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#and like i could write something else but then WHAT i planned this so thoroughly i dont know why its not working
acourtofwhatthefuck · 5 months
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Practice On Me — Part Eight — Azriel x Reader
Summary: Everything is starting to get on top of reader and tensions rise. Azriel takes a trip to Fenlaros and comes away with a headache. Cassian does what Cassian does best. A friendly face swoops in to save the day.
Word count: 8.3k.
Warnings: A little freaky deaky 18+, NSFW, smut, minors dni.
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Azriel’s kiss is a burning brand.
It’s fire and ice and earth and rain. It tastes like freshly set snow, and it feels like the refined touch of a steeled warrior.
He kisses you like he aches for you. He pulls his hands away only to remove his gloves and chuck them aside, and then he’s clasping your face once more, skin on skin. He’s always so warm — a part of him you’ve missed.
And a part of him that drives you to kiss him back with barely any hesitation.
This — his mouth on yours — feels like the answer to a riddle you’ve been puzzling out for days, weeks, months, years. You’re gasping for air, and his tongue is sliding between your lips, and his taste overpowers you so thoroughly that you think it could break something inside of you.
There isn’t much furniture left in here. A few scattered tables, a shelf or two hanging off the wall. Not much to work with, and yet it doesn’t matter, because you and Azriel will have each other however you can. You’ve spent a lifetime making do with whatever you’ve got. This is no different.
Azriel’s hands fall down to your hips, and he’s lifting you so abruptly that a yelp leaves you and lands straight on his lips. Your arms loop around his neck, and he’s fastening your legs at his waist and stumbling with you — stumbling towards one of those old tables. A plume of dust erupts around you as he sets you down and slots himself between your legs.
“I fucking miss you.” He groans, grabbing your face. “I miss…us.”
You feel so many things. There’s no chance to sort through them, verbalise them, before his mouth slants over yours again. He’s hungry, needy. Hot and sinful. This Azriel is a far cry from the one who coyly confessed to his inexperience. This Azriel writes poetry onto your lips and paints masterpieces on your tongue. He kisses like eternal happiness depends on it. He kisses as though he’s been an artful lover for centuries.
He’s been practicing, the thought pops into your head.
Not with me, the realisation follows.
And that feels like being thrown stark-naked into the snow. It’s not a nice feeling — to realise that Azriel may be treating you to skill refined elsewhere. Not when you think about kissing him more than you’d like to admit to yourself. Does it make you a gods-damned hypocrite after what you did with Cassian? Perhaps.
But none of this — not one bit of it — is reasonable, or rational, or logical.
All you know is that your stomach lurches suddenly, violently, at the thought of where else Azriel’s lips might have been. And that’s all it takes for you to shove him away.
He stares at you, wide-eyed. Perplexed.
“I needed you.” You pant, the words tumbling from you in a flurry of charged emotion. You’re not sure you planned to say it. “On Solstice — I needed you.”
Azriel’s face changes in the blink of an eye. The hunger is gone, replaced by…something else. “Y/N—”
“I needed you, and you weren’t there. You promised me.”
“I know I did. And I’m sorry—”
“Did you even think of me?” It’s awkward, but you try to scramble back on the table. You just…need that distance right now. “Did you not wonder how I might be doing, how my day might be playing out in that hellish house, before you jumped into bed with Kaeda?”
“We didn’t—”
“Did you think of me?”
“Y/N, of course I thought of you.” He tries to clamp down on your legs, but you’re moving further away, damn near falling off the table in your efforts. “But you — you said you would come and find me. I waited for you—I—”
You’re really not sure if it’s a strangled sob or a choked laugh that fights its way up your throat. Perhaps it’s both. The sound of it is jarring, and it echoes around the armoury and reminds you of where you find yourself right now. The situation you’re in. How different things might be had Kaeda not come onto the scene.
“You waited for me?” You repeat, righting yourself. “And—what? Did you get bored? How do you think it felt, Azriel, when I came to find you — the only person I wanted to fucking be around in that moment — and you were busy with Kaeda on top of you? As if I needed my heart breaking any more that night.”
You hate it — hate it so viscerally that the words won’t stop coming. That you’re bringing your heart into this and allowing it to be stomped on again. Your eyes are watering, and you turn quickly before Az can see.
