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writers-hes · 8 months

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i need you (2 of 2) | c. berzatto x reader

It was good when you started but Carmen Berzatto had the ability to make anyone fall in love with him no matter how much you tried not to...maybe this time he feels the same? (friends with benefits!carmen, smut, mndi!!!, unprotected p in v, smut! smut!, angst!! fluff, maybe some bad words, canon typical themes, unedited)

PART ONE / navigation

Sorry for the things I said.

I appreciate you.

He erases the messages that he wanted to send. It was tempting…

The flowers he let die mocks him by the stove. It was a fire hazard he knew; but if this room burned down, would you come over to check if he was doing well?

His eyes look ahead, empty. Ever since that incident in the kitchen weeks ago, the Chefs have been on edge. Who wouldn’t be? He was cutting away those vegetables like he just didn’t cut his hand. He decided to forget about you…for now. But it was hard, considering the fact that your artwork hung in The Bear like a mantlepiece. A mantlepiece for others but he sees it like a crufix and he, a sinner with no redemption. It mocks him of his mistakes…of what he said. Everything seemd to mock him.

Ever since that bloody incident in the kitchen a few days ago, Carmy made sure to never commit a mistake again. Every second counts, every second counts…every second he counted was spent on you.

Were you alright? Were you in Chicago? Did you still need him? Or were you alright since he's finally out of your life?

You’re so fucking miserable.

It rang in his head because he knew that it was true. He was—is miserable. He made everyone around him just as miserable as he was. He could never grasp the intensity of his feelings; could never seem to grasp anything. He thinks to himself to just fuck it all and go to you and grovel…but he just couldn’t. He knew he wanted more. He was well aware of his feelings for you but to think that he made a mess of everything that he could ever have was hard to swallow.

Carmy has the habit of hiding from his allies. He can’t control his emotions but sometimes, he bides his time hoping to fix it. He tries to wait for the perfect time to fix what he burned but…it’s been too long since you last saw each other. It’s been too long since he sent you a message.

Would you still love me?

You weren’t doing any better. Carmen, despite his refusal to love, was warm. He’s the sun shining on a cold winter day; the warmth that spreads all over your body from the kiss that he leaves on your shoulder. You missed him dearly, but you couldn’t have it in you to reach out first when it was him who didn’t love you.

The realization of Carmen not loving you back was bearable at first but to see it right in front of your eyes…to be on the receiving end of his rejection was more than what you could comprehend.

In a span of those months without Carmen, you felt…like there was a gaping Carmen Berzatto-shaped hole inside your heart that only he could fix. You’ve been in and out of Chicago to forget about him, but you couldn’t. At the end of the day, you were just as miserable as when you first realized that you'd fallen for him. Was it asking for too much when you asked him to still be your friend? The more he pushed you away, the more you were convinced that you didn’t matter to him at all.

Is it too late for me to love you?

You’ve been surrounding yourself with work; painting in your studio for what felt like years until you were sure that your fingers were gonna fall off.

If walls could talk, they’d tell the world of Carmen Berzatto.

You’ve been purging yourself of anything Carmy and you found yourself painting every single food he’s ever made for you. It was all that you could do to relieve yourself of the sobs that choked you at night; when you didn’t want to acknowledge that the man you loved didn’t love you back. You should have been fine—you were expecting this. You were anticipating this but you still wondered what it would be like to be loved by him. You still wondered what it would feel like to hold his hand in the streets of Chicago. You wondered how his hand would feel on your knee while he drives back home. You wondered what it felt like to be loved by him.

You were meeting some art collector today—he seems to be keen on commissioning you for your work and you accepted. He was supposed to arrive in Chicago to meet you and to try a new restaurant that everyone’s been raving about. He said that he already had a reservation for three but he couldn’t go and told you to meet with his art consultant, Isaac on his stead.

You should’ve known from the context clues that you’ll be landing in a place you didn’t want to go to. You should’ve been smarter because maybe, if you did, you wouldn’t be sitting at The Bear, waiting for your frozen grapes and bone broth. Surprise was one word to describe Natalie’s face when she saw you.

“So, how did you realize you wanted to pursue art?”

“Oh,” you licked your lips. “I guess, I wanted to pursue it all my life. It was something that I was good at and…and I can’t really cook well. I liked how food was presented and how empty dinner plates look sometimes, you know. It didn’t take long for me to collaborate with chefs and restaurants and…”

“Is that your piece?” Isaac asked. “I’m sorry, I just—wow. Do you think the manager will let me come nearer to inspect it?”

You smiled at him.

“Um, yeah.” you nod. Richie comes by and stops by your table.

“Good evening, guys,” he greets. “Y/N, it’s been a while.”

“Hey, Rich,” you waved.

“We’ll get you started with frozen grapes in a minute,” he says. “How’s your night? Didn’t know I’d find you here.”

“Oh, this is Isaac. Isaac, Richie.”

Isaac stands up to shake Richie’s hand.

“Do you want to go see the painting? It’s even more detailed up close,” Richie said, ushering Isaac to the painting. He throws you a look as if to ask for your permission but you just smiled at him. Your knee was bouncing under the table, trying to calm yourself down. Richie walks back to your table.

“You know he’s not going to like that,”

“I’m in a business meeting,” you shrugged. “Isaac is an art consultant and his boss told us he couldn’t come. Do you need to see my text messages?”

“I know, I’m not fucking accusing you of anything. Don’t be defensive,” Richie says, putting his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “But had I known that we were going here, I would’ve suggested another place. I don’t want to be here either.” Richie looks for the object of your focus, seeing your eyes zero in on the painting you gave to Carmen.

“We all love the painting. Carmy loves it. He looks at it every day before opening,” he offers but you only shrug. If he loved the painting so much, why didn’t he text you? “You should’ve thrown it at me instead of throwing it at the back. Could’ve earned thousands on that one,” you chuckled, telling him that it probably would. He sees Isaac come back to the table after marvelling at your painting. Richie smiles tightly and tells him that starters will be served shortly.

“Yo, Y/N’s outside. We have to bring our A game!” Richie shouts in the kitchen. “Make her first time here an experience. Fak, make sure that the lamp over Y/N and Isaac isn’t too hot and then, ask if you could serve them some drinks.”

“Okay,” Fak nods, fixing his hair to make sure that he was presentable. It takes a bit for Carmy to register what Richie was saying and he blinks.

“Wait, hold up. Cousin. Who’s here? Y/N…she’s here?” Carmy asked, taking the teapot of bone broth. “With…with who?”

“Isaac,” Richie replied, he was watching Carmy fix his hair and his uniform. What an asshole.

“Carmy! Don’t fucking—go,” Sydney whispers the last part, looking pointedly at Richie once Carmy leaves with the fucking teapot. “Really, Richie? Tonight? You want to play fucking games tonight?” she asked. “Need I remind you of the bloody chopping board? Sweeps hasn’t removed the stains out yet,”

“What?” he shrugs. “Everyone’s been on edge since they stopped talking. It’s nice to take a breather,” Richie saw the realization dawn on Sydney’s face and he smirks. “Right, chefs! It will take Carmy two minutes to go do his alpha whatever fucking bullshit outside. That’s two minutes of easy time. I’ll need focaccia for Y/N’s table after the fucking grapes. Make sure that the dishes are warm, chefs! Every second counts,”

“Good evening,” he greets, a tight smile on his face. He catches the way your smile falls slowly into a frown.

“Carmen,” you replied.

“Finally had the time to visit,” he says. “With a date?”

“Ah, no,” you replied. “Isaac is my customer’s art consultant and he’s uh,”

“Here to make a deal,” Isaac replied. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Berzatto.”

“Here’s your broth with the-the grapes,” he says, shakily pouring it over the frozen grapes. “Hope you, uh, enjoy the evening, Y/N. Isaac,”

He turns to leave but pauses.

“Um, sorry, Y/N can I have a word with you?” he asked. “Please,”

You swallowed. “Um—“

Isaac saw your apprehension. “It’s okay. You’re friends…right? I’ll stay here,”

“Sure. I’ll take two minutes. I’m so sorry,” you apologized before letting him lead you to the kitchen. “Hi, guys. Sorry for interrupting,”

“It’s fine,” Richie says, smiling at you sweetly.

“Carmy, we can talk later, okay? Your kitchen needs you,” you tried. You’ve been saying that to him even before your entrance to the kitchen, but he only shakes his head.

“Just…two minutes,” he says. “Please,”

“Carmen…”

“Please,” he tried. He didn’t really want his staff to see him grovel even though he knew that this was bringing them some sort of a sadistic joy.

“Sorry, everyone,” you forced out, but Sydney was actually thankful to get Carmen out of the kitchen for a few minutes. If it was possible, Carmy was even more unreasonable. His standards were tip top. A second too long was a second too much. He and Sydney have been screaming at each other every night; the volume of their voices louder by the second.

You followed him into the office, being reminded of the hurtful words you’ve said to each other. He locks the door, and runs a hand over his face.

“What…what are you doing here?” he scowls.

“I’m a paying customer. I can go wherever I want,”

“With him? What are you doing here with him?” he asked, hands on his waist to show his impatience. You decided to make him wait and he does, urging you to answer by raising his eyebrows.

“I don’t think it matters to you,” you replied. “I can go eat wherever I want. I can afford it,”

“I’m-I’m not saying that you can’t. Just-just tell me why here?”

“Why are you so bothered? You can’t question every guy you see me with, Carm,” you reasoned out. “You told me you didn’t love me. I don’t think it’s necessary for you to still know where I go and who I spend time with.” He flinches at your tone. You’ve never talked to him like that before. You were always so gentle. So, for you to disregard him and not even give a reason why, an icy glare thrown his way…was mean.

“I can kick you out,” he spits. You scowl at him; he’s never been the subject of your anger and right now, you were seething.

“So, kick me out,” you challenged him, meeting his eyes with the dort of ferocity that he never expected from you. He stays silent, looking at the floor. He didn’t want you to hate him more than you already do. “I thought so,”

Urgent and demanding raps on your door broke you from your reviere. You liked painting in silence; it soothes you from the loudness of the world outside. You sighed, knowing immediately who was on the other side. Your breath was shaky, and you tried to walk slowly towards the door. What would you even say to him?

Carmy was a jittering mess on the other side. He couldn’t get you out of his head ever since you visited The Bear a few days ago. He was watching from the other side after service, seeing you laugh at whatever Isaac said. He was making you laugh when that was reserved to Carmen alone…months ago before he ruined everything he ever wanted. He waits with bated breath as you open the door. He used to be able to just come inside your house whenever he wanted. You used to wait for him with a small smile on your face. It is all gone now. You looked tired; like you didn’t want him there at all.

“Can I come in?” he asked but he didn’t miss the way you shielded your body with the door. He didn’t miss the way your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“Sure.” Sure. Like you didn’t have any other choice but to deal with him right now. Sure.

“Thanks,” he licks his lips, putting his shoes on the side like he used to. Your home was clean but it was devoid of anything. The lights were barely on and the music that used to play from your vinyl was nowhere to be heard. Carmy used to tease you for being pretentious. It’s too quiet inside your house right now.

“Do you want anything? Water?”

“No, thanks,” he says, and you nod. “I’m…I just—I don’t know why I’m here,”

“I see,” you replied, looking anywhere but at him. “Can I help you?”

“Um—who-who were you with the other day?”

“You can’t just…question or decide to drop by when you see me with someone else, Carm,” you said, voice low and careful. “He was an art consultant,”

“Why?” he asked, his eyes inviting you to look at him but you wouldn’t budge. He knew why. He knew that he was an art consultant but something inside Carmy was telling him that the planning had been deliberate and that you went there with malice. To spite him…make him jealous…it was narcissistic but what if?

“Because…because you don’t love me,” you chuckled. There was something funny about not being loved back by a person who used to come to you at the smallest inconvenience. “You don’t love me but the first thing you do is to freak out. It was a work meeting and you freaked out. You don’t love me, Carmy,”

“How many times will-will you hold that over me?” he asked, frowning. “Why are you acting like-like I did something wrong? You can’t control how I feel, Y/N! Give it up!”

“Because I can and I want to, Carmen!” you exclaimed, chest heaving. Your throat constricted at his rejection. This was the second time. “I can and I want to hold that over you because I’m hurt. I am hurt. You hurt me. You toss me away to the side and-and you expect me to be forgiving. You expect me to just understand,”

“You have to accept that I…don’t—that I don’t love you that way,” he whispers, and it just breaks your heart because he still couldn’t get it.

“I’m not asking you to love me back,” you croak, your eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t want to tell you how to feel—or what to feel but you didn’t even text me. You didn’t ask me how I was doing…or -or said hi to me. You—you…I don’t know. You just stopped.”

“Why didn’t you text me first?”

“Because I told you how much you mattered to me. I told you that I love you. I thought that if I didn’t text you, you'd miss me and…God, Carmen. I would have been fine if you didn’t love me back. It would have been fucking dandy. It would have been great if you could have just…treated me like a—like a friend, you know? I still would’ve been there for you…but you shut me out! You showed me just how little I mattered to you, Carm. Did you know that…? You—you treat me like how you treat everyone else when you’re the one who needs me. ”

“You do—you matter to me…”

“Actions speak louder than words,” you spat, your arms crossed over your chest. “You only text me first when you want a quick fuck. I’m free tonight? Want to go? You can’t even say that you want to have sex with me,”

Carmen was at a loss for words. He was hurt that you’d think that way of him when he thought the world of you. Did you really think that you’d matter to Carmen just because he wanted to fuck you?

“Hey, don’t-don’t do that. That isn’t fair to me. You know that-that you mean more to me than that. You’re being unfair,”

“Unfair,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “I’m being unfair when you’re the one inside my home after seeing me with a guy that I am working with.”

“It’s my fucking restaurant! It’s my goddamn restaurant,” he exclaimed, running his hand over his golden hair that you loved so much. “It’s my fucking goddamn restaurant!”

“And I’m fucking telling you that I can do whatever I want!” you retorted, matching the intensity of his voice. “Why do you care, Carmen?” you spit.

“Don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what? Carm? Carmy? Bear? Carmen…Anthony…Berzatto?” you taunt, the same venom dripping from your voice. He just never heard it from you before and it was an unpleasant feeling. “I’m not…I’m not going to let you push me around just because I love you, Carmy,” you shook your head.

Carmy stares at you, his face pinched in frustration and in sadness. He looks away, swallowing. He presses his hand over his chest to ground him. He didn’t know if he should be mad at you for making him feel this way. Like he needs you all the time to be alright. He didn’t know if he should be angry at himself for letting you lure him into your trap and your promises of warmth and love and…contentment. All this time, he tried to convince himself that he didn’t need anyone much less you for that matter.

“Say something,” you urged, looking at him desperately but he just shakes his head. You could feel it—feel him detach himself from you. You could feel him cower, hide his feelings…the real reason why he was knocking on your door in the first place. “Fucking say something, Carm! Tell me why you’re here,”

He just stands there unmoving, blinking back any emotion. He wanted to store everything in his brain. He didn’t want to feel anymore…he didn’t…

“Fucking hell,” you whispered shakily. “I don’t know what you want from me…but I can’t go on like-like this! I can’t open the door for you every time you knock. I can’t answer every time you call…just…please, Carmy. Fucking say something.”

Still, he stays silent.

A sardonic chuckle escapes your lips.

“Leave when you want to, I don’t give a shit. Just…just don’t come inside my fucking studio, Carmen. I was expecting you to apologize to tell me that you still want to be friends…I guess I thought I mattered to you more than that,” you told him, walking away. He just watches you go to your studio, hearing the sounds of your materials being thrown in different directions. It doesn’t make him flinch; he just watches the fire burn.

It’s time to go.

Carmen has been living in autopilot since his last visit. It was probably jealousy that prompted him to act like a jagoff but he wasn’t ready to admit that. Instead, he was harder on himself, beating himself up over the smallest things—if a dice wasn’t precise, it wasn’t good enough. Food out for a second too long was cold. It was like reliving New York but he was the perpetrator. He was the one pushing his boundaries until he hated what he was doing and Carmy admits, it was not healthy.

But what else could he do? Cooking was the only thing he was good at and there was nothing else to do other than work.

That was a lie.

He sometimes spent hours rereading the messages you sent him. You’d always text him to have a good day…a funny photo that reminded you of him…

He smiles at some of them, but it’s quickly replaced by the frown that etches on his face because he will never receive these messages from you. Isaac probably fucking does though. He grips his phone tightly in his hands; he hates that thought. He looks at his phone blankly, the message from you illuminating his face blue.

parm4carm? carmyggiano reggiano? carmensan hahahahahaha i’m at a meeting and i want to laugh because i’m thinking of things to add to your name

He didn’t remember replying but he did remember the small satisfaction that the message brought him all day. You were thinking of him and you were trying to make him laugh; he tried his best to stop himself from smiling but Richie noticed it immediately.

“What the fuck are you smiling about?” he asked him but Carmy only flipped him off, turning around to stop Richie from seeing him.

He sighs. It’s not like what you had wasn’t fun. In fact, he was quite sure that it was the somewhat-only healthy relationship that he has. You both gave wach other space, you talked things through. When he started dating Claire, he went to your apartment first to tell you about her. You shrugged it off, not really minding who Carmy dated back then. When he apologized for not inviting you to the opening despite multiple protests from Richie and Sydney, you understood. When he stopped responding for a week, you showed up to his door with a pack of his favorite cigarettes and a box of doughnuts.

Looking back, did he ever do anything for you?

“Carmy, you good?” Sugar asked. He was more standoffish; he smokes more, and he doesn’t speak much. It’s always only a grunt or a “yeah yeah.”

“Oh,” Carmy says, blinking. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Carmy…” Sugar tries. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” he nods. “I…I’m just thinking, you know? Like-like, I fuck everything up and-and I’m aware of it,” he says. “I know that what I’m doing isn’t right but…you know, I-I always have this dream of a fire…and I just watch it burn…”

Sugar nods, trying to coax out the lump in Carmy’s throat.

“I wonder if I just don’t speak…will they understand me? I can’t fuck things up again just because I have no cell reception. What if that happens again?” he asked, frowning. “Fuck,”

“Do you think she’s distracting? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,”

“But I…I want to,” he says, his hand pressed on his chest. “I want to, Nat but I can’t,”

“You’re a pain in the ass, Carmy. Go talk to the girl,” she smiles and Carmy could only nod because maybe Nat was right. If he could just…talk to you without jumping on your throat and without blinking, there like a fucking idiot.

That’s an easy job, right?

“I’ve been thinking about-about us, and I just want to say that I’m sorry and that I…Fuck!”

He was walking like a madman inside his apartment, on the verge of texting you about how Isaac chewed with his mouth open. You told him you hated people who chewed with their mouths open—loud and wet. He saw your favorite cereal on sale the other day. He almost wanted to ask you if you were aware that it was marked down. Should he get you a few boxes? What about three? He just wanted to know. Would you…would you come over if he let his kitchen burn? Would you come over if you saw the dead flowers that dried up because he couldn’t find it in himself to throw them away. It was the last piece of evidence that he wanted to go. Would you even accept his dead flowers now that your name was on every art forum? You probably like cereal and milk with fucking gold leaves and fig.

He knows that you didn’t like it when he looked sad but when he visited you, did you notice the way his shoulders slumped? Because he noticed the shallowness of your breathing, the taps on the floor, the pause before you opened the door for him. He noticed the way you blinked back the tears that he threatened to spill because he was cruel. He knew…he knew that he was cruel but would you still forgive him if he ran up to you now?

The cereal you like is marked down at the store. Do you want some?

The vibration in your pocket stops you from talking to the guy who just offered to buy you your coffee.

“Sorry,” you smiled sheepishly. “Let me just…get this,”

Your hands slightly trembled when you saw the message that Carmy just sent. It was an odd olive branch but what if you were looking into things again? What if he was just trying to have sex again?

I’m sorry for the things that I said.

Can we talk?

“Hey, hey,” the guy says. You didn’t even know his name. “Are you alright?”

“Uh? Yeah, no-yeah, I am. Sorry,” you replied, locking your phone and putting it in the back pocket. “What was it?”

“Oh, I was wondering if-if you want coffee?”

“I…already ordered, though,” you replied. “Advanced order and I’m just waiting…”

The guy’s face falls, and you smile timidly.

“Sorry,” you offered.

“No, that's fine,” he shrugs. “I should’ve known or something,”

“No, thanks. Um, yeah…”

The barista calls for your name on the counter and you smile at him before leaving. You rushed out of the café without another word, coffee in your hand and Carmen’s message in your backpocket.

The Read label was putting Carmen in a spiral. You read the message twelve fucking minutes ago, why weren’t you replying? He was popping the joints on his knuckles, watching the phone closely until you replied.

what time do you close?

can we go to your apartment instead?

He lets go of a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He texts you to just enter the apartment since you still have the keys, completely forgetting about the flowers near his stove.

When you entered his apartment, you were greeted with the bareness of it all, save for the dried flowers on the stove. You frowned, walking towards it. Carmy didn’t need flowers… Besides, this was a fire hazard. Was he okay?

You turned over the card attached and took a sharp breath.

Let it rip. I’m so proud of you.

Love, Carm

Was this deliberate? Did he plan this all out to get you to forgive him? You turned away, trying to forget the note that he was meant to give you. You sat on his couch instead, settling on the corner and flipping through the channels on his cable. You wanted something to fill the silence so that when he comes, you wouldn’t have to try to make up for it by saying something stupid like the weather in Chicago.

You settled on some reality show, looking at the screen with your eyes glazed over when you heard someone mess with the lock. You looked over, watching Carmy in his grey sweater. He tossed the backpack to the side and his shoes were laying somewhere. You saw this scene before—multiple times but the undertone was different.

“Hi,”

“Hey,”

“Um—“

“I hope you…you don’t mind me watching—“

Carmy’s eyes flicks to the stove and realization dawns on his face.

“Fuck, fuck. Sorry—you, ah, weren’t supposed to…” he puts the flowers in the cupboard hastily, some leaves falling. “See that,”

“Yeah—“

“Um, I’ll just…”

“Yeah,”

He nods, blinking, before stalking to his bedroom. He locks the door behind him and heaves. Fuck. He shakes his head entering the bathroom to wash the day away.

You couldn't focus anymore. Why was he so ashamed of the flowers he got you? You swallow the thickness down your throat. Were you intruding if you got yourself a glass of water? Carmy goes out of the bedroom a few minutes later, fresh and clean. He looks at you and heads to the kitchen. You don’t move.

He comes back with a glass of water for you, laying it down on the coffee table and then sitting beside you—as far as he could because he didn’t know where you stood right now. What boundaries can he cross?

“Thanks,” you smiled at him, taking a huge gulp of the cold water. “Um…”

“Shit—I don't know what to say,” he says, folding his hands on his lap.

“We can…we can start with what we said,” you replied slowly. “I…”

“I’m sorry,”

“Carm—“

“I’m sorry. I didn’t take-I didn’t take your feelings into consideration and I…I hurt you,” he says, looking down. You were both sitting straight ahead, the TV illuminating your faces. It felt like a thick wall was between you two and that it was up to you to break it. “I just…I don’t know. I can’t keep on doing shitty things and then-then, feeling bad about myself but I…I spent my life trying to-to understand mom and Mi—key,” he chokes. “I guess I don’t want to understand anyone else anymore because I wouldn’t be able to but I—but you’re not anyone else.”

“I fucked up,” he says. “When I was with Claire…I was locked in the fucking freezer because I had no cell reception. I don’t want that…but I don’t—“

“What do you want, Carm?” you asked.

“I want to—I want…I,”

“I’m sorry for calling you miserable and unreliable,” you told him. “I was hurt and I’m sorry for uh, holding things over you. It’s not your fault that I caught feelings. It wasn’t fair to just…expect you to…love me, you know? Wasn’t fair,”

“No, I was a shitty friend. I shouldn’t have let you go like that,”

“Yeah,” you nod. You heard him shift in his seat, legs crossed over each other and facing you. You glanced and did the same.

“I got you your cereal,” A small smile.

“Yeah?” A beat.

“Like four boxes.”

“I’ll be sick of them,” you teased.

“I know but maybe you’d hate that instead,” A confession.

“I don’t hate you…”

“You don’t?” he asked. “Why…I’m really sorry. I don’t want to…I’m really fucking sorry,”

“What do you want, Carm?” you asked, a brave hand on his knee. “Tell me what you want,”

“Please,”

“And we’ll make it work,”

“I want everything. But I…I don’t…It’s funny. A fridge started Claire and I’s relationship. A fridge ended it too. I’m sorry for bringing her up…but I never felt like I was deserving of…of happiness and I,” he blinks, eyes pinching at the bitterness of every word that rolled off his tongue. “Who the fuck said I could be in a relationship? I am the best because I was focused and I…I had cell reception and I didn’t have the bullshit of understanding feelings. I don’t need amusement or enjoyment…I…no amount of good was worth it, you know? I thought-thought that it was a complete waste of my fucking time but I crave for it,”

“And…I don’t know. I failed them and I…I don’t—“ he heaves. He has to let it all out if he wanted to make things right. “I’m scared that if I…jump in, you know? I fuck everything up again. My staff hates me, I hate me, and you…you hate me too. I don’t want to lose cell reception and I…I don’t need enjoyment but I need you. I need you with me all the time but what if you get—sick of me and push me away like Mikey did? What if…what if you learn to hate me? I need you and I don’t know if I can handle it if we—if we just stopped talking and I did. I stopped talking to you because it would have hurt me more if you decided to end things like that…I’m sorry,”

“I’m just…I fuck up everything that I touch, and I know that I’m miserable and I’m so fucking sorry that I hurt you. I’ll take that with me to the grave. I’m so fucking sorry,” he says, a hand pressed on his chest, like he was protecting it. The barrier that you had to strike down. A gentle hand takes his, interlacing your fingers with his calloused ones. It makes him flinch, but he accepts the gesture.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” you smiled and Carmy could just cry because it was the same thing that Claire had told him. What was the guarantee that it was different this time? “But Carmy, you have to understand that I…I don’t want to hurt you or-or distract you from being the best. I want you to be the best…”

“Is the best…enough?” he asks. “If I lose you?”

“That’s a question you have to answer for yourself, Carm,” you offered. “I’m selfish. I can’t—I don’t want to be the reason why you learn to hate me just because I told you to choose me and I don’t want you to choose. I want you to…be the best and be—be…”

“I need you,”

“I know but I…” I want you to love me.

“I touch everything and I burn everything…Richie and I…I feel so bad about the things I said to him and I fucking hate that I can’t control anything. My life is so fucked up and I—“ he stops, looking at you for the first time that night. “I just wish to just let the everything burn and then it will all go away but I need you to watch it burn with me,”

He still hasn’t said what you wanted to hear from him. He still hasn’t said anything.

