for him, how hot he liked his bathwater, which foods he ate after drinking too much. Without her, he was incomplete and incompetent.

Was that what Helaena meant when she said to win, he must lose? Had he lost his wife? Aegon did not truly know happiness, not since his mother and grandfather filled his head with ideas that he was a threat to Princess Rhaenyra, that he should've been named Viserys' heir to the throne. He did not want the crown, he had no desire to be king, and perhaps he would've loved his wife if there wasn't so much pressure and weight on his shoulders.

There were moments when Aegon wished he could trade places with Aemond. His younger brother was by far better suited to rule, but he had the misfortune of being born first. If only he was the second son, things would've been different.

Aegon was sat on his bed, toying with the blade of his sword. He didn't deserve Blackfyre, didn't deserve to be named after Aegon the Conqueror, and he didn't deserve his wife.

His wife.

Lately she was all he would be thinking about. How she scrunched her nose whenever she saw him, and roll her eyes when he said something ridiculously stupid, how beautiful she looked on his name day, and how she would tuck her hair behind her ear when reading under the weirwood tree.

It took him four years to realise this, but Aegon was undoubtedly and irrevocably in love with his wife.

The Prince jumped out of his bed, opened the tall, wooden doors of his chamber, and ordered his servants to fetch his wife. He needed to see her to confirm his feelings, and while he waited, he paced up and down his room, like a pup, eager to see its master.

When the door creaked, his heart jumped out of his chest, watching his wife walk inside. She had a stern look on her face, but she was beautiful nonetheless.

"You wished to see me, lord husband?" Y/N straightened her silk robe.

"Do you love me?" His question was as sharp as his blade, and it cut right through her facade.

"I am wed to you." She answered, avoiding a clear yes or no.

"A political marriage, we both know that. What I am asking is if you love me or not." Aegon closed the gap between them, his hands holding her by the shoulders.

"I..." Y/N trailed off, eyes avoiding his gaze. "Used to."

He let her go, his hands falling down to his sides. Not the answer he was hoping for, but she wasn't done talking.

"I've known you since we were children, Aegon. I married you out of love, not politics." She bit into her lower lip, bringing her arms across her chest.

"Then what changed?" His tone was desperate.

"You cannot be serious. What changed? You mistreated me, disrespected me, insulted me! I did not stand by your side for four years out of duty, husband, but because I hoped and prayed you would change!" Y/N shook her head. "I washed you, dressed you, fed you, yet you never once said thank you. I am not your servant, Aegon, I am your wife."

"You are right." He agreed, his head hanging low and humble. "You are right, you are my wife. I cannot change the past, Y/N, so tell me what I can do to fix this."

She pondered with her index finger pressed on her lips before lifting Aegon's chin up.

"Make me your queen."

Her voice was as sweet as honey, her fingers ghosting over his collarbone.

"I don't want to be king." Aegon was tired of repeating that sentence so many times.

"But you want to be loved. Not just by me, but by the people." The words were seductive, and so was his wife. With each sentence, she slid the robe past her shoulders. "You want them to chant your name. You want them to bow down to you." She kissed his hand. "You want them to swear loyalty to you, my king."

"Careful, your words mean treason." His fingers trailed down her arm, gripping her wrist and bringing her hand to his bulge, urging her to palm his cock.

"Will you have me imprisoned? Bound and gagged?" Y/N licked her lips, the idea exciting her. "I am loyal to no one but you."

"Shit." Aegon threw his head back, enjoying the way she touched him. Not even the whores could be so enchanting. Clearly, he had been a fool all these years. "You really want me to be king? Or are you following your own ambitions?"

"A little bit of both." She allowed her nightgown to pool at her feet, exposing herself to her husband. "Right now, however, I want you to fuck me, Aegon."

"You really are something else." A smirk crept on his lips, his fingers pinching her nipples. The whimper that escape her lips made a shiver run down Aegon's spine, only arousing him more.

Whores pushed their luck and maids were terrified of him, but Y/N was exquisite. He allowed her to be in control when she dragged him towards the bed, pushing him onto the soft sheets. Aegon hastily removed his clothes, but not before burying his face between her tits.

"Fuck, Aegon-" Her breath hitched when his hand snaked between her thighs, fingers slipping past her folds.

"So wet." He mumbled into her skin. "You want my cock?"

"Gods, yes!" She whined when he removed his fingers.

"Show me, then. Show me how much you want it, how much you want me."

Y/N fell down her knees, her tongue poking out her hungry mouth. She had heard Aegon talk in his sleep about how he wanted his cock sucked, and she couldn't deny her own morbid curiosity. Hesitant yet inquisitive, she dragged her tongue up his shaft, tasting the salty droplets of leaking precum.

"Don't be shy." He groaned whenever he felt her hot lips on his cock. "Suck."

She did not need to be told twice, eagerly opening her mouth and taking in as much as she could. Aegon was big. Not that she had seen many cocks before, but she couldn't imagine they were all so thick, and she struggled to breathe when she could feel the tip in the back of her throat. The sudden feeling of asphyxiation brought tears to her eyes, but in a sick twist, it also brought her pleasure.

"You want to be a queen but you're really just a whore." Aegon's words were perverse, and they should have made her feel disgusted, yet they had the opposite effect on her. The kind of effect that left her skin dotted with goosebumps, and her cunt aching.

Y/N couldn't answer back, not when her mouth was full of him — and she did not want to answer, anyway. It took Aegon four years to finally see her sacrifices to, and her love for him. She couldn't possibly spoil that moment. It did not help that the more she sucked, the more she enjoyed it, and Aegon knew that very well from the way she moaned and rolled her eyes back.

That was just a taste of what she could give him, and a part of Aegon regretted not having that conversation earlier in his marriage, had he known it would end with his cock down his wife's throat. Y/N pulled back in desperate need for air, wondering if this is what her husband was doing on the Street of Silk every night he was away, but she did not have enough time to give herself an answer.

"Come here." Aegon offered Y/N his hand, and reluctantly, she took it, helping herself stand. Never has he been so gentle to her, but his kindness soon came to an end when the Prince slammed his wife onto his bed. Her reaction wasn't to scream, or protest, but to pull Aegon closer to her, his body hovering over hers.

"My lord husband," She whispered, her lips ghosting over his, "I know you do not wish this responsibility, but the burden is not just yours to bear. You did not marry me as your equal, but I equally and willingly share your duty. You are not alone."

"I know." Aegon's hand found its way between her legs again, his thumb rubbing circles against her sensitive bud. He never took pleasure in pleasing women, but something snapped inside the Prince. His wife was not just any woman, but his future queen. "I know, and I was blinded by my own thoughts. But not anymore." He kissed her neck, dragging his tongue down her skin, between her tits.

"Aegon..." She mewled, fingers raking through his silver locks. "Aegon, please..."

"What is it, my queen?" He sneered against her skin, unwilling to give her what she desired just yet.

"Don't make me beg." Her back arched when she felt two of his fingers slip past her folds yet again. "I already t-told you what I want."

"Say it again." The Prince demanded, and whatever Aegon wants, he gets.

"Shit-" Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, praying to the Seven Gods that the guards couldn't hear the wicked words that would come out of her and Aegon's mouths. "Want you, m-my king! N-need you... I've always needed y-you!" Her voice went up an octave, cracking and breaking like the most fragile stained glass in all of Westeros.

"Fuck." Aegon whispered, his hot breath tickling her skin. "Do you really love me?"

"I do! I do, I do, I do!" She cried out the more his fingers toyed with her needy cunt. He removed them when he felt her spongy walls tighten, and when she gasped, Aegon did the unthinkable. "Taste yourself then, if you love me." His fingertips smeared her slick all over her lips, and without hesitation, she sucked his fingers clean.

Her eagerness to please left the Prince in awe, because never has a woman so willingly allow herself to be degraded by him. All the humiliation he instilled in maids was by force, and whores did unspeakable acts for a coin. He would know that all too well. Y/N looked up at Aegon with doe eyes, seemingly innocent, but the way she squeezed her thighs together for much needed friction betrayed her.

"Do not worry, my lady wife." He cooed at her, his soft voice in complete contrast to the predatory gaze in his eyes. "I am a merciful king, I shall grant you what you so desperately desire." Aegon's much broader frame hovered over hers. "Open."

Y/N complied hastily, obediently spreading her legs for her king, lacking any shred of dignity. She had been shy on her wedding night, pulling the bed sheets over her body trying to cover herself, but not anymore. Aegon pushed his cock between her folds painstakingly slowly, as if to test the waters. Although he took her maidenhead four years ago, he hadn't laid with her since. And it did hurt, for a short while — the pain turned into discomfort, and discomfort into pleasure.

"Harder, faster! Please!" She squirmed under him, hands roaming all over his back and arms, fingernails digging into his skin. Aegon wasn't the kind of man who took orders from others, everyone in the realm knew that, but he gladly took that order, thrusting into her with ferocity and anger. Anger, because he had been so blind for so long.

"Whore." He mumbled, still trying to blame his wife for his own demons. His silver locks fell over his face, and she pushed them out of the way to gaze into his violet eyes. "My whore." Aegon kissed her, teeth sinking into her lower lip. "Say it. Say you're mine."

"Oh, gods!" Y/N arched her back before wrapping her legs around his waist. "I'm yours, Aegon! Your whore, your wife, your queen!" She pulled him closer, until she could feel his chest pressing onto hers.