For a moment, he says and does absolutely nothing. And then he takes a step closer to you.
“I’m sorry that I wasn’t there when you needed me. Believe me, I am.” He says. There’s another step. Another. He’s hovering at your back and you know he’s wondering whether he should reach out and touch you. “But, Y/N…you encouraged me to pursue things with Kaeda. Am I to apologise for that?”
You blink at his words so abruptly that your tears spill down your cheeks.
Now you’re laughing.
It’s a humourless laugh — a hysterical one. It breaks from you in a series of fractured, incredulous noises. At least the emotion boils your blood so thoroughly that it warms you from the inside.
“Apologise?” You round on Azriel, balling your fists at your sides. “No. You don’t need to fucking apologise. But you also don’t need me to practice on anymore, do you?”
He clamps down on his jaw, a telltale muscle moving. “I didn’t kiss you for that—”
“You kissed me because you miss me. Because I am…I’m just a security blanket, aren’t I? I’m what’s familiar, and you’re used to being around me, and having distance between us has fooled you into thinking that you want to kiss me.”
“No—”
“But you’ll kiss me…and make me feel good..and then the novelty will fucking wear off, and you’ll be running straight back to Kaeda because she is who you’ve wanted all along. Not me. Never me.”
“Cauldron, Y/N, will you just let me speak?!”
No.
You will not.
You can’t.
You can’t do this. You can’t break in front of him. You refuse to.
You want to sound strong, and sure, and unbothered, but you open your mouth, and the words are watery and broken. Weak.
“No.” You swallow a lump down. “No, I won’t. Just…just go, Az. I need some time.”
“We’ve spent the last week apart. That’s plenty of fucking time—”
“Go! Go back to Kaeda. Stop…stop pretending like this could play out any other way. It can’t. It won’t.”
“I’m not leaving on an unresolved fight. You and I don’t do that.”
You are far too beaten down to discuss this any longer. You shrug, and the gesture is an effort in itself. “I’m not sure I know what either of us do or don’t do anymore. Things have changed. Go.”
“Y/N—”
“Go!”
Finally, it seems to dawn on him — the realisation that you’re serious. You won’t be discussing this tonight. You’re not strong enough for that yet.
He falters a moment longer, so clearly not wanting to walk away. The two of you have never been like this. You can fight like the best of friends do, but you’ve always made the effort to resolve things, to not part on a bad word.
But things are different, now. You know it. Az knows it.
“…Fine.” He rasps after a long stint of silence. “I’ll go.”
You nod. If he’s expecting you to suddenly change your mind, he’ll be gravely disappointed.
His eyes sweep you once more, and then he’s turning. Dragging his feet to the door like a kicked animal.
“Az?” You call quietly, and he stops.
The hope in his eyes as he looks over his shoulder almost breaks your resolve. Almost, but not quite. “Yes?”
“Send Cassian next time.”
He doesn’t deign to reply.
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Azriel is not well-versed in the world of dinner parties and propriety.
He has a few decent shirts he reserves for special occasions — like when Rhys’s mother cooks a nice meal, and he and the others dress up out of respect.
Y/N would laugh herself hoarse if she could see him right now.
A thought that stings almost as much as the intense, burning gaze of Tathaln Baralas, Lord of Fenlaros.
He’s a mammoth, domineering presence at the head of the dinner table, seeming to command every bite that each person takes of their food, every sip of their wine. It’s silent unless he speaks. It’s tense because he makes it tense.
He watches Azriel as though he’s going to finish his food and then take a bite out of the shadowsinger himself. Az’s shadows are taut around him, not wanting to make a spectacle of their brilliance. The dinner so far has felt like one big, held breath.
But finally, Tathaln clears his throat, and Kaeda and her brothers sit up straight. Az does the same.
“I trust your friends have fared well since your little adventure in my camp.” The Lord addresses Azriel. “I hope the punishment wasn’t too severe. I did many similar things in my youth — though I can’t say I was ever quite so bold as to venture into a rival territory.”
Azriel inclines his head slightly. “I wanted to apologise again — for what happened. Things got out of hand.”