“I love you,”

You stop your breathing.

“Carm—don’t say that just for the sake of saying it,” you begged, pulling him away from him and standing up. “Don’t say that if you don’t-don’t mean it…you're just being mean,”

“I do,”

“Carmy,” you whispered. “You didn’t love me months ago. What made you love me now?” you asked. “I’m not invalidating your feelings or-or whatever but I need you to understand that I’ve been loving you for months. I loved you after you broke up with Claire and we drank wine many months ago, but you didn’t…do you love me because you need me?”

“No!” he says. “I love you and I need you. I’ve been—harboring these feelings but I can’t…I can’t say anything and I’m so, so scared that if I don’t say anything now, then everything will just be a big fucking shit show and then, I’ll lose you forever. I’m so scared because what if we don’t work and-and you decide that I do make you miserable? What then?”

“What if we work out?”

“That’s worse because then I’d know that I’ve been holding myself back for nothing,”

“I’m confused, Carm. What do you want?” you asked, shaking your head.

“You and I…together,” he replied. “Only if you want to. I don’t want to make you feel like-like I’m,”

“Can you say that again?”

“What?”

“What do you feel for me,” you begged. “I’ve been…I’ve been waiting months for you to tell me those words and I just have to make sure that I—that I’m hearing you correctly,”

“I love you,” he says. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeats the same words over and over again and you feel your eyes brim with tears because this is what you wanted—this is what you’ve always wanted to hear. He stands up and walks over to you, covering his arms around your frame. “I’m sorry for making you feel like I didn’t,”

“Carmy…” you trailed off. “I’m sorry for the things that I said,”

“I’m sorry too,” he says. “But it’s okay…consider everything forgotten,” he kisses your temple and checks on you. “We’re okay, baby. We’re okay,”

“I missed you,”

“I missed you too,” he says, ducking his head so his lips could meet yours. “I miss you,” he mumbles, cradling your head with his two hands. He kisses you fervently, like he was thirsty and you were the fountain of life. “Mm,”

“Carm…” you whine when he lets you go. You push him to the couch, his legs open wide as he watches you. “I want to show you how much I missed you,”

“Yeah?” he rasps, tapping his lap. “Come here, baby,”

You nod, watching his chest rise and fall in anticipation. You settle yourself on his lap, legs on either side. His hands immediately find your waist, clutching your body through the soft material of your shirt. You tug on his shirt to bring him closer to you, kissing him slowly. Your hands find themselves tugging on his hair, your hips rocking softly against his clothed crotch.

“Fuck,” he grunts, hips meeting your subconsciously and you giggle at his anticipation.

“Carm!” you chuckled, lips trailing down to his jaw. He likes that you never fail to leave love bites where everyone can see. He sighs deeply when you suck on the spot he liked so much. You could feel him harden under his joggers, itching for release. When you are done, you smile at him, pecking him on the lips before removing his shirt completely. He sucks in a breath when your soft hands run over his chest. “I missed you,”

“I missed you too,” he rasps, tugging on your shirt. You oblige, removing the piece of clothing entirely. His mouth waters at the sight of your naked torso. You rub your heat against his cock, the both of you moaning because of the pleasurable friction. It was slow and deliberate at first but you were soon mewling, his mouth on yours. His tongue pushes past against your lips, swirling with one another. “Remove everything, please—“

You nod, standing in front of him to strip yourselves of what remained between the two of you. Carmy, runs his hand on your waist, looking up at you with need. You run your hands through his hair while you let him kiss every part of your body that he could kiss. You sigh at the contact of his warm lips against your body, settling yourself back on his lap but this time, with less restraint. His hand immediately finds your cunt, fingers working to flick your clit. You whimpered when you felt his fingers prod your entrance.

“Yeah,” he nods. “Fuck yourself with my hand,”

“Carm,” you whine, bouncing slightly. Your hand finds the tip of his cock and his hips jerks, at the contact.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he says, looking up at you with his eyes half-lidded. He removes his fingers inside you and sucks on them. “You always taste so sweet,”

You couldn’t choke out any reply. So instead, you put your hands on either of his shoulders, slowly sinking on his cock.

“Fuuuuck,” he says, his head falling on the sofa. “Fuck,”

“Carmy,” you said, rolling your hips against his own slowly. “You’re so—“

“Good,” he says, watching his member disappear inside you completely. He could feel your wetness on his thighs, and it kills him. “I’m gonna make you mine,” he says, pinching your nipple.

“Carmy!”

“You like it?” he asked, his head inching closer. He flicks his tongue over the sensitive bud while you ride him. He bites on it and you flinch. He feels your walls clench around him when he does that, so he tries it on your other nipple.

“Carm,” you whined, “Fuck—“

The moans that emitted from his mouth vibrated on your chest. He was continuously sucking and licking your nipple, pinching and twisting it with his rough hands while you gyrated against him. His cock fills you up differently and you let his hips thrust upwards, hitting a certain soot inside of you.

He gives up the need to control, letting you part away from him. You stand up, repositioning yourself to finally—

“Fuck!” he groans, not expecting the sudden feeling of your tight, wet walls wrapping his girth. The tip was just teasing your wntrance a few second ago. His head falls back, arms wrapped around your waist while you bounce on his cock. “Fuck, fuck,”

“Carmy…” you moan. “Kiss me,”

He does what was told, capturing your lips with his. His tongue parts your already open mouth, his arms snaking around gour waist to keep you closer. You whimper, hands holding either side of his neck and you grip slightly.

“Mm,” he groans, breaking away from you. Your pace was speeding up, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling his apartment. “Fuck,”

You smiled at him, constricting his airways a little tighter.

“I’m so—fuck—oh,” he chokes out. His hips stutter against you, cock filling you up completely and he feels your walls clench around him. “close.”

“Baby, baby, baby…” he sighs, the pressure too much for him. “I’ll make you mine. I’ll make you mine,”

“I love you,” you mewled, head falling when he plays with your sensitive buds again. “I want to be yours, Carm,”

He meets your wet pussy with his cock in sloppy thrusts. Your bodies were moving in motion, desperate for that release—that closeness after months of being away from each other. Carmy was holding you so close, grunting and groaning under you.

“Fuck, I fucking love—oh,” his voice breaks and he comes undone. Your walls clench around his gushing member, thrusting inside to chase your high. Your movements slow down, his head on your shoulder. A beat passes with heavy breathing. He peeks. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, removing yourself from him. “Are you?”

He nods, pushing your hair away from your face.

“I love you, you know that?”

“Yeah,”

“Let’s get you cleaned up. What do you want for breakfast tomorrow?”

“I think cereal’s good.”

A/N: First and foremost, I’d like to thank you guys for the overwhelming love and support that you showed in chapter one. Your comments and reblogs all motivated me to write chapter 2 the best that I can and I hope that you love this chapter as much as the previous one. As always, don’t forget to comment or reblog your thoughts! I’d love to know what you thought about this one.

TAGLIST: @kpopgirlbtssvt@morgthemagpie@hal3ynicol3@1800-queen-trash @ummvengers @thottywizard

TELL ME YOU NEED ME TAGLIST: @hanula18 @globetrotter28 @trashcanfullofdork @carmens-berzattos @se0kie @saturnheart @akila-twt @mashadanki @ayoedibiris-letterboxd @quicksilversg1rl @docmerlock @notalxx

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto angst #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto #angst #fluff #the bear #the bear fc #carmy berzatto smut

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sophiethewitch1 · 8 months

Text

A Dramatic Irony

A/n: Trying to combat writer's block so I decided to do this little drabble. Spoilers for the WHB prologue, and also includes my theory that MC will turn out to be God in some form or capacity. Because why the hell else would the angels turn over to our side?

GAME IS 18+ THIS DRABBLE ISN'T, BUT EVEN THE PROLOGUE HAS ADULT CONTENT! MINORS PLEASE BE SENSIBLE!!!

“So, it was you? This whole time?” His lips graze against your throat. He’s warm, of course he is. All that holy light spilling out? He’s so warm it’s almost uncomfortable.

Everything about this is uncomfortable, really. But of course, like always, you’re at the centre of it. Of every situation, from the depths of hell to the cloudy tops of heaven.

“I’m not Him,” you grit out, your body shivering. You don’t dare move. Not with Gabriel, the man who had sworn to kill you, who had chased you over hell with armies of feathered fiends, with his teeth at your jugular.

It doesn’t matter the way he shakes just the same as you. It doesn’t matter that his fingers skim delicately - reverently - across your stomach. It doesn’t matter that those eyes that before looked at you with absolutely nothing inside, now seemed to overflow. With love, obsession.

You know, before all this, you’d been an atheist. Before an unholy angel had crawled out of your computer and a righteous demon had saved you and your best friend’s life, you had thought God couldn’t exist. That the world couldn’t be so cruel if someone like Him truly did exist. That your childhood wouldn’t be mired in tragedy, that you wouldn’t struggle to get out of bed every day. That you wouldn’t have to blink away flashes of the scent of copper and soap.

And of course, then you’d made a deal with the devil. You’d gone to hell. You’d broken countless contracts, and warred against heaven. You’d had to fight for every second of your life, and you’d done it bitterly, angrily.

Angry at this God that had disappeared, and angry at His stupid mistake of making every angel madly in love with him. Angry at how He never thought of the consequences of his actions, of how He never imagined a world He wouldn’t exist in. How just by your birth, you’d been destined to suffer. How your parents would have died no matter what, how you would always have had to walk this thorny path.

How He never seemed to consider what could happen when you created one of the strongest beings in the universe and forgot to give them a fucking moral compass.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, ignoring your words. His too-warm body crowding in too close to yours, as your fists curl against his chest, desperately trying to push him away. It’s no use because no matter what’s in your blood, you aren’t strong enough - what is Solomon’s, and what is His.

Because, apparently, those stupid mistakes you’d cursed God for, were yours.

“I’m not Him,” you repeat, hands moving to claw at his throat. He doesn’t react beyond a small sigh of pleasure, curling into your touch like a cat in the sun. “I’m not Him. I don’t have His memories. I’m not Him.”

“I told you, didn’t I? I didn’t have any negative feelings towards you. I’m sorry, I’ll fix it. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Please, just let me stay by your side?”

It’s such a strange dichotomy. The angel who sees this as a beautiful, miraculous reunion. And you, who sees this a tragedy. One you could never escape. The angel from before, swinging his scythe at your throat, and the one who now presses plush lips against that same skin. It’s too ironic, isn’t it? It just can’t be true. It just doesn’t make any sense.

“I don’t want you by my side,” you sob, but he just shushes you, pressing kisses against your head and across your face. He licks up your tears, groaning at the taste.

It’s too cruel. You have to wonder if the old you, the one you can’t remember, ran from this.

His hands tighten around your waist. It doesn’t really matter what happened before, because you know you won’t be able to run this time.

#what in hell is bad #whb #whb gabriel #what in hell is bad gabriel #whb x reader #yandere x reader #yandere drabble #whb gabriel x reader

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daydreamcloudshiding · 6 months

Text

#2 Astrology Observations

Juno-Chiron conjunction isn't always healing. In fact, i tend to find this in couples where they stay in the relationship for a very long time but the whole time, the relationship is very emotionally abusive

People with Pluto dominants are naturally suspicious of others, but it's not like they have bad intentions towards others. They naturally will try to find as much informations as possible about you if they really like you to determine if you're a safe person or not. Pluto, although people often will see their dark sides, is a water sign after all. They are very protective of their inner world and emotions

Another thing with Pluto dominant people is that they can feel easily insecure with themselves. They don't show it to others directly, but this is how they get that jealous streak. If they feel like someone might replace them or overpower them in anyway, they will feel like they need to defend themselves, whether in career, relationship, etc. If this is undeveloped, they can even get jealous or competitive with their own partner. This doesn't always mean a bad thing, however, the healthy Pluto dominants are actually very powerful and they are very sure of themselves, not easily swayed by anything. Pluto is fixed energy, after all. If developed, they will be so powerful and people naturally feel so inspired by them. They know not to mess with them

Cancer woman have that timeless beauty about them, they can rock any styles from any era and they will look good

I personally don't like Neptune-Sun or Neptune-Ascendant aspects in synastry because the Neptune person tend to project certain fantasy onto the Sun/Ascendant person so much and when the reality hits them, they get so disappointed that they will blame the Sun/Ascendant person for "fooling them". But really, it's an unconscious thing. The Sun/Ascendant person oftentimes don't even realise that they're being so idealised

The water signs are so sexualised

I find immature Capricorns and Taurus are the people who will stay in emotionally toxic environment as long as there's money. It could be a job, toxic household, or even relationship. Like i get it, everyone love money, but it can be so emotionally and mentally draining. When they mature, they will see money more as a tool that they get to use, instead of something that they hold on to so tightly that they are willing to sacrifice their own wellbeing for

People with North node in Libra truly need to learn to compromise because i've met a lot of them who burn a lot of bridges, only to later regret it. They are so competitive and defensive and very hard to see that others are not out to get them

Mars-North node synastry can be so healing where the Mars person will show the North node person what healthy boundaries should look like. However, there might be issue where the North node person can see how different they both are when they respond to conflict, which might make themselves feel so frustrated. Their instinct will tell them to do one thing, and the Mars person will do the exact opposite

Libra Ascendant in composite will make other people perceived them as the "It" couple. This is like "Ah, they have found their soulmate". Even if they break up, people generally will be reluctant to let go of this couple. This is like your family/friends will continue to ask you about that one ex even after you guys break up for years

Taurus/Cancer moon in composite is so cute because this is like "I'll cook for you" or "I'll wait for you at home" or "I've prepared this meal for you" or "Come here and let me comfort you" type of vibe. This feels so safe and healing, like coming home. This also make other people see them like "Person A is belong to person B no matter what, only they can truly understand each other"

Capricorn placement are the true stoics even without trying. They are so resilient

Neptune in 4th house composite is that type of couple who often imagine what their “dream home” would look like even before they get married, even if they don’t plan to take the relationship seriously in the beginning. When they’re together, both will see each other as someone that they can create their dream home with. An example for this would be that one might have express something about wanting to buy a house in X city, and the other will start to imagine what the house would look like, the neighbourhood, the room for the kids, etc. Both would love the idea of this. But that’s the thing with Neptune, it’s a mere idea. In reality, both might even struggle in making this dream home come true. It's hard to put together proper plan to achieve this "dream home". However, the couple will naturally feel at home with each other, emotionally and spiritually. That’s why it’s so easy for them to imagine creating this dream home together

I find that Virgo woman are a lot of ambitious than Virgo man. A lot more critical too. Most Virgo man that i’ve met are very chill

One of my favorite aspect in synastry and composite is Pallas-Moon. Both feel nurtured and the Moon person emotional needs is fulfilled

Vertex conjunct Chiron couple mostly are destined to meet in this lifetime to learn something really hard regarding love. If one happens to have the same sign in natal chart as in composite/synastry, this will effect this person more. For example, if you have Vertex-Chiron in Libra in composite or synastry with someone and it's just so happen that you also have Libra Chiron in your natal, it'll effect you more. I'm sorry but this is definitely not my fav aspect. The mental and emotional anguish that comes with this aspect is too much. If this also conjunct Juno, it'll be so hard to leave the other person. There'll be re-traumatization again and again. You will hate their guts so much and vice versa but refused to let go of each other.

#astrology #astro notes #astrology notes #astrology observations #astrology community #astro community

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yoonsenji · 6 months

Text

Summary: Their voice line!

"Oh! Her? She's mine"

Part 2 =

_____________________________

Genshin impact!

Character: Lyney, wanderer, tartaglia,

//Lyney★

• CHAT : Soulmate.

" Oh no I don't have any lover, yet... I do have someone in mind for a long time tho, it's just that I can't even breath properly around them when I want to confess. I do wonder if she ever think about me the same way I think about her "

• CHAT : When it rains.

" when rain pours like this she would used to run outside and dance in the rain. She would always insist that I join her, of course I accept! I could never reject the love of my life "

• CHAT : After the rain.

" Great, the weather is clear again... I wonder where she is right now, say, do you think she's thinking about me right now? I hope so to "

• CHAT : When it snow.

" Achoo! Huh...? I've heard that when you sneeze someone is thinking about you. Could it be her? Or... Is it you? "

• CHAT : Secret [ 1 ] .

" I love it when she hold onto me for dear life when anything bad happened. Teasing her about it only make things worst so I just hold her back, she reminds me of a kitten, do not tell her I say that tho. She would kill me "

• CHAT : Secret [ 2 ] .

" I always lie about my hand being cold just so I could hold her hand. She's to clueless to understand that I'm lying, although her hand is very warm/cold, now I'm starting to miss her again! "

• CHAT : Feelings [ Jealousy ] .

" I have to admit... I hate to see her close with anyone else, I know it's wrong to feel this way but... It's not very nice to get that close to someone who is already taken. I meant about to be taken "

• CHAT : Feelings [ Sad ] .

" Whenever I perform on stage I always look for her. Sometimes she wouldn't come to watch me performed, no magic trick feel magical without her "

• CHAT : Feelings [ Proud ] .

" Whenever she praise or complement me I feel like someone else... I get praise and complements alot but, her's... Just special "

• CHAT : You.

" She rarely talk to new people, I really have to force her sometimes to make new friends since I'm a bit worried about her. But, she's awesome I promise you! She's like an angel, someone who hide their beauty yet once you see their true form you'll be lovestruck, that happened to me. She's very caring when you get to know her better. "

• CHAT : Family.

" Family? Well I do often think about that. I'm good with kids so even if she isn't good with them atleast I am! Well, if she doesn't want kid I'll respect her decision, my love won't disappear just because of some rules she wish for me to follow. As a man it's my job to follow the rule she wish for me to follow "

• CHAT : To remembered.

" One time, she got very mad with me, she look very cute when she was mad but I'll never say that out loud. I did apologise but she continues to ignore me. Oh yeah! She did come back crying and apologize she look traumatized that day "

• CHAT : Excuse.

" I would purposely ruin my bow tie so she could fix it for me, whenever she got that close to me I just want to hold her and kiss her "

• CHAT : Private show.

" Sorry, but this show is for her only... No amount of mora can buy such special show, afterall a special show for a special person! "

• CHAT : Confession.

" I was thinking of something along the line of my speciality Magic! But, I never knew confessing about feeling was this hard until today... Say, would you say yes if I were to confess? "

• CHAT : Busy day.

" Today's a special day! I get to spend the whole day with my darling. Of course I have to look good! I don't care how she look but I on the other hand have to since she always look angelic no matter what and if I look bad I'll ruin her reputation! "

---------------->

Lynette -

" Lyney can't go a day without speaking about her in any way or form. At first I got really annoyed but thinki jing about it now... It's really sweet. They both clearly like eachother yet never confess about their feelings, I'm just confused at this point "

Freminet -

" I know nothing about her, she's completely a mystery to people like me. If you want to know anything about her go talk to Lyney... He'll be able to tell you her whole routine and even her whole life? "

Furina -

" Lyney fall first and fall harder for sure..! I just wanna see them together, it feel like one of those drama that took ages for the lead to kiss eachother... Boring! "

//Scaramouch★

• CHAT : Feeling.

" Feelings? Are you that dumb? No surprise, puppets do not fall in love, puppets do not have feelings... Why should I fall in love when I don't even have a heart, your way of thinking amused me everyday "

• CHAT : You.

" Annoying, dumb to the point it amused me, I only stay close to her cause she entertained me nothing else... I assure you, I am only using her, when I'm done I'll drop her without a second thought "

• CHAT : When it Rains.

" I wonder where that dumb girl is at, probably already soak by the rainfall. She really is dumb when I'm not around "

• CHAT : After rain.

" I could never understand why she act so childish after rain... All good thing must come to end but, it's not that nice to see her happiness fade away... What?! No I meant that I just hate it when her happiness doesn't last long since the longer you're happy the despair last longer! "

• CHAT : His Hat.

" Why should I let you, a dirty human touch my hat... I only let her touch my hat because she isn't as dirty as you are. Quit speaking back to me, if you know what's good for you you'll shut your mouth right now "

• CHAT : Special treatment.

" So...? I let her touch me cause I allow her to, it's call concent. Special treatment? Ok? if a mortal can have favourite why can't I have one? Go cry about it "

• CHAT : Passing time.

" Usually, I spend more time with her than I'll ever spend with anyone else. She managed to entertain me in the dumbest way ever, talking about her I really miss causing arson with her. I'm just joking but it's a good suggestion tho "

• CHAT : Feelings ( Jealousy ).

" Close, too close Don't you think? Exactly... If I could that guy head would already poof... Gone. Too bad I'm not in the mood to run from consequences, although it would be fun to mess around for a bit "

• CHAT : Remember.

" Don't put anything there, I'll ruin your life if you move a single things from there. Oh, and your so called food... Is not how she like her food, make it again or else I'll feed you to the tiger "

• CHAT : Smile.

" Heh, smile...? For what? I assure you I won't smile at pointless things, the only person who get to see me smile is her, why? Cause I say so, stop asking so much questions "

• CHAT : Inazuma.

" that place... The only good memory I have there is when I met her, she haven't leave nor betrayed me, I wonder how long it'll take for her to understand that I'm a bad person "

• CHAT : Nightmare.

" I have dreamt about her leaving me before, It'll be such a shame if she actually leave me. But, it's been years now, pointlessly following me like a dog, I doubt she'll leave me anytime soon "

---------------->

Nahida-

" Oh her! Such lively and loyal person, he never reject any request as long as she's involved! I could tell that he is deeply I love, I mean who wouldn't? She have been with him since day one never leaving him... They're perfect for eachother "

Raiden-

" who? Oh her... I could never forget her of course. She left me for that thing she have only known for how much not as long as we know eachother... She was loyal and passionate about anything she set her mind to, only for that thing to somehow steal my treasure, people like her are indeed rare to find. If you find one never let them go never "

Tartaglia-

" her? Ever since he disappeared so did she. She was always around him or he was always around her, either way I could tell that he act different towards her, alot nicer, act more calmly he even lower down his guard. I don't really know much about her but if she can keep him in check than she sure is something "

//Tartaglia★

• CHAT : You.

" Well, she play very dirty while fighting. I still admire her, especially when she's covered with blood she look very hot. Although I have to force her to spend more time with me, I won't leave her alone until I get rid of this feeling "

•CHAT : Feeling.

" The feeling I harbour for her is quite unique, she's way more softer and sweeter if the other harbinger are gone. My heart have been calling out her name alot and by alot I meant from day to night even in my dream. Traveller if you encounter her told her that I kiss her already "

• CHAT : Fatui.

" I only enjoy meeting the other harbinger because she'll be there patiently waiting for me, unlike the other harbinger she is rarely busy doing something. Maybe because she always drop her task as soon as I call I hope so to... But that isn't the case unfortunately, she just ignore all her task and enjoy her life "

• CHAT : Loyalty.

" I'm very loyal to the Tsaritsa, although I can't say the same for her. While other harbinger fear or respect or pretend to she's just unhinged, if she say no nothing can move her decision the Tsaritsa herself have scold her and lecture her like a kid. I have a feeling those two have deeper connection "

• CHAT : When it Rains.

" I remember she once told me while it was raining just like this that she wish to die as soon as possible. I'm worried about her, ever since that day I try my best to always be by her side although it's such a difficult task, if you ever got to see her please do look after her as well "

• CHAT : After rain.

" The rain have stop... Oh comrade, I remember something important. After rain she always confined inside instead of showing herself to the sun, weird but it's cute... Although I really want her to get out more often "

• CHAT : Strength.

" Well if I was to compare our strength together I'm alot stronger, she's a higher rank cause of intelligence and her dirty tricks, even when I have a combat with her she always win using some dirty tricks against me "

• CHAT : Family.

" My brother trucer like her alot when I say alot I meant it... It's a bit worrisome on my side since I do not which to have anymore rival, although my parents sure love her... I'm sure in the future that she'll be mine "

• CHAT : Feelings ( jealousy).

" ...well, she isn't found of people yet sometimes doesn't say anything when others are being too.. touchy, that's when I step in to help her out. Sometimes I have to speak for her since she's clearly uncomfortable but to busy to waste her energy, really want to slice then in half but... I prefer not to be messy around her "

• CHAT : Snow.

" Not as cold as my homeland is but I for sure would like to cuddle with her "

• CHAT : Tricks.

" In order to accomplish her duties she always used other for her sake... Well, I am indeed includ to that list of toy but I'm the only one she gives reward after... And spend most time with so...? I'm more of a personal helper of hers than a toy "

• CHAT : Reward.

" As my reward she always give me a peek on the cheek... She did say that she'll actually kiss me if I keep doing such good job! I just know that I'll earn that kiss one day after all... I'm her favourite, am I wrong? "

• CHAT : Private time.

" Comrade promise not to tell anyone else? Whenever it's cold she would cuddle me close... I really miss those days for sure, but in the morning she would be gone and I'll never see her again for like months "

-------------->

Zhongli-

" Such a weird lady she is... Childe is stuck to her like a moth following a devine light, although she isn't the best talker nor good at expressing herself, her charm is really strong tho. I could tell her and childe have deep connection "

Wandere-

" Her? Oh I remember her, only listening to herself and no one else, quite brave if I have to say so myself... She's just a suck up brat who only listen to herself no one else matter, the world revolves around her... Won't be surprised if she was only using childe for her own entertainment "

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fatesundress · 1 year

Text

⭑ observations. tom riddle x reader

part ii here.

summary. you've been going to hogwarts for four months, and find this whole school-wide obsession with tom riddle a little bit ridiculous, and a little bit contrived. surely not all the rumours are true...

tags. smut (minors dni -_-), fem anatomy, fingering, reader who is soooo in denial, trying to worm into tom's brain like a parasite and failing miserably (me projecting), i think reader is implied to either be short or tom is implied to be tall, ooc tom because i am so far from the belief that he would ever just spontaneously hook up with someone but… it is what it is.

note. this is my first post so support is much appreciated!! god forgive me, i've never written smut in my life, and it's safe to assume any smut i write within hogwarts is a university au — these people are all 18+ tyvm. also, i tried my best to make reader fairly neutral, but it's late, and if i've fumbled over some description bc i'm sleepy i shall fix it in the morning ♡

word count. 5.1k

Your first observation is that nobody has Tom Riddle quite right.

He’s beautiful, yes (obvious, repetitive, shallow), and undeniably intelligent (being paired with him in Potions has proved that in a matter of weeks), untouchable (this one is a bit interesting), and, above all, unusual. The latter you like the most. It makes you feel unabashedly exceptional in all the very unexceptional gossip about him. No one ever uses that word to describe him. A rarity of charisma and charm — austere, refined, and clinically polite. Unusual has a negative curve to it that most people don’t attach to the elegant litheness of Tom Riddle, but your observations cannot be stated without the word.