His frantic thrusts became quicker, harsher, until all his vision blurred from the bliss. She was close, he knew that from the way her walls clenched around his cock and how she gripped the white sheets, chanting his name like a prayer. His grunts were louder, and so were her moans, until the room fell silent, his seed filling her up. They stayed like that for some time, his heavy body collapsed onto hers, the silence interrupted only by his chuckles.

"What?" She was intrigued by his juvenile laughter, her fingers twirling his hair.

"Nothing." Aegon kissed her chin, burying his nose in the crook of her neck.

"Must I ignore you for a moon before you talk to me?" A smile crept on her lips.

"Heavens, no!" His body tensed under her touch as he propped himself on his elbow to look at her, his other hand resting on the plush of her hips. "I was just thinking about how bitter the wine tasted when you weren't there for me. So bitter I could not bring myself to drink it today."

"Aegon..." Y/N sighed, almost feeling sorry for her husband, however, he deserved it. He deserved to feel what she had felt, to understand how dark and sorrowful her days had been.

"I will be king, and all of Westeros will bend the knee to me, to us." He laid his head on her chest, the sound of her beating heart loud against his ear. "Just... love me." Aegon's embrace was needy, searching for her approval, her acceptance, as he fell asleep. He couldn't see the lack of emotion on her face, the indifference in her eyes when she professed her love to him right before his eyes closed, chest rising and falling.

She knew all too well Aegon was still Aegon, and that he would perhaps still fuck up every once in a while, infuriating his mother and grandfather, even after taking the crown. But all of that did not matter.

There was a reason she agreed to wed him, and it was not love. It never has been.

"The Lannisters send their regards."

#aegon targaryen #king aegon #aegon the second #aegon the usurper #prince aegon #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x y/n #aegon targaryen smut #house of the dragon #house of the dragon spoilers #hotd #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon smut #game of thrones #got smut #got fanfic

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usernameforaboredcat · 7 months

Text

Head Over Heels (Law X TomBoyF!Reader) Part 2

Damn the first one did well, thank you so much you beautiful people! I am willing to do a part 3, if this goes on for too long tho I'm makin these two fuck I'm not sorry.

Law (not so hesitantly) agrees to hang out with Luffy and his (hot amazing beautiful sexy stunning) older sister, learning a lot about each other. And to be honest, he doesn't hate what he hears.

The small quiet bar suddenly erupts with the sound of a young woman laughing, getting passing looks from the others in the bar just trying to get drink at like 2pm in the early afternoon.

(Y/n) almost falls over as she holds her stomach. "Oh God I'm in PAIN!". She cries, trying to catch her breath. "Hey! It was cool! Stop laughing!". Luffy snaps at her. She finally catches her breath, enough to hit the younger boy on the head. "Oh shut it you! You do dumb shit and get scolded". She tells him. She turns her gaze back to the older man, smiling at him. "Thanks again for keeping him out of too much trouble, I can't imagine it would be easy". She thanks, then turns back to Luffy. "Like come on Lu! You weren't this bad when we where kids". She adds.

Luffy pouts as he sets his chin on the table, chewing on the straw loosely hanging in his mouth. "I gotta crap". Luffy announces, getting up and walking off with the straw still in his mouth. (Y/n) sighs, fiddling with her nails as she watches him walk off. "I swear one day that idiot is gonna get himself killed". She mutters under her breath. "He'll be fine". She looks up, looking at the older man. "What?". She asks. "He'll be fine, you know that". Law repeats to her.

She chuckles to herself. "I know he will he's Luffy! It's just...I've already lost two brothers in my life, I don't want anything to happen to my baby brother". She states. "I mean, he's not my real brother we don't share blood. But the four of us shares sake, so we're all brothers. I love Luffy, I don't want him to end up like Ace or Sabo". She adds. "Sabo? Blonde and wears a top hat?". Law asks. She shifts her eyes around, feeling slightly uneasy. "Y-Yeah?". She asks.

Law smiles just the slightest, letting out a chuckle. "I guess Luffy didn't tell you, he's alive and well". He tells her. She sits up straight in her seat, wide eyed at the words that left his mouth. "Big brother...he's alive?...". She mutters out, tears running down her cheek. The two sit in a comfortable silence, Law feeling a warmth in his heart as he looks at her. Something about telling her that her older brother is alive and seeing the surprised but thrilled expression on her face.

"Hey! What did I mi-".

SMACK!

"OW! HEY! WHAT WAS THAT FOR!?". Luffy yelps, holding his aching head. "YOU FUCKER! YOU DIDN'T THINK TO TELL ME THAT SABO HAS BEEN ALIVE THIS ENTIRE TIME!?". She snaps, grabbing her brother by his shirt and shaking him. "Oh yeah! He's alive! Oh yeah he also told me to tell you hello". He explains. She smacks him on the head again. "I can't believe you! No letter, no transponder call, no nothing! Before I know it a month from now you're gonna be like 'oh by the way Ace is still alive too' you little shit". She snaps.

Luffy looks up at her with an angry pout. "I'm sorry okay!? I just forgot okay?". He tries to defend. A dark energy arises from his sister, a sinister dark expression that makes her look like she was the one that ate the flame flame fruit. "Luffy...I'm going to fucking kill you". She mutters out in a deep tone. A shiver goes down his spine, scurrying over to hide behind Law. "No no no don't think hiding behind a hot guy will protect you! Get here!". She snaps, marching over. "Aaaahhhh!". Luffy screams, running away with his sister in close pursuit. Law stares off into the distance with wide eyes, his face quickly heating up.

His gaze snaps to her figure, watching her as she runs and ruins the bar to try and get to her brother. 'She thinks I'm hot?'. He watches as (Y/n) dives onto Luffy, sitting on his back with one arm around his neck and the other pulling his legs backwards. Luffy coughs and smacks the floor, barely getting out a word. "I'm...sorry...please...can't...breath...". He coughs out, face going blue. Law chuckles as he watches the siblings. That little idiot captain really does have a lot of people in his life that care about him.

(Y/n) lets go of her baby brother, getting up and taking a seat back at the table. "I swear that motherfucker is gonna be the death of me". She groans, resting back in her chair. She looks over at him, smiling at him. "So, tell me about ya'self, hot stuff". She blatantly tells him, catching him off guard. She knew that he heard her call him hot, and by the blush on his face she knew he liked it. "You're the Surgeon of Death, are you and actual doctor or is it just a name?". She asks. He coughs, clearing his throat. He can practically hear the voices of his crewmates in his head. "She's hot! She's confident! She wants to fuck you! Don't fuck it up!".

"W-Well, I am an actual doctor. I'm also the doctor on my ship". He answers. "No shit! That's pretty cool, and good to know that you're an actual doctor and not some fraud". She hums, joking at the last part. "No no I'm actually a scam doctor who cut kidneys out in back alleys". He jokes. He imminently starts to sweat nervously, hoping that his joke was good. She laughs. Oh God thank fuck. "Oh God, don't take my kidneys! I need those!". She laughs. "Where'd you learn your doctoring? I doubt a pirate went to medical school". (Y/n) then asks. He hums. "I learnt everything I know from my old teacher when I was younger". He answers simply.

Normally he wouldn't be so open. But she's fire as hell, and he already feels comfortable enough to talk to her about almost anything. Almost. That might have to be a conversation topic for another time. "That's cute, what where they like?". She asks. Law smiles softly at the memories. "He was a gentle giant of a man". He answers. "Was?". She points out. "Was". He confirms. (Y/n) chuckles to herself. "I know what that's like". She giggles. She does, and he knows that's something that they have in common. A loved family member who was tragically taken away, a death that still lingers.

(Y/n) smiles, tilting her head slightly to the side. "I think I like you, you're on my good list". She states, a soft caring look in her eyes. Have you ever had your heart explode? Law knows what that feels like. He loves his woman. She reaches into her pocket, holding out a small little paper out to him. Law leans forward, taking the little paper from her. He sees it has her name written on it with a lip stick stain on it and a transponder snail number. "If you ever wanna find me". She tells him. "You're leaving?". He asks her. "Yeah, I should maybe head off". She tells him. "I have to go find someone".

She turns her head, seeing her little brother still passed out on the floor. "Take care of my baby brother for me, and if he ever needs his big sister you know how to find me". She asks of him. 'I will die to protect him to make you happy'. "No problem, I'll keep that in mind". He responds. She smiles brightly at him, showing him a smile that matches her brothers. "It's been really fun, see ya round". She tells him. "It has". He replies. With that, she gives him one last smile then walks out the bar.

Law smiles softly to himself, but it drops when he hears a groan and a stretched hand on the table. Luffy pulls himself up, taking a seat where his sister once sat. "Huh? Where'd (Y/n) go?". He asks the older man. "She left to go see Sabo". Law answers. "Oh, she's gonna be so happy". He says happily. "Luffy". Said young adult turns to the older man. "Yeah?". He asks. 'Can I marry your sister?'.

"...Nothing".

#one piece law #one piece law x reader #one piece law x you #one piece law x yn #one piece trafalgar d law x you #one piece trafalgar d law x yn #one piece trafalgar d law #one piece trafalgar d law x reader #law x reader #law x yn #law x you #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar d law x you #trafalgar d law x yn #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x yn

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flicklikesstuff · 3 months

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Hazbin Hotel Ep 8 Ramble and Theory

⚠️ SPOILERS!! ⚠️

Surprisingly, the show’s first season really got me hooked with its storyline and I can’t wait what’s in store for the upcoming season 2.