“I’m partly to blame, father, as you know.” Kaeda adds. Azriel damn near jumps out of his seat as her hand lands on his thigh beneath the table. “It was my idea to invite my friends from Windhaven. An oversight, perhaps, on my part. I was eager to show Azriel what Fenlaros has to offer.”
Tathaln seems to think on that as he chews his food. He washes it down with a gulp of wine and reaches for the carafe to refill his glass. The whole thing feels like somewhat of a performance, and nobody speaks a word as it plays out.
This family dynamic is…odd. Not that Azriel has much experience where normal family dynamics are concerned. But there’s a formality with which Kaeda and her brothers — not that the two males have breathed a word this entire meal — address their flesh and blood. Like he is their Lord first, and father second.
And that isn’t unusual for Illyrians — not at all. Offspring are, more often than not, treated like a prospective trophy to be paraded in front of competing families. The fiercer, more ruthless the child is, the prouder the parent will be. It’s a brutal, ugly way of living that never changes, no matter how many generations stack up.
But perhaps Azriel is at fault for having too high an expectation. Perhaps he shouldn’t ever have been fooled by Kaeda’s wings and spirit being left intact, unlike most females around her.
Tathaln is a puppeteer, and Kaeda and her brothers are his dutiful puppets.
“There was no particular harm done.” The Lord eventually says — rather reasonable, for an Illyrian. “I imagine you received a stern talking to. Revoked privileges, perhaps?”
“Lord Devlon saw fit to lecture us, yes.” Azriel concurs with a nod. “But besides that, we weren’t really handed any punishment. It was my friend, Y/N, who bore the brunt of his wrath. She’s been forced into homelessness as a result.”
A sudden, sharp kick lands on Az’s leg from beside him. He glances at Kaeda in his periphery, eyes the fierce expression with which she looks at him. It seems to be communicating, don’t bring this up now.
But Az wants to bring it up. He’s pissed off; more so than he initially thought. At himself, mostly, and at Devlon, at Rhys’s father, maybe even a little at Kaeda — at everyone really.
Tathaln pauses, his fork mid-air. And then he sits back. “Right — the girl that was here. Why has she been made homeless?”
Girl. It’s a sneer of a word in Illyrian mouths. Azriel has to clamp down on his jaw and remind himself that confronting the sexism that runs through their veins is a fruitless task in that moment.
And Kaeda sighs at his side. As if she’d rather be talking in great detail about the roasting of a boar, than about Y/N.
But it answers a question that’s been rattling around in Azriel’s mind all evening — that no, Kaeda had clearly not mentioned Y/N to her father, as she said she would.
“Her father kicked her out on Solstice.” Az explains. “He’s not a good male, to say the least. Y/N was living with myself and my friends, but after the events that unfolded here in Fenlaros, she was sworn off having any contact with us, because Lord Devlon seems to think that she’s the driving force behind any and every bad choice we make. She has nowhere else to go. It’s…worrying.”
“Perhaps she’ll think twice before wandering into rival camps.” Finally, one of Kaeda’s brothers speaks. Arlen, Azriel thinks his name is. Clearly the idiot doesn’t see the irony of his statement.
Or perhaps Kaeda doesn’t have to adhere to the rules that every other female is strictly held under.
“Arlen.” The Lord shoots him a warning glance. He turns back to Azriel. “I would argue that Lord Devlon is full of shit.”
Azriel stops. Blinks. That…that’s not what he was expecting.
“How so, father?” Kaeda’s brow furrows.
“It’s his job to keep the soldiers under his command in line, no?” Tathaln’s dark, feline eyes are assessing Azriel as he speaks — seeming to read his response. “If he finds that a single female is the cause of such disruption, perhaps it is himself he should look at. He can’t be a great leader if he has to resort to such extremes just to keep his soldiers under control, now, can he?”
Az stares back at him. The question is meant for him, but it all seems too…too easy. Reason and logic are simply not a common thing among these people. The words sound almost…false. Forced.
“No.” Azriel agrees. “I suppose not.”
“Do you find him to be an adequate leader?”
“I’ve never known any different.”
Tathaln’s mouth tips up. “That isn’t what I asked.”