It’s prompted and peddled by Selwyn’s much-too-enthusiastic vehemence in the wake of your first.

You narrow your eyes at her and say it again, no less certain than the first time. “Tom Riddle has not had sex with half the school.”

It’s a bit of a jump. Some necessary context is removed.

Riddle, once more, rarity of charisma and charm and austere blah blah blah, has been rumoured since you arrived this year from your last school to be some silent conqueror, oh-so nimble with his hands and nimbler even with his other appendages, and you — you’ve only been here four months and it’s laughable how many people believe it.

Backtrack to untouchable (this one everyone agrees is a primary characteristic of Tom Riddle, there’s no debate there) and the reason you find it interesting. Untouchable doesn’t exactly work if everyone in the bloody castle has been touching him this whole time. And it’s not as if he could hide it, not as if people wouldn’t be giddy to tell their friends of their exploits with the beautiful, revered Head Boy. And such exploits would be whispers among the halls in a matter of hours. You’ve considered this, with almost scientific determination, and it’s impossible. Tom studies all day, and when he isn’t studying he’s corralling Slytherin first-years away from forbidden corridors, attending to Dippet’s newest errand, escorting third-years to Hogsmeade, dining with the Slug Club, and �� point is, someone would have noticed by now if he was disappearing into broom closets with a new lay every weekend.

But Selwyn shakes her head, because this rumour is such an integral part of Tom’s allure. He is, somehow, both untouchable and a master at touch. Distant until he isn’t, and then he can break you apart with practised, perfect hands. It’s all very mythical.

“Look,” she says, “maybe if I’d only been here four months, I’d think so too, but everyone else knows—”

“Maybe it’s because I’ve only been here four months that I have the objectivity to recognize how ridiculous you all are. He’s not a god, Selwyn, he’s a scholar, and an obsessed one at that — has it ever actually occurred to you he might not have had sex at all?”

This, now, is sacrilege.

Selwyn gapes at you, and you shake your head in surrender before you burst out laughing at how offended she looks. “Fine, whatever. Consider the matter dropped. I give up.”

You don’t really give up. It’s very fun research.

Your second observation is that unusual is not an apt enough word for Tom, and maybe you don’t possess the vocabulary to think of one that is.

You’re in the Restricted Section. This is unrelated to your Tom research, and perfectly sanctioned, with a key granted by the librarian who you feel sorry to admit you have not remembered the name of, and the library, by all means, is still open. It’s a late Thursday night, but not past curfew. You’re there with a study partner you rather wish you weren’t — Gregory Godefrey, Gryffindor (the alliteration is nauseating), and the only half-decent fellow in your Ancient Runes class, but not especially bright. You feel more like his tutor than his partner. In short, the regular books on the topic you’re writing your end-of-term essay on are slim pickings, and thus — Restricted Section.

“So,” you say, “the scriptures might look the same, but they’re written in vastly different time periods, so the meaning has changed. If you were to charge a spell with one of Ashe’s runes now, there’s almost no doubt you’d get a completely different result.”

“I don’t get it,” Godefrey grumbles sleepily into his sleeve. “How’s anyone meant to use runes if they can just change like that?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Any magic can change, Godefrey. Half of the stuff we learn is based on intention and skill. Uagadou barely even uses wands — all of this is arbitrary.”

“My head hurts.”

“Then… just… just go to bed. I’ll finish up here and we’ll try again on the weekend.”

He grins with heavy eyes, lugging his bag over his shoulder and leaving you a packet of sherbet lemons you bitterly wish he’d pulled out sooner. “Wicked — you’re the best. See’ya.”

“See you…” you mumble, unwrapping one and popping it in your mouth.

You don’t stay for long, twirling the key to the Restricted Section around your finger as you tuck your books back into their shelves.

“It’s ten past curfew,” says a voice from behind you, all cool, measured authority, and you nearly collapse.

You stare up from where you’re grabbing onto your knees for balance, your heart halfway out of your chest.

Tom Riddle is there, his Head Boy badge somehow still glittering in the dim light of the library, and it’s only by the half-smile quirking at his lips that you can detect his words weren’t some sort of threat.

“Right, thanks.” You gather your breath. “I was just leaving.”

“Pity about Godefrey.”

You blink. Having worked with Tom in Potions since September, you’ve become perfectly adjusted to speaking to him… only about Potions. He indulges in polite small talk, he smiles freely, but your distance from him is the same as it is with everyone else, if only for the fact that, you suppose, you aren’t actively pursuing anything closer.

Oh. That is interesting — would he be so easily intrigued? It’s a bit cliché, but you suppose he is too.

You’re making an awful lot of assumptions from the words ‘pity about Godefrey,’ and then, you don’t actually have a damn clue what Tom could mean by that.

“Sorry?” you ask.

“Godefrey,” he repeats. “I assume you’re being made to tutor him.”

Right. He must have seen him on his way here. That would make sense.

“No, actually. It’s entirely voluntary — he’s my study partner for Ancient Runes.”

His chin lifts in some nearly imperceptible way, smiling still, and you know he’s a polished thing, an unusual thing, but it reads as an especially fake smile then. “Ah.”

… Oooookay?

“Well —” you start, a mechanical smile of your own forming — “curfew, then.”

The charm fixes onto his face like a damn ornament. You want to flick it away with your finger. “Of course. I’ll see you in Potions?”

You nod, leaving the key behind the librarian’s desk as you slink awkwardly away. Into the corridor. Off to bed. Yet another note to scrawl on the enigma of Tom Riddle.

You see him again first thing in the morning. You’re yawning into the archway of Slughorn’s stuffy classroom, eager to dump your bag over your table and empty the many contents necessary for today’s lesson.

There’s one girl, the oldest of the Lestranges, who glares daggers into the back of your head every class. Tom is, as always, nonplussed, asking you about your morning as you both prepare your phials and ingredients. You can’t help but shake your head at him this once, a bemused smile on your lips as you glance between him and the Lestrange girl.

“Have I offended her somehow, or is it just that I’m paired with you?”

He laughs under his breath. “I daresay that is the offense.”

You can’t help it. You’re mumbling to yourself in amazement at the bizarre, borderline cultish devotion this school has to Tom Riddle. “Unattainable commodity that you are, Riddle…”

“Well," he begins, his smile small but his voice amused, “I hope you don’t think of me as quite that far outside your grasp."

You freeze.

Are you — have you missed something? Has your casual (really, very casual and not at all unwarranted or peculiar) research for the sake of dispelling Selwyn’s obsession skewed your memory of Tom? Has he always said things like this to you? Have you always read into them like this?

One of his eyebrows rises, and it might be his notorious flattery — but if so, he makes it sound like an obvious truth, and you stammer over the jar of foxglove in your hand. Then you look away, unscrew it, do well not to put too much weight on his words.

“Hm. I have no need for you to be within it, Riddle." You say it with all nonchalance you can muster. To spit it at him in some aggressive dismissal would be to treat it like a big thing.

It isn’t a big thing. He’s talking to you like he talks to everyone else.

But you catch the barest flicker of disappointment on his face, a flash of something that might even be annoyance. Then, though, it’s gone, and he’s back to that same unshakable, confident smirk.

As the lesson proceeds, he’s once again the sharpest thing in the room.

You watch for him in the library that weekend, a bit distracted while you and Godefrey study. Without your guidance, there isn’t much studying occurring at all. Godefrey is sort of skimming the pages of a textbook, yawning, as always, like he’s never had a good night’s sleep in his life, and you’re suckling sherbert lemons until the roof of your mouth feels raw.

“What was it you said about Calarook’s Method?”

Your eyes snap from the empty doorway to Godefrey’s face. “Huh?”

“Calarook’s Method.”

“Oh.” You sink boredly into your seat, twirling your quill between your fingers. “It revolutionised the usage of runes globally. She incorporated — um — a much simpler means of translating the scriptures for different methods of magic.”

“Ohhhh, I remember now. Did you write that down?”

“Yes, Godefrey, I wrote it down.”

The final hour before curfew dwells agonisingly longer than it should. It feels like three, at least, until you’re packing your things and bidding Godefrey goodnight, tired legs dragging you down the corridors.

And then you straighten. You stand tall. (You’re absolutely normal about the sight before you.)

Tom smiles at you as he turns the corridor to approach.

“On patrol?” you ask in a friendly tone.

You’re… friends, right? Being someone’s Potions partner for four months qualifies as some degree of friendship, does it not? After all, he did say not to think of him as too far outside your grasp. That was a line if you’d ever heard one, but — you could be Tom’s friend the way everyone is his friend: wholly detached until you were needed.

“Leaving detention,” he answers with a timbre to match.

Your eyebrows raise at that.

“Leaving the second-years I watched in detention, I should say.”

You shake your head. “I should have known.”

“And you?”

“Studying again.”

“Ancient Runes?”

“Mhm.”

“...With Godefrey?”

“That is the concept of a recurrent study partner, yes. It’s recurrent.”

He doesn’t look very much like he appreciates your sarcasm.

“So, then,” you mutter, clearing your throat. “Curfew, I suppose.”

“You performed well in Potions today,” he says after you. It feels like the sort of thing someone says when they don’t want someone to walk away.

You bite your cheek between your teeth — such assumptions will get the better of you. Such assumptions will lead you down a path of crude, obsessive analysis (though you suppose you’ve been doing that all this time, haven’t you?) where you think, in some unspooling knitwork, that there are really only a select few reasons he could want such a thing. Your mind draws to the irresponsible conclusion, as he walks toward you again, a new glint in his eyes, that it’s exactly the sort of thing someone says before rumour has it they disappear into the nearest broom closet with the one they approach. This, you’ve decided an observation ago, Tom Riddle does not do.

“Thank you,” you say carefully. “So did you.”

“We make for a good pair, don’t you think?”

Crude, obsessive analysis. “Slughorn certainly does.”

“And I am asking you.”

He stops a respectable, inviting space before you. His weekend attire is a grey jumper and black slacks, his dark hair in its regular, pristine waves, hands laced behind his back. Everything about him is a request to be met, and not to step forward and close the distance himself. Close the distance, pristine waves, inviting space — you’ve lost your damn mind. You sound like Selwyn. The sugar of a whole packet of sherbet lemons has rendered you imbecilic. You’ll be off to bed, then — sleep this absurdity off.

“Of course, Tom,” you say with a polite smile. “It’d be hard to disagree with the grades I get in that class.” You grab onto your bag to have something to do with your hands, to perhaps signify you’ll be making your exit now.

He seems a bit amused to have to contort himself through the specifics of his meaning. “I was referring to our… rapport.”

“Rapport?”

“We work well together. We communicate efficiently.”

We communicate efficiently? Damn if you couldn’t suddenly make sense of the rumour he’d be applying for the DADA post in the future — that one was definitely true.

“Yes, we do.”

He steps closer. “And I remain far outside your grasp.”

You blink, and there’s a stark, sinking feeling as your eyes drift over the unmarred ivory of his skin, his jaw, his throat, his — no, absolutely not his hands — and you let yourself wonder for the first time if the rumours, albeit exaggerated, have even a shred of truth to them. One exploit, perhaps, to satisfy his endless curiosity. Something academic, like — oh, God, like the way you’ve been studying him for weeks. His hands carving a path down someone’s body to etch it in his memory, another skill added to his arsenal, a new way to work his fingers without a wand, a new way to work his mouth without a word.

It’s only a moment that you wonder it. Some flash of pictures in your head. It is, nonetheless, a moment far too long, and one you don’t know that you can return from.

Tom looks at you from under his eyelashes with an expression that suggests he's the only one in on a very funny joke, and the air is… different. Thick like the Potions room but in a way that’s entirely unfamiliar, not cloudy with the steam of cauldrons but hazy with the proximity of him, cologne and quill ink and something you can’t catch because you’re trying too hard to breathe it all in at once.

But he steps forward again, and seems to say in the slow way he moves, that if you’ll let him, he'll place a hand on your shoulder, and if you’ll allow that — well — then he'll move that hand up to gently frame your cheek. And then, and you no longer consider yourself at all versed in the realm of Tom Riddle, but you think you know what’ll come next.

You allow all of it. You know very well in advance you’re going to allow all of it.

And still, like it’s a surprise, you shiver at the feeling of his hand on your cheek, at the gleaming, certain look in his eyes. Your gaze flickers to his lips for just a second (a fleeting, tiny second you pray fruitlessly he doesn't notice) but his lips curl into the barest of smiles. Something so like him, small but unrestrained, like it never had any hope of growing bigger, but then — you’ve seen the way he grins at you sometimes when you say something stupid in class — you know he’s capable.

“You know what I'm going to do, I assume," he says quietly. It's not a question, per se — more of a statement, and he keeps his eyes fixed firmly on yours as he says it. He's so close you can feel the warmth of his breath. And then he leans in so slightly it might be imperceptible if you weren’t staring, holding your damn breath. “Are you going to let me?"

“I..." You're humiliated to find you are actually struggling to speak. His lips are so close to yours you can feel the ghost of them, can imagine what they might feel like on you. Your mouth is very dry. “We’re… friends, right?”

His voice only wavers for a moment, even as his lips inch ever closer to yours. His voice is tauntingly low, and there's an intimate sort of smile there, a chastising, humorous gleam to his eyes. “Friends," he breathes, and then his lips do close that short distance, and you feel the barest trace of his mouth against yours — his lips, soft and supple against your skin. A moment's kiss. Gone as quickly as it came. “Should we be friends?”

You gape at him, breathing far too heavily for such a chaste kiss, and you imagine your eyes are blown wide, and you lick your lips for a reminder of his taste but it isn't enough. You don't think before standing on your toes to find his lips again. Of course, Tom is stood impeccably straight, his chin almost pointedly jutted so that he can look down at you, and you actually — it's horribly embarrassing — you groan, or whine, or make some sound of blatant discontent at the fact that your kiss doesn’t reach him.

To his credit, his laugh is a very small one. Had it been the other way around you would have been far less forgiving. “I suppose the answer is no, then?" he says, with the implication that the next move might be yours.

“Tom," you as good as hiss (really very foolish of you to use the word forgiving to describe Tom Riddle), “you're being... you're being mean." And you refuse to make the first effort again, even though you probably appear to be a train wreck, your chest is heaving, and you... you want him.

“Am I?" he asks, and he tilts his head to the other side, almost as if to get a better look at you. “How so?" You think he's enjoying himself far too much. But he remains where he is: close enough for you to reach him if you would just yank him toward you and be done with it, and far enough away that you can't take that step without giving him the win.

You stare at him for a long moment, and then with teeth gritted so tight you might chip one, turn to walk away. Tom makes some very hollow, annoyed sound at your stubbornness, and thank god you feel him behind you: soft, lulling, not so immovable as you.

You stop. His fingers brush your hair to the side. His mouth hovers over the skin of your neck. You shudder.

“Tom..." you sigh, half-exasperated, half-sighed, half-surrendered, but he doesn't answer or stop or do so much as acknowledge your mumbling. He only presses forward, until his breath is right by your ear and his lips, soft, gentle, are against the junction of your exposed neck, and you feel his mouth, the gentle pressure of his lips against your skin... so tender, so light that it doesn’t feel at all like something merciful.

It feels singularly, purposefully cruel.

Your third observation (if you can manage the thought) is that Tom is driven by your reactions. Every little mewl, every shudder, every gasp, he wants more of. He wants whatever you're willing to give him, and you suspect it wouldn’t be hard for him to take it all. Every movement of his hands, his mouth, his — oh, oh no — his tongue, abide by whatever you respond to most. He draws in patterns. He stops. Appreciates the speed of your pulse on the curve of your throat for a moment and then tastes it again. It doesn't seem like he particularly cares what he gets out of it. The intrigue for him is having the proximity (he greatly enjoys that you’ve allowed him it) and capacity (that, you think, he’s always had) to make you fall apart.

He's spinning you then, so you're pressed facing the wall, his chest against your back, and the way he whispers against your skin makes you shiver. You dare to think he feels it, his chest heaving against your back, his breath warm and steady by your ear. And as he kisses you you can't help but imagine what might happen if he were just a few inches lower, if he were to sink to his knees, kissing the soft flesh of your chest, and down, and down, and down…

Your eyes flutter closed, and it's clear you like what he's doing by the sound that escapes you — something loud enough for him to stifle your mouth with his palm. Perhaps a little too much. Perhaps you’ll be embarrassed about it later. But right now his tongue is brushing against your skin again, and there’s something very dizzying and hot that starts with his mouth on your neck and works its way down until it's a challenge just to stay standing. You wonder if he can tell just how weak in the knees you are right now, whether that only makes him push forward, and —

And that must be it. He must know, because you think you're trying to say something but you can't form the words, and he has to feel the reverberations with his teeth bracketing little violets on your neck, he must feel the way your legs buckle, how you're held up only by the weight of him behind you.

He must know.

He pushes forward, his fingers bury in your hair, and he pulls your head back slowly — not necessarily to expose you further, but to better see your face. Your eyes lock with his over your shoulder, and there's that hunger there, lips swollen with the print of you... and his voice, when he speaks, is as if he's only barely stopping himself. “Do you want me to stop?"

You shake your head before you think he’s actually finished the question, swallowing the cotton-dry feeling in your throat. No, no — him stopping is the very last thing you want — you feel entirely rational and not at all melodramatic in saying you might just die if he stops. You want more, and he's looking at you like that’s the only thing he’s ever wanted.

He bites down gently on your neck, and you gasp as your knees finally go out from under you (you almost think he planned for this with how quickly he catches you), and you wonder if he'll do something you can't bear; if you'll be reduced to a mewling, drooling mess before he's finished with you.

Your fourth observation — which really is the last one you can muster before it starts to melt into something else — is that you make him human in the only way he can understand: panting into him, fingers in his skin, white-hot and damp at the centre of his obsession. The object of his affection. You make him understand something more singular than ambition.

Want.

And then his spare hand is dipping past your skirts, and you dig your fingers into his wrist — the combination of the hardness pressed against your back, his hands marking a path to forbidden territory, his finger curling into your mouth as his lips continue their assault on your neck — it's too much. It’s deliriously, disastrously not enough. Your vision is starting to blur.

His fingers stop at the curve where your thighs part and you bite gently down on him to quiet the noise that wants to escape you. He hums against your throat, continuing to kiss and lick and bruise you. You're dazedly aware of the cool air on your thighs as your skirts halo your waist, the heat inside, the shudder as his fingers find your core, and carefully begin to circle you. You feel self-consumed, immolated, devoured and spat out again. You feel like you're still falling, and Tom is the only force that keeps you standing.

He draws in slow, expert patterns — and you think, nonsensically, somewhere very distant where you still have sense, that they can’t be expert, he must have read something or observed some — oh. He’s pushing the thin fabric aside until his fingers are pressed directly against your flesh, and he makes a satisfied noise in the back of his throat as the evidence of how much you need this soaks his fingers, as they begin to sink in without resistance. Oh. Right. You don’t remember exactly what you were saying.

You gasp at the feeling of having him inside when they finally curl into you.

His finger is pulled from your mouth with a small pop, and you can’t even really muster the capacity to be embarrassed by the lewd, wet sound of it. He watches you over your shoulder, at his fingers vanished between your legs, at the drool clinging to the digit he’d quieted you with. He’s smiling into your neck now, proud and grateful all the same.

“Mine,” you think he murmurs, but it’s more something you feel than hear, some vague, hazy consonants pressed to your throat. It would be very like him, so you decide that yes, that’s probably what he said. And there’s something funny about it — the idea of being his — about what it means for him to want you so badly that he says it out loud. It feels a little bit like he’s yours, too.

Tom’s breathing is harsh, the fingers inside you moving as if they have a will of their own. Every muscle in your body constricts and squeezes around them; every cell, every neuron, comes roaring to life; and you’re fucked. You’re so completely fucked. His teeth scrape against you again, wholeheartedly pleased. This is what he wanted to see — the utter loss of you — when you are nothing but sensation, barely aware of your limbs as they slump against him. Tom is it; Tom is the only thing you can think of.

Tom is, inexplicably, upsettingly good at this.

“Look at you," he says softly. And his touch changes; it becomes slower, more deliberate and careful.

You’re trembling hopelessly. The way you coil and collapse under his touch is just further encouragement. He doesn't even bother to speak anymore, only pants, his eyes half-lidded, his lips swollen and slick when they attach to your throat again. Your whole body is on fire, and he's the one setting you alight — there is not a single inch of you that is not alive with the feeling of him, and you can barely breathe through the slow, heavy rush of it.

You think you cry at the divine curve of his fingers carving inside you, slow and soft and then intense — when you grip his arm for more friction, and one of his hands is coming up to wipe a tear away but the feeling flares in your abdomen and you're only half aware of it, really — you think your eyes have rolled back. You think you've gone somewhere else.

He keeps you just on the precipice, just shy of losing control, just far enough to leave you craving for more.

“To—Tom," you sob, gasps cleaving his name in two — you're on the brink of something incomprehensible, building inside you to something you can't help but think is about to shatter, your eyes clenching shut as you grip him so hard you're certain your fingers will leave marks. “I'm gonna—"

“I know," he breathes against your neck, hands running a familiar path along your body; he's so very, very proud that he's made you like this. He just barely bites into the spot above your collar, curls his fingers, and then you’re falling — something unfurls inside you and can’t be collected, something hot and depthless that your hands can’t clutch at from where they’re clinging so desperately to him — and you think, coming down from it with trembling, debilitating ecstasy, that he looks very much like he’d be proud to make you like this over and over again.

You're flattened, and that triumph in his eyes — the absolute satisfaction of seeing you this way, of knowing that that he's the one that did it to you — that feeling fills your mind and makes you collapse even more, makes you want to melt and flow into liquid at his feet; to give in, do whatever he says, even if all he says is just be like this for him.

He slowly removes his fingers as you come down, and your eyes are blinking for focus when he turns you around, his thumb coming up to brush over your bottom lip and you sigh at the taste of yourself as he pushes it inside your mouth. His other hand brushes away the damp, stray hairs that have fallen across your face, almost reverently, a silent worship as he takes you in, appreciates everything you just gave him.

He smiles gently at your half-blinking, half-vacant expression, his thumb still in your mouth; he watches you for a long moment in silence. His eyes are heavy-lidded and he's got a small quirk at the corner of his mouth as he pulls his thumb away and swipes it once more over your lip.

You're still not quite sure you can find words. Still not sure they'd form right as your tongue darts over the residue of Tom's finger and you flush impossibly hotter at the feeling of your own arousal on your mouth. Tom fixes your hair behind your ears and it doesn't seem like he's ready to stop taking you in in this state — your hair wild, lips swollen, throat bruised and dress askew — and he leans in so tenderly it startles you, pressing a faint, almost imperceptible kiss to your forehead.

“Tell Godefrey he’ll be needing a new study partner. I think you’ll find yourself committed elsewhere." And with that he turns on his heel, perfectly composed, and disappears into the darkness of the midnight corridor.

Oh God, you think, and you’re too stunned to even react as you watch him vanish. It takes you a moment before you regain your senses, and you can only just manage to sputter out a breathless, miserable sigh into the air before you.

You are so completely, utterly fucked.

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obsessedwithalastor · 1 month

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「 When Vox & Lucifer forgets your birthday 」

WARNINGS : VALENTINO in Vox's part), Angst to Comfort fix, You & Velvette are best friends (sorry to those who dislike her), GN!reader, Reader calls herself a burden :[ , use of y/n, mention of h/c,e/c,f/c (H/c ➭ hair colour E/c ➭ eye colour F/c ➭ favourite colour), swearing, nicknames , NOT PROOFREAD!!

[A/n : I didn't expect Vox's to be so long]

Green colour text is you speaking or thinking example "hi"

Vox :

You yawned before rubbing your eyes, slowly awaking from your slumber, you turned to the side hoping your lover, Vox was in bed with you to cuddle but you were met with your lover's side of the bed cold & nicely made. Of course Vox was probably already awake and at work, you were hoping he would make an exception today because it was your birthday! However, that didn't seem to be true. You didn't let that brings you down tho, maybe he was making you your favorite breakfast so you could have breakfast in bed? You brushed it off before deciding to go freshen up and take a relaxing hot bath to take your mind off Vox.

You made your way to the bathroom, turning on the water to the temperature of your liking before striping and getting into the bathtub

After you finish taking a shower

You wrapped your body in your (f/c) robe before making your way into your shared room to get changed into your favourite outfit, Ouji fashion (or any style to your liking) ! You walked out of your room, expecting to see Vox making you your favourite breakfast but to your disappointment, he wasn't.

That was when it hit you...he had forgotten that it was your birthday. You couldn't blame him though he is a busy man working everyday on his company, Voxtek. He worked everyday from 8-12 hours it probably just slipped from his mind but you couldn't help but feel disappointed.

You made yourself your favourite breakfast, eating it slowly while thinking about how Vox had forgotten your birthday. You lost your appetite from thinking about it so much, you had placed the remaining of your favorite breakfast in the fridge.

You dragged yourself to your bedroom before slamming the door behind you. You couldn't help but wallow in self pity, tears running down your face. You soon fell asleep from crying.

You jolted awake from Velvette barging into your room shouting "Wake up girl ! It's your birthday why are you staying in your room like a depressed chick? Also why are you crying?! You aren't supposed to be sad on such a big event !" Velvette was holding a (f/c) present in one of her arm. She sat you up before handing you the present.

"What got you crying on your big day (y/n)?" velvette asked. "I..V-Vox forgot about my birthday! I c-couldnt help but feel upset and disappointed and started crying" you stuttered, chocking on your tears.

"Oh that bitch! How could he forget such an big event to you? His such an idiot. Why don't you open your present from me and we could go shopping to cheer you up! Sound like fun?" Velvette asked. You nodded before opening your present, inside was your favourite style of clothing in your (f/c) with matching shoes, a handbag & accessories.

"Velvette I love you so much I swear to Lucifer himself,plantonically obviously but you get what I mean! Also that plan sounds like absolute fun let's go!"

On yours and Velvette way out, you two bumped into Valentino,he wished you a happy birthday before going to his studio. Even Valentino remember and you barely even talk to him (or like him for that matter) and Vox, your lover didn't even remember it was good to say that you were pissed.

After you and Velvette came back from shopping, hands full with tons of bags full of your favourite stuff

"Feeling better dear?" Velvette asked putting down the bags of your favourite stuff on the floor of your shared bedroom with Vox. "With you taking me out to buy my favourite things? Hell yea!"