I’ve had my suspicions with Alastor since the pilot, and it just keeps growing with every episode. Even then, his real motivations are just hard to really see and it’s what makes his character intriguing. One moment, he’s lurking in the shadows like some sort of villain, and then the next, we see him maaaybe caring for his friends?? If he even considers them that. Idk 🤷

I’ve always thought that maybe he’s sticking around and playing nice to get Charlie’s guard down in the long run. Waiting for her to get desperate so he can strike a deal with her. So he could ask her for any favour in the future. And guess what? That’s what he exactly does in Ep 7.

And if I’m recalling correctly, Alastor helped Charlie with the war, but Charlie is yet to grant her own end of the deal. Alastor STILL is owed a favour from her.

(Where am I going with this theory and analysis? I’m getting there-)

At one point, maybe he did genuinely care for the hotel and the people in it. Regardless what his motives were. He even admits it’s a “surprising thrill” to watch them form connections. But the word choices he uses in this scene are just sooo…weird?

“Almost??” “Could get accustomed??”

It sounds like he admits feeling attached to the other characters but at the same time, doesn’t want to commit to it. Does he have far more nefarious intentions in mind for them and that’s why he’s so distant?

Alastor probably noticed this in the ending of Ep 8 too. His altruistic self almost got control of him. He almost risked his life to help his “friends.” And he didn’t like that one bit. Perhaps, he sees this trait as a weakness.

It really sounds like the verse“Great Alastor Altruist died” is equal to him stating that “there’s no more Mr. Nice Guy” from now on. He’s disconnecting and staying firm to whatever his highly vague motives are. And it’s highly likely that whatever’s holding him back from his full power is the deal he made itself. And he’s going to try anything to get out of it. Maybe that’s the reason why he approached Charlie in the first place.

And I’m going back to Charlie’s deal with him here. The only condition she has is that she won’t harm anyone for him. But knowing Alastor, he’s going to twist the words a bit there. Maybe he won’t harm them physically. But maybe in some other way. Indirectly. One that Charlie won’t see in the long run. Maybe he uses this one favour to help him break free of this deal or loosen it in some way.

And Charlie already has so much trust in him after the battle, she most likely won’t see it coming. It’s perfect.

(Not exactly sure how these soul contracts work buuut, she’s the princess right? Maybe she’s powerful enough to do smth about it? Maybe that’s why Alastor was so interested to gain her trust and potentially free himself?)

…….

But anyway! Onto the second part of my theory!

Alastor’s probably going to optimise his one chance of freedom through Charlie’s owed favour. But I have a feeling he’s not only going to use just Charlie.

Who else is at the hotel that the other main cast members trust? Who he could freely command under his control? To show up at his will? Answer his beck and call? Whose souls that Alastor owns?

I swear. It is NO ACCIDENT that these two were standing side by side. NEXT TO ALASTOR. In the ending. (Or maybe I’m overanalysing, but whatever. This is MY ramble)

When Alastor comes back from the “dead”, everyone was happy to see him. Especially Charlie. And surprisingly Vaggie? I guess she’s warming up to him. Idk if that’s good or not.

Everyone except Lucifer and Husk. Lucifer’s still bitter on the whole ‘dad’ thing. But I just really felt sooo bad for Husk here. 😂 My guy had maybe a few happy hours of what he thought was freedom. Then he sees this guy come back and he’s just: “Ahhhh… SHT-!”

Now I’m just saying, I don’t think Alastor can just casually go up to Charlie and just easily demand that favour. Especially now that Lucifer might be staying around(?) Also, Alastor sounds like someone who would strategically play the long run if it means benefits. Albeit, less truly altruistic than before since that approach almost costed him highly.

He’s maybe going to have to pull some strings to really make Charlie feel like she HAS to do him a favour. To better solidify his chances and so she’s less likely to be hesitant/reluctant/suspicious. After all, Alastor is only owed ONE FAVOUR. Maybe he’ll pull some strings to win over Lucifer’s own trust too so he won’t be stopping Charlie? (I’m not sure, these two are not in good terms.)

(Look me in the eyes and tell me this is the face of someone who’s definitely not going to use this hotel for his own personal gain. Things are going to start getting ugly with Alastor’s new approach. I’m also still like 80% sure these 3 characters are placed together for a reason. It CANNOT be a complete coincidence, right?)

Now I’m really curious how Husk and Niffty would react under this sudden new approach. The angst potential here is smelling strong. It’s obvious that they’re starting to get highly attached to the hotel and really consider the others as friends. Something Alastor didn’t allow himself to.

And it’s not like they have a voice in the matter either. No matter what Alastor tells them to do to secretly manipulate things around the place so he’ll appear like he’s “helping out more.”

Who knows really? What kind of errands he’ll force them to do? “Mr. Nice Guy” is really no longer an option here. That guy is dead. Adam killed him.

And all at the same time, Alastor wouldn’t be breaking Charlie’s condition. He’s not making her hurt anyone at all. Just helping a good old pal, who’s done so much for her, to maybe loosen the constraints his deal has. Or whatever else he wants, I don’t fcking know-

(But Srsly though. The angst??? Niffty and Alastor are fond with each other, but Niffty is also starting to like her new friends too. Will that create some sort of rift? Niffty actually being hesitant??

And don’t even get me STARTED on Huskerdust. Like wtf-? Husk has already stepped out of line before and it left him completely shaken. What else could he do? And a heartbroken Angel finding out he’s behind all this when Husk is the first person to truly reach out to him? Husk not being able to meet his gaze out of guilt?? THE FCK-???)

Yeaaaahhh, can’t wait what Season 2 has for us all….

Remember fellas, this is just a theory. A Hazbin theory! :))

#idk #just spitballing here #hazbin theory #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin charlie #hazbin husk #hazbin niffty #hazbin angel dust #hazbin lucifer #hazbin spoilers #hazbin vaggie #hazbin episode 8 #huskerdust

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parkersbliss · 2 years

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Rich People | F. Hargreeves

pairing: five hargreeves x fem!reader

wc; 2.6k

warnings: violence?

synopsis: five hargreeves is tasked with a mission of playing husband to you and he’s not exactly thrilled about it

prompts:

013: “I love you.” “Lying doesn’t suit you, babe.”

070: “Married life, am I right?” “We’re not married.” “Not with that attitude we are.”

a/n: five and reader are physically and mentally in their 20s !

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt list

—

Five Hargreeves was a lot of things.

Arrogant, rude, and egotistical were some of them. He was also a loner who preferred the quiet of his room then the sound of his siblings screaming.

This was why when Five was assigned a partner for a mission by The Handler, he was not happy. Some might say he overreacted, but Five felt his little fit was reasonable. He’s never worked with anyone before, and there was no reason to. He got his work done just fine on his own. So why now was he having to be paired up?

See, that was the real kicker for him.

“This mission is a little… different from your other ones,” The Handler explained.

“Different how?” Five pressed, leaning on her desk.

She clicks her tongue. “I need information extracted before you complete your kill.”

“So? I’ll torture it out of them.”

“See, that’s the issue, Five. Your methods can be rather violent.”

“They work,” He protests.

“Not in this case,” She tuts. “Which is why I’m sending you with a partner.”

Five shakes his head. “No, I can get the file just fine without someone else.”

“I’ve already made up my mind,” The Handler said, sliding the file towards him. “Besides, this could be good for your lone wolf appearance.”

Five glares at the woman as she pats his shoulder, heading for the exit. “Just remember, when you’re in love with someone, you can’t kill them.”

Five furrows his brows at her statement as her heels click down the hallway. He shrugs, flipping through the file. Target’s name, personal information, location, and mission statement.

Number Five and (Y/N) (L/N).

Find Rowan and Danica Bruegge, extract the file, and DO NOT terminate.

Five still didn’t understand the part where his partner came in, but as his eyes kept scanning the file, he saw it. Rowan and Danica weren’t siblings. They were married. And it appeared in order to coax them out of hiding, Five was going to be too.

The boy swears under his breath, snapping the file closed and pushing himself out of his chair.

“That disappointed? We haven’t even met yet,” A voice said from the doorway.

Five narrows his eyes at you, pushing the file into your chest. “Disappointed doesn’t even begin to describe it.”

You scoff, holding the file to your chest as he disappears down the hall. He was going to be a joy to work with. You jog back to him, already having been informed of the mission and your role.

“You know we have to work together, right?” You asked.

Five continues walking. “Oh, I’m well aware.”

You purse your lips. “So why do you keep walking away from me?”

“Because,” He starts. “I have no desire to spend any more time with you than necessary.”

“The file says married couple. Not newly divorced with one kid.”

Five rolls his eyes, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning to face you with a snaky grin. “I don’t give a shit.”

You expected that. So you just shove the file back into his hands. “I’m getting a briefcase for us. Meet me outside in ten.”

“Whatever,” He grumbles.

You sigh, turning the other way. Working with Five was going to be a nightmare, but you did volunteer for it. In fact, you might have had a little work crush on him for a while. You’d seen him around the office or in the field, and he was… attractive, to say the least. Though his personality was certainly a fixer-upper. Five was known to be bitter and violent. He’s had a history of doing everything solo and is notorious for being a pain in the ass. You grab a briefcase from the room, signing your name in before meeting Five outside on the pristine lawn.