No, it isn’t. But this is a fine line Azriel is treading. He positively despises Lord Devlon — thinks him an arrogant brute who uses his title to flout camp laws and customs and turn everything in his favour. Not to mention the fact that he and his cronies are so clearly threatened by Az, Rhys and Cass — an undoubtedly formidable trio. Azriel is sure that if Devlon had his way, the three of them would be slung out by their necks. Or hung by them.
But his personal feelings towards the Lord of Windhaven doesn’t change the fact that openly disrespecting him — and to the lord of another camp — is a huge dishonour. One that could blow up in Azriel’s face if this conversation were to somehow make its way back to Devlon. He has to choose his words carefully.
“He has a method of leadership that I can’t say I’m in agreement with.” Gods, he is the epitome and personification of diplomacy, if he does say so himself. Ten points to the shadowsinger. “I’m not sure that using his power to target vulnerable females was ever part of his job description. I’m sure, as a father to a female of the same age, you can see where I’m coming from.”
Tathaln takes another pensive sip of his wine. He inclines his head. “Indeed, I do. I think it’s terrible leadership. And I think you’re wasted in Windhaven.”
“I appreciate that, my lord.”
“There is no need for modesty, Azriel, the shadowsinger.” As he speaks, the Lord’s eyes inch towards those very shadows. He studies them with a strange expression that looks almost like…hunger. “Do you know why I sent my Kaeda to your camp? I may as well admit, I have an agenda.”
Azriel glances at Kaeda. She’s staring at her plate, shoulders squared. “Oh?”
“I sent her there to scope out the quality of the units that are being trained in the Windhaven Camp. My sons were sent on similar missions to other camps — Camp Theriel, Camp Steelshore, Camp Aruin. The consensus of what was reported back to me regarding each camp was that potential is not being filled. Quite frankly, a mockery is being made of Illyrians by the poor training of these legions. If war was waged tomorrow, half of our race could be wiped out.”
Bold, bold words.
Azriel finds himself stunned silent.
“We are Illyrians, no?” A thick, callused finger traces the rim of Tathaln’s chalice. “We are a warrior race. We have birthed some of the fiercest warriors in Prythian’s history and decimated tens of thousands across battlefields. And yet, it would seem, these days, that our camps are producing fewer warriors, and far more lazy, unambitious brutes who care only about drinking and fighting and fucking. Our reputation could be destroyed yet.”
This is…bizarre, Az thinks.
He also thinks that it’s a little unfair. He’s the last person to ever defend the creatures around him that are supposedly his brethren, but he also thinks that Tathaln’s assessment is wildly exaggerated.
Illyrians drink, yes, and fight, yes, and fuck, yes. But they do so in between harsh, gruelling training. They drink to forget the brutal nature of their life’s work. They fight each other because they’re just as angry as one another, and that needs an outlet. They seek pleasure, because it’s one of the few good things to be found in these parts.
Their training is not for the faint of heart. You train well, or you die. It’s that simple.
And if Tathaln, Lord of Fenlaros, truly has such concerns, Azriel doesn’t understand why the fuck they’re being presented to him, of all people.
“Is this something you’ve raised with the High Lord?” He asks — he isn’t sure he even means to say it.
Kaeda tenses beside him, and Az wonders if, perhaps, he’s overstepped the mark. But Tathaln seems somewhat pleased by the question — seems pleased that Azriel is engaged in the discussion.
“It is.” The male answers. “And I think he finds himself agreeable to what I’ve had to say. However, I haven’t yet presented my solution — what I believe to be the right course of action.”
Az takes the bait. “Which is what?”
“Eventually,” Tathaln says, “I would do away with the individual camps entirely. I would have one, sole camp to train Illyrian warriors, overseen by the most powerful members of our race. Members with rare, unique powers who can draw on the Illyrian potential and make our people what we were always supposed to be. What we once were, before we became too complacent. Better, even.”
And just like that, it makes sense that Tathaln is sharing such things with Az.
Rare, unique powers. Powers like that of a shadowsinger. So incredibly unique that Azriel has never met another of his kind.
Tathaln has ambition — he covets power. He has a vision that needs backing.
It’s like everything suddenly clicks into place in Azriel’s mind.