It was good to say that after Velvette left, you placed the stuff you bought neatly in your shared cabinet before placing a letter on the door reading : fuck off Vox, sleep on the couch today. You had placed some pillows and blankets on the sofa outside for Vox. You snuggled into bed before dozing off.

After awhile, Vox came back from work. He thought it was odd that there was pillows and blankets on the sofa but thought nothing of it until he say the note on your shared bedroom door.

He threw a silent tantrum, stomping his feet around. Why did he had to sleep on the couch for ‘no apparent reason???' He didn't even know what he did to deserve his kisses and cuddle session with his beloved lover taken away especially after a long day at work! However, he didn't want to make you more pissed so he slept on the couch like how you wanted him too. He decided, his going to visit Velvette first thing tomorrow morning. He knew you and Velvette was best friends and you told her everything.

It was good to know that the first thing Vox did after waking up was grumpily storming to Velvette's studio demanding why you made him sleep on the couch.

Vox slammed open the door that lead to Velvette's studio,pretty sure if he or Valentino did that one more time the door would fly off their hinges."VEL! DO YOU KNOW WHY THE FUCK DID Y/N MAKE ME SLEEP ON THE COUCH. IF YOU DO TELL ME WHY! " Screamed Vox."WHAT IS WITH YOU AND VAL WITH SLAMMING DOORS. Also yes I do their my best friend why would they not tell me. You're fucking stupid Vox I swear to Lucifer. Did you forget it's y/n birthday yesterday?? They was wallowing in self pity and cried themselves to sleep before I made their day better"

That was when it hit him "IT W—ZZT–WAS Y/N'S BIRTHDAY YESTERDAY? FFFUU-HUHHHH-UCKKK" Vox slammed the door behind him ("STOP SLAMMING MY FUCKING DOOR" -Velvette) as he ran to your shared room, banging on the door apologizing to you and promising to make up for it.

"Leave me alone.." you mumbled "Y/n my doll, please open the door. I'll make it up to you I promise darling." Vox said. He had cancelled everything he had ongoing and in plan for that week. You thought about it before opening the door, seeing Vox. Vox immediately hugged you and kept apologizing profusely, you two spent the rest of the night shopping, having a fancy date at Hell's fanciest restaurant.

He spoiled you with cuddles, gifts and basically anything you wanted to make up for forgetting your birthday!

Lucifer :

Lucifer was a VERYY busy man, I mean he is the king of hell himself! Of course his day is filled with meetings and other stuff.

By the time you woke up Lucifer had long gone off to work,attending meetings,doing paperwork and alot of others but for the whole day he couldn't shake off the feeling that he is forgetting something very important. No matter how many times he checked his schedule,his calander he couldn't seem to remember what he had forgotten.

when you woke up you had realized the obvious absences of lucifer..you lay in bed,trying to cheer yourself up but failing miserably. You knew and understood he was a busy man with tons of errands he needed to run but you couldn't help but feel sad and abit enraged that he had forgotten such an big event like your birthday after he promised he would never forget it.

He had been running from place to place,having meetings all around pentagram city. He couldn't figure out what he had forgotten until he finally reached home at night and saw you,thats when he remember what he had forgotten.. it was your birthday who could he forget??

"ducky..im sosoosososoosososos sorry! It completly slipped my mind,you're way more important then those stupid errands and meeting. Ill make it up to you duckling!"

In the end it was a happy ending with you two cuddling in bed and having an amazing time the day after to 'repay' that he had forgotten your birthday

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel velvette #vox fluff #vox x you #vox x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #lucifer fluff

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periprose · 12 days

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Priestess | Sayyadina

Faith is falling in Sietch Tabr. Reverend Mother Ramallo has a solution– marrying Naib Stilgar to one of the Sayyadina, in order to greater connect the people and the spiritual way, and enable Lisan Al Gaib’s journey to freedom, when he appears. This is your story as the chosen priestess.

Genre: arranged marriage to lovers, fluff, smut, (oral, piv, 18+) angst, lots of sci-fi Dune book references

Word count: 9.8k

Fremen Dictionary:

Sayyadina: Lower ranking priestess(es) who have not yet drank the Water of Life

Naib: Leader of a Sietch

Sietch: Cave/place of assembly by the Fremen

Sahar: Reader’s Sietch Name

Biet: Reader’s Fremen Name

Stilgar climbs up the rocky terrain, his fingers adeptly finding well-known grooves in the stone as he lifts himself to the absolute top of the cliff.

He needs some time to think over his conversation with Ramallo, Sietch Tabr’s Reverend Mother, before he heads back to the Sietch. Stilgar is not one to stay away from his people, his community— but for once in his life, it’s too close for comfort.

As Naib, there will be too many people coming to him at once, asking for his advice and input on things he is normally capable of answering. Friends and family will approach him closely, knowing too much about him to tell there’s something on his mind, and expecting him to be transparent as he typically is.

For this moment, though, he needs his head to be clear. He cannot be as jovial as he might’ve been in the past.

What Ramallo offered him is a subject matter he does not take lightly.

The sun is setting as Stilgar remembers their conversation from the previous hour.

“As Sayyadina, as Reverend Mother, my honest recommendation is that the Northern Fremen need to replenish their numbers.” Ramallo speaks in hushed tones of Chakobsa, the native Fremen language.

Stilgar is slightly confused. The concept of child bearing is not one that he has to be concerned with, as he, despite his older age, has not been married yet.

Something he admonishes himself for.

“There are many of us, but we could always expand. I have already suggested to the South that they could send some of their people here, if they would like to be.” Stilgar frowns. “So many Fremen in the south, densely packed, is an easy way to be attacked. We could spread out more.”

“Save your war-speak for later, Stilgar.” Ramallo tuts, and then sighs a long, languid sigh that has Stilgar feeling much younger than he really is. “I don’t mean simply bringing people here.”

He’s never sure what the Reverend Mother wants, but he always gives her his full attention. Something about staying in his faith for so long has kept him here, grounded, seated in front of Ramallo, ready to do what needs to be done. Not just for the Mahdi, as he is often teased about, but so he doesn’t lose himself.

“Please. Tell me.” He asks, kneeling his head down in a solemn movement, and Ramallo knows he’s ready for this.

“The youth of Sietch Tabr don’t believe in our faith anymore, do they?” Ramallo wraps a gnarled finger around her wrist, feeling a minor form of trepidation she is sure real Bene Gesserit have never felt. “They laugh when we speak of Lisan al Gaib.”

“They have not read the prophecy.” Stilgar swallows, unsure if he can really speak on this, when he regards himself as a humble follower. “They laugh because they do not believe in the Mahdi to free us.”

Stilgar thinks of his niece, Chani, who suggests that a Fremen could be the Mahdi. He knows this can’t be true, because he believes his people are fed-up— it should have happened by now if one of them was truly possessed with that capability.

“Sietch Tabr is too worldly now. I worry that if we lose our faith, we cannot usher in Lisan al Gaib as he should be, and our promise to freedom.” Ramallo fixes her cold, foggy pupils on Stilgar, the cloudy whites making the typical Fremen-blue appear more teal. He shivers at the idea.

“I want you, as Naib, our political leader, to take one of the Sayyadina as your wife. One of the lower priestesses.”

Stilgar nearly protests instantly, feeling embarrassed to even think of desecrating a Sayyadina like this, but the old Reverend Mother knows what he thinks of this.

“It would be a marriage between our religion and our people, a symbolic union. I believe our spirituality will be renewed.” Ramallo taps his hand. “I’m an old woman now. I cannot make as much as a difference as my younger sisters— and you and I both know it is written that we must keep bearing children.”

Stilgar swallows. He only vaguely knows of the Bene Gesserit, but he can guess Ramallo was deeply inspired by their way, marrying into families, keeping a physical bloodline going. The only thing that troubles him, is that he’s unsure of what this has to do with having children with a Sayyadina in particular.

“If you have children, especially with a Sayyadina, they are more likely to be faithful. Perhaps we cannot convert the others,” Ramallo grits her teeth. “But I believe we can start anew.”

Stilgar knows he cannot force himself on any of the Sayyadina. It’s bad enough that they cannot say no to the Reverend Mother’s command, especially with that shocking, unnerving Voice she uses, so he would much rather let one of them pick him. Yes, that’s what he’ll do— walk into the temple, and let them approach him.

He just hopes he’s not too old, too ugly, too entwined with his role as Naib. He wonders if that’s why women haven’t necessarily been interested in him— what with his constant vigilance to keep Sietch Tabr safe and with a good allocation of resources, which makes him rather unapproachable, not as dashing as a typical Feydakin.

He knows how Lady Jessica looked at him with reproach when he offered himself to her, to protect her and her son, Paul. Yes, even the name Paul suggests something more to him— he still thinks he could be Lisan al Gaib. But either way, Lady Jessica did not want to be connected to him like that— so Stilgar feels that he must admire how marriage exists in that intrinsic bond between two people, from afar.

On the other hand, he feels the slightest tinge of hope when he remembers that a Sayyadina would surely be impressed with his devotion. In fact, Stilgar feels a slight grin on his face, as he climbs down from his cliff, thinking of a veiled Fremen priestess, eyes of Ibad even bluer than his own, marking her commitment to the faith. Holy, but his, to see like no one else would, and to be devoutly loyal to.

Almost like a personal representation, an extension of their faith together. And suddenly Stilgar feels understanding to what the Reverend Mother said, as he walks through the night, back to his quarters, that there would be power in this.

You’re chewing on your bottom lip, knowing that it’s a needless thing to do— a waste of water, now, that a drop of blood has been drawn from where you have accidentally split your lip— and you can’t help yourself.

Reverend Mother Ramallo grasped you and your sisters’ hands during prayer this morning, and told you that Stilgar would choose one of you as his wife.

It’s a bit surprising. As a Sayyadina directly under a Reverend Mother, you simply expected to be on your own, until she died and one of you would have to take her place. Other Sayyadina marry, yes— but you’ve always studied under Ramallo and assumed that you would not have to.

You know the Bene Gesserit— as far away as they are to you— form alliances like this with men, and it’s an honourable thing, typically, to produce a child from a union and continue on a legacy of people. It’s with that line of thinking that you asked Ramallo if this is what you were meant to follow.

“Sahar.” Ramallo used your Sietch name, the one that is only known among your sisters for the most part, as most Sayyadina consider their Sietch name to be their sacred name. “Smarter than I sometimes give you credit for. Yes, like our fellow priestesses, we too can create children for the sacred purpose of replacement.”

You smiled, but Ramallo had a slightly weary look in her eyes.

“I don’t want you girls to forget the sacred duty. Continue the faith. Do not let others forget our long wait for the Lisan al Gaib. Pass this onto your children, if you have them.”

You nodded, and whispered a silent prayer that hopefully soon he would be found, and that in itself would be enough to push people.

So now you wait. You know Stilgar— you’ve conversed with him before, in lunch circles, at the deathstill. He was kind enough— he always bowed when he greeted you, and you liked that, liked that he acknowledged your importance in your role here, however small it may be to you. And he always had a careful, leaning inwards glance, where he would be intently listening to whatever you had to say, even if you simply wished him well and hoped that the Maker would bless him and his passage.

It also significantly helped that he was so handsome to look at, too. You’ve heard women murmur about their surprise on his lack of a wife, and how they’d be grateful to take him, if they got the chance. You don’t disagree– you know you’ve spent many a moment glancing too much at him.

But Stilgar seems intensely busy, and you do not be the one to pull him away from his duties. You have had the privilege of being unaware of fighting, of battles and duels, and now to be potentially married to him, it feels like you’ll simply not fit into his life.

And, on the other hand, as you glumly sit on your bedding, rolling a pebble on the stone floor, you think about how you’ve had little-to-no experience with men.

It’s not that it wasn’t allowed, you’ve always been preoccupied with your faith. With the Reverend Mother.

You know how Fremen men, especially warrior men like Stilgar would be. They have appetites— your fellow Sayyadina sister Nezua tells you about all her crazy endeavours, while you listen somewhat enviously. There’s a reason why Fremen men take so many wives.

Your stomach lurches a little at that. Although multiple wives are common, to continue to reproduce as efficiently as possible, you dislike the notion for some reason— but you feel selfish and wonder if it is because, as a priestess, you’ve had special treatment until now.

Nezua walks into your quarters, and taps your shoulder.

“Yes?”

“He’s outside.” She takes your hand. “Don’t worry, Sahar. I am sure he will not pick one of us— he will probably pick Ranira. She barely wants to be Sayyadina.”

“But isn’t that against the point?” You squeeze your hands together. “For a union between faith and people—”

“C’mon, Sahar. Don’t tell me you really believe that.” She rolls her eyes. “Whoever ends up being Stilgar’s wife will probably be in his house most of the time, ‘praying’, but really just dutifully waiting for him.”

“I suppose…” You don’t want to tell Nezua that she’s wrong. That Stilgar is more devout than she thinks, that he’s not a cheat looking for a free wife to use while pretending to care about the faith.

Stilgar has always come to the temple to pray, even when it is not necessary for a man of his standing to do so— as he often speaks of needing to continue his worship towards the Maker, the One God, and Ramallo is always pleased to let him in. She wouldn’t do that if he had some sort of ulterior motive, as other less honourable men have in the past.

It’s with a jolt that you realize you already care for him on some level. At the very least, you think highly of him.

Nezua pulls you up off your bedding, and you adjust your veil before going off into the main prayer hall with her.

Upon seeing the arrival of all six Sayyadina sisters— the current number of high priestesses directly under Ramallo— Stilgar pushes himself into a deep, reverent bow, and as he arises again, his gaze seems to linger on you before coming across your sisters.

You feel both excited to potentially be picked, and terrified to leave the temple where you have lived your whole life.

Stilgar can’t help but have his eyes drawn towards to you. Not just because you’re beautiful— you are, though, with the eyes of Ibad, deep blue pupils, a wise, judicial expression upon your face— and he wonders why.

Not out of disrespect, but Stilgar often sees the Sayyadina as being sort of withdrawn, within themselves, perhaps solemn in the religious vows they have taken. Even now, your sisters don’t meet his glance as often as you do.

Stilgar thinks you may be defiant. Maybe a troublemaker of sorts. His heart has a sudden thrill at the idea, but his mind knows this isn’t what’s necessary for this arrangement.

“Hello, sisters.” He smiles in a firm, thin line, meant to be placating to those around him. “I believe you know why I’m here. I hope this will not be an uncomfortable process for us all.”

He takes another look at you. No, you’re simply… you’re taking him in. And Stilgar decides that’s overall better than being defiant. Closer to the values of a leader, not even in just a spiritual way as the Reverend Mother had suggested to him.

You’re gauging his reactions, trying to read if he’s more of a rascal than he lets on— but he meets your previous idea of him, a reverent, kind man trying not to do harm, and your mouth settles into a assured, small smile.

Stilgar feels comforted, pleased even by your expression, and he knows he’s going to pick you.

”Sayyadina—” He points to you so there’s no confusion, and your sisters appear as neutral as they can, while you read micro-expressions of either relief or disappointment. “I would like to speak to you on this matter.”

You shuffle in silence as you leave with him to a different, quieter corridor, and as you turn and fix your veil, Nezua flashes a grin at you.

So your feelings were that obvious, you think.

Stilgar is a great deal taller than you. You have to peer upwards to really look at him, and you think he likes that— there’s a slight twinge in his eyes that makes you feel easily drawn to him.

“Why me, Naib?” You ask, and Stilgar stares at you for a moment longer, before tearing his eyes away to stare at the architecture of the temple.

“You have a knowing look in your eyes, Sayyadina.” He responds in turn to your use of Naib— a term denoting him as Leader of the Sietch. You use it so not to be overly familiar with him, but you understand you both respect each other.

“So you picked the most shrewd of us, is that it?” You wrinkle your nose in a slight laugh, but then actually grin as Stilgar laughs.

“One could call it shrewdness. I simply see that you are not afraid, you look for what you know you must find. Only great leaders make the approach.” He explains this so clearly, you were not even entirely aware that you were doing such a thing.

“It only makes sense to do so, Naib. I could not just stand there and allow you to do all the decision making.” You admit with tact, so not to drive him away.

He nods. “That is why you will be a great one.”

Stilgar seems comfortable with you already, and yet his expression takes a pained look for a moment.

“It's for that reason I do not want to force you into this… uh, arrangement.” He admits, and you are taken aback for just a moment, just a slight gasp.

“What makes you think I don’t want to be your wife?” You speak too soon, maybe too boldly but Stilgar likes that. Despite not even being betrothed yet, you are so forward with him, so ready to be claimed by him.

And he's just as willing a participant to be claimed by you, so he smiles, watching you turn a little flustered, but you let your feelings for him stay apparent for a moment.

It's not like there's room for privacy in a marriage, you think.

An arranged marriage, you admonish yourself. He’s here only in the most professional of terms. Don’t complicate this with your idiotic feelings, you still have a job to do.

“I just meant that– it would be an honour to be associated with you, Naib.” You keep your head tilted downwards, trying your best to be the reverent Sayyadina you’re known as.

“Of course.” He swallows, unsure if you’ve suddenly become shy, or that you’ve decided to be more cunning– something he admires anyways. He thinks not many women would actually be attracted to him, what of the mug he calls a face, and so he decides to just be glad that you’re willing to be with him.

“Okay, Sayyadina. If you’ll have me as your husband, then,” He grasps your hands in both of his, and he has the kindest look in his eyes, and you look back up at him, feelings simmering on the inside as you maintain a peaceful facade. “We will have our engagement arranged soon.”

Then, ever so gently, he pushes back a part of your veil, wanting to see your face better.

You visit him more often after that. Usually in the hall, where there are other people, and you do this so people don’t think you’re too in love with him already– visiting him secretly would only prove that, suggest some sort of affair of a human connotation.

By being around the others, people feel that things are coming into place– religion and leaders are creating a strong, united front that will lead the Fremen to peace. More believers for the Lisan Al Gaib. And you are glad to already be pushing people along the path that Ramallo set out for you.

Stilgar has a stronger look at you, now. Not just the polite glances of before. With every conversation, he takes you in, drawing more and more conclusions. And with every moment, he learns more about you, and he likes what he learns, too.

He sees that you like your food spicy, as does he. And you especially enjoy tabara– the soft sweet cake made of tabaroot, honey, and spice, rich and sweet in flavour, adorned with fruit. It’s a rarity in Arrakis, since a few of the fruit come from offworld traders– so he gives you his portion and you two argue over this, before Stilgar eventually puts his foot down as Naib.

“You should accept. Extra portions go towards those who need it, not me.” Stilgar says, ever the humble one as you’ve come to know him.

“Except this isn’t an extra portion, is it? Sayyadina aren’t supposed to indulge so much, leaders like you may deserve it as you do such hard work.” You taunt him, knowing that you’re both so similar– you could argue forever with Stilgar because you’re equally as willing to sacrifice things for each other.

Great leaders, indeed.

“Sayyadina, don’t make me remind you how important your creed is.” He tuts, and you find yourself simmering with attraction to him– you are beginning to look forward to these conversations more and more everyday. “Your work is just as important– don’t do a disservice to your life just for me, okay?”

The people around you shift in their spots on the floor, to listen more closely, and you recognize that although you and Stilgar grow closer– the intended effect is taking place. People are supportive either way.

Maybe you don’t have to be distant, overly religious, to win support. Maybe, like what Ramallo said, they need to see how spirituality can touch people, and how you’re just a person as well.

He places the piece of cake in your bowl again. “Accept it as a gift, Sayyadina.”

You smile up at him, squeeze his hand without thinking. “Okay, Naib. Thank you.”

Stilgar cannot stop thinking of you, even when he is training Usul to fight in the Fremen way.

He remembers your last meeting, a few weeks after your initial one– and then how you said in two days time, after your faithful prayer that the Shai-Hulud would allow your union to be peaceful, you could begin the engagement ceremony. And Stilgar focused on how serious you were– how holy this approach was, how you seemed to glow from within, with some otherworldly energy, and even now he could tell he was enamoured with you. With that strong gaze, eyebrows tensed and purposeful in their thought.

Usul– Paul, at this moment, with his lack of focus– cannot stop staring at Chani while she practices sparring with her friend.

“Usul. Usul.” Stilgar shakes his shoulder, and Paul finally tears his gaze away. “You’re too distracted, my friend.”

“I’m sorry, Stilgar.” Ever the charming, young lad, Paul smiles placatingly towards Stilgar, and even he is too struck by his charisma to avoid it. “I’m here. I’m ready.”

“Please, tell me what bothers you.” Stilgar knows, already, as Paul stares down at his hands, that the boy has eyes for his overly tenacious niece. “Is it a matter of the heart?”

“Yes.” Paul exhales. “It’s not important right now. How did you know?”

Stilgar smiles reproachfully. “I… I suppose I should tell you honestly, before the others get to know.”

It strikes Paul that the Fremen trust him so readily– even Chani, with her misgivings about the prophecy, seems to be swayed towards him, and he does not know if he enjoys the attention, the privilege this grants him. Again, he is struck with that terrible purpose– that he will use these people for his own benefit.

Stilgar interrupts his line of thought. “Soon, I am to be married to one of the priestesses.”

Paul grins. “Ah, Stilgar, you rogue. You’re distracted, too.”

“Yes.” Stilgar admits, and he thinks of you with your deep blue eyes, your careful-yet-understanding glance, and he longs to see you again. To get to know you better. Yes, Stilgar may not truly know you, but he feels he has been on your side this whole time. Every glance at the temple, every cursory conversation at the deathstill, it has all been building up to something– perhaps not what he had imagined it to be, but he would never consider himself unlucky for this, or that Ramallo could ever be wrong about her plans.

As Naib, though, he still has his duties, and he tuts and tells Paul to get back on it. And Paul, strong young man wanting to prove himself, uses his Bene Gesserit training to imbue a level of focus that no woman could possibly break.

The engagement ceremony day is finally here.

You're excited, yet nervous to be known as Stilgar's wife. It feels more real with every approaching moment– it’s not just a silly, girlish fantasy, it’s something that everyone will see and know as a tangible union.

You haven't got any time to see him– Stilgar has been away with other Feydakin, no doubt unleashing hell on Harkonnen troops– and so you wait for his return.

The first of many waiting periods, you know that. You always knew this was going to be more of a political marriage– more in meaning for Sietch Tabr than really having to be around each other.

But you miss him, anyways. You like him, and despite your attempts to focus on praying to the Maker that he will be okay, you search for him on the sandy horizon every minute of this auspicious morning, the sun blearing into your eyes.

“You know he hasn’t come this far without his own talent.” Nezua reminds you, as she watches you peer up, blinking in the sunlight. “He’s not Naib for no reason, Sahar.”

All priestesses– both low and high– and other religious Fremen crowd around the outskirts of Sietch Tabr, hidden under cliffs in order to stay in the shade. Yet you reach outwards to look at the sun, risking your sweat even as you know you’re supposed to reserve it.

Lady Jessica, part of the sacred mother-and-son duo from the outer world, watches you with a gaze you cannot place. You know it is not simple curiosity– there is something new and malicious in her stare that has only heightened after Stilgar had asked to be betrothed to you.

A sudden gust of wind blows sand around you two, and Nezua tightens her veil, firmly jutting her jaw in a way that tells you she must be right, that you worry about nothing.

Ten minutes later, after praying and hoping, Stilgar returns over the sunrise, victorious in battle, and you feel he looks exhausted– yet his face breaks into a smile when he sees you.

He is greeted by many Fremen, fellow family members, but Stilgar pushes them aside, making his way directly towards you.

And you let yourself be pulled upwards by him, as he grasps your hands.

There’s something sweet and endearing here– almost innocent in how he looks at you, as if he’s been waiting to see you again just as long as you have. But you quickly remind yourself that this moment is not just yours– it would be considered somewhat heartless by other Fremen if Stilgar did not appear to like you, and by extension, the whole marriage’s point would fail.

“Sayyadina–” He holds up the Water Rings, the metallic counters representing the volume of water a Fremen could release into the deathstill. Here, they mean that you will be tied to Stilgar, as you are now betrothed to him. “I ask you to be married to me, by nightfall.”

“So soon?” You ask, wondering why he would want to do it so early.

“It cannot wait much longer. Reverend Mother Ramallo is not well.” He tells you, and your heart sinks, wondering why your dear reverend mother has not told you about this.

You’ve seen the signs– she struggles with fine motor skills and often her cataracts make it difficult to see anything– but you are still surprised.

“Okay.” You swallow, and then smile up at him, and he squeezes your cheek in a fond gesture that makes you feel heat rise there.

“We will be wed tonight.” He calls out in Chakobsa, and the Fremen around you rally with glee, and you feel that whatever this is, even if Ramallo does not live to watch it play out– it’s working.

The unmarried women of the tribe fix your hair with the rings Stilgar presented to you, and you feel ever the part of the blushing bride. You know it’s not wrong to genuinely have feelings in this arrangement– you just hope Stilgar feels the same way.

Chani grins at you. You know her well– you’re around the same age, you’ve grown up somewhat together– and you wonder if she feels odd about her uncle marrying you.

“No, if it means I can call you Auntie, I’m happy.” She jokes, and you shove her as she laughs.

Chani rarely laughs like this as of late. She’s always so hard on herself– she thinks she has to be because of how indoctrinated so many Fremen are to the faith. And despite your life as a Sayyadina, Chani has never let your conflicting beliefs stop her love for you.

You only wish she’d be more careful as a warrior. As a freedom fighter, Chani sometimes lacks restraint– so you’re grateful to see her happy.

“Well, maybe some day you’ll be married, too.” You squeeze her hand. “To a great warrior.”

“I don’t know, Biet.” Chani calls you your Fremen name, not your Sietch one, which will be used tonight at the wedding. “Let us focus on you for now.”

“I just… I don’t know if he feels the way I do.” You suddenly admit, and the fear that you’re still going to be lonely crops up.

Chani shakes her head, that hard, tough scowl on her face back again. “If there’s one thing I know about my uncle, it’s that he’s not an idiot.”

She presses her cheek to yours. “Don’t you understand how important you are, Biet? How special you are, not just to me and everyone here, but to him especially. Stilgar has not stopped speaking of you for the last couple of weeks.”

You smile softly at that, thinking of how ardently Stilgar looks at you now, how you’ve gotten to know each other over the last few weeks of basic conversation. More close than ever, and yet just far enough that you keep wondering. Is it admiration, gratitude that you’re willing to serve a greater purpose, or something more? You know it’s selfish, but you want him to like you. To love you.

“Everybody knows, even Muad’Dib.”

At the mention of Muad’Dib, you can’t ignore the slight tension in your spine. Both you and Stilgar have discussed your belief in his abilities, his potential to be the one– but you know that Chani does not share that.