“Are you ready, Mr. Dayton?” You joke, watching his face contort into one of disgust.

“Who even picks the names here?”

You shrug. “Probably The Handler. I bet she’s laughing now.”

“I have no doubt,” Five sighs. “Get on with it.”

You roll your eyes before opening the briefcase and letting it whisk you away.

You land in front of a rather fancy country club. Dozens of golf carts are displayed up front, along with plenty of sports cars and convertibles. The actual building sits on top of rolling green hills, a fountain obstructing the view slightly.

“Rich people,” You mumble, adjusting your dress.

“We’re one of them now,” Five said.

“Hooray,” You sarcastically replied, following him up the pathway. The entrance offers a stone-tiled floor with an arched doorway and pristine white marble. You loop your hand under Five’s arm, gently grabbing it and flashing him a smile.

“Married life, am I right?” You sighed dreamily.

Five rolls his eyes. “We’re not married.”

“Not with that attitude we are,” You snort, kicking him in the shin. “Get your attitude together, or we’re both dead.”

“Fuck you,” Five said through gritted teeth, approaching the front desk. You laugh and pat his arm. The lady greets you with a smile, and you hand her your IDs. She glances over them, handing them back and waving you both off.

As soon as you’re out of the way, Five shakes your arm off, hating how it made him feel inside. It was like a butterfly swarm in his stomach, and he’d rather die than admit it.

“Do you know how to play golf?” You asked, walking down the hall and approaching the patio that overlooks the field.

“No,” Five answered.

“Well,” You smile, grabbing his arm. “You do now.”

“What—”

“Oh my god,” You gasped. “Danica?”

The said woman turns to you with a confused smile. “Hi.”

“It’s been forever!” You squeal.

She frowns, turning to her husband, and Five stands there awkwardly. He really wishes he could just stab them in the neck instead.

“I’m sorry. Do I know you?” She asked.

You nod. “High school? C’mon. 4th block chemistry and varsity cheer. Coach Spindel?”

Of course, those were all lies, but most people just agree because they don’t actually remember. Given enough details, they’ll convince themselves that it’s true.

She snaps her fingers. “Oh! How could I forget?”

You wave your hands at her. “Don’t worry about it! What brings you here?”

She smiles, grabbing her husband’s arm. “Well, my dear husband can’t resist a good game of golf in this weather.”

“Oh, mine too,” You joke, squeezing Five’s arm to give him his cue.

Rowan holds out his hand, and Five grasps it with a shake. “You wanna play a few rounds?”

Five grins. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Let the ladies here catch up.”

Rowan laughs, “My kind of man. What’s your name?”

You turn to Five with wide eyes, praying to God he doesn’t say Five.

“I’m Lucas.”

“Nice to meet you, Lucas.”

“Likewise, Rowan.”

If Five was bad at golf, Rowan didn’t say anything when you returned. He only laughed, and slapped Five on the back, causing the boy to almost fall. You grabbed his hand and pulled him into a seat before he could slap Rowan back. You could tell by the look on his face he was a second away from finishing the mission a little too early.

You giggle, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Yeah, we’re just married. Not even a year yet!”

“Aw,” Danica coos. “I love newlyweds. Still in your honeymoon phase, huh?”

“Yeah,” Five answered, patting your arm. “We’re so happy.”

You try not to laugh at the sarcasm in his voice and keep up your smile.

“Well, now that we’ve caught up, you should come by some time! We can have dinner overlooking the lake.”

“That sounds lovely,” You said. You would rather gouge your eyes out. “Tomorrow night?”

Danica nods, grabbing her purse from her seat and handing you a piece of paper with her address. “Tomorrow night.”

She waves you goodbye, Rowan leading her out with a hand on her back. Once they’re gone, Five shoves you off of him.

“This is so stupid,” He said. “Why can’t we just break in?”

You sigh. “Because Five, despite your powers, this is just easier. Leave no trace.”

He snorts. “I wouldn’t leave a trace if I blink in.”

“I think you underestimate the Bruegge’s,” You said.

“I think you underestimate me,” He retorts.

You push your chair back, standing up. “If you weren’t so bitter, maybe you’d have a little fun with this.”

“With what? Pretending to be your husband? Hardly my definition of fun.”

You wave a hand at him, already walking away. You exit the country club, Five trailing behind with his hands in his pockets.

“Mind taking us to the hotel?”

You hold your hand out for him, but he grabs your arm instead and blinks you into the hotel room. You shake yourself off, groaning at the feeling. At least the hotel was nice enough.

“No,” Five suddenly said.

“What?” You snap, peeling off your heels. “What could possibly be so bad now?”

“Do you have eyes?” He asked, gesturing wildly to the bed in front of you.

It takes you to register the significance of the bed, but it’s not the bed. It’s the lack of another one.

You click your tongue. “How cliche.”

“Really?” Five said. “That’s all you have to say?”

You shrug. “I’ll take the bed. You take the floor. Easy as that.”

“No, I get the bed,” Five argued.

You force out a laugh. “Hilarious, but no.”

“I’m not sleeping on the floor. Unless you want me to be extra grumpy tomorrow.”

“I honestly don’t give a shit,” You said. “So get comfortable.”

You flop down on the bed, closing your eyes and letting yourself relax. Your peace only lasts a few moments because the next thing you know, Five’s grabbing your ankles and dragging you off the bed.

“What the hell!” You shout, thrashing in his grip.

“You can get the floor,” He said through gritted teeth as your knee almost collides with his jaw.

“No way!” You protest before kicking him in the stomach. He groans, doubling over and catching himself on top of you.

His face is inches from yours, and your eyes widen. His arms support himself on either side of your head. You swear his eyes flicker to your lips for a millisecond and meet yours again. You gulp, feeling small under his gaze.

“Five,” You breathe out.

“Yeah?”

“We can share the bed,” You whisper, trying not to shiver under the feeling of his warm breath on your face.

“As long as you don’t kick me in your sleep.”

“No promises.”

He narrows his eyes at you and awkwardly coughs, sitting back. You scoot back, hitting the headboard. You could probably cut the tension with a knife in the room.

Five notices and doesn’t dare meet your gaze, finding interest in his shirt.

“I’m gonna shower,” You finally spoke, swinging your legs out of the bed and heading towards the bathroom. Five only nods.

You shut the door to the bathroom behind you, letting out a sigh. Your heart was racing inside your chest as you thought about how close his lips were to you.

You had definitely escalated from a little work crush. This was a full-fledged crush on Five Hargreeves of all people.

You turn the shower on, stepping in and letting the hot water wash away all your thoughts about him.

Five wasn’t even your friend. If anything, he was a colleague — one that hated you at that. And although you think you saw his gaze fall to your lips, you could’ve equally imagined it.

You get out, dry yourself off, slip into pajamas, and exchange places with Five. By the time he finishes, you’re already curled up on your side of the bed facing the wall. The boy doesn’t say anything and gently lifts the cover and gets in.

He flicks off his light. “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Goodnight, Five.”

Unlike most cliche films with the single bed trope, you did not end up cuddled up to Five. Rather, you woke up in basically the same position you fell asleep in. Which was curled up on your side of the bed, back facing Five. However, Five was facing you, and his hand was dangerously close to yours. Almost like he wanted to wrap it around you but didn’t. You try not to stare too much at the boy, but he looks so pretty asleep. His cheeks are a little puffed with a pink flush to him and his hair falls wildly around his face. His brows are relaxed and he almost looks like he’s smiling.

Five groans, burying his face deeper in the pillow, and you practically jump out of bed.

“Wake up, old man,” You said.

“We’re the same age,” He replies, opening one of his eyes to look at you.

“I’ll get coffee.”

“Now you’re speaking my language.”

You laugh lightly as Five rolls out of the bed. You spent the morning with Five working out the finer details of the plan. You were able to pull up a blueprint of the Bruegge’s house and conclude where you thought Rowan’s office might be. The plan was to take them out before dessert, grab the file and get out.

You were never coming back anyway, so why did it matter if they saw you?

At about six o’clock you header over and greeted them much the same. They hugged you, ushered you in, and sat you down at the dinner table. There was small talk, questions about how you and ‘Lucas’ met, and other finer details.

“Yeah,” Five chuckled, grabbing your hand in yours. “Can’t believe she’s all mine.” As if to really sell the act, he presses a quick kiss to your cheek. You try not to melt in your seat and smile, squeezing his hand.

“I’m so lucky,” You gush.

“You guys are so great for each other,” Danica said. “Now, how does dessert sound?”

“So, how do we do this?” You whisper, pushing yourself out of the chair.

“Well,” Five starts. “If we can’t kill ‘em—,”

“Knock ‘em,” You finish. “I got Danica.”

“I’ll handle Rowan.”

“Let me help you with that,” You offer to Danica.

Danica smiles polity at you as you follow her back into the kitchen. Once you’re gone, Five blinks across the room, grabbing one of Rowan’s golf clubs and grinning.

“What are you doing?” Rowan asked.

“Oh, you know,” Five said. “A little golfing.”

“Hey!” Rowan shouts. “Those are expensive.”

Five teleports right behind him, swinging the club. “Unfortunate.”

Rowan ducks just in time, grabbing the club as Five knees him in the stomach. He stumbles back, grabbing the wall for support and then a statue that he throws at the boy.

Danica hears the commotion and tries to leave, but you shake your head. You make a come here motion with your hand at Danica, smirking when she goes for a hit that you easily grab. You uppercut her in the jaw and use her caught fist to push her back into the wall. You swing you first again, but she ducks, and you hit the wall.