He finds himself looking at Kaeda, not her father. Finds himself wondering if she ever had genuine interest in him, or if that interest came entirely from Tathaln. Finally, she lifts her gaze to his, and she wears a strange, pleading look.
“Don’t get me wrong, shadowsinger.” Tathaln says. “This is not a goal that could be achieved overnight. Power takes time to build. I couldn’t take this idea to the High Lord without something to back it up — something to get him on side.”
Azriel shrugs. “But what would you have me do? I’m just a soldier in training—”
“You are a shadowsinger. Do you even realise what an asset that makes you? Perhaps your poor start in life, your mistreatment, has caused you to downplay your potential. But I see it. Your power could be a lethal weapon on a battlefield. And off a battlefield. There is so much you could be doing, and yet Lord Devlon has you landing punches on a sparring dummy and calls it training? You are made for better things than that.”
Praise is…it’s a rare thing, in Azriel’s world. And he doesn’t care about that, because the little praise he does get comes from the people who matter, and that’s all he needs.
But hearing somebody other than his close friends — his family — speak so highly of him, is…new. And he’d be lying if he claimed not to like it.
Still, Tathaln is clearly beating around the proverbial. Azriel almost doesn’t want the discussion to go any further, because his head is already full to the brim with swimming thoughts and close to exploding. But they’ve come this far already; he may as well learn what his role in this bigger agenda would be.
“What is it you want from me, my Lord?” He asks.
A small smile plays on Tathaln’s mouth. His eyes, yet again, are on Azriel’s shadows, rather than Az himself. “As I said, change cannot be made overnight. It would take years — generations, perhaps. I would need enough males — strong males — backing my cause, before the High Lord would even hear of it. But I am a patient male. I know what I want, what is right for Illyria, and I will do everything in my power to make it happen. Starting with strengthening my camp. Being known as the strongest of all camps. And strengthening my influence, too.”
“And what does that have to do with me?”
“Having your power on my side could be a good thing for me. And I could hone you. I believe this mission starts with you. Abandon Windhaven and take up residence in Fenlaros. Train under my command. Come and see exactly how wasted you are in that place. Come and see what we could build together.”
“You want me to be your pet?” Azriel raises an eyebrow. “Your project?”
“I want to hone your potential and show you what an asset you are. I want Illyrians to be a feared people once more. I want to build the strongest, most powerful army in all of Prythian and make Illyria what it was always supposed to be.”
In the wake of the impassioned speech, silence sweeps in. Azriel is staring at his plate, and he thinks he might be feeling cold all over. There’s a strange tingling at the back of his neck — like a warning sign.
He still doesn’t understand why he’d be integral to such an agenda. He’s a shadowsinger, yes, and that is not to be downplayed, but he’s just Azriel. He’s just an Illyrian who trains to fight, and fights to kill, and to one day be killed. That is simply how it is.
And Windhaven — ugly and cold and harrowing as it is — is his home. His family is there. A cottage that is far too small and cramped to house a group of adults but is always a beacon of light and hope and warmth. A place in which he’s made wonderful memories and felt genuine happiness. He’s happy to tolerate the hellish ways of life around him, because he has beautiful things in front of him.
Beautiful things that wouldn’t follow him to Fenlaros. Yes, he may have broken a rule and breached a camp to attend a party — but doing so under casual circumstances is wildly different to doing so under official ones. As a soldier of Fenlaros — as one of Tathaln’s puppets — he would be expected to adhere to the strict rules and standards that he metes out. Fenlaros would be his territory, and there would be no blurring of those lines.
But could Tathaln really be seeing more potential in Azriel than had ever been noticed before? Could it truly be that Fenlaros has more to offer him? More to be done for him?
“I would be turning my back on everything I know.” Az says, the mere words tasting sour in his mouth. “My loved ones. The family I’ve built. They would be left behind. I’m not under any illusion that you’d allow our two camps to interact if I came here.”
Tathaln dips his chin. “I am not going to sugarcoat that. It would be an adjustment, and a painful one at first. But there is far more for you here, shadowsinger. I simply ask that you consider it. Just as I believe your two brothers would consider it, if I were to present the offer to them.”