Still, you hear a slight shift in Chani’s tone as she says his name, and you give her a glance.

“You like him, I think.” You tease, and she tells you to shut up in Chakobsa.

You wonder if Muad’Dib was the one who shared this information to his mother, which would make her dislike of you understandable. You get the sense she’s power-hungry, terrifying– she would’ve been a greater candidate for this marriage, an otherworldly mother that fits the prophecy, representing not just the union of politics and religion, but with the power of the Bene Gesserit– and you find that you resist her, anyways. Resist the idea that everything must be for this one purpose.

You want to keep Stilgar to yourself, and it almost frightens you that you might be going against something that you’ve been taught to believe from a young age.

You’re no Chani.

The dark of the night spreads across Arrakis.

Stilgar begins the trek up the dune, where you wait, bathed in the moonlight– you’re wearing a different outfit, a dress with intricate beading marking your place as a bride, and instead of a veil, you are wearing a much thinner, transparent shawl that allows Stilgar to make out your silhouette. Your hair is interwoven with his Water Rings.

Stilgar has always known you are beautiful, but especially now of all times, with your blue eyes reflecting him in the silver moonlight as he meets you at the top of the hill– and it’s not a distraction, because he’s meant to be here with you.

He likes you a lot– there’s a taut feeling in his throat, as he realizes he’s watched countless friends and family members get married, but never thought of himself as one of them– and in the past, Stilgar had always felt there was something wrong with him for not marrying sooner. But now, he’s so thankful he waited, because it’s you. His holy, veiled priestess.

You share his faith, after all– but over the last few weeks he’s seen that you share his judgement, too. He only hopes that his feelings will be returned some day and that he won’t scare you off– Stilgar knows he can sometimes be too much.

Reverend Mother Ramallo approaches you two from the other side of the dune. She speaks in Ancient Chakobsa– old marriage passages from the faith, hymns that are sacred in their meaning– and the unmarried women below, begin their chanting and agreement with the hymns. They dance.

Then, Ramallo asks Stilgar in Chakobsa, if he is willing to take care of you, to entirely claim you in every way as the Fremen faith dictates– to not leave you behind. You know she cares for you so deeply, as she’s watched you grow up from a young girl, and you hear a slight twitch in her voice, giving her away as someone who will miss you.

Stilgar responds without hesitation that yes, he will always be there for you. And you believe him. You don’t hear a hint of irony or lying in his tone.

Maybe this isn’t just a marriage of political nature.

Ramallo yells in Chakobsa, using the Voice: “It is finished!”

Celebrations are loud, jovial, necessary after the Fremen endured hardship from the Harkonnen. People are dancing, eating, congratulating you.

You’re happy to receive their blessings, and give them back if they wish to hear it from you. You’re still a Sayyadina, and today of all days, you bring especially good luck to them.

Paul Atreides walks forward after Nezua dips– she’s kissed you on your cheek and solemnly stated she’ll miss you at the temple bedrooms– and you’re intrigued, as you’ve never spoken to him before.

“Muad’dib!” Stilgar is next to you, and he shakes his hands, clapping his shoulder, and Paul hugs him.

“Stilgar, Biet–” Paul’s eyes cross towards you, and you don’t sense the same plotting look his mother has. “Congratulations. It’s so interesting to witness a Fremen marriage. I feel like I’ve learned so much just watching. I did not know Sayyadina could use the Voice, as well. Impressive.”

You think he’s rather compassionate, but there’s no telling if it’s an act. You ignore that– you’re meant to be happy now.

“Thank you.” You gently squeeze his hand. “I don’t use it often– I believe it should necessitate a purpose.”

“As do I.” Paul agrees, and you are blown away by how casually he reveals that he can use it. Another sign, perhaps, that he is who you and Stilgar think he is.

“In coming times, maybe you too will marry in our way.” You make as an offhand comment, so not to overtly reveal your surprise.

Paul is mildly surprised by this, but he doesn’t look displeased with that. “Maybe. I think many women here are quite beautiful, they could probably pick a noble Feydakin than someone like me.”

“In time, Muad’dib, you may be a Feydakin too. You have the strength to be one.” Stilgar corrects him, and you like that your husband is so forthcoming, a true mentor that supports everyone.

“Besides, you’ll need to be one if you want to impress Chani.” You input, and Stilgar looks a little taken aback by this development, while Paul looks more interested.

“Really? You think Chani and I…” Paul swallows down whatever he’s going to say, looking suddenly a bit darker and worried. “I would be lucky if she considered me.”

Paul bids you two goodbye, while Stilgar laughs. “A humble one, isn’t he?”

“Better that than overly boastful.” You hum. “Either way, I hope he is not perpetuating a false image.”

Stilgar agrees.

As the party dies down, he takes your hand, and together, you walk back to Stilgar’s quarters.

He’s rather quiet as he sits on his bedding, cracking his knuckles.

Stilgar is not afraid of you, exactly– he’s afraid of what your relationship should or should not be. He does not know the boundaries in which you two operate, and he’s afraid once he opens that conversation up, of your potential rejection.

Other men would tell him that as your wife, there should be no confusion– that he should be able to bridge the gap, and you would accept it, no questions asked.

But Stilgar had not come this far by simply guessing at things. He knows as Naib, the general context you two have– and he needs to know if you feel the same way, if you don’t just want this marriage to be symbolic in nature.

“Sayyadina,” He calls you, and you sit next to him on his bedding, staying a short distance away, just for respect.

You laugh at that internally. You’re his wife, and you still call on some level of respect. Maybe because you’re afraid of acting on these feelings you have– a hunger for closeness– and you would rather use the excuse of respect instead of pushing him towards you.

Stilgar says Sayyadina with fondness in his tone, though. A formal, spiritual term has never sounded more husky, more inappropriately close than ever– you let yourself hope.

“I’ll ask you this once, and make your answer clear, so I do not bother you otherwise.” Stilgar pauses, wanting to be sensitive about this subject. He doesn’t know exactly what you’re comfortable with. “I want to know if you want to be more than wife in name, or if your heart is drawn to being within your faith.”

“Who says I can’t be both, Stilgar?” You bite your lip, and Stilgar’s face stiffens. “There’s nothing in our faith that says a priestess can’t have both.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He pauses, grappling with what to say.

“I don’t want to be a burden to you.” He says, and you laugh, for real this time, a louder laugh than he’s heard before, and he grins, liking the twinkling sound of it, but then frowns. “I’m being serious. You should not have to lie with me just for everyone else’s benefit. The marriage has brought people to greater spirits, already.”

“What if it’s for my benefit?” You speak in a hushed tone, but Stilgar listens to every word, inching closer to you. “What if I feel more spiritual when I’m next to you? I feel the Maker’s way flow through me whenever we speak, I feel like I can understand and interpret so much more because I know we are supposed to be with each other, not just metaphorically, but in all ways.”

Stilgar is taken aback by your boldness, and so are you to some degree, but you continue. “I’ve been ignoring this the last few weeks, but I think that’s what love is. What is faith without love? I think I love you, because you make me understand what I’ve been missing…” You smile up at him. “You’re my greater context, Stilgar.”

Ah, He thinks. This woman is too sweet to me. She understands.

“Sayyadina…” He sighs, a deep shuddering sigh revealing so much emotion; relief, really. You’ve never seen Stilgar like this, but it gives you a sense of how much he represses. “You feel like the missing piece I’ve been waiting for. You… you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for a woman that understands me.”

“I never thought I could have the chance to love anyone,” He admits with some reservation. “My appearance tends to ward women away.”

“But you’re beautiful.” You whisper, smiling up at him, and Stilgar feels your hands trace around his face, and he closes his eyes, listening to the sweetness of your voice. “You’re only intimidating because of who you are, Stilgar, but I promise, you’re beautiful. I’m not the only woman who thinks that.”

Before he can respond in turn, that you’re more beautiful than him, the stubbornness that you two share– you let that unspoken urge inside you, the one you’ve never acted on before, overtake you. And you pull his face downwards in a searing kiss, one where he can still taste the spice on your lips after what you ingested at your wedding dinner.

He honestly has not touched a woman in years– not out of some purposeful celibacy, but more because he has been so focused on maintaining Sietch Tabr. And whatever memories he has of that time, right now is easily trumping them.

You part your lips as Stilgar does, kissing him with abandon, again and again as your lips move with his, and he squeezes your waist before pulling you onto his lap.

He groans. There’s a hard bulge in his pants that you’re sitting squarely upon, you know what that is– you’re not entirely uncultured about this.

You experimentally roll your hips over his crotch, finding a sudden pleasure in your lower half as you do so, and he stutters, suddenly, pulling your face away from his, breaking the kiss.

“Sayyadina– wait, slow down.” He holds your wrists in his hands firmly, the heat of the moment causing both of you to sweat. The night air seeps through Stilgar’s window– hot and humid.

You’ve never wanted to be closer to him.

“I’m a little inexperienced. I don’t want to hurt you.” He explains, and you scoff.

“So am I.” You tell him. “Actually, I’ve never…”

“Oh.” Stilgar takes on a very judicial look, one that you’re determined to stop before he rejects you for the “greater good” or something like that. “I would’ve never guessed that. You gave me the impression of expertise.”

“Then let me gain it.” You proclaim, and you cut him off before he says what you know he will. “You’re not forcing me into anything. I want to do this, just like I wanted to marry you.”

He scoffs, now, but Stilgar likes the sound of that and he kisses you again, pulling your shawl off, feeling you wrap around his torso with your legs– he feels you moan and shudder when he squeezes your thighs. He loves this, and when he starts removing your dress– you don’t stop him.

He pulls it down and under you, and you’re bare underneath. Stilgar examines your breasts with admiration– they’re the perfect size, they fit you well– and he immediately takes to one of your nipples with his teeth, causing you to cry out.

As he continues these bites over your chest, squeezing your breasts and your behind, suckling on your neck, feeding off of your sweat, you feel yourself slicken, wetness catching on Stilgar’s pants– so much quicker than you’re used to, when you used to touch yourself in your room at the temple. A waste of water, maybe, but it was worth the relief occasionally.

Stilgar notices, and he wordlessly lays you across his bed, spreading your legs open, looking down at your pussy.

You’re not completely sure what he’s doing, and you feel slightly vulnerable like this– entirely on display for him.

“Let me drink from you, Sayyadina. I would be honoured by this blessing– I thirst, and it would not be a waste.” He says in hushed tones, as he kneels in front of you, and you feel yourself slicken more if that’s possible. The sacred overtones of worship are not lost on you, practically becoming a kink for you as he speaks.

You nod, and he grasps your thighs tightly, practically pushing down on them so you’ll stay with open legs for him– he strokes them a few times, and then dives in with his tongue, lapping and licking slowly upwards to your clitoris, then quickly a few times to taste you faster, which causes you to seize as feelings of warmth and white-hot sensitivity overtake you, and with your fluids, and his saliva, you’re quickly reaching the point of finishing. His beard tickles, and you squirm a little, and start writhing and sweating, moans ebbing out of your throat, but that only makes Stilgar pull you in closer, tighter, pushing his tongue closer, almost inside, refusing your escape.

You don’t want that, anyways. And you finish in his mouth with a flourish as Stilgar laps up what you’ve given him– a drink from a Sayyadina.

You think he’s done, but you lean back with another sigh– a near scream, really– as Stilgar begins to lick at your clitoris, suckling on it, until you’re wet and aching again– and then he uses his fingers to spread your pussy open, and begins to fuck you with his tongue. It’s amazing, wet and writhing and and filthy– it feels nothing like your own fingers and entirely more adept at getting you to another orgasm. The speed at which his tongue languishes inside you should be considered unholy, all things considered– but you feel high, you feel like you’re closer to the Maker than ever– and he suckles at you, his lips closing around your entrance as you moan again and orgasm directly into his mouth.

Stilgar groans. He’s in love with your taste– he thinks he might wake you up every morning like this, if you’ll let him. He’s also painfully hard now– his cock strains against his pants, and he quickly starts undressing.

“Sorry. I needed a second taste.” Stilgar apologizes, standing up, but he’s not sheepish about anything as he continues to rub you, to stroke your pussy to keep you wet. Up, down, up, down, Stilgar could get addicted to this sensation around his fingers– you’re so warm, soft, wet– he needs to be in you.

You’re beginning to feel overstimulated– you’re covered in sweat, and in between your thighs you’re soaked, practically dripping all over Stilgar’s hand as he continues to work you– and you twitch as you sit up, Stilgar’s fingers prodding inside you.

His cock bobs upwards, shiny with pre-cum, and the tip, hard and redder, while the rest is a flattering tan brown. Although this is your first time viewing the male genitalia, you’re drawn to it. You like how he looks partially naked– vulnerable like you, but warmer, soft and hard in different places– and you reach to take his shirt off, letting his full self be unsheathed.

And you like this– you feel an animalistic draw to his body, his chest hair, the broad muscles under them, and he moans loudly when your finger prods at the tip of his cock. Stilgar lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, and spreads your ass, his cock nudging inside your pussy slowly, groaning as it does, gritting his teeth as every centimetre feels like another added pleasure of wetness, the bounds of which he does not know, but he is excited to be familiar with and do this again and again.

You sink around him easily– you moan against his neck as you do– and Stilgar bottoms out, feeling you grip and tighten around him.

After what feels like an eternity– both of you drunk on just being intertwined in such a way– he lifts you up again, thrusting outwards, and then back in, pushing you down on his cock, slamming into you. Stilgar’s warrior strength comes into play here– he fucks you relentlessly, and grips you so tightly you think you might be melting onto him. He begins to pound into you, your ass and thighs jiggling with the force of it all, and a severely perverted squelching and slapping sound builds up over time, over and over, his thighs and balls slapping against your thighs and ass, the sound of which you are sure is extremely loud.

You don’t care. You moan loudly, almost yelling as Stilgar’s cock twitches and catches inside you in a place so deep, you’ve never touched it yourself.

You shake and twitch, barely holding onto him as you do, feeling an immense pressure build inside you, almost painfully, but with pleasure. Stilgar claims your mouth as he thrusts, kissing you, slipping his tongue inside as he drinks from you there– and he loves feeling you moan against his mouth as he does so.

He presses you against him tightly, rutting upwards, and then together he tips the both of you onto his bed again, him on top of you, this time using his fingers to play with your clitoris as you clench around his thrusting. You cum again, this time your fluids adding to Stilgar’s pleasure, and you moan as Stilgar’s hands tighten around your waist. The slap of his skin against yours is laden with sweat and your cum, but Stilgar is insatiable, and he thrusts harder.

You feel him inhale, moan, bite at your neck, and you feel his cock twitch again as he cums inside you, pulling out in a hazy stream, and you writhe against him, feeling the heat of the moment conjoining with the cooler air of the night.

He sighs, satisfied with what has happened, lying down next to you. “May Shai-Hulud allow us to do this again.”

Stilgar has to leave again, the next morning, as more Fremen are involved in fighting Harkonnen harvesters, and he wants to oversee this.

“I’m sorry, Sayyadina…” He swallows. He doesn’t want to leave you behind– if he could take you along on his back, he would.

“Sahar.” You tell him.

“What was that?” He asks, and you wrap your arms around him and his stillsuit, dressed in your traditional Sayyadina dressings again.

“Sahar is my Sietch name. My sacred name, only for my sisters to know.” You explain, although you’re sure Stilgar knows this. He only knows your Fremen name, after all. “Since we’re married– I thought you should know my true name.”

“Sahar is a wonderful name… meaning morning.” Stilgar looks out the window with a slight smile. “But you outdo any of Arrakis’ sunrises, my dear.”

You laugh at that, as Stilgar knew you would.

“You will still be Sayyadina to me, no matter what name you have.” He says, and there’s a warm feeling in your heart when you hear this, that he has a special name for you. You take his hands, and press your palm to his forehead.

“Oh Shai-Hulud… keep Stilgar safe from unwarranted danger today.” You whisper in Chakobsa, closing your eyes, and Stilgar closes his eyes too. “Do not risk his life.”

Your harsh, suddenly grating tone from using the Voice has Stilgar opening his eyes again. He has never heard you use it before.

“Thank you.” He pulls you up for a soft, parting kiss– and then after memories of last night echo inside his mind– he gives you a firmer, lingering kiss, laden with love for you.

Stilgar finds that despite his obvious devotion in his commitment to you– the women are more interested in him than ever.

And if he was a lesser man, perhaps he would act on this. But Stilgar has not forgotten the plan, and he certainly hasn’t forgotten you, not so soon. He knows you two are two sides of the same coin– meant to be.

This was not meant to be an outcome. He sees Feydakin women smiling at him, maybe a little too much– or maybe he has not noticed until now.

You said he was beautiful, and he had thought maybe that was just according to you. But seeing how Lady Jessica greets him, not impolitely but just with more… vulnerability, especially after her duke was killed, he thinks maybe you’re right. Maybe he has something.

Jessica stares at the deathstill, trembling over what Stilgar has told her. She must drink the Water of Life, she must take the place of a Reverend Mother– and she does not want this. She wants nothing more than to be comforted at this moment, because of what a tribulation this new order shall be on her.

Or at least, that’s the image she’s conveying, she hopes, and she believes she has Stilgar wrapped around her finger, her coying, Bene Gesserit way meant to coax people closer to her, and by extension, her wishes.

And Jessica can tell she’s done it right when Stilgar leans over, wipes away her tear, and licks it. Perhaps she can secure more support through playing the part of a sad widow.

It’s Nezua who saw what happened.

She interrupts your prayer, your first prayer after returning to the temple, sanctimonious as it is.

“Sahar, please don’t be upset. Just hear me out.” She pulls you into the main hall, where your sisters and Ramallo are reading ancient texts.

“What is it? What’s happened?” You look around wildly.

Nezua’s deep blue eyes blink, as she wonders what to tell you, how to say it gracefully.

“I saw him. Naib. Standing close to that woman, to Lady Jessica– she cried about becoming a Reverend Mother– he stroked her face, licking a tear away.” Nezua admits, and you instantly blink back sudden tears.

“But he–”

“Men can be rascals, Sahar.” Nezua reprimands you, and you swallow, knowing you don’t know as much as her.

You do know about Jessica, though.

“She has been eyeing him for a while… I’ve watched it happen. She’s got her Bene Gesserit tactics, we know that. She wants to be a Mother, no matter what farce she applies in this moment to gain approval.” You shake your head. “He wouldn’t do that for no reason– she’s very convincing. And Stilgar supports everyone, why would he doubt her?”

Nezua calms down a bit.

“But if he wanted to marry her?” Ramallo suddenly chimes in, and you and your sisters watch as she speaks, suddenly convinced of something. “Would it not be the ultimate culmination of what we seek? The mother of the Lisan Al Gaib, integrated into our society… nothing could compare to how many Fremen this would convert. How many people would choose our way.”

“Great Mother, you picked me for that purpose.” You speak up, almost immediately, without fear. You don’t care if you’re speaking out of turn– you do not want to share Stilgar, lose him to some other woman– and here it seems everyone else is okay with it.

“Yes, and you’ve done well, but you of all people should want us to do better.” She remarks, not without a bit of bite in her tone. You hate that it has to be this way, that you stand in the way of something you used to wholeheartedly believe.

Just this once, you want to be selfish. You have faith that Paul will be Lisan Al Gaib, anyways, so why can’t it just be you and Stilgar?

“Once Jessica drinks the Water of Life, she will be a powerful Reverend Mother– all of Arrakis may be swayed by her.” Ramallo peers at your expression. “Don’t tell me you feel something as foolish as love, Sahar.”

“And if I do?” You state, blatantly.

“Then you must be loving enough to see that this would improve Stilgar’s life by far. Men may take multiple wives, you know that.” Ramallo tuts. “Perhaps you’re not as clever as I once thought.”

“He won’t do it. He knows that his love helps me, and as long as that’s in his priorities…” Your voice dies down, feeling like everything is falling apart as you speak.

“Yes, and how long will he care for a lower priestess when he can have a Reverend Mother? Especially one as faithful as him.” Ramallo shakes her head at your ignorance.

“Shut up! You’ve never felt love, you unspeakable witch–” You scream in Chakobsa, using the Voice, the full power of which seems to shake the temple.

Ramallo slaps you, hard enough that you fall back against the floor. Your skin hums with the stinging feel of a new bruise, sure to make it’s mark on your cheek– and she hisses at you.

“Insolent child. It was I that brought you here. It was I that even gave you the chance to be with Naib Stilgar. He would have never looked at you otherwise.” She mutters, and you feel your eyes glisten with tears.

She and your sisters leave, and you hold your breath, trying not to cry. Nezua strokes your arm.

“Perhaps, if he marries Jessica, it will only be a marriage in name.” She tries, but you shake your head. “You would be the one he really loves, Sahar.”

“Or I would be like a concubine– there to produce children, nothing more.” You think of how quickly you leapt into Stilgar’s waiting arms yesterday, and wonder if you were wrong. If his only intent was to have someone he could fuck on a ready basis.

You shake your head. “I need to speak to him.”

You sit on the ground of his quarters, stating a small prayer to stay calm, and when Stilgar walks in, he sounds pleased to see you.

“Sayyadina, I did not expect you back so soon.” He touches your hand, but based on how you draw yourself back, he knows something is wrong. “What is it?”

“You want Jessica. Right? To be your wife?” You say, and he shakes his head.

“We discussed it once–” and your stomach drops at that. “But it would have only been a marriage of convenience to protect her, long ago. Nothing more.”

“Then what happened today, in the deathstill?” You ask, and Stilgar furrows his brows.

“I only relayed Ramallo’s message to her. And she was a bit sad, so I comforted her, that’s all. She almost wasted some water by crying, so I drank it.” Stilgar sits down on the ground next to you. “I promise you, I do not want her.”

“Even if she’s a reverend mother? Closer to your faith? Easier to perpetuate our–” Here you stutter. “The mission?”

“Whoa, whoa.” He softens visibly. “Sayyadina, if you cannot see now that I love you, tell me how to right that wrong.”

“Tell me why you believe you’ll stick with me–” You tear up again and wipe it away. “Tell me you won’t leave me.”

“I have no interest in Jessica– she is a conniving one, but whatever she thinks may happen, it will not.” He shrugs. “I don’t believe she loves me or wants me in that way, either– she still mourns her duke.”

Of course, you think. She might have only been staring at me that one time because she remembered when she used to be in love. Maybe she was even jealous… Jessica was a concubine.

You suddenly feel much more at peace. You don’t think you would’ve ever left Stilgar even if he had married Jessica– but you’re suddenly more understanding of her pain, to be the one not known in any collected record despite being loved.

“I only did anything I could to make her feel more comfortable with her new role.” Stilgar grins. “And if she succeeds– the faith will have more people interested in it, and there will be less pressure on us.”

“That’s true.” You finally tear your gaze from the floor to look at him, and he smiles at you before frowning at the bruise on your cheek.

“What’s this?” Stilgar gently touches you, and he gets angry hearing you hiss.

“Nothing, just a silly altercation.” You explain, but he’s not satisfied with that.

“With who?”

“Ah… Ramallo slapped me after I said she would never understand love.” Suddenly you’re ashamed, and you feel as if Stilgar would be disappointed in you. “She said the best thing would be if you married Jessica– and I guess I… I didn’t want to lose you, so I used the Voice on her.” “You did?” Stilgar raises his eyebrows, in surprise that you’d do such a thing, make a rash judgement like that against your elder. “I’m sorry you’re hurt.”

You lean into his touch, feeling better that he’s not angry at you.

“But I am sorry I wasn’t there to see you take ownership of me.” He laughs quietly. “You really love me that much? Then I’m only yours.”

You smile so hard at that– massive relief flowing through your nerves– and Stilgar kisses your bruise, before kissing your lips and making you feel whole again.

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myocsfanfictions · 1 month

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THE WRATH OF FIRE

House of the Dragon Fanfiction

MASTERLIST

Princess Ysilla Targaryen is the only daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lady Rhea Royce. The affection that she felt for her mother was strong, while her father had never been there, acting as if Ysilla was not even his. But she was. The dragon egg that had been put in her cradle hatched. An outcast of a dragon was born. A dragon with no legs. An outcast of a dragon for and an outcast of a dragon rider. Ysilla’s hair was dark but streaked with white. She was a Targaryen, and her wrath was not different from the one that burned inside the members of the House of the Dragon.

《 Previous - Next 》

CHAPTER 4

“Dracarys.” When Ysilla said those words, her dragon breathed fire. She had the serving girl bring her a piece of raw meat.

Dragons didn't eat raw meat.

"Sƴz, riña," the Maester told her. He had been with her for six months now. A gift from her uncle after she visited King's Landing. (Good, child)

"Kirimvose," she answered. Her eyes fixed on her dragon. (Thank you)

Ysilla had been studying High Valyrian as soon as the Maester started to serve her, but her mother did not appreciate the King's gift. She said that there was no reason for him to be in Runestone.

"Mother, please!" she complained one night when her mother expressed the wish for the man to return to King's Landing.

"We don't need him here." She had answered.

"You may don't, but I do," Ysilla said. The shock on her mother's face was visible. Ysilla usually listened to whatever her mother said. It had been a strange feeling to be stubborn with her. But Ysilla could not let her lady mother send her teacher back to the Capital.

"I'm the only Targaryen who does not know High Valyrian," Ysilla explained. Her small hands clenched in fists. She wanted to be strong in front of her mother. She had to be.

"I've always told you to be proud of your blood. First Men's blood," her mother's words made Ysilla's eyes stung with tears.

"I remember," she said. But she wouldn't have backed down. "But I need to learn High Valyrian."

"You need to learn how to hawk," her mother answered firmly.

Ysilla felt so much rage in her.

"I'm not a goat; I'm a dragon!" Her mother's dark eyes widened. Shocked, she shared a look with her cousin, Ser Gerold Royce. At that moment, Ysilla understood that the words she had heard from Otto Hightower were true. It had been painful. But she knew what she had to do.

If Father sees I'm a good Targaryen, he will love me. Ysilla was sure of that. She did not act as a Targaryen at all. Her mother wanted her to be more similar to a Royce. But Ysilla was much more of that. She was a Targaryen princess. In a few years, he would have been a dragon rider. And when she would have grown up, she would have been like Visenya. She was more than a noble lady from the Vale. She was a Targaryen.

Father would be proud of me, she swore.

Ysilla would study all day. History, philosophy, calculus, politics, and High Valyrian. With the Master of the Dragonpit, she would speak only High Valyrian. She wanted to learn fast, especially when she found out that the war on the Stepstones was over.

"Father won!" Ysilla said happily to her uncle Gerold one day in the Godswood of Runestone. "He must have flown with Caraxes and burned them all."