Five blinks out of the way of the statue. He was now leaning against the doorway next to Rowan and twirling the club. He hits Rowan in the knees, then uses the end of the club to jab into his stomach and finally knock him out.

Danica kicks you in the chest, and you stumble back, glaring at the woman. She approaches you again, and you block both her punches and smack your heads together.

She’s stunned, and you take the chance to roundhouse her across the face and pivot back again.

She falls to the floor unconscious.

Five drops the club on the floor, letting out a sigh.

“Man, I’m gonna miss being your wife,” You said, coming to a stand next to him.

“Oh, shut up,” Five snorts.

“Oh, c’mon,” You tease, wiggling your brows. “I love you.”

Five rolls his eyes, ignoring the warmth in his cheeks. “Lying doesn’t suit you, babe.”

“Maybe not,” You shrug. “But how would you know I’m lying?”

Your gaze is serious and Five chuckles, not bothering to hide his smile anymore. “Fine,” He agrees. “Would you like to go on a date with me after this?”

You grin, hooking your arm through Five’s. “I thought you would never ask dear husband of mine.”

“Not your husband.”

“Not yet.”

— END —

#five hargreeves x you #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #number five #tua five x reader #tua five #five x reader #five x you #five x y/n #five imagine #five headcanons #aidan gallagher

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creedslove · 11 months

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DESERVE IT - PART TWELVE

Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: you and Javi go on your date and that leads to other activities and some confessions too

Warnings: fluff, smut, oral sex (m!receiving and f!receiving), masturbation (m! and f!), ass eating (f!receiving) light spanking, nipple sucking, unprotected p in v, cum eating, to sum up i was horny for javi

A/N: I am so happy with how this story is going but also kinda sad it is coming to an end. I can't wait for their happy ending, besties ❤️

• PART ONE TO ELEVEN ON MY MASTERLIST

3.1k words

You ran home as if your life depended on it. You couldn't wait to get to your place, soak yourself in a warm shower and pick yourself an outfit. You were giggling like a schoolgirl and you didn't even care. After the talk with Messina, Steve and Javi himself you had never felt more sure of something, but now you did. You were going on a date with the man you loved, a man you began an unlikely friendship with and it evolved to a passion, unrequited at first, as you thought but later found out it was just as flaming as on your side. You two had gone through so much, it'd been only a year you had landed in Colombia knowing nothing than a few expressions in Spanish, and no one, but against all odds, Javi took you in. Of course, you were supposed to be just one of his many conquests, but you were honest, straightforward to him, and you admitted that if you hadn't been so hurt after your latest breakup you would definitely jump into his bed.

He took a liking on you, not only the usual liking he did when a girl was hot, but he actually liked you, and your voice, and your laughter and your brains and you got closer, until things went to shit, but that's history.

What mattered to you now, was that that whole cat and mouse catching game was finally over. Of course, there's a thrilling feeling about it, with it's ups and downs, it's tensions and certain moments, but in the end, it grows old, it gets tiring and all you wanna do is to be honest. And that was your moment with Javier. It was the beginning of something special, and the two of you could feel it. Of course, the ranch talk, the possible marriage, baby Peña, it all was some kind of inside joke, you never put much faith in it, though at the same time a part of you hoped really hard it would get to that point. But first things first, as you had told him, you couldn't plan a whole life without going on a date first.

It wasn't a big deal as you had already slept with Javier, but at the same time it was a big deal because Javi didn't take girls on dates, he fucked them and that was it, so if he was going to actually go through all those stages, it was because he had good intentions.

After your showered, you made sure to apply lotion, makeup and get your hair in a cute style, all so you could be pretty for yourself and mostly for Javi.

When Peña stepped inside the building, he was also in a hurry. He had to go back to the office and have a meeting with Steve, but all he could think of was taking you out. He would be lying if he said he wasn't excited, he didn't even remember when it was the last time he went out on a date, and that also made him nervous. What if he screwed it up somehow? Or what if you thought he was too old-fashioned… so many things haunted him as he felt the anxiety build up inside of him, but at the same time, a longing to see you, hold your hand and be seen in public with you was also growing. He didn't want to hide, he didn't want to keep you just for himself inside the doors of your apartment, but he wanted people to see his girl was beautiful, he wanted them to envy him and wonder how a guy like him could get a girl like you.

He wondered if you shared the same feelings or the same thoughts, and if you were also anxious. He also knew it was very recent and maybe even reckless to take you out literally a day after you broke up with your boyfriend, but Manu felt like a bump on the road and nothing more, it was like his participation in your life didn't even exist, besides, Javi and you had been dancing that tango for a long time, it was about time things got done.

He still stopped by a flower shop and got you a beautiful bouquet of red orchards. He didn't understand a lot about flowers, but he knew you found these pretty, and all the women in the world supposedly liked red flowers, so he figured it would be a good choice. He walked through the hallway and felt an urge to knock on your door, see what you were doing, what you were wearing - if you were wearing something at all and maybe initiate the date a little early. But at the same time, he wanted things to be classic, he wanted to follow the social rules and make you feel flattered. So he only smirked when he heard music coming from your apartment and got inside his.

Javi looked at himself in the mirror, he had tried several shirts before settling with his red one, and yet, he wasn't sure if he should go with that one. He wanted to look good, he wanted you to look at him and feel the same thing he felt when he saw you. Maybe it would match the flowers? Or maybe was it too red? He wasn't really sure, but he glanced at the clock and saw he was almost running late, so he just placed his watch back on, got his wallet, the car keys and went for your door, knocking on it hesitantly.

He looked around, hoping Steve wouldn't show up climbing up the stairs, or worse, Connie. He just wanted to get you out of the building and have a good night with you.

You opened the door on his third knock, you were just finishing getting your earrings when you finally saw Javi. He was standing there, looking like sin, with those tight jeans that hung so perfectly to his sexy body and that red shirt that made your core boil. You smiled big at him, leaning in and pecking his lips as you saw a blush spreading through his cheeks and he cleared his throat.

"Uh.. these are for you" he smiled softly and handed you the bouquet, which melted your heart. You weren't expecting it, but it was a very sweet gesture. He was just your sweet lovely Javi, there was no trace of that ruthless agent, or the guy who was a heartthrob and collected broken hearts and women around town. You loved that, because it was all for you.

•••

Javi was nervous.

And he was embarrassed about the fact he was nervous. It was crazy, he was on a date with you, the woman he loved and though you two knew that, it was still the beginning, you were trying to do things by the book, because you deserved it, but there he was, looking like a moron as he tried finding words to say.

He had drunk a whole glass of wine and still hadn't found something decent enough to talk about. Work? Los Pepes? Messina? Nah, he didn't want to bother you with it and he didn't understand why everything seemed easier when the two of you were just friends. It was like you didn't have that pressure, or maybe he was putting too much pressure on himself. He just worried you would snap out of the illusion being with him was a good idea and realize you deserved someone better, a better looking guy, someone who didn't have such wrong ways or someone who could actually make conversation during a date.

And as if you had been reading his mind, you placed your hand on top of his, giving him one of your reassuring smiles and chuckled.

"You're nervous, agent Peña…" you said sweetly and stroked his hand with your thumb "you know you don't actually have to be nervous, right? It's just me… your Y/N… your cariño" you blushed softly "and you're my Javi… and you don't have to try to impress me, let's just say you already won me over" you winked at him and watched as his shoulders relaxed and he took your hand in his big ones. His thumb ran across his bottom lip like it often did when he was thinking about something and he nodded.

"You're right, princesa… I was too worried about giving you a perfect first date, that I forgot we could just be ourselves" he admitted "I wanted you to see that I take you seriously, that I want you, for real, not just as a game…"

You thought it was adorable to see Javier like that, your heart was a melted puddle of love and affection for the man who stared at you with the biggest brown eyes you'd ever seen, seeking your approval and nervously hoping you were enjoying his company. If only he knew how much you loved him, he would know he was acting crazy.

Yes, you were excited about the date, but now that you were there, in public, holding hands and sharing a meal, you saw you were so much more than those vanilla couples who needed to go out once a week to remind themselves they were in a relationship. You were in front of Javier Peña.

You were in love with Javier Peña, and as far as you were concerned, Javier Peña was also in love with you, and there was absolutely nothing more you could ask from the heavens. So you simply moved to the chair next to his and hugged his arm, resting your head on his shoulder, loving how close he was and how close he would be, without you fearing him move away from you or push you away. He immediately softened up and lowered his lips, kissing the top of your head

"I'm just happy you decided to stay here, I know New York was a big deal but I promise I won't disappoint you and I will make your stay worthy" he said sweetly and your eyes met his, leaning in and kissing his lips.

Javier had the best lips you'd ever seen in a man, the way they just clicked perfectly with yours, being so soft and so smart, knowing exactly what they were doing, was something you would probably never get used to, and you loved every single aspect of it.

When you broke the kiss, your hand stroked his cheek gently, as your nose bumped against his softly, making the two of you giggle "I love our date, Javi… but I also know we are not an ordinary couple, we don't have to do what other couples do and it's fine by me…" you said as your hand went for his crotch, gently stroking it over his jeans as his eyes widened in surprise "we can just finish our night somewhere else, if you'd like, mi amor" you winked at him and leaned in, kissing his neck, lips just ghosting over his skin before you nibbled it gently.