“And why haven’t you? Presented it to them? Why me?”
Those dark, calculating eyes swallow him up. “I need a shadowsinger. It starts with you.”
Azriel isn’t even sure what that means, and he doesn’t want to think about it any longer. There’s a lump in his throat. His appetite is well and truly gone. He might even be sick.
He couldn’t possibly leave his family. The thought makes him violently ill.
“As I said, all I ask is for your consideration.” Tathaln watches him. And then his eyes slide to his daughter. “As this meal is clearly over, perhaps Kaeda should show you around Fenlaros. Show you what this place might have to offer. Give the shadowsinger a tour, my sweet.”
Kaeda smiles broadly. “Yes, father.”
Az wants to refuse, but he can’t find the words. Too much is going on in his head. He wants to get out of there and go straight back to Windhaven, where it’s familiar and where love waits for him. He doesn’t want to be a component in a greater agenda.
When he met Kaeda, it was simply about…exploring attraction. About experiencing. Not about this.
But he can’t fucking speak. He stands without telling his body to stand.
And for some reason, when Kaeda slides her hand into his, murmurs a soft “come, Azriel”, he doesn’t protest.
Numb and stunned and sick to his stomach he may be. But he follows.
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Azriel isn’t sure if he’s heard a single word that has left Kaeda’s mouth.
She speaks, and yet it’s simply background noise. He can’t hear around the screeching in his head.
He should really just take to the skies and fly home, but perhaps he’s already a puppet — his feet stay on Fenlaros turf. Kaeda guides him around the camp as though the conversation at dinner never happened. She shows him her favourite haunts and introduces him to people whose names he forgets instantly.
It's up on a viewpoint overlooking the camp, just he and Kaeda alone, that he finally releases a slow, weary breath. He folds his arms against the railing and welcomes the cold air biting into his skin. Kaeda stands just a short distance away.
“We call this area the Widow’s Watch.” She says, daring a step closer. “It’s said that centuries ago, at the end of battle, the camp wives would gather up here with firelit torches and await their husbands’ return. If their husband returned, they’d extinguish the torch. Those that were left burning signified who did not return from war.”
Azriel says nothing; isn’t sure he’s capable. He digs his fingers into his arm.
Eventually, Kaeda stops at his side, also bracing her arms on the railing. She looks out over the camp wistfully, as though she can see hordes of wounded soldiers returning home. “I can’t imagine how eerie that sight must have been — the beacons of the dead painting the sky with fire.”
“No,” the agreement leaves the shadowsinger unexpectedly — surprises even him. “Neither can I.”
It’s then that Kaeda angles herself towards him just slightly. He meets her gaze. She’s so very beautiful — the kind of female that artists beg to paint. Her cheekbones are high and defined, her lips full. Her eyes look like shards of glimmering green rock. Never is there a hair out of place. Never a stray lash or smudged rouge. She is, quite simply, a vision.
But Az finds himself wondering if he’s ever known any part of her, or if she’s just following orders.
“I know you must have questions.” She eyes him cautiously.
“So many that my brain can’t keep up.” He takes a small step away. “Have you ever been genuinely interested in me?”
“I have.”
“Your father literally sent you to cozy up to me.”
Her eyes shutter, thick lashes fanning against her skin. “It wasn’t like that, Azriel. I mean — it was, to some degree. You’re right that my father sent me, and that he already had his sights set on you. I work for him. I’m training as his spymaster.” She opens those eyes again — wide. “Yes, he told me to get to know you. But he didn’t say romantically. That was all me. I just…like you.”
Gods, it should feel good, feel like a positive thing, to hear that. To know that the beautiful female he’s been getting to know these past months has genuine interest in him.
But he feels…nothing. No sense of relief. Only the anger that’s still simmering at this entire thing being orchestrated by her father.
“Does it not bother you?” His tone is brusque, sharp, as he stares Kaeda down. “That your father has you do his bidding? You’re a pawn in a game.”
“My father has a vision. It is an honour to serve him, and to be a contributor to that vision eventually coming to fruition. I will not apologise for that.”
“A vision. To create…to create one fucking super camp that he is to oversee? It sounds to me like your father has a hunger for power. Things have worked this way in Illyria for millennia. Why should they be changed now?”