Her uncle observed her in silence. His beard may have hidden half of his face. But she could see his lips tight in a thin line.

"You've changed, Ysilla, since you visited King's Landing," he said, making her smile.

"The Maester says that dragons feel other dragons," she answered, looking at the red leaves of the Heart Tree, "Maybe it had been the same with humans as well."

Her uncle took a deep breath. "Why are you so obsessed with these matters? You hardly speak of other topics, if not dragons."

Ysilla lowered her eyes. No one wanted to talk about those matters with her, as no one liked her dragon, her only friend.

"I'm a Targaryen," she said, "My father is Prince Daemon Targaryen."

"And your mother is Rhea Royce," he reproved her. Does she not share equal importance?"

"Of course she does," Ysilla muttered with a flush of shame. Since her dragon had been born, Ysilla and her mother had started to argue frequently. Her mother did not like Ysill's interests.

Ysilla wished not to argue with her mother. She had been very important to the little princess. She had been a role model, and Ysilla had so much respect for her. And she had raised Ysilla as a Royce. Proud as a Royce. But she wanted for Ysilla to forget that she was a Targaryen. And she could not. Ysilla had to show her father and everyone else that her mother was no goat. And that she was a dragon.

"You know I love you?" One evening, Ysilla asked her mother about it as they were dining.

"So sudden?" Her mother answered with raised eyebrows. Rhea Royce was not an openly loving woman, but Ysilla knew her mother cared for her.

"Do you?" Ysilla insisted stubbornly.

Her mother took a breath, "I do."

Ysilla seemed happy by her words, "And I'm sorry if in the last months I've been wilful."

"I'm glad you've realized it," her mother said, but Ysilla kept talking. " Why do you don't like that I'm a Targaryen?" Her mother took a breath. She put the knife in her hand and put it back on the table, but she did not answer. "Everyone in the realm wishes to say that their children have the blood of old Valyria."

Her mother observed her in silence for a moment, "The marriage between me and your father is a rich arrangement for the realm," Ysilla's eyes grew larger, leaning forward on the table. Her mother had never spoken of those matters with her. "But your father grew insufferable here. Insufferable of me," Ysilla listened quietly, "When I gave birth to you, your hair was as dark as your eyes. And he was there. He suggested that you were a bastard."

Ysilla lowered her eyes. It could not be possible. But why would her mother lie to her? There was no reason. So it must be true. But it could not be.

"He never wanted to see you," her mother said.

"I'm not a bastard," Ysilla whispered.

"No, you're not," her mother answered. Growing up, your hair and eyes proved it to everyone. But your father never accepted that."

"Why?" Ysilla asked, confused.

"He loathes me as I do him," she answered. And he would have broken the marriage off if he could make people think you were a bastard. That's why he never wants to see us." Ysilla lowered her gaze. "He loves his ambition, Ysilla. And you are more than him."

Ysilla felt confused. It all seemed absurd to her. Why would her father hate her mother? And why did he hate his daughter because of that? He had never talked to her. One could not just decide to hate someone, could they?

"All the Kings of the Seven Kingdoms, Ysilla," asked the Septa one morning.

Ysilla took a breath. "Aegon I the Conquerer. After him, there was his son, Aenys I. His mother was Queen Rhaenys. Then Maegor the Cruel. Then Jeaherys I. He was called The Old King, or the Wise, or the Conciliator. He ruled peacefully for half a century. But he had no heir."

"So what happened?" The Septa asked.

"He had to choose between his two nephews," Ysilla remembered, "Princess Rhaenys or Prince Viserys. And he chose Prince Viserys. Now King Viserys I."

"And who is to follow?"

"The King chose Princess Rhaenyra," Ysilla said. Then she frowned. No woman had been queen of the Seven Kingdoms. And when her Uncle chose Rhaenyra, Aegon was not yet born. So, the rightful heir should have been her father, Daemon Targaryen.

He loves his ambition. Ysilla remembered her mother's words. How did her father react to the King's decision?

And the Dragonstone folly. She remembered.

"What is it with Father and Dragonstone?" Ysilla asked before she could stop herself.

The Septa's eyes widened, "That is off-topic, princess."

"But I want to know," Ysilla said stubbornly. "Why was Father in Dragonstone? Rhaenyra is the Princess of Dragonstone, not Father."

"Ysilla," her mother's voice came from behind her, making her turn. The Septa was quick to stand up and bow to the Lady of Runestone. "Stop with those questions," Ysilla observed her mother; she was wearing her riding attire. She was surely going out to hawk. Then she came next to her daughter, caressing her hair, "I'm riding out," she said, "Do you remember your duties for today?"

Ysilla nodded, "History, then sawing lesson."

The High Valyrian, she thought.

"I'll be back to dine together," her mother said, putting on her glove, "Behave."

"And be proud," Ysilla muttered. That made her mother chuckle.

"I don't need to remind you that," she said, "You never fail to be proud." Ysilla smiled, observing her mother walking toward the door.

"Be careful," Ysilla said to her mother like she always did. The little princess didn't go out to hawk that much—her pony was too little. But her mother had told her that in six months, they would have gone hawking together. Her mother loved to hunt, but Ysilla could not wait to be on the dragon's back more.

"Skori jāhor nyke sagon naejot sōvegon issa zaldrīzes?" Asked Ysilla, stammering some of the words. Not sure she remembered them correctly. (When will I be able to fly my dragon?)

"Hāre jēdri, riña," the Maester answered, observing how Ysilla's dragon liked to be next to his rider. (Three years, girl)

Three years, and she would have been able to fly. Her dragon was growing every day more, surprising everyone. But the Maester told her that he was growing fast for his conditions.

"I really need to find a name soon," she said, observing the violet eyes of her dragon. "A fighter name." Then he looked at the sky, making a little sound. Then he looked back at Ysilla, making the same sound. He seemed a little agitated, but he calmed down when the girl touched his head.

The Maester had told her that she and the creature had a strong connection. "Hae dārilaros Daemon se Caraxes." (Like Prince Daemon and Caraxes)

Ysilla looked up at the man. He had been in King's Landing all his life, tending the Targaryens' Dragons. He had seen all of them: King Viserys and Balerion, The Black Dread, Princess Rhaenys and Meleys, Rhaenyra, and Syrax, and, of course, Ysilla's father and Caraxes.

"Gōntan kepa gūrotan Caraxes lēda zirȳla, skori istas naejot Zaldrīzesdōron?" Ysilla spoke slowly, thinking about every word. (Did Father take Caraxes with him when he went to Dragonstone?)

"Hen rhinka, riña." the man answered. His tone was strange. Trying to hide anger. But it was there. Why anger? She wanted to know. (Of course, child)

He would have never answered if she had asked inquisitively, she knew. But maybe that anger could be used in some way.

"Such a vile act," Ysilla said, using the same tone Otto Hightower had used. "Dragonstone belongs to Princess Rhaenyra."

"The stolen egg was much more vile," when she turned to the man, his eyes were wide. Regretting those words. "Forgive me, princess," he was quick to add, bowing his head.

Her father had stolen a dragon egg. Why would he do such a thing?

Her dragon looked at the sky again, flipping his small black wings.

"There's no need," she answered, trying to do her best to hide the shock in her tone, "I already knew," she lied, "My mother always tells me about my father's deeds. And they are not always positive words." She thought fast. Her egg had been chosen for her as soon as she was born; that was the Targaryen's tradition. If her father had taken an egg, there was only a reason. She felt rage thinking about that possibility.

"A dragon to a bastard," she said, noticing how the stolen egg was a sensitive topic for the man. "That's an insult."

Would he really steal an egg to give it to a bastard when he had insulted his mother by saying that Ysilla was one?

"Fortunately, no bastard was born, as far as it's known," he answered, "It was just an act to challenge the King's authority."

He loves his ambition, Ysilla.

Didn't he support his brother as King? Or he didn't support Rhaenyra as the future Queen? Why did he take that egg?

"Skoros drōmon iksin bona?" Ysilla asked not turning to the man. (What egg was that?)

"Se drōmon hen Dreamfyre. Dārilaros Rhaenyra ēdas chosen ziry syt zirȳla morghe lēkia, Baelon," Ysilla felt the blood in her veins run cold. (The egg of Dreamfyre. Princess Rhaenyra had chosen it for her dead brother, Baelon)

It was such a vile act to steal his dead nephew's egg. To give it to who? If he hated his wife, who was he planning to give it to? She would have liked to ask more, but her dragon started to growl, agitated. He flapped his wings again and kept looking at the sky.

That was strange. He had never done that. He was a calm dragon, never making many sounds, but he was upset and not able to stay still.

"Skoros iksis jāre va?" Ysilla asked, glancing at the man before walking to her dragon, kneeling at his side, "Lykiri," she said, trying to gain her dragon's attention, but he wasn't listening. (What is going on?) (Calm down)

"Maester?" She asked, seeing the man looking at the sky as well. His face was dark with worry.

"Dohaeris," she said, focusing back on her dragon. He seemed somewhat drawn to those words and glanced at her with his purple eyes.

A strange feeling went down through Ysilla's back. A shiver full of dread.

I want Mother, she thought instinctively. Feeling her eyes stung with tears.

"Ysilla," The voice of her uncle Gerold made her turn with a gasp. The man was behind her. His face was pale, his hands were trembling, and on his clothes, there was blood.

She stood up, trembling. Her eyes never lived the red of the blood.

"The Lady Rhea…"

Ysilla felt cold as her dragon roared with wrath.

_________________________________________

Tag list: @watercolorskyy @darylandbethfanforever9 @roxannequeen @shadowzena43

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon Fanfiction #house of the dragon imagine #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon targaryen fanfiction #aegon targaryen x OC #aegon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #viserys targaryen

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sc0tters · 1 month

Text

Dreams Come True | Trevor Zegras

summary: Trevor shows you just how competitive he can get when you get cozy with Jack

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, p in v, oral (fem receiving), light bondage, swearing.

word count: 4.75k

authors note: it’s the way that the last time I wrote for him was in part one… so it was safe to say I was a little rusty with Trevor and natural sought the help of the woman who writes him better than anyone else @sweetestdesire so let’s thank her both helping this fic and inspiring portions of it! I’m starting to behave with my endings, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still have my fun 😏

pt 1

Trevor was pissed off.

He had won a massive game against the devils and all he was meant to do was come home and celebrate. The boy had invited you along to the game and you were meant to be his guest, yet somehow you were in the flurry of red.

Sure Trevor knew Jack was disappointed after the game but you were meant to be congratulating him for winning. Not standing hugging Jack as you told him how proud you were of his effort. You had always had a soft spot for the boy feeling bad for him after the rough rookie season he had.

Yet none of that seemed to matter as Trevor glared at the Hughes boy when you laughed at one of his jokes, because what could have been that funny? Jack eventually noticed the sharp looks that were being sent his way “something happen between you and Z?” He furrowed his eyebrows motioning to the boy who was still staring at you both.

It made you frown as you locked eyes with Trevor “nothing has happened.” Your cheeks grew warm remembering how you woke up to him after your wet dream “you sure?” Jack teased remembering how you used to have a crush on Trevor when you guys were kids.

It made you scoff as you sent him a playful glare “Jack I think I would know if something happened to me.” You shot back letting out a giggle as the boy pulled you into a hug “just making sure you’re keeping me in the loop.” He mumbled kissing your head in the process.

The middle Hughes boy always did have a soft spot for you “kid we are going now.” Trevor’s announced causing your head to snap in his direction “talk soon?” You asked looking at the younger boy who nodded with a smile.

He squeezed your side “keep him out of trouble.” Jack teased you causing a giggle to erupt from your lips “you want to go or get a cab?” Trevor’s rolled his eyes at the joke reminding you that he was waiting.

That was all it took for you to leave the Hughes boy “c’mon don’t be too grumpy with me now.” You joked growing concerned as he stood there refusing to look at you “what makes you think I’m grumpy?”Trevor grumbled as he still made sure to open the door to let you out first.

Yet you stood there solid as you crossed your arms “tell me why you’re irritated and then we can go.” You shot back causing a smirk to form on his face “I just think if you want to go support him then you should be wearing red.” Trevor looked to your jersey as you were in one of his old ones.

Your hands fixed the front of it as you furrowed your eyebrows “I was just being a good friend to Jack.” You pointed out in a duh tone “look let’s just go home.” Trevor’s sighed as he wiped his palms on his shorts.

It felt like a game of back and forth as you didn’t want to concede first “fucking move before I throw you over my shoulder.” The boy warned as he took a step closer to you “you wouldn’t dare.” You shook your head not believing that he had it in him.

But of course that was your first mistake. Within seconds Trevor crouched down and wrapped his arms around your hips lifting you up over his shoulder “Trevor!” You squealed clenching your fists as you banged them against his back “warned ya.” He shrugged with a smirk as the feeling of your hands against his back was nothing.

He carried you to the car with little debate “can you put me down?” You huffed finally giving up as you just let him carry you “you finally going to stop being a brat?” He cocked his head dropping your feet when he got to his car.

It made a smile form on your lips “never.” You felt his hands slide to your shoulders as he stepped closer to you “you’re a little shit you know that right?” He clicked his tongue trying to act irritated.

A laugh left your lips as you nodded “but that’s why you love me ain’t it?” You cocked your head as he sighed “just get in please.” His voice was softer as his facial expressions grew gentle.

This time you instead opted to listen “okay.” You nodded causing him to let out a sigh of relief as he wasn’t going to have to fight you on it “please remind me why I am best friends with her brother.” Trevor’s mumbled to himself once he shut your sides car door.

The ride back to his place was awkward. You kept your eyes glued to the window beside you as it seemed Trevor still didn’t want to talk about what pissed him off “Z?” Your voice was barely above a whisper when you heard him turn the key shutting the ignition off.

He felt guilty picturing you moaning that on his couch when you had that dream. It was something neither one of you opted to talk about and the feelings were only now starting to bubble out about it “are you really mad at me?” Concerned flashed over your face as the dim lights of the parking building made your eyes shine when you looked at him.

You were spending the night with him again but needed to know you were okay “I’m never mad at you.” He shook his head as his hands wrapped around slid to your lap “don’t like having to share you.” Trevor’s confessed as he ran his thumb over your thigh.

It made your breath cut as you turned your body even closer to his “you don’t share me.” You pointed out as you sent him a smile “not if you don’t want to.” You mumbled swearing that the car was getting even hotter.

Those words were like music to his ears “you get to shoot me when I say you’re not mine alone.” Trevor cupped your cheek as he smiled “then I think you should make me yours Z.” You gasped feeling his lips finally meet yours.

It was like this moment that made your brain go numb, enjoying the way his touch made your body feel on fire. He let his free hand tug at your body, almost as if he was worried that you were going to leave. His touch was careful until your own hand scratched at his chest allowing his taste to captivate you as it danced on your tongue “Z.” You moaned feeling shivers travel through your body.

His mumbled grunt had you ready to into his arm “god I need you.” He blurted out deciding that his cock was becoming too painful against his suit pants. The boy watched you nod as you looked around you both “c’mon I’m not fucking you in my car yet.” Trevor’s words filled you with anticipation as your imagination ran wild thinking of all the different possibilities fun you could have with him.

Even as he was focused on the discomfort in his pants he still found the time to open your door for you “such a sweet boy.” You teased getting up as the boy rolled his eyes “yeah, yeah move along now.” He grumbled holding his duffel bag in one hand and his other wrapped around your waist spinning you around as he held your ass pressed against his cock.

Your breath faltered at the feeling his hair against your neck “be a good girl and walk ahead okay?” Trevor sucked at your ear lobe causing your body to shake in response “okay.” You forced the words from your lips as you bit at the inside of your cheek.

He smirked to himself as he clicked his tongue as you stayed still “you want to get a move on now or?” The hockey player teased pressing a kiss against your cheek. Your hands gripped at his coat tugging him along with you “god baby you’re so pretty tonight.” He confessed finally allowing his hands to leave your waist when the doors to the elevator shut. Your back was pressed against the mirror before you knew it, leaving you grateful that it was just the two of you in there.

Once hating how you wore his jersey so freely now Trevor couldn’t get enough of the sight “just tonight?” You giggled allowing your hands to travel to his waistband“and here I was thinking I was the girl of your dreams.” Your lips formed a playful pout seeing how his cheeks went flushed.

The stereotypical elevator music played in your ears “you know you are.” The hockey player trapped you in with one hand by your side and the other took one of your own “this is all for you princess.” He announced cupping your hand over his hardon.

His aftershave was sickeningly sweet as it invaded your nostrils “you’re gonna get me in so much trouble.” You announced hearing the door opened with a ding, signalling that you guys had made it to his floor “c’mon.” He ushered you out interlacing his hand with yours.

This time when you walked out to the familiar landscape of the hallway yet now you looked around like this was a foreign place where your heart pounded out of your chest “you getting cold feet on me now?” Trevor teased squeezing your hand as you shook your head “gonna have to do a lot more to keep me away pretty boy.” You mumbled pecking his lips before you got to his door.

It was as though the boy didn’t want to lose your hand as it was you who had to let go of his. He was then quick to fish his keys out of his jacket pocket letting you both into his place. The feeling of his lips was left on yours like a loved up couple dancing around your lips “you don’t know how happy I am to finally get you.” Trevor let his bag drop to the floor as a grin painted across your face.

He loved how responsive you were as he kissed you again. Now any potential fears that he might have had of people watching the sight left his mind and the only thing Trevor could think about was you. Your taste was enough to make him want more. His hands clawed at your jeans as the two of you acted like horny teenagers needing each other like oxygen.

Moans left your lips in place of air as your hands tugged at his hair “jump.” He ordered sliding his hands down the curve of your ass to support your weight. You didn’t need to be told twice crossing your legs around his hips as your tongue grazed over his lip “need you.” You pleaded pulling away as you let your forehead rest against his.

It held your desperate moment as you whimpered “c’mon then.” He mumbled carrying you to his room. The path had always been engraved in your mind but tonight you couldn’t help but think back to your dream and how his hands now felt perfect against you.

The boy had the same thoughts through his mind as he smiled letting you drop to his bed “what. Do. You. Want. Me. To. Do?” He asked between the kisses he used to attack your jaw.

It made your breath shake as your eyes watched him nestle between your thighs “I want you to tell me what you think of in that pretty little mind of yours.” Trevor explained letting a smile form on his lips as your cheeks turned red “I know you think about me making you feel good doll.” His words were enough to make you squirm.

Ever since that day when he caught you mid dream you hadn’t been able to forget about it, often finding ways to elaborate on your memories “you make me feel so good.” You whimpered feeling your skin grow warm “with your tongue first.” The latter was barely audible as a spark shone in his eyes.

It was like this bright gleam as he smirked “so I do take you for more than one round?” He teased tracing his hands dangerously close to the hem of your jersey “and when do I get you out of these?” As his cock throbbed in his pants Trevor was desperate to get a move on.

Your eyes flickered to your jeans “these went first.” You revealed making him nod “you gonna let me?” You should have been ashamed by the way that you desperately nodded.

He undid the button of your jeans and pulled down the zipper as he watched you catch your lip between your teeth “you’re so fucking pretty.” Trevor’s reminded you taking the chance to kiss your lips once more. The boy adored his responsive you were to him as the little alcohol you drank that night made his brain feel fuzzy.

Even as you had grown to have feelings for him over the years. you were still just as comfortable with this version of him as you were with the one who would steal food from your plate, when he’d sit on top of you acting like you weren’t there. Trevor watched you smile when he took that moment to go back to what he was doing “cute.” He teased seeing the blue checkered print on your panties.

A laugh left his lips as he watched you roll your eyes “you know Jack would have fucked me by now.” You knew that you were now playing a dangerous game but somehow you didn’t mind as you sent him a glare “then I think it’s about time I get you out of my jersey.” The hockey player emphasised his reminder of whose number was on your back.

Trevor’s movements were powered by irritation and his natural competitiveness also had him wanting to prove her wrong “think you knew you were gonna get fucked tonight didn’t you?” Trevor’s smirked seeing your matching set “but I guess I should ask by who?” He sucked his teeth as he couldn’t help but feel jealous about how your bra got to hug your breasts on an everyday occurrence.

You could have told him the truth but instead you felt like the secrets of your third addition to your dreams should be kept to yourself “you.” You squirmed feeling like head staring into your soul.

As his hands hooked into your panties you wanted him with intent “god you’re going to kill me.” You whined as the cold air came in contact with your cunt “like making you work for your reward.” He teased shuffling down his bed to get comfortable.

Trevor couldn’t help but lick his lips “god you’re a fucking beaut.” The boy mumbled as he kissed at your thighs. Equally spreading his attention between the two “fuck please.” You begged running your fingers over your stomach.

The neediness that glazed your eyes was enough to make him nod. His head dropped allowing him to lick a stripe up her slot. If this was anyone else you would have hated naked you were. Yet instead you shuddered the moment his tongue came in contact with your clit. All those late nights with nothing more than your vibrator and your imagination were put to shame by the needy boy who lay in front of you.

Your hands trailed to his hair desperately attempting to claw at something “don’t stop.” You mewled scrunching your toes in pleasure as his tongue dropped into your core. His nose teased your clit occasionally hitting the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Trevor watched in awe as he fucked your soaked cunt with his tongue treating you like a final meal as his arms wrapped around your thighs. Your eyes locked with his and you swore he took it as a challenge, like he wasn’t hitting the right spots as your eyes were still open.

The moment his head tilted allowing his tongue to reach a point that was deeper within you, you knew you were a goner. Your thighs began to shake as they pressed against the sides of his head “you’re gonna make me come.” You cried using the little focus you had available to drive your hips against his face constantly angling for him to continue hitting your g-spot.

Trevor moaned at the feeling of your cunt clenching around his tongue “just like that.” You pleaded unaware of how tears formed in your waterline as you were lead to your first orgasm that you hadn’t given yourself in months.

Your moans and cries bounced off of his bedroom walls preparing them for the stories that they would surely hold from tonight’s activities “Jesus Trevor oh.” Your lips formed a circle as your eyes screwed shut leaving your body to squirm still driving your hips to his mouth.

The hockey player swore he was dreaming as your salty release landed on his tongue and he continued to lap it up until you clearly began to lose it “no Z.” You mumbled trying to pull away from him when he let his tongue lay flat against your clit pressing a kiss to the sensitive nub before he pulled away.

There was a moment he took where he just sat there with a smirk on his face admiring the work that he had done already “you gonna let me continue making you feel so good?” He muttered honestly wondering if he had it within himself to behave until that point.

A mewl left your lips in delight as his hands tugged at the straps of your bra not caring for the fact that he had managed to rip it “Trevor!” You groaned feeling the elastic shoot against your skin “sorry doll.” His amused tone highlighted how he was anything but that “I’ll buy you another.” The hockey player offered adding seeing that hushed words did barely enough make you feel better so instead he pressed a kiss to your temple.

Your breasts bounced the moment they were released from your bra “‘s not fair you ain’t naked too.” You complained seeing his suit still on him “life ain’t fair doll.” He teased running his hands along your torso until her breasts.

A huff left your lips as his thumbs grazed your nipples “you want to know who would have been naked?” You asked watching his face hover over yours as it tilted practically edging you to answer “Jack.” The name was like a weight that hit Trevor like an anvil. The jab was a taunt and now he was left to decide how to react.

His response was to pinch your stiff peaks, letting the bud roll between his fingers “you really think he’d have you feeling as good as I do?” The hockey player let out a grunt as he rolled his eyes “uh huh.” You couldn’t allow yourself to back down now.

He had this constant desire to outcompete Jack was bubbling through his system. After seeing her so close to Jack that night, Trevor knew that he had one chance to fix it all once and for all to become the outright favourite. His sharp gaze made you force your thighs together as his nimble fingers tugged at his shirt.

The tie that once complimented his neck was now long gone as he threw it onto his navy comforter “can’t believe you’re still such a brat even after all that I do for you.” He grumbled picking it back up once he saw how your eyes sparkled seeing it “arms.” Trevor pushed his hands together showing you what to do.

Part of you was confused enough that you listened pushing your wrists together “up.” The cool metal of his bed frame was freezing against your skin causing your lips to form an o “since you want to act like such a brat you don’t get touch me.” His words were met with a whimper as you went to complain “you cry about it and I’m sure you’re gonna love the taste of your pretty little panties in your mouth.” Trevor warned making you gulp as you began to think about his offer.

Once you remained silent he instead looked to continue pulling his clothes off “not a brat.” You mumbled looking to his comforter “so you won’t mind me fucking his name right out of your mouth?” The boy was serious as his boxers were the final addition to the clothing pile that had formed on his floor.

Trevor fiddled through his bedside cabinet to get a condom from the box “would have fucked you raw but not even you deserve that much.” He grumbled to himself tearing the metallic wrapper to reveal the latex element. His cock throbbed feeling the air of the room around him “god please just fuck me already.” You pleaded kicking your legs as you felt helpless not being able to move your arms.

He laughed as he rolled the condom over his cock “how can I say no when you ask so nicely.” The hockey player cooed crawling back onto the bed as you pulled your legs up spreading them for him to get a view of your soaking desperate cunt “I’m ready to fuck his name right outta your mouth.” Trevor’s voice was so low that you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or not.

You nodded chewing at the inside of your cheek “will believe it when I see it.” If there was a hole then you were digging yourself into it “you’re lucky I have been picturing fucking this cunt for years.” He grunted running his covered cock over your slit teasing your clit causing a moan to leave your lips.

Trevor like you had these dreams at night and his hand with the memory of your moans were now no longer enough to make him come “jesus fuck.” You gasped as your cunt stretched around his cock “it’s just me doll.” His hands found themselves by your sides as he kissed you letting the vibe grow soft like he genuinely cared.

Maybe it was for the fact that you were currently full with his cock but this time you couldn’t argue back “please move.” Your hands tugged at his tie finally feeling stretched out “you feel like heaven.” Trevor groaned beginning to settle into a rhythm.

He enjoyed watching how your body bounced with each creak of the headboard.

Your eyes trailed down his body taking snapshots of his chiseled chest. He smirked picking up how your mouth watered at the sight of his throbbing cock thrusting into you “like keeping those pretty little eyes on me huh?” The boy teased angling his thrusts upward to get a deeper angle.

The room got hot as you whimpered “fuck you feel so good.” Your legs snaked around his hips refusing to let him go “you know I’m the only one who makes you feel this good right?” He murmured running his tongue along your jaw.

It made you shiver as your breasts throbbed “answer the question before I stop.” Trevor raised his hand to slap your thigh making you moan “only you z.” You nodded feeling your wrists grow sore with how you tugged at the restraints.