Javi's tight grip wrapped around your fist, stopping your snoopy hand right there. He knew you could be one feisty little thing, but he didn't take you for that kind of tease… and he was loving it.

"¿Qué estás haciendo, mi amor?" He whispered against your ear as it was his turn to lean in and spread kisses all over your neck. You groaned and giggled, biting your lips before stealing a peck from him.

"I think we should go somewhere more private, Javi… like your car" you whispered to him and saw how his eyes darkened with lust and eagerness at your suggestion.

It only took him a few minutes to pay the check and you were soon inside his Jeep. You watched him drive, looking for a dark enough place to park, his handsome side profile already making you so hot and bothered because you could never wrap your head around the fact he was incredibly handsome.

You weren't sure you would be able to hold yourself back and ignoring completely any safety guidelines you began kissing his neck.

"Shit, baby?!" Javi groaned as he stopped the car abruptly, not being able to focus on driving and you touching him.

You giggled and slid your hand under his unbuttoned shirt. You felt his hot skin against the palm of your hand and knew you needed more. Your free hand went back to his crotch, his rough jeans were in the way and you were getting so impatient, you began unbuckling his belt.

Javi still hadn't found a decent parking spot, but he was so eager to feel you, he took his hand to your hair, stroking it softly as he couldn't get his eyes away from the road, but he also couldn't get away from your touch. You smirked and bit his neck harder, earning a ounce of pain from him and his arm running down your back, getting to your ass and giving it one smack

"Fucking slut" he said through gritted teeth and watched as you opened his jeans, his boner was so apparent your mouth watered.

"Javi, I wanna be your little puta, I need you…" you begged him, freeing his cock from his underwear and watched as he bucked his hips.

Javier groaned and cursed under his breath, you saw his tip glistening with pre cum, using your thumb to spread it all over.

Javi knew he wasn't going to be able to drive, so he just parked under a broken street lamp and gripped your hair.

"Wanna be my puta? Go ahead princesa, show me you can do it, muñequita…" he said with a tight grip on your hair, he was impatient and he didn't want teasing. You also didn't want to wait any longer, so you took your mouth to his long, thick cock, giving his tip small, little licks before taking his length down your throat as deep as you could.

His hand lifted up the hem of your dress, exposing your ass and caressing all over. He pulled your thin panties to the side and found the curve of your lips, running a finger up and down your slit, gathering your juices that pooled in your entrance. Javi threw his head back, your hand massaged his balls as your tight throat made him feel so good. His thick fingers got into your hot entrance and he pumped them in and out. He felt you squirm and the car was filled by nothing but obscene and erotic noises.

He wasn't going to hold back and let you know his hot load was coming, pleasure and bliss all over him as you willingly took all of it into your mouth and swallowed it.

He panted as you raised your head, you looked like a hot little mess for him and he could only pull you for another kiss, not caring if he could taste himself in you.

"Go to the backseat, querida" he whispered against your ear and waited until you got in position.

Javi followed you immediately, helping you get on your knees and hands and held your hips in place "now you're gonna be my puta, got it?" He whispered and smacked your ass a few more times, seeing the reddish shade spread but didn't give you enough time as he spread your cheeks and stuck his tongue into your cunt.

You whimpered at his ministrations, his tongue explored your pussy, going as deep as he could, finding your clit and suckling on it, feeling how your knees faltered but sustained your weight with his hand. His tongue moved up to your ass, touching your muscly ring and feeling it clench so sensitively at the unexpected stimulation.

"Javi" you could only whimper, but he shushed you, wetting your asshole and letting you relax, enjoying the new experience.

His hand found your clit, rubbing it up and down, feeling how hard it was and knew you were close. He shoved his fingers into you again, fingering you as fast as he could, thumbs taunting your clit and tongue into your sweet hole until you were nothing but a puddle of pleasure, shaking and cumming for him.

"My bed tonight" Javi said as he opened the door to his apartment and immediately pulled you against his body, kissing you hungrily as if he hadn't just fucked you in his car less than an hour before. He just felt such hunger for you, the way you put your dress back on in a sloppy way, not caring if your panties got lost in the backseat of his car, or how you couldn't stop touching him. How your hands wrapped around his cock in your beautiful bloody red nails and how you swallowed every drop of him. He just couldn't get enough of you, your post orgasm messy hair, your beautiful smile and your intoxicating perfume.

He loved every part of you. And he wasn't scared of admitting anymore.

"I don't think I'll make it to bed, Javi" you bit your lips, and went for another kiss, his arms wrapping around your body as he lifted you up and took you to the couch. He didn't want to wait anymore, as much as he loved to be in your mouth and have your taste on his tongue, he needed to be inside of you. He wanted to feel your walls squeezing and milking him dry, he wanted to cum inside of you. He didn't even know if you were on birth control, but he didn't actually care, he just wanted you.

Javier got on the couch, pulling you to him and touching your body, getting lost on you. He finally stripped you out of your dress completely, revealing your beautiful breasts, perky nipples that went straight to his mouth, licking and suckling on them, at the same time he helped you lower down onto his cock, loving how your soaked cunt took every inch of him.

He held you by the neck, having a firm grip on it as he watched you ride him, as if you were the most gorgeous piece of art in the world.

Javi threw his head back, hips bucking as you moved up and down onto his cock. He praised you, cursed under his breath, he wanted you whole for him, at that moment and forever.

He felt his balls quivering and the knot on his lower belly tightened as much as yours did too and you knew you were cumming for him again at the same time he came for you, his thick hot load spilling inside.

"Te quiero, Y/N" he whispered against your lips, kissing you once more, never getting enough of you. "I love you cariño" he whispered.

You smiled and tiredly rested your body against his, feeling a wave of happiness and pleasure ran through your body

"I love you too, Javi"

_____

A/N: besties, I know this isn't my best chapter, i just have the feeling I could have written it a lot better but at the same time it was the best I could actually write today, idk i had a weird, tiring, stressful day and to top that my head is killing me. I am just horny for Javi and I hope you guys liked this part at least a tiny little bit of it, because our series is almost over now 😭😭😭

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lets-try-some-writing · 5 months

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Survivors

The Pretenders have made attempts to spread. Efforts have been made to stop them, however fear amongst the Decepticons is growing. The Pretenders are appearing more and more often, always being cut down before they can return to their abominable creator. The Cons learn more with every Pretender killed, but the survivors still bear the scars.

Damus wishes more than anything else that he could have minded his own business long enough to not get involved.

Previous part here.

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Damus never intended to get involved. He already had enough to deal with considering his outlier ability, his faltering memory, and the fact that empurata had done extensive damage to his ability to function normally. He didn't have the time or the motivation to join up with either faction when the war began, at least at first. He knew Orion Pax, well he knew of him at any rate. He was also familiar with Megatron's doctrine. As such, he took his time trying to decide which faction he would inevitably end up siding with. War would force him to choose eventually, but he was slow in his selection. There was no need to rush, not yet.

He saved up shanix, doing odd jobs for both sides as peace talks began to occur. Maybe he wouldn't even need to pick. At least, that was his hope as he got his life together. With the senate in disarray, they didn't care for the fact that he went to a medic and payed an absurd amount to receive a new set of servos and a proper face. Things were looking up for him and he couldn't have been more thrilled when his old mentor called upon him to do odd jobs and run calculations. Damus didn't know why Shockwave wanted him to collect seemingly random fauna and flora from on and off world, but he did as instructed and was paid handsomely for his services.

Part of him wanted to question, but after the Senate and his prior empurata- No, he refused to risk it. He was getting his life together and he was going to keep things stable. That was his hope. But of course, just as he found himself a spot working as a field scientist for a research facility, everything went to slag. Orion Pax dropped off the face of creation and in turn the war went to the pits and back. Both sides were in an uproar, so Damus tried to steer clear of it. That of course did not last, not when during an expedition underground for a few stellar cycles to escape the horrors of war, he met a mech who was far larger than he remembered.

"You are Damus."

"Orion Pax. It is a surprise to see you here."

"I come in search of the Matrix of Leadership. Do you know its location?"

"Legend says it returned to Primus after Sentinel offlined."

"Do you know the path to Primus's core?"

"Maybe? I can try, but I don't work for free Pax. I am not the lost mech you knew. I have a life, a job. I am not risking it by helping out the Autobots without something in return."

"You desire payment?"

"Obviously. I know the tunnels well enough to get you going in the right direction at any rate."

"That is sufficient. Should you complete this task adequately, you will be rewarded in due time."

There was something very off about the mech who Damus was pretty sure was Orion. But he decided whatever it was, he didn't want to get involved. Orion had been gone for stellar cycles, probably on this foolish mission. It was in his best interest to get Pax where he needed to be so he could get his aft but up to the surface and stop the panic. And so that's just what he did. He walked Orion down the right paths until he didn't trust his memory to lead him further. Orion, or at least the mech who looked a great deal like Orion, watched him with calculating optics and nodded before vanishing into the dark. He decided then and there that he didn't even want to be paid, not when this mech was staring lasers into his spark during their entire walk.

Not his problem. Not his problem.