Kaeda shakes her head. “You’re wrong. Things aren’t working. That’s just the problem.”
“You—”
“Are you proud to be an Illyrian, Azriel?” She steps closer to him; perhaps too close. “I’m not. Not with how things are right now. But I want to be. We are a warrior race. We are supposed to train, and fight, and protect. We’re supposed to be formidable. We’re supposed to be feared. But with the way things are going, fewer and fewer of those things are remaining true. If we don’t change how things are run across these camps and light a fire under our soldiers’ asses, half of our people could be wiped out when the next war comes. The Illyrian race could cease to exist entirely, and our legacy will be left at the mercy of rhyme and tale. We can’t allow that to be the case.”
Azriel studies her.
Her passion is…intense, yes, but also strangely beautiful. There’s a ferocity in her eyes that is so rare among a people who live and breathe misery; whose lot in life is to die.
That doesn’t mean, of course, that he appreciates Tathaln’s scheming, nor Kaeda’s. But they’re not exactly wrong in that ambition is a rare commodity these days. Those who can train for the Illyrian army do so because it’s what is expected of them. Those who aren’t cut out for it make do with everyday jobs around camp. Nobody has pride or passion. Nobody is prepared for war.
So Azriel’s shoulders relax just a little, even though his scepticism remains very much present. “I still don’t understand why I am being scouted for this cause, though. Why not take it to the High Lord? Or why not get Rhysand on side?”
Kaeda shakes her head. “As my father explained, we simply don’t have enough backing to go to the High Lord about this idea — not yet. He knows of my father’s opinion and even agrees that things need to change, but such a complex idea requires careful handling. And conspiring with his son about it would surely not put us in his favour.”
“So…what? I’m the next best thing?”
“After Rhysand, you’re the most powerful, yes. Your influence could aid us greatly. I don’t think you realise how highly coveted you are. Every other camp is aware of the fact that Windhaven has a shadowsinger. And they’re equally aware that your abilities aren’t being put to their full potential under Lord Devlon’s command. Changes will be made whether you accept my father’s offer or not, Azriel. But the changes we’re proposing are the best ones. The right ones.”
“I don’t see what’s right about having to leave my friends — my brothers—”
“Gods, Azriel, just…just take the emotion out of this for five seconds and listen to me.”
Az’s jaw clenches. “I am listening.”
“Then hear me clearly. Change is coming. It’s inevitable. And one thing I can tell you with absolute certainty is that even if you weren’t to come to Fenlaros, you would still be separated from your friends, or your brothers, or whatever you call them.” She hovers close enough to touch, now, mere inches from him. “One thing I’ve picked up on in Windhaven is that Lord Devlon is very intimidated by the strength of you, Cassian and Rhysand being together. The older you get, the more powerful you’re becoming, and people are growing aware of that. Devlon intends to separate the three of you, and by any means necessary. He can’t risk the threat you pose to him. He’ll tear you apart.”
The information doesn’t surprise Az one bit. He’s sensed a growing panic amongst Devlon and his cronies. They don’t stand a chance against the future High Lord and his two closest friends. And Azriel doesn’t doubt that if physical separation didn’t work, the callous bastards would resort to something far, far worse. Or try, at least.
But still, none of this is making any fucking sense to him. He needs a stiff drink. Or twenty. “How would coming to Fenlaros solve that in any way?”
“Beating Devlon at his own game — separating yourself from your brothers — will lure him into a false sense of security. With you gone, it’ll be one less problem to worry about. He’ll let his guard down. Meanwhile, we’ll be building our influence here and forming a case that can be taken to the High Lord. With his support of our changes, we’ll have the power to do more. And then eventually…eventually, your brothers can join you here. When we have more ground to work on. My father would never begrudge the bond the three of you have. He’d see it as a positive…having three such powerful Illyrians under his command.”
Too much to think about. Way, way too much. Azriel just wants to get out of there. He wants to lie down in a dark room and pretend nothing and no one exists.
But he stares at Kaeda. And he asks, “And what of Y/N? Could she come here, too?”
There’s a very slight hesitance — small, but certainly there. But then she purses her lips, and she shrugs. “Whatever you want.”