But that wasn’t enough for him as he let his hand slot between your two bodies “only I what?” He taunted you letting his fingers ghost over your clit “fuck me like this.” You mewled feeling your legs begin to shake.

Hearing those words were like music to his ears “guess I should let you touch me then?” Trevor proposed making you nod desperately “god please yes.” You should have been embarrassed by how desperate you were for him to let you touch him.

A whine left your lips as you felt his hand leave your clit “relax you brat.” He scoffed rolling his eyes “I’m giving you what you want so behave.” Trevor’s snapped making you nod as you went silent watching his hand claw at his tie undoing the knots.

The moment your hands were free they pulled his face down to yours. It was a needy kiss that you finally took control of as you took him by surprise “still such a needy girl even with my cock for her to fuck.” The vulgar words made you clench around him “you think he could have gotten you feeling like this?” The hockey player groaned as his head dropped to your shoulder for his lips to nip at the soft skin.

Jack was the last thing on your mind as you shook your head as your hands moved to his back letting your nails claw at him “no.” You shook your head making Trevor use the little energy he head left to look back up at you “what was that I couldn’t hear you?” He taunted applying more pressure to your clit as his hips snapped into you.

Your mouth opened ready for the cries to leave your lips yet you were silent only letting the soft gasps push past your lips “you keep fucking me so well.” You blurted out not having tome to care about how dirty your words truly were.

It made him groan as he soaked your words up like a sponge “shit.” He felt his pace increase as the squelching sounds from your cunt echoed in his ears “I’m close.” You confessed letting your eyes screw shut as the room grew even hotter.

Your skin was slick with sweat and you were sure to have been a mess “stick your tongue out for me baby.” He ordered as you nodded feeling your breasts hit his skin.

Your tongue rolled out of your mouth awaiting further instructions “such a good listener.” The boy praised causing your cunt to clench around him again.

Trevor swore he was going to come when his spit left his mouth. It was a sticky string that connected your mouth to his “now swallow.” He brushed his thumb over your lower lip breaking the saliva trail as he placed his thumb in your mouth.

On instinct your tongue swirled around the digit listening to his orders as he smirked “good girl.” Trevor murmured as he felt you begin to ride your hips into his “go milk my cock baby.” The words made you cry as your thighs began to shake.

His attacks on your clit pushed you over the edge “god please don’t stop!” You pleaded feeling your chest heave “doll keep your eyes on me when you come.” As his hips snapped into yours you couldn’t but listen.

Your eyes stared into his as you moaned “right there!” You gritted out in delight making him nod as you finally came. White points coated your vision as your body thrashed around letting your cunt clamp down around his cock.

Just like that his head dropped back down to your shoulder “such a tight perfect cunt f’me.” Trevor cooed feeling his cock twitch coating his release into his condom as you squeezed his cock one final time.

The two of you lay there embracing each other’s hold as you both focused on your breathing and your fingers brushed through his hair “you wanted a bath princess?” Trevor offered rolling off of you as he feared he didn’t have the energy to simply pull out.

He had to snap his fingers in front of you in order to get you to respond “since when are you into aftercare?” You let out an amused laugh clearly not believing that it was something he was capable of “just for that I have to show you.” Trevor shot back scooping you into his arms before you could complain.

It made him smile as you wrapped your arms around him “I just want to be proved wrong.” You teased making him laugh as he opened the door to his bathroom bringing you both into there.

Whilst the sounds of laughter and running water came from the bathroom what neither of you noticed was that a message came through to your phone. One that would surely lead to more harm than good especially whilst you were finding a reason to sneak out with your clothes half on the next morning.

Jack: you up for coming to the Vegas game still?

#Trevor zegras smut #nhl smut #hockey smut #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #trevor zegras x y/n #trevor zegras x reader #amber writes fics #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #hockey imagine #oneshots #imagines

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billgetsmewet · 26 days

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i will save your life…

request : HELLLOOOO so like- what if uh Bill x reader but like they do it while listening to deftones?? (Ex: Risk from the dimond eyes album or something) idk i feel like that would be a good short story idk 🫶🏻

warnings : p in v, smut, handjob, sub!bill, petnames (ex princess/slut etc.)

Bill has been on tour foreverrr.. he was supposed to come back today, you were telling all of your friends about it. It was a big thing, considering hes been all over europe in the past few weeks, not even stepping a foot in your hometown.

He calls you up out of nowhere saying the bus broke down, great. - you think to yourself as you sigh, making him hear on the other end of the phone. I wish i could be there with you already.. - he mumbles, but you can barely hear him.

The music in the background blurs his voice but so does the fact that he barely has any signal.

I cant hear you.. -you chuckle- are you listening to deftones in the bus?.. -you ask, making him focus on the music for a second.

Oh im not the one who put it on, it was Gustav - he chuckles aswell, before getting a bit startled by someone next to him.

The bus is fixed! - he yells out. Were gonna be there soon!

You feel your mouth rounding up into a cheeky smile as he says that, you both know what youre gonna do together when he gets home..

You get a ring at your doorbell, you get shivers down your spine as you rush downstairs to unlock the door for him.

You open the door and hug him, not even letting him enter before you do.

Is that.. deftones? - he laughs, hearing the CD player bursting deftones in your room at max volume. yeah.. i thought youd like it - you reply nervously. yeah! i dont mind it, if you know what i mean - he laughs, almost laughing off the fact that you tried to impress him.

You invite him upstairs into your room, as you always do, trying to “enjoy some time with him”. you sit down on your bed, just as he does, right next to you.

The music is blurring out any sound you might hear in your room or anywhere in your house, basically its hella fucking loud, eardrums hurting type of loud.

You look at Bill, trying to tell you something you just cant hear, with lust in his eyes, his lips glossy and his look begging for you.

You didnt even have to read his lips to know what he wanted, you felt it straight up.

You smile at him, before standing up to lower the music a bit so youd be able to hear his moans.

Next thing you know hes in his boxers and youre palming him, hes rock hard, whining for you to do something about it.. what a slut.

B-bmhh.. baby.. mhh! please! please! -he moans pathetically, begging you to fuck him.

Be patient now, wont you? you made me wait too.. you didnt visit me for weeks for some stupid tour, isnt that true, hm? -you argue.

He just keeps whining and moaning like a dog, his eyes tearing up. Baby it hurts.. p-please it hurts.. -he cries, yet you let him cry, you keep palming him and teasing him. You feel his precum leaking from his boxers, “god..” you thought to yourself, trying to hold yourself back, not letting him win.

Eventually he did win, no matter how hard you tried, you couldnt resist his puppy eyes. The music is still blasting in your ears as you hear a big moan from him, louder than the music, he has managed to rip the boxers… how? i dont know, you tell me.. It was a sign to jerk him off, or atleast you took it that way.

You started slowly pumping him from the bottom with one hand , while you tease his red, swollen tip with the other. His precum has already coated both of your palms. A-Ah!.. Ah!! please.. faster..mmh! -he moans, how cute. You do as he tells you and you start pumping him faster, now with both hands.

His mouth hangs agape, moaning and crying submissively.

Please.. please.. mommy.. please.. let me cum..-he whimpers. Do you think you deserve it, Billy? Have you been a good boy? -you ask in reply. Yes! mh..mhm! mhm.. please! yes!

He just wouldnt shut up, would he?…

A-hhmm..ah! mommy.. i cant take it anymore-mmh.. im gonna cum.. mmh.. - he moans, before comming all over your hands.

Now this wasnt acceptable, what a dirty little whore. Cant even listen to his own girlfriend.

Oh look at what youve done.. this dirty boy needs punishing, doesnt he? look at you.. - you say, degrading him. I-i.. i didnt mean to, im sorry.. i couldnt hold it back.. Nuh-uh! This dirty slut needs punishing after this.

You unbuckle your belt, letting your pants fall down, making a clinking sound as the belts hit the hardwood floor. You get ontop of him, grabbing his waist, sitting down on his lap, teasing him before you actually begin.

Oh look at you now.. already hard again.. -you say, seeing his boner become more and more intense. What a slut for mommy, arent you?

You take off your lingerie, making him stare at your bare pussy, this time, he was even harder.

You get ontop of him, bouncingyourself up and down, relaxing into the music and ignoring his requests and moans.

A-Ah! please slow down, it hurts.. mmh..-he was so sensitive, what a submissive boy.

Mhm?.. ah.. fuck.. Bill.. arent you a dirty little sensitive slut for mama, hm? -you groan, trying to hold back your whimpers and cries, he was big, you couldnt lie.

You started bouncing faster, not caring about his high but about your own, he was already a spoiled little boy anyways.

Mama.. mh.. i cant take it anymore im gonna cum again…-he cries, coincidentally right before you reach your climax, cumming all over his abdomen, making him not able to finish.

Fuck.. -you breathe heavily as you get off him. But.. But mommy… -he whines.

Bad boys dont get to finish, darling…

———————————————————————

Ps: i wrote this in school it took me like two hours and why tf is it so short… anyways the coffee thay im drinking rn is hitting diff ughhh, i think its mocha or something

#bill kaulitz #tokio hotel #georg listing #gustav schäfer #tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #smut #bill kaulitz smut #tokio hotel smut #bill kaulitz fanfic

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dani474 · 3 months

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Tell us your theory on why he says that PLEASE. I don’t think it’s true they have to fix things 😭

So, this post points out a huge flaw in Wei Wuxian's response and its discrepancy to what we know of their relationship in canon. The Golden Core transfer is one of MANY things they need to discuss to get past their estranged, brittle, slightly obsessive relationship.

When we take a close look at why Jiang Cheng is so angry and so hurt here, it's not just about his family or any debt Wei Wuxian might have had to his parents. Ultimately, it's about Wei Wuxian's promise to remain by Jiang Cheng's side. He lost his parents and their entire sect, then he lost his own core trying to protect Wei Wuxian (who doesn't know!) then his "martial brother/brother/best friend/whatever" not only goes missing for three months but returns with new powers and new issues he won't share with anyone. Not even Yanli.

Jiang Cheng wanted to protect Wei Wuxian but was unable to due to larger political circumstances and the fact that he didn't know about the transfer. He didn't know why Wei Wuxian was using demonic cultivation! He warns Wei Wuxian again and again that there are larger risks of his cultivation, and he turned out to be right. Trouble found Wei Wuxian even when he ran off and hid peacefully! And he never knew why.

To Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian asking to leave the sect -- regardless of whether or not it was to protect them from further scrutiny by the other sects -- is him asking to leave Jiang Cheng's side. To break their promise without any explanation. He already lost so much and all he can see here is losing another person he loves.

I want to drive that point in, really.

Any insecurity Jiang Cheng feels over Wei Wuxian's capabilities is often outweighed by his sense of responsibility towards rebuilding his sect and attempting to protect what remains of the family he had before the attack on Lotus Pier.

He didn't want to tell Wei Wuxian about why he lost his golden core for the same exact reason that Wei Wuxian kept the surgery a secret. They didn't want to hurt each other with the knowledge of such a great sacrifice. A sacrifice no one would have ever asked of either of them, no matter what was "owed." The Transfer was experimental and pretty much something no cultivator would even attempt. That's what made this choice so risky and so hard to account for.

Neither had any real way to weight the risks and consequences of this situation, and by never talking about it even during a tearful argument, we got canon events. (I've seen people talk about how Wei Wuxian's circumstances meant he had very little else to choose but survival, but this is true for Jiang Cheng too.)

And really. They both tried so hard to survive. And yet, when faced with terrible choices, they chose to protect each other. Putting their cultivation on the line to save each other's lives is not something anyone would normally do. Duty could have been a factor, but in my opinion, it wouldn't have taken Wei Wuxian that far. It wasn't even a factor in Jiang Cheng's.

And I think this is why people feel so put off by Wei Wuxian claiming it was done out of duty to the Yunmeng Jiang family. But it doesn't start with him. Their entire confrontation starts out with Jiang Cheng questioning what the sect meant to Wei Wuxian, if everything they gave him (everything they were to him) was worth nothing. This is almost entirely a projection of what Jiang Cheng asks when he cries. What he really feels is hidden in questions about martial duty.

"Why did you not tell me?"

For all his words, it was less about their sect and so much more about Jiang Cheng feeling like he was worth nothing to Wei Wuxian.

We know this. But Wei Wuxian doesn't.

I didn't notice it immediately, but Wei Wuxian's whole thing is deflection. It's about telling small truths and laughing things off or forcing himself to forget entirely. By the end of their confrontation, he does it again by asking Jiang Cheng to let it stay in the past, now that it's out there, but this does nothing to reduce the tension. It just deflects it again.

I think Wei Wuxian's response to Jiang Cheng's questions was to focus on what he thought was most important. Duty, debt to the Yunmeng Jiang. It was a deflection from what was really wrong. He didn't want to address his own complicated feeling, much less try to untangle whether Jiang Cheng hates him or loves him, so he doesn't.

Whatever broke between them wasn't about duty of any kind. It was about sacrifice, and the pain of carrying its burden alone. It was about loving someone enough to do something so drastic and never being able to say it.

Jiang Cheng hearing that the transfer was out of duty hurts him deeply, because he doesn't know that Wei Wuxian loves him. But Wei Wuxian doesn't know that's what Jiang Cheng is looking for. He hears the first part of their confrontation and responds to that.

Not, "Why did you never tell me?" But 'Did the Yunmeng Jiang mean nothing to you?'

Those are two different questions.

Wei Wuxian is trying to tell Jiang Cheng that it did mean something. That Lotus Pier's destruction, the Jiang parents and Yanli's deaths mattered to him. He's trying to release Jiang Cheng's burden without realizing that, by saying it had nothing to do with him, he's saying that Jiang Cheng didn't matter enough.

This is not how Wei Wuxian feels, we know this. But, again, Jiang Cheng doesn't.

They're talking right past each other, and because of all their other issues, they not only don't realize it, but might never be able to truly address it. They're so used to keeping their feelings hidden from each other that they can't even see how much they, as individuals, matter to each other.

TL;DR.

Both of them love each other and couldn't say it because of their complicated. Well, everything. Instead, their misconceptions cause them both to focus on the wrong things at the wrong time. By asking about what the Yunmeng Jiang meant to Wei Wuxian, it hides what Jiang Cheng really wants to know: if it was done out of love and protectiveness as his sacrifice had been. By focusing on this deflection, Wei Wuxian hides his own feelings by placing duty to the Jiang sect in highest importance. He gives the answer that he thinks Jiang Cheng wants to hear.

So, no, I don't think Wei Wuxian wasn't telling the truth (or at least not the full truth) either.

In the end, this is not what either of them actually wanted from the confrontation and does very little to address their actual emotional issues. All it really does is open the door for something to change in the future.

#asks #mdzs #wei wuixan #jiang cheng #golden core reveal #meta #my post #mine.txt

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csuitebitches · 1 year

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Going From a Fixed Mindset to a Growth Mindset

Lesson #1: growth is not linear. You will not improve drastically overnight. As I’ve stressed this before, things take time and consistency and concentration.

A fixed mindset is basically a belief that the person you’re born as - your intelligence and talent - are fixed. They cannot be changed, no matter what.

Science has shown that this is not true. It’s 100% possible to get smarter over time and with dedicated effort.

This is what a growth mindset is - believing that you can be better over time, and that your current level of intelligence and talent is temporary.

People with fixed mindsets are insecure, and it shows. Fear of failure; taking constructive criticism to heart; feelings of jealousy when someone they know is doing well… we’ve all known a person like this, and been this person ourselves at some point in our life.

Growth mindset is therefore the opposite but the effects are as grounding; it can help battling anxiety, depression, burnout issues, behavioural issues and so on.

I understand that a lot of you don’t have people in your life with a similar mentality of personal growth. I’m therefore reopening my Discord. My followers can meet, connect and help each other out.

Now, how does one transition from a fixed to a growth mindset?

Here are some things I think could help:

1. Detaching yourself from the definition of failure

If you’ve already decided the outcome of a certain situation without even trying, then you’re still stuck in a fixed mindset. Things like “there’s no point in me applying for that job because I don’t have the skills and I won’t get it anyway” - applying for that job wouldn’t hurt, even if you don’t get it. Stop limiting your opportunities that you never know could actually work out. A growth mindset person will always try to make most of the opportunities they have.

2. Not getting attached to any outcomes

Don’t get attached to favourable or unfavourable outcomes. When something goes well, have gratitude in your heart but don’t let it get to your ego. Life is about constantly learning. Don’t get attached to compliments and don’t get disheartened by criticism.

3. Actively working on yourself

You can learn a language at any age. You can start learning how to dance or sing or ride a horse at any age, if you’re doing it for the pleasure of learning (getting into competitive stages could be challenging if you’re not young). Someone who works on themselves has a growth mindset.

4. Stop self depreciating yourself

If I see one more IG bio that says “I’m so boring uwu” I will literally throw hands. Stop talking shit about yourself. Classic fixed mindset case. It’s childish and people pleasing behaviour.

5. Stop the comparison game

Stop resenting the people around for the good work they do in their life/ if their life is easy. We all have our challenges, whether we show them publicly or not. The more you work on your inner peace and inner self, the less you’ll feel the need to compare yourself to someone else. Jealousy is a disease and a sign of a fixed mindset.

6. Appreciate and thank yourself for being you.

If you’re nice to your mum, siblings, friends when they need your support… you can be nice to yourself too. Growth mindset does not come from berating yourself.

7. Recognise mistakes and take accountability

Admitting that you’re wrong is never easy. However, I’ll always have respect for someone who can admit that they messed up, rather than someone who will make up stories to justify their antics.

8. Provide yourself with at least 3 productive self-care hours a week

Self care here doesn’t mean skin care or hair care. I mean brain care. You feed your brain good things that it needs to stay calm and ever-growing.

These could include: brain games, mediation, a hobby, watching an educational documentary, doing a short online course, reading… anything that’s good for your brain.

9. Stop being a chameleon

Have you ever met those sort of people who will do anything to fit in? It could adopting that group’s mannerisms, thought processes, opinions… now, to an extent, that is normal and subtle. However, when it starts going too far to a point where you can’t be yourself anymore, thats a problem. In my opinion, that’s an example of not being able to practice your growth mindset publicly.

Privately, you may be growth oriented - but it needs to reflect in your words and actions. If you’re holding yourself back in doing certain things because you’re afraid of what other friends will think of you, you need better friends. Embrace people who have a growth mentality.

10. Using social media for better purposes

I made a separate Instagram account where I only follow educational stuff - think history, geography, arts and architecture, science, tech, business - and absolutely no people. It’s my way of using social media to ensure I learn more. Social media may be the devil, but you can be smart and alter it to your purposes, to give you that kick that you need to educate yourself.

#c suite #powerful woman #ceo aesthetic #personal growth #that girl #productivity #strong women #getting your life together #feminine energy #balance #growth mindset #fixed mindset #mindset #growth #fixed #mentality

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unabashednightmarepizza · 10 months

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𝑆𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑒

Summary: Black Family sucked. That's what your friends, your family and boyfriend said. They were obsessed with being "pure" and ready to do anything to achieve that... But none of you would have known exactly what measures they would go.

A/N: I went overboard with this one, and had to seperate it to two parts. So, hopefully, next week, you guys will have a second part. But I'm sleepy while uploading this so... Forgive me if there are some mistakes, I'll fix them later. REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Trigger Warning: Mentions of torture and abuse, some very slight make out mentions(?), typical Black family, 8.2K words.

Pairing: Regulus Black x Pureblood!Fem!Reader

Prompts: "No one makes me smile the way you do.", "I've always loved that about you.", " I know I don't say it a lot, but I really do love you." and "You're all I'll ever need to feel better." from this prompt list ; 3,6,7,8,9, 19, 22, 29, 30 and 31 from the kissing prompts 4 of my "SUMMER CELEBRATION" event.

Part2

Regulus wasn't seen.

It wasn't like he wasn't at the school where you both called your home, he definetly was. There were glimpses of him in lessons, or Quidditch practices, there were slight whispers of his rich and silky voice as he spoke to his friends in the Great Hall, one that you could always catch no matter where or when. It was the same voice that whispered you sweet good mornings, the same voice that told you soft spoken, full of love and adoration, words as he danced with you in somewhere away from the prying eyes, his own blue-ish gray ones looking extra ethereal and captivating at the moonlight that shone on both of you, contouring his sharp face so beautifully that often left you speechles.

Speechles at how this amazing, caring and loving boy was yours. And he often felt the same about you, about how lucky he was for finding you in that library corner, drowning in books and hair messy, at his lowest point.

A point where no one really made it an effort to listen to him, to know him.

By his friends, his parents... His own brother.

But, even if he wasn’t heard or seen by his family, Regulus Black was seen in Hogwarts, by many others... But not you.

Not today.

He was avoiding you.

It hurted you whenever he distanced himself. He often did this, but even then, he would tell you that he just needed to be alone and gather his thoughts after a kiss to your forehead and then return a few hours later with your favourite dessert from one of the house elves. They even learnt when to bake them for him and you, after witnessing how bice you treated them and such, they were happy to stay awake a few more hours so that you two could be happy.

And of course, you understood that everyone could need some alone time in this hectic life, Regulus more than anyone, but this much of being alone...

He didn't even come to dinner time, instead saying some bullshit about wanting to sleep and tell you to eat with your friends after a soft kiss to your cheeks and a short kiss to your lips. He would always lay some on your lips, and even pepper your whole face with them. His kisses were always so passionate, they left you a breathless mess at the place he kissed you, making you jump on him as you both laughed in delight.

Be it his dorm, you would jump on the bed and you two would play fight, looking into each others eyes as he would hover over you, a hand on your waist with a thight grip as his breath fanned your face, his nose touching yours as he would muzzle his to your neck. You are beautiful, he would whisper before his kisses would turn urgent and you both’s clothes would soon be thrown away at somewhere.

Regulus Black was a passionate young man, someone who felt deeply... But that passion was slowly dying.

And it was your greatest fear coming true.

“Excuse me, guys... I don’t have an appeatite...” you slowly got up as you looked at them, apologizing with your eyes. People always thought them to be such fuckers but Barty and Evan, as long as they weren’t in their teasing romance, were actually great friends of you and Regulus... Barty was the first one who adopted you in the group, back before you were sorted in any houses, in the train and... Perhaps, you were the only one they loved in another house.

“Where are ya goin’? Ya haven’ eaten anythin’?” Barty pointed to your plate as a sheepish look came over you, lips tugging to a sweet smile, hoping that he would let it pass. He wouldn’t have fallen for the puppy eyes, not for the 97th time, had Evan not pointed to who was missing on their table as well.

“looking for her boyfriend, I see...” you gave a sad smile at Evan as he nodded to the entrance of the Great Hall. He, too, was aware that something was... more wrong with the Black as well, but none of them could come close enough to question him without getting blasted off. “Go. That boy never admits, but he is very dependant on you... He needs you.”

But, if there was anyone who could do that... And perhaps, it was you he wanted to have with him, it would be you.

He had seen from first-hand experience how good you affected the boy, how he seemed happier. Though he would always tease him for the heart eyes he sent your way, or how he would get up from his seat and hug you at the entrance of the Great Hall as soon as he sees you, and also accompany you to his side as you talked with his friends and then, sit with you in your side of the table with your friends at lunch time or dinner, he was glad he found some solace in you.

He was aware of the “pureblood nonsense” most “pureblood” families believed in, his and Blacks for example, and did anything to make their children believe in it too. Regulus was still considered lucky in his eyes, for having Sirius protecting him since he didn’t have someone that would protect him.

And now that they were friends, there was no way in hell that he would allow him to relapse into those bad thoughts that could never actualy stop swirl in his head.

You beamed at Evan as your sprinted from them, Evan yelling after you that they would bring some food for you two while Barty hissed about you not doing any funny business. Evan elbowed him hard as Barty whined about how Regulus was becoming soft, and pink, and domestic around him so much that he couldn’t take it anymore. I love our girlie, and cold bitch of a friend but they both make me... sick...

You couldn’t care less about what they said though. Your mind was only on Regulus and how in pain he looked earlier, even when he tried to hide it behind his steel look. You wondered if it was the anniversary of his brother leaving him behind, but quickly checked it out. Maybe his parents were strict and harsh to him again? But he always said he was used to their harsh ways of teaching...

And now that you stopped in front of the the door seperating you from the Slytherin Common Room... You realized that you didn’t know much about your own boyfriend as much as you were supposed to. And that thought made you frown as you looked down for a moment. You knew how... intense things can get with the “pureblood thing”, even though your family wasn’t that harsh when it came to that ideology, you could only imagine what was going on behind the Black household’s closed door by what Sirius had told you.

Pain, screams and suffering enough to make even the strongest wizard or witch cry their eyes out, just to escape, just to... end it all.

Much like the sniffles coming from insidehis dorm after you entered, sniffles that did nothing to ease your nervousness.

And there he was, your absolutely soft and loving and perfect boyfriend, laying on his side as he clutched his cushion thightly while sobbing uncontrollably , his body heaving up and down as his cries rolled off his tongue and reached your ears. Your heart clenched painfully at the heartbroken boy before you, twisting an invisible knife deeper and deeper with each of his cries as you slowly walked up to him and sat down on the bed, alerting him to your presence before putting your hand on his shoulder and caressing his shoulder comfortingly with sad eyes.

“Reggie...” you knew how he hated that nickname, even throwing a fit to Evan how he didn’t like, though he always said he preferred only you to say it, so when he didn’t react even at that name, you sprinted to his other side after applying a locking charm to the door, guessing he would want to be alone with you right now withour anyone barging in.

At first, he tried to deny you and your touch, but you were persistent. When you said yes to date him, you made a promise to him that day: even if your ways split, you would still be there for him through thick and thin.

You wouldn’t ve another person who left him alone.

“I’m not leaving, I’m here... You’re safe, Regulus...”

And perhaps, it was the way your voice so softly comforted him and how your hands glided through his black curls, or maybe he was too tired after crying his heart out. Whatever it was, he suddenly got up and launched at you, burrying his face to your neck as you sat down on your butt and swayed him from side to side like a baby. Regulus was a man who fought until his last breath, someone who rebelled silently, someone who stood on his ground so strictly that you often thought there would be nothing that could break him.

What happened to him to make him turn into a mess?

What did they do this time?

He was talking, rambling about how bad it was and how she was gonna kill him for it but you didn’t know what “it” was. Your frown hardened by each passing second as his rambles got more intense with fear, fear of his own mother.

“ I-I h-had to leave... I had to leave there, Y/N! They... They wanted-“ another choked sob raked through him as you hugged him even thighter than previously, lifting his head in a hurry and desperately searching for your eyes, to see if you believed him, if you were trully there, if you were... real.