That was what he chanted to himself as Optimus Prime emerged onto the battlefield not long later and Damus found himself with no choice but to join up with the Decepticons for his own safety. Something was very wrong with Optimus Prime, although he couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was. He was just WRONG and looking back at the tunnel incident, Damus regretted guiding him. He did everything in his power to steer clear despite being with the Cons technically. His hope was that by staying in the city of Tarn, he could keep away from whatever was going on in the war. Being a researcher behind the lines was his safest bet. He didn't even care about trying to make something of himself. The job could frag itself now that he had his face and servos. He just wanted to stay as far away from all of it as he could. Whenever he left the safety of Tarn for whatever reason, he seemed to run into trouble.

Optimus met his gaze twice from a distance. Damus purged after each incident. The Prime was focused on him, and something deep in his spark told him that was a death sentence. A few times he caught sight of another one who gave him unsettling feelings. A yellow scout, one who the records stated was designated as Bumblebee once he finally worked up the willpower to look him up. Then there was the third, the last one that confirmed Damus's fears. Ratchet was the CMO of Cybertron before the war, but now he was on the battlefront every now and then... and he was different. There were rumors that he got ill and then miraculously recovered. But looking at him from a distance? Damus got that same feeling, the one he got when he saw Optimus. Those three were wrong, and so he tried not to leave Tarn for his own safety.

He was concerned to say the least. But he was safe in Tarn. Of course that was fine until Megatron began laying down rules that Damus and many others didn't understand. There were constant warnings about an infection originating from Autobot lines. Medics were suddenly being trained en masse and were promptly put absolutely everywhere. Medical procedures grew more invasive and frequent, constant sanitation became the norm, and any soldier that presented even the slightest behavioral difference after battle was taken away, often never to be seen again. There was also the sudden appearance of strange armor suits that mecha amongst the Decepticons began to wear. There were whole propaganda campaigns urging every soldier to get the suits for their own protection. The bulky things covered every possible part of the frame, and somehow Damus got the distinct impression that something darker was going on behind the scenes. Things weren't adding up.

His fears were confirmed when Optimus Prime decided it was time to give Damus his payment.

Damus had no time to react when the Autobots launched an attack on Tarn shortly after the destruction of the Senate. Damus hid with the rest of the non combatants, but the Prime was quick to appear on the battlefield and tracked Damus down like a bloodhound when he tried to run. Optimus Prime found him huddled amidst the ruins of the bombed out fortress he called home for so long. And it was there that the Prime, no, the monster, ruined his entire life.

"I promised you payment. I have come to offer it."

"GET AWAY!"

"You are one of his students. You will be useful."

"Primus no-!"

He could only scream as the thing's jaw came apart, splitting into a maw of mandibles. Then just as quickly, a squirming bug of some sorts was lowered toward his right optic. It was agony as the thing wormed its way into him, and all the while the monster above him seemed to smile in its convoluted way. All he knew was pain as the thing left in a hurry and he was promptly collected and dragged away to a place he didn't know.

He remembered medics, dozens of them all practically buried under the protective suits the posters were always advertising. He remembered screaming in agony as they worked on him, doing something to his helm and much of his torso. But then it ended, and Damus was left in an isolated room, strapped down to his berth with heavy chains, and standing before him was the one and only Megatron who also wore the suit.

"What in Primus's name happened to me?"

"You were infected with the Pretender larva. We managed to remove the larva itself, but its roots have already spread."

"What does that means? What is this?"

"Listen closely Damus. We don't know where it came from, but the Pretenders are creatures that infest a host and devour them in order to wear their frames as disguises. Optimus Prime is one of these creatures."

"Then he-"

"He spread the infection to others, including yourself. We have found hundreds of others like you in various stages of infection. We have done everything we can to reverse the effects, but all we have accomplished is slowing it down."

"So... I am going to die?"

"Yes. We slowed the infection to a crawl and your life will be extended through frequent surgeries to remove the largest of the roots. However, it will kill you one cycle."

"I will become one of those monsters."

"Only if you give in. We have installed an explosive in your processors that will eliminate you at a moment's notice. This is not out of cruelty, but merely to ensure you cannot become another tool for the Pretender plague."

"I see..."

"You will die, but you need not do so without honor. You carry part of the Pretender genome. With it, you will likely find you have new abilities, most notably, an inbuilt radar which will point toward other Pretenders."

"You want to make me a tool."

"I offer you a choice. You can die here with a quick and painless offlinement, or you can serve us and use your curse to ensure others do not suffer the same fate."

"How many have died due to this?"

"Thousands. We find more every cycle. The thing that calls itself Prime is prolific and must be eradicated."

"Then... I will serve. I will make sure this CURSE cannot spread."

"Good. We will have need of you Damus."

"Please, call me Tarn. I want that monster to know that the city it destroyed yet lives on. That I still remain defiant."

Damus, or rather Tarn took one look at his face and knew what he needed to do. The larva had buried itself into him, and so to remove it, his face that he spent so long achieving was now devastated. However in his rage, he found he didn't care. He wasn't afraid anymore. That monster took his entire life from him. Condemned him to eventual death alongside countless others. He refused to let the newly named Pretenders be. Not after everything.

He wanted to not be involved. But now he had no choice. Passivity got him infected. And so until he perished, he would fight. He could feel the new strength that hummed in his fuel lines. Evidently, the Pretenders were more than simple infiltrators. The world was brighter, more noisy, and far less frightening. The thing within him would kill him, but until it did, he had its strength as its own.

The Pretenders were going to DIE.

With Megatron's aid, Tarn was given access to all he needed. Every moment was spent on the hunt, and the few he found in time to save quickly joined his ranks. Other mecha, each survivors of the larva. Together they grew in number and slaughtered the Pretenders in their cradles. The things were so very weak when young. Tarn could feel the rage of the one called Prime. But he merely smiled as time went on. Every Pretender killed was one less threat. Megatron's warnings now made perfect sense.

An infection was spreading across Cybertron, and Tarn was going to stop it.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #optimus prime #megatron #tarn #pretender au #damus #slightly rushed #but here it is #more pretender au #I just want to answer the asks Ive gotten and move the the story to earth #but not yet #just a lil longer

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in-the-shadow-of-the-blog · 10 months

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In the Shadow of Courtship

Summary: Sebastian gets a glimpse of MC's social life outside of Hogwarts, but he doesn't like what he sees. (Sebastian Sallow x f!MC)

Rating: PG

Warnings: Jealousy and light swearing.

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: Despite my best efforts, I’m sure there are some historical inaccuracies in this one. Sebastian being jealous of muggle courtship is my new favorite thing, apparently.

—

Sebastian had re-read her last letter dozens of times, but he kept coming back to one part of it.

My parents insisted on throwing a ball to celebrate my brother’s engagement. Before Hogwarts, I would have been excited at the prospect, but now it just sounds boring and miserable. I would rather be in the highlands doing, well, anything else.

Something in her words made him decide it was time to pay a visit, which is how he know found himself standing outside her house. And Merlin’s Beard, what a house it was. She had mentioned her family being well-off in passing, but the grand house in front of him was more than he expected. Surely the fancy building in front of him was not where his practical, down to earth MC lived.

But there was no mistaking it. It was exactly where she had described, and Sebastian heard music coming from within the house.

The disillusionment charm let him hide among the bushes easily, even if he felt a little foolish sneaking around. If Sebastian was honest with himself, though, he had come for one reason, and that was to spy. He wanted to see what this muggle ball looked like; he wanted to see what MC was like when she was at home with her muggle parents.

He snuck around the side of the house, finding himself below a narrow window. The window was open, feminine voices traveling on the warm evening air.

“If Mr. Royce wishes to dance with you, then you should let him.” The voice was not unlike MC’s, but more mature.

“I don’t wish to lead him on. We’ve talked about where my future lies.”

“Darling, you have a whole world of opportunities I never had, and I am thrilled for you. But until you are settled, properly settled, I think you should keep all your options open. Anything could happen before you come of age, and I couldn’t forgive myself if I allowed you to let any chance at happiness slip through your fingers.”

MC huffed. “But mother-“

“My dear, he isn’t going to ask you to marry him tonight. Simply make sure you don’t give him a reason to cast his eye elsewhere. Just enjoy a pleasant evening with a handsome man and leave it at that.”

“Yes, mother.” He frowned at the defeat in MC’s voice. That wasn’t the MC he knew at all. If this was how she had to behave at home, no wonder she preferred life at Hogwarts.

“There’s that beautiful smile. Come, we should join the party before our absence is noticed,” said MC’s mother.

The room fell quiet.

Sebastian followed the side of the building led by the muffled sound of music striking up. He came to a row of large windows facing a wide yard. Though none of the windows were open, the noise on the other side made it evident where the event was shrine held. Slowly, Sebastian raised his head to peek through the window.

Couples filled the ballroom, dancing in synchrony with the music. There were just as many people around the perimeter of the room, watching the dancers glide across the floor. There was only one person Sebastian wanted to see, and he felt his chest tighten the moment he finally laid eyes on her.

MC had said in her letter that she wasn’t interested in the ball, that the thought of it filled her with misery. She had just said as much to her mother. She certainly didn’t look miserable to Sebastian.

Dark brown hair and a dashing smile, belonging to her dance partner, held her rapt attention. The handsome muggle led her through the waltz, twirling her around the room. MC wore a peaceful smile, laughing and talking with him as they moved among the other dancers.

“You must be Mr. Royce,” Sebastian growled under his breath. His fists clenched at his sides. That should be him in there, dancing with MC. Holding her like that. Making her laugh. Someone who could appreciate her fully.