You held onto his face softly, running your thumb up amd down through the bridge of his nose as you kissed his lips to prove to him that you were real, and he was safe in Hogwarts, making him feel all of you as his tears wet your lips, leaving a bitter taste at your tongue.

Not from the salty taste, but the pain they held.

Your mind already finished his sentence without him actually doing so. Because there was only one thing you both feared, one thing that kept him awake at most nights...

One thing that made him cry onto your shoulders that much...

“Did they... Did they do it?” your shaky whisper shook him from the half-trance he was in, and your question made you shiver as if You-Know-Who’s hands were around your neck, your shoulders, the death and chaos that followed him around reeking even in the comforting bubble you two had in Regulus’ dorm.

He shook his head as his hands twisted the silk of your robe. “No... Bella came to the house, said that she wanted to take me to him... The Dark Lord. She said it would be an honor to fight for his cause...” he paused to gulp down the bile that rose to his throat, clenching his eyes shut and focusing on your comforting smell and warmth. He slowly calmed down and looked at you with his ocean blue eyes, wondering how it was possible for you to net be like his own family, how you were so kind and different than others. When he first saw you in the Great Hall, everyone was looking at you in awe, some were jealous and some were scared. Mostly half-bloods and muggle-borns who was now aware of your family and how in danger they were with a school full of purebloods who mostly wanted to get rid of them.

But just as your kindness and warmth eased him many times, they eased those who once feared you as you welcomed them all happily with open arms, making them promise to turn to you if something were troubling them. You proved everyone that you and your family wasn’t like those psychopaths who was hellbent on killing them, even if it made you be branded as “blood-traitor”. You didn’t seem like you cared much about it, rather spending time with your friends even when nasty Slytherins threw insults at you. All you did was to flip them off and go back to whatever you were doing...

And this was why he hesitated to talk to you at the beginning, both from his family status and the nasty comments that would be thrown at you from his house in Hogwarts. He thought you were only kind to muggle-borns and half-breeds since they were being bullied constantly and, harsh to the purebloods who insulted you.

And he was a pureblood... which meant that you would defiently flip him off and even hurt him.

Which proved to be wrong soon, when he cautiously walked up to you in potion class and asked for help as you turned around and gave him a wide smile as you patted the spot next to you. He didn’t want to think back to how close you two were as you listed the ingredients behind him and looked from his head and down at the cauldron to see if he was doing it right.

But it was the happiest he had ever been as you smiled at him and patted his back proudly as you called for the Professor and showed him your works. That was the moment he realized that he could talk to you without any fear, and also, come to you with some of his problems whether you were able to solve them or not. But perhaps, the biggest discovery about his first meeting with you was...

Knowing deep down that he would fall for you, and your dedication for those close to you.

He was proven right, and it was also a joy to realize this as much as it pained him. He knew with what kind of burden he came, and he didn’t want to do that to you. It wasn’t fair to such a sunshine person like you. But he had been a bit more selfish than he wanted to admit in his life, and he needed a light... A hope that showed him, told him that his days that was often covered with darkness would be gone soon.

He didn’t know what he did to deserve you, to have you return his feelings almost 2 years ago, but he was so damn glad to Merlin that you were in his life, that you were his light, his saviour.

Just a few minutes ago, he was miserable and scared and didn’t know what else to do. He felt like he was cornered like a wild, hurt animal, not knowing or seeing a way out.

But at least... He had you, he would always have you.

It wasn’t like he didn't come clean with this, his family and how they supported Voldemort. It was actually one of the main reasons that even if he loved you, his heart called for you, he would never try to court you. He couldn’t bring himself to be the reason your smile would fall, the reason you would be dragged into his mess.

But still... Both of you naively thought that he had more time, that you both had more time to act like a normal couple living a pink romance.

That was what you wanted to have. For Regulus to feel safe and happiness, away from the tragedy that was his family.

Apparently, Merlin had other plans.

“B-But... You’re still in school? I thought they wouldn’t...” your voice died down as horror filled you for what was coming to your ways. You were aware of their bond with the Dark Lord, and that they would make either him or Sirius join the DeathEaters too. Sirius was safe now that he ran away and seeked help from James, and you were happy for him. Sirius, James and Remus were your friends anyways, you loved hanging out with them or tutoring them.

Which meant almost all the time.

They were nice people, happy to help you at any time and anywhere, or well, every person who they loved and cherished...

That was exactly why you didn’t understand when Sirius appeared in James’ house alone, leaving his little brother, 14 at that time, alone in such a “hellhole”.

Alone and defenceless, crying much like now as he curled in a ball...

But deep down, you knew that Sirius was worried about him too. You knew him, and listened to him as he cried to you about how he wasn’t used to feeling safe and how worried sick he was for his brother. Something must have happened for Regulus to not let him come with his brother, and Sirius to not drag him away from that house.He, after all, was a stubborn little shit whether the situation was good or not.

But whatever it was that made both of them not to talk for months and reconcile, it came back to bite everyone’s ass.

“I know, love... I know...” he kissed the tip of your nose as he tried to comfort you back, feeling your fear as his. That was one of the reasons why he fell for you: You felt everyone’s pain even when they really didn’t deserve it.

And though he liked watching you get protective and help someone out while he stood behind and admired you, the tears sitting at the corner of your lovely eyes did nothing but break him even more as he wiped them away, kissing just under your eyes softly, afraid of inflicting you with even more pain.

“That’s what I said, that I should finish school first but... Mother said it was full of dirty wizards and witches, muggleborns and half-bloods. She said I was better off without all those scums....” your brows furrowed at how Walburga Black was so... full of hatred at those who wasn’t like her, her sons included. You probably never saw another human who was so full of hatred, her negativity pouring as venom, trying to poison everyone just as she once was. You had a good guess of why she was like this, why she always threw hatred and so many curses on practically everyone.

After all, none of her sons turned out to be like the Black family. Both of them didn’t support the “Pureblood nonsense” like they did, and Sirius was brave enough to rebel against them while Regulus did it more silently. He showed himself to be just like the perfect Black heir, did everything they asked for and stood tall against them.

He wasn’t brainwashed by them, and though they weren’t proud of him- and could never be- You were so damn proud for him, just like a certain older brother.

You didn’t know it but Regulus, had it been not for you, he feared he would have actually believed in them and what they said, solely for the reason that he wanted them to love him, to acknowledge him as a son. They wanted perfection and he wanted to be perfect, he needed to be perfect.

Because if he wasn’t... Who would he be to anyone?

You are Regulus Arcturus Black, he remembers you telling him after he finally came clean to you about what was in his mind, after asking you out. He was so sure you would decline, laugh it off or anything remotely that told him you didn’t feel the same, before he felt your soft hands slowly taking hold of his downcasted head as his eyes widened in surprise at how... content you looked with the same smile that ignited a fire deep in his soul that it never died, and would never do.. And you are a great man who is kind, strong and powerful, brave too! You are my favourite person in the whole world and I’ll spend an eternity reminding of who you are... Starting with, my boyfriend.

Silence scretchted between you two as he smiled softly at the memory, a perfect one to cast a Patronus perhaps. He desperately wished that this was one of those times you sneaked into his dorm for a nightly fate when he would for sure know that you would scare away all the demons in his head...

But unfortunately, the reality was something else. Something even more demonic and evil than the usual nightmares that haunted him.

Something that tore both him and you apart by how scary it was.

“What did you do... Regulus, did you do it?” he didn’t speak, just took your hands and put them on his sleeve, wanted you to look yourself. Because he didn’t have enough energy anymore. Suddenly, as you slowly pulled his sleeve up, the reality of what would have happened if he didn’t fight against them crashed him.

He would never see you saunter into the Great Hall every time, he wouldn’t sneak out in the middle of the night to have a late night date with you, he wouldn’t be the one to walk with you to your next class, he wouldn’t wait for you for food, he wouldn’t go to Hogsmeade and look at you as you begged to have some more candy from Honey &Dukes, he wouldn’t watch as yougot embrassed cutely...

He wouldn’t be there to love you, and you wouldn’t be there to love him.

You took a sharp intake of breath as you felt his skin over his dress shirt, as if somehow, you would feel the dark tint of the skull and snake symbol over his forearm. You would never judge him, never dare to do such thing. How could you, when you knew how much pain he would have to endure for it, knowing how much it would hurt him?

If that happened, if he yielded and accepted-or rather forced to- you would surely feel helpless and scared, for him. But then, there would absolutely be nothing stopping you from taking him to safety, and possibly going apeshit crazy at them for doing something, something he didn’t want to, on him.

“I just... I just wanted to be enough, for them t-to just... love us.” Your heart broke as stray tears escaped your eyes at how broken he sounded, how even amidst his pain, he still cated for his brother. Regulus took your silence and gasp as a bad sign, he murmured sadly with his eyes downcasted once more as he rubbed your tender flesh. He already felt like a total douchebag, including the voice that screamed at him that he was just like his family with you crying in front of him and him not being able to do anything, that he didn’t deserve anything good in life. And your soft cries didn’t help how he already felt helpless either.

“Don’t cry, love... I know that’s stupid but-“

“No it's no... Not if it’s making you feel like this...” you murmured as you took his hand between yours, squeezing his elegant and long fingers one by one as a way to comfort him as he smiled down at you, seated on his bed as the silky green color complimented you in the best way possible. His eyes looked at your body as the light casted on you made you look ethereal and take his breath away with your beauty. He looked down at your hands as they caressed his hands and wrist comfortingly, before pulling it up to reveal... smooth skin, without any dark ink covering it.

But...

Your hands stopped at feeling a bump on his perfect skin... A bump that wasn’t to be there... Alongside with bruises and yellow-ish tints on his arm...

“T-They... They did crucio o-on you?” you stammered out as you lofted his arm closer to yourself, looking between him and the bruises he had with wide eyes.

“Bella...” he said sadly as his hands clutched your arm thight, as if his life depended on you. And in a way, it did. You were his whole life, the only thing he had, and he would be nothing without you. “She did it, later mother beat me and threw insults and crucio at me...”

“I didn’t even say anything at first... Until she included you. How she would destroy you, ruin you since you were being a distraction to me and what was more important.” He explained as he took your hands between his and kissed them, a gesture that often left you a blushing mess, and continued. “That’s when I decided that it was enough. That all the pain she inflicted on us, on me was over. I had a life, my life... I would never let her or anyone hurt you, so I fought back and... well, you know the rest.” He mumbled shyly as he peered at you, trying to determine what the effect of his words were to you. Flushed cheeks and wide eyes? That’s something he expected. Shuffling like a cat in embrassment? Also expected, that was something you usually did with him which was another thing that he found adorable.

But what wasn’t expected was what left your mouth.

“I’ve always loved that about you...” you whispered out eith softest eye possible and this time, it was the Regulus Black who blushed.

“What do you mean?”

You shrugged your shoulders as he frowned, but upon you not looking at him and the sudden urge to hide yourself, he smirked and threw his arms around your waist to pull you against him as he nuzzled his face to your neck while your hands played with his curls. He was glad that once sad and bad vibe left to a more pleasant and happy one as he shared this moment with you, with hugging and kissing.

You giggled as the ticklish feeling his lips left on yourbskin made you groan while trying to stop him, so that you could get those words out. You loved his kisses and how they made you feel, but you had to say this... Or else it would eat you alive, and then you would be frowning the whole next day.

“I mean-hey, stop! I’m trying to be romantic here!” you swatted his hand away as it slowly slithered upwards aling the expanse of your naked back, ruhhing circles on the flesh there as he hummed. “I thought it was my thing, love?”

“Yeah, but now, I changed it! It’s mine now, you did it a lot. Now, will you please listen, my pretty and handsome boyfriend?”

“Hmm... Gotta think, love... Maybe after a kiss?” he wiggled his brows playfully as you rolled your eyes but did so, smiling into the soft and lingering kiss you both shared.

Ugh, this boy... Always looking for way to smooch me...

“Now that you had your kiss,” you said after being parted from him, panting at the intensity of the kiss and trying hard to not dive back at the sight of his pink and swollen lips, you continued with a finger idly rubbing his lips and then his beauty mark under his chin.

“I love your brave heart. Even if you might not think so, you have been standing up against them for so long and you, protecting me even if I wasn’t there further proves it...” you looked at him with a kind look and took his hand to place it on your chest, right where your heart was as you continued.

“I love how you always know how to make me smile, no one makes me smile the way you do, my days better and surprise me. I love how you always seem like you don’t care but actually listen when there is something we, any of us, want or when something is bothering us.”

“I love how thoughtful you are, even when it breaks you... Just like how when Sirius left home, and you came to me crying. Not because you felt anger or hatred, which would have been understanable by the way, but rather joy. Joy, because you knew that it was a new start for him so that he could live a normal life even if it killed you.” A scoff left you in the middle of your speech remembering how your best friend left his little brother like that but soon disappeared when you remembered how broken he was when he talked about his brother.

Regulus, though, was in shock. Because no one in his life had ever been that thoughful and attentive to the way he felt. No one really saw what was hidden behind his strong façade but yet again, you weren’t “no one” and he was always going to be understood.

From now on, and until forever.

“you don’t think I’m... broken? Bad?” he mumbled as he looked at you through his lashes, head down but still smiling. Your heart soared for the boy before you and you leant down to capture his lips with yours, but not before uttering one lost heartfelt sentence.

“All I know is that I love you, that you deserve everything good in life.”

Regulus sniffled once more as he accepted your kiss, humming happily as he allowed you to deepen it. Little shocks went through his body and he wondered if you felt it too but didn’t dwell on it more. He only accepted your unconditional love.

“I know I don’t say it out loud much, but I really do love you so much... You’re all I’ll ever need to feel better.”

“And I love you, love... So much.” You whispered silently, kissing the topnof his head as he thightened his hold on you. Everything was nice and silent once more, only the sounds from the crickets and owls reaching both of your ears. You kissed his head, his forehead and cheek contionously while he laughed, genuinely laughed since he came back, while trying to make you stop. He knew trying to physically stop you wouldn’t work, so he opted for other ways.

Like, kissing you desperately from your neck as he breathed out to tour most sensitive part of the column of your neck, gracefully out only for him to kiss, to mark.

And he wasn’t wrong. When you felt his hot lips on your neck trailing wet and fast kisses up and down your neck, you gasped and let him do as he wanted. Your legs opened for him to step between them, hovering over you with both of his hands on each side of your head as he gazed at you with love and clear desperation. At that moment, you two weren’t just two lovers who were fucking around.

You two were soulmates that understood each other on another level.

He suddenly stopped his ministrations and just looked down at you from above you for a few seconds before sighing dejectedly.

“I don’t want to live there... But I don’t know where-“

“You are not going back to that place, Regulus. Not again, I won’t allow it.” You sternly cut him as you rose up on your hands, brows knitted together while you pushed yourself up as he lowered back and looked at you as if you were crazy.

“B-but... I have nowhere else to go! They would cut me off of the tapestry and disown me! Sirius had James and-“ he exclaimed in distress as he started to shake again, shaking his head at the sudden panic of the reality and what he was supposed to do. He was so caught up in the comfort he had after so long that he had forgotten about what was waiting for him.

His mother with her wand out to use even mkre gruesome punishments, forcing him to come to their meeting and kill innocents...

He couldn’t get help if they did it, and how would his brother look at him if he were to get that damned mark? He already didn’t consider him as a brother, he would definetly refuse to have anything to do with him after he sees it.

And you? How would you accept him like that? A vicious killer who would have to work for the Dark Lord even if it was the last thing he wanted?

You wouldn’t deserve it, you wouldn’t want it, you wouldn’t love him, you wouldn’t accept him, he would be all alone and then be killed as-

“And you have me..! You could stay with me and my family, you know they would do anything to protect us.”

Your desperate call for him was what made him come back to his senses, from the panic attack he had at just thinking about the possibilities. He didn’t register what you said at first. Inside his mind, there seemed to be a constant whirl and buzzing sound as if he was fighting back against a huge storm and he was just... trying, trying and trying but failing in the end.

But it was because he tried to do it alone. He was never allowed to ask for help since it was a “sign of weakness” as his father called it, but now that he had a different circle of people, different friends and above all you, he didn’t have to fear anything.

The way Regulus broke down at the mere mention of his family house( something that was supposed to be comforting) broke you, the sight of the kind boy you knew being treated that way... You couldn’t allow it anymore. There was no way you were letting him go to that house, back into Walburga’s waiting arms as she was waiting to point that damned wand to her own son and mercilessly torture him.

And, to prevent it, a bright idea came to your mind. Sure, there was a potential that your parents would be shocked, more likely have questions as to why they were hosting the boy but thwy would understand... and hopefully help him out.

“You know how my mum adores you, they would gladly help us both.” You weren’t lying to comfort him or yourself, it was true. Last summer, when you brought him to your house after he told something about his whereabouts to his mother, he stayed with you and he would always be thankful for what you did for him that summer. Because those 3 months were the best he had in a long time. At first, when he witnessed the pure love and care there was between all of you, he felt jealous and angry.

Jealous because he didn’t have, and could never have, what you had. He felt the bitter pangs of knives every time you kissed your parents, they brought you home made meals to your room as you showed him the cool muggle books or listened to songs on your bed as you held hands and looked at each other with lovesick smiles. The way you bravely sneaked into the guest room just to fall asleep with him, to comfort him so that he didn’t feel alone changed him in a way, made him more brave.

You didn’t have to know, but your mum always checked on him during night to see if he was doing fine and smiled whemever she saw you both sleeping while hugging each other as if your lives depended on it.

But even when he was jealous of you and your parents, though never serious, he had a clear mind to judge the situation and then... he realized how they included him to their casual lifes as well, just like you did.

It was like a famy thing, huh?

How your mother requested him to come to the kitchen and later taught him how to cook some meals, tasted what she cooked and even helped her out around the house all the while listening to her talk shit about almost every family in the wizarding world, except Weasleys, with a huge smile on his face.

He could never dare to do that in his own house, but here, in your own... He was sitting with your mother on the kitchen with a cup of tea and biscuits while they talked and talked. She took after her mother, both inner and outer beauty, he would think as he gazed at the way your mum talked and even threw some praises at him here and there which didn’t fail to make him blush.

He really wanted to be a part of that life, he needed it... He had never been happier than he was at that time and to hear you say that he could be...

“I can? You... Promise?” he hopefully asked with tears in his eyes as you nodded uour head immediately, bringing him for yet another hug as you kissed his nape softly.

“Yes, I promise. You and I, forever and then even more... Remember?” he suddenly surged forward and took your face in his hands, inhaling your shampoo before diving for a passionate kiss as his hands wrapped themselves around your waist and pulled you to his lap. He poured all his love and gratitude into it, teeth clashing together as his lips and tongue desperately searched for yours.

You squealed but then moaned slightly at how hot you suddenly felt, how his movements and kiss heated you up more than normal. This kiss wasn’t normal, this side of Regulus wasn’t normal. He normally was someone who showed his love silently, who kissed you under shadows. You understood it well, he wasn’t a man who liked to show off with physcial affection and rather made his silent care work its magic.

But right now, this Regulus was fragile and sensitive, and his desperate kisses showed it too as he wanted you to... know it.

And Merlin, did you know it...

You held onto his neck and hair as your lips moved against his lips, leaning him back amd making him lay on his back as your body laid on his flush, chest to chest. The kiss was everything you both wanted, it has been so long since he deprivee both himself and you from each other but it wasn’t the time for it to lead to something more.

Not when he was so in pain, and need of comfort.

Besides, there was something else that needed to be talked about if you were doing what you were planning to do. Some people that needed to know, who would gladly move the entire universe for the boy below you

You shyly looked at him with a troubled look and Regulus’ brows knitted together as he worriedly took a hold of your face in his warm palms. “Is something wrong, my love? Was it too much?”

You looked at him in amazement, the fact that he still thought about your comfort when he was the one who needed it bedazzled you. But like you said, it was a trait you loved about him, perhaps the the best one.

You shook your head while taking a huge breath in. “No, love... It was quite... enjoyable.” You flushed under his teasing smirk, cursing at him for making you feel like a little kid being offered candy inside your mind as you cleared your throat and got off of him to sit next to where his body was now leaned back against the head of his bed. He was looking at you with confusion and slight worry, wondering ehat was on your mind as his hand wandered to your knee and rubbed it gently. To not give him any more scare any longer, you took in his glorious sight and continued.

“There are two more people who you could turn for help to.”

That was something you both talked about a lot, who he would turn to if shit went wrong and he had to act quick with his escape. You always knew that Regulus shouldn’t stay in that house even a moment longer, but he insisted that he was fine and assured you that everything was under his control with a swift kiss to your forehead.

So you kept your silence. You didn’t talk about it again until he would want to, but still... You told Sirius about the awful things they did to Regulus as he listened with clenched jaw and asked him if there was anything he could help with when the time comes.

Not if... When.

Because everyone knew that the inevitable was waiting right outside the door, and there was no stopping it.

And he of course, immediately offered himself which you declined for the time being since Regulus still believed that he hated his brother. You watched how broken he suddenly seemed after you said it but still nodded, knowing how he fucked everything up by not grabbing him with himself as he left, and gavr you their uncle’s name.

“He is a good man, also like us who didn’t believe in their ways... If there is anyone that could help, it’s him.”

Regulus tilted his head to you as if asking what you meant, how the hell it was possible that there would be more people who could help him, and with a sigh, you looked at his eyes. “Your uncle Alphard and... Sirius.”

“No... My uncle? That’s fine. But Sirius... He hates me, love. He showed me how he felt about me! He wouldn’t want anything to do with me!” he got up from his bed hastily in panic and went to the open window as he leant over it with his hands in his hair, welcoming the fresh and cool air into his lungs.

You understood where he was coming from, knowing little pieces about how that night went between them and how he... did a lot for Sirius that night, something he didn’t know and probably would never. Some harsh words were apparently exchanged between them and even if they both knew that the other didn’t mean it...

It didn’t hurt any less.

Regulus thought that Sirius chose James over his own brother and hated him for being the way he is.

Sirius thought his little brother wad ashamed of the person he was, how he always caused trouble even as toddlers and made him get hurt even though he would mostly be the one taking the blame for him.

And you thought that the Black brothers were stupidest motherfuckers in the whole world.

Your arms fell helplessly on the bed as you watched Regulus break down, almost, again. You never felt this helpless in your life, and your gut told you that the reason of his agitation was partly because he hated himself for making you go through this, but...

You promised him one year ago that no matter what happens, you would be there for him.

Always.

“No, my love... Sirius loves you and cares about you. I know, because I listened to him as he cried in James’ house.” You walked up to him slowly, took his hand and stood before him as your hand crept up towards his sculpted face and rubbed his cheek softly before tiptoeing and kissing each side of his cheek as he smiled and exhaled slowly.

At that time, things were tense for them. So much so that it affected the school as well. Sirius was still on edge because of his parents, worried sick for both Regulus and himself, thinking that they were planning something evil about himself. Regulus was hurt because his brother left him, for James, and even called him his “brother” which didn’t seem anything friendly to the poor, young boy who was drowning in his insecurities. It didn’t matter that he was already thinking about also running away, to you probably, but he wasn’t abandoning a brother for another one in his eyes and therefore blamed Sirius for being selfish.

But, as much as you understood both Regulus’ frustration and Sirius’ anger, you also knew that your friend and the older brother of your lover would drop everything to help his little brother out of that shithole.

“Just... Talk to him. Because I know you, you would regret not doing so if you don’t do it.” You sighed out tiredly, the later hours into the night catching up to you as you begged him softly, hoping that he would accept. A part of you feared that he wouldn’t, and tey to solve this by himself like always...

But you were his weakness, the reason he rebelled back and changed his future unknown to either one of you.

He would kill for you, die for you, live for you and turn the whole universe upside down if he had the power.

“Okay... Will you... Will you also be there? For me?” he softly smiled and kissed your nose, leaning his forehead to yours as he waited for your answer with a small smile. You smiled before kissing him deeply, slowly as your lips lingered on his and he closed his eyes slowly as if to savour this moment. You tugged him towards bed with a whine. “ Forever and always... Now, come back to bed.”

At that, a playful smirk found his face since you came in his room. “Now, I thought we could get to that lever later in our relationship, love.” You blushed heavily at how that one innocent sentence seemed so... cozy and something a married couple would say. You hid your face at the sudden flashes of you two being married, living your dreams in a cottage far way from everyone came before your eyes before punching his arm. It didn’t do anything of course, that boy was fit contrary to what people thought by his lanky figure, except making him laugh and kiss your hairline.

“You’re so adorable when you blush... Alright, let’s go and sleep.” You smiled as you watched him get under his duvet and groan in relief when he found a good position to sleep, blushing at how the expanse of his back flexed with each of his movements. You sighed in relief at seeing that he would finally fall into a comforting sleep and moved to quitely get out of his dorm when his monotone yet curious voice reached you, halting you in your steps.

“And, where do you think you are going?” he asked matter of factly as you stood there like a deer, with a hand on the doorknob as you slowly turned to look at him sitting down on his bed and laying halfway down with his torso out. “Uh... Going back to my dorm?”

“And who said you could?” he raised a brow at you questioningly as you laughed awkwardly, turning fully to him with your arms crossed in front of your chest as you looked down at him hesitated.

“I thought you would want to... be-“

“Trust me, love, being alone is the last thing I need right now... I need you...” he shyly said, his cockiness suddenly disappearing as he opened the duvet and offered you to come and sleep with him. His chuckle of disbelief made you scoff at him as you went up to him and got under it without making him repeat himself. He chuckled once more as he pulled you towards him, snuggling to you as your arms wrappes around him and soon you both fell asleep to the comforting embrace of your lover.

When he arrived in his room, he was terrified of going back to Grimmauld House and be forced to accept the Dark Lord’s way. He felt as if there was no other option for him, and he even mentally prepared himself to break up with you to save you from the tragedy. But as you slowly came back to his bed and sat down before inching closer to him and settling right next to him on the single bed, your bodies flushed together as you laid your hand on his chest, right where his heart was beating loudly, he felt hope blossom in his chest.

Even if he chuckled and tried to play the cool Regulus to hide how these all meant a lot to him

He fell asleep peacefully with you between his arms and this time, rather than those nightmares that decorated his dreams as he only saw his mother and the red hue of the cruciotus curse, he now dreamed of future.

A future where he was happy with you, in a country-side...

A future where you would be waiting for him with just as warm and soft embrace, continuing to lighten his days just as you are doing just by existing...

A future where he is safe and happy, with the family you two might create, a family that would be completely different than the one he has.

And, for the first time in 16 years, he had a good nights of smorning.yoy btoh laid under his duvet together, not caring about the teasing he would face the next morning.

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