And appreciate her, Sebastian did. Even though his rage at the muggle pawing at his girl, he noticed every detail about MC. The fabric and trim of her dress matched her house colors, complimenting ribbons pinned in her hair. Sebastian eyed the silver and emerald necklace sitting at her throat, catching the light as she danced. Of course Royce would be falling over himself for her attention; she was radiant.

The dance ended, and Royce escorted MC away. He guided her by the arm, gently tugging her in the other direction when someone else moved to approach them.

Selfish arse. Probably doesn’t even know what her favorite treats are. Or her favorite muggle books. You don’t deserve her.

For the first time in a very long time, the word of a spell danced on the tip of his tongue. Something he promised never to speak again. Conjuring an image of Royce on the floor, writhing in pain.

Sebastian closed his eyes, pushing the thought from his mind. She wouldn’t want that. She wouldn’t want you to do that.

The band was already striking up a song for the next dance. Sebastian couldn’t stomach watching any more of the ball, to see her in the arms of someone who didn’t know her like he did. But instead of apparate home, he wandered around the perimeter of the house, lost in thought.

Maybe he didn’t know MC as well as he thought. He’d heard her mother say it; she would play them both until she secured the better offer. Well, Sebastian certainly couldn’t give her what Royce could, with his muggle money and impressive dance skills. The life MC was accustomed to could not be found in the highlands, in Feldcroft, with him.

But what hurt Sebastian the most was the thought that he deserved to feel this way. Because he didn’t deserve MC, not after what he’s done. He tried to, Merlin knows, but he just wasn’t good enough for her. He never would be. She deserved to be happy, and the cold truth that he might not be the one to do that settled in the pit of his stomach like stone.

So he found himself in the side yard, glaring at a trellis of roses whose buds were closed to the night air. Hidden in the shadows, Sebastian stewed in his dark thoughts, sinking into the depths where he belonged. He didn’t notice when the door opened and someone stepped out into the yard behind him.

But the sigh got his attention.

He turned to see her leaning against the door through which she had exited. Her face was shadowed, barely lit from the light escaping from the windows and the moon rising overhead. But he would know her anywhere, from the shape of her body to the tilt of her head, but especially that sigh.

“MC?” He asked, stepping forward into the half light of the yard.

MC covered her mouth, swallowing a yelp of surprise. “Sebastian! What are you doing here?”

Her heart leapt at the sight of him, and for a moment she thought he was a conjugation of her imagination. Merlin knew she had been employing it all night, imagining Sebastian freckled features in place of Royce’s condescending smile.

Then he spoke.

“Never seen a muggle ball. Thought I’d see what’s so boring about them. Though, doesn’t seem boring to me.”

She stiffened at the bite in his voice. “Is something the matter?”

Sebastian folded his arms. “Of course not. Why would something be wrong? Looks like everyone is having a wonderful time.”

Not here to ask for a dance, then. She stepped toward, mirroring his crossed arms. “Well something’s clearly gotten into you. You come all this way, without even telling me, just to skulk in the shadows? Talk to me.”

“Coming here was a mistake, MC.” He couldn’t look her in the eye. “I’ll let you get back to your charming gentleman friend.”

Her hand was circling his wrist before he saw her move. “Sebastian, you aren’t going anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Fine!” Sebastian hissed, wrenching out her grasp. He couldn’t stand the feel of her touch, not right now. “What’s wrong is that I learned you’ve been stringing me along all year, and then you come home to your real boyfriend over the summer. I never thought you capable of such disloyalty.”

MC recoiled as if he had struck her. With the hurt in her eyes, he may as well have. “How could you say that? After everything over the last two years. How dare you.”

“Well what else am I supposed to think?” Instead of angry, his voice was soft with defeat. “You said you would be bored and yet here you are, in the arms of another man.”

She answered with a scoff. “Just because I have to dance with someone to keep up appearances doesn’t mean I’m enjoying it.”

“You looked pretty happy to me.”

MC’s fingers itched with the need to slap him. How else could get some sense into his thick head? “Sebastian Sallow, either you’re an idiot or you need to get your eyes checked. “Happy” is the very last word I would use to describe myself tonight.”

“Oh really?”

“Really. Because I missed you.” MC sniffed. “At least I thought I did. If you’ve only come here to level hurtful accusations at me, then you should leave.”

MC grabbed his wrist again and turned his hand palm up. Fingers trembling, she unclasped the silver and emerald necklace and dropped it into his hand. “You can take that with you.”

“What’s this?”

“A gift from my brother. He gave it to me when I came home with your scarf, something I could wear that wouldn’t draw the same attention.” She clicked her tongue. “I don’t think I need it anymore.”

Sebastian looked down at the necklace sitting in his palm, then back at MC. She was smoothing her dress, trying to regain her composure after their bitter argument. All she really wanted was to go to her room, but her family would never forgive her for such a display. She looked at Sebastian, narrowing her eyes at him one more time before schooling her features into the mask of serenity she would need inside.

Realization struck Sebastian like lightning. He really had to be the biggest idiot in all of Britain. He should have seen it the whole time.

He should have seen that the smile didn’t reach her eyes. Noticed that her face was devoid of the many emotions he had seen cross it so many times. Realized that her eyes held a faraway look as she dreamed of the many other things she would rather be doing, places she would rather be. Sebastian bet he could name them all.

Royce would never know the real MC. Not like he did. Royce would never call her his own. Not like Sebastian could.

If he hadn’t just lost her forever.

“MC, wait.”

She stopped, hand on the doorknob, stiffly waiting for him to continue.

“You’re right. I’m being stupid.”

“Come round, have you?” She snapped.

He stepped closer. “I’m sorry. I never should have said those things. I can’t believe I ever thought them in the first place.” He swallowed. “It’s just…”

MC looked at him over her shoulder. “Just what?”

“I’m so scared to lose you.”

The words hung in the air between them. Sebastian took a breath, feeling a weight lifting from his chest with his admission. That was the truth of it; he had already lost so many people he cared about. Some of that loss was his own fault, and he lived with his regret every day. He couldn’t bear it if he lost MC, too.

She was in front of him now. “Then don’t push me away,” he said quietly. “Or have you never heard of a self-fulfilling prophecy?”

His next breath was shaky. “I know I don’t deserve any more forgiveness from you, but I’ll ask for it anyway.”

MC couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “I could be convinced.”

He looked up at her in surprise. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“I’m waiting.”

“Turn around,” he whispered.

The emerald pendant whispered along her skin as Sebastian replaced the necklace. His fingers danced over her neck, lingering as he secured the clasp. She was grateful for the darkness to hide the flush that followed.

When he finished, she turned to look at him again, their eyes meeting properly for the first time that night. Sebastian held her hands in his, pulling her close. “I just don’t want you to forget about me when we’re apart.”

“Sebastian, I could never.”

“I know. I never should have doubted you.”

His thumb traced the curve of her mouth before his lips found hers. His fingered the material of her dress over hips, suddenly consumed with thoughts of what it would be like to take it off her. Sebastian broke the kiss, then, worried about getting carried away.

“You’re all I think about when I’m away from Hogwarts,” she whispered. “All I dream about.”

Maybe there was nothing wrong with getting carried away.

Her fingers twined in Sebastian’s hair as he kissed her neck, the silver chain of the necklace scraping his lips. MC moaned in his ear and he pulled her tight against him.

“What’s going on out here?” Mrs. MC’s voice hissed from the doorway. MC and Sebastian jumped apart. “Get inside before your father sees you!”

MC looked sheepishly at her mother. Certainly not how I intended them to meet. She trailed her thumb along the column of Sebastian’s neck. “I’ll write you. Tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait,” he whispered.

MC kissed him on the cheek, stopping for one last, longing look in his eyes. Her mother’s impatient sigh quickened her steps back into the house, but not before she glanced back at him one more time, tasting him on her lips.

Before closing the door, Mrs. MC swept outside, staring down at him. “You must be the young man she keeps going on about. Sebastian, isn’t it?”

It was incredible how much MC resembled her, and he had to admit Mrs. MC was still quite beautiful. He wondered if this was a glimpse at what growing old with MC would be like. “Yes, ma’am.” Sebastian stumbled over the words.

Best interests in mind or not, Sebastian reminded himself that she was still the reason MC was dancing with a man who couldn’t make her happy. He licked his lips nervously, remembering their kiss. He’ll never get to kiss her like that. He’s probably rubbish at it, anyway.

“MC doesn’t tell me much about what happens at school. Is she truly happy there? Is she doing all right?”

He wouldn’t have tried to keep the adoration from his voice even if he thought himself capable of it. “She loves it there. And she’s brilliant, there’s nothing MC can’t do.”

“Is she safe?”

Sebastian faltered. He couldn’t tell her the whole truth. She certainly wouldn’t let her daughter return to Hogwarts if she knew about all the poachers and bandits. Not to mention all the trouble MC liked to get herself into. He settled for the truest answer he could think of. “There’s nowhere safer than Hogwarts.”

Mrs. MC nodded once, seeming satisfied with his answer. “You’ll look after her, won’t you? And her other friends, she does have other friends?”

“Of course, Mrs. MC.”

The woman lay a hand on his shoulder, and Sebastian stiffened at the motherly gesture. “I’m sorry you can’t stay. I would have liked to know you better.”

Sebastian nodded, taking her hint. Now, he didn’t mind going home. He felt safe in the knowledge that, while someone else might be on her dance card, he would always be the one in her dreams.

Masterlist

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy fic

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