He’s not sure she means it. And that…that’s a whole other rabbit hole he’s not sure he can face going down right now. Another situation entirely.
Before he can say anything else, Kaeda closes the gap between them. She cups his face and leans up, close enough that their mouths are almost touching.
“Just think about it. That’s all I ask.” She says. “I really do like you, Azriel. And I really do think we could have something. Think of what we could do here, together. Of what we could be. We could make history. Just…promise me you’ll think about it.”
His lips part with a response he hasn’t even thought of. But there’s no chance to speak it as Kaeda slants her mouth over his and kisses him slowly, softly. Deeply.
Her fingers sink into the strands of his hair, and she breathes a muted hum into his mouth. She tastes like peppermint and sugar, and she kisses as though she hasn’t just laid the weight of the world on Azriel’s shoulders.
And that weight might be why he’s stiff as a board, barely reacting. Or it might be the horrible feeling of dread that this is all wrong. He kissed another female, earlier today — and that kiss had felt like burning, eternal sunshine.
This one feels like…like a ploy.
“Just promise me.” She pulls away just enough to whisper. “Promise me you’ll think about it.”
There’s no way he can’t think about it. The seeds have been sown. And perhaps he feels a little slither of guilt for how rigid and cold he currently is, because he doesn’t shoot her plea down like he should.
He sucks in a slow breath and inclines his head.
“Okay.” He says. “I’ll think about it.”
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚
The fucking wall is Azriel’s fucking face.
At least, that’s what the fuck you tell yourself as you send a dagger hurtling at it and watch it bury its point into the surface. Another scuff mark to add to the growing smattering, all courtesy of you.
Fuck. Him.
You’re not sure you’ve ever felt so angry in your life, and Cauldron knows, you’ve had ample reason to. But this anger is…it’s consuming. It’s violent and jagged and nauseating. It’s claws sinking into your heart and your brain and dissecting everything that plagues you in both sleep and consciousness.
And it’s this severe because you care. You care so very much.
You’re sick of caring.
Why would he kiss you, after all that has happened since the last time? To taunt you? To grab your feelings in his fist and twist them? To practice on you?
And to think you almost gave in to that strange, carnal need to have his hands on you again. You cannot — will not — allow yourself to think about which deeper emotion or desire that need is rooted in. Thinking will lead only to realisations that may destroy you yet.
And he’s probably with Kaeda right now, too. Perhaps losing himself in her, forgetting all about you with the aid of her touch—
You scowl and march to the wall, yanking your dagger out. Your anger and your need to just…move, is keeping you warm, at least. Nighttime in the old armoury is about as pitiful as can be imagined, but the relentless cold is actually a strange…relief. It hurts in a satisfying way.
How fucking dare he, your mind chants, not for the first time, as you stalk back to your spot. How dare he treat you as though you’re nothing? You brace yourself and send the dagger hurtling towards the wall once again—
The door is suddenly bursting open, and the weapon only just misses Cassian’s face on its journey as he strides in, arms full of items you don’t care to look at.
He stops abruptly. Blinks. “Did you just throw a dagger at me?”
“No.” You immediately scowl, stalking over to retrieve it yet again. “Fuck you.”
“Ouch. Fuck you right back. I brought blankets and food.”
“Shove them up your ass.”
“I’d really rather not.” He kicks the door shut behind him and strides over to the pile of your scant belongings, dropping his items and freeing his arms. He turns back to you with raised eyebrows. “Is there a particular reason you’re acting like a little storm cloud, or is it just a way to pass the time?”
Finally, you sheath your blade — partly because you’re not sure you trust yourself with it right now. You face your friend, fully aware that you’re out of line and fully resentful of the fact.
“I had an argument with Az.” You admit, not even certain you mean to.
Cassian’s eyebrows raise. “Well, that explains why he nearly bit my head off earlier, too. What did you fight about?”
Do you tell him? Do you confess all your complicated, messed up feelings — the bizarre circumstances that brought them about — when you haven’t even sorted through them yourself? No. You can’t. It’s a bit too soon for that.
“It was…nothing.” You stalk over to your things. “Just nothing.”
“Doesn’t seem like nothing—”
“Thank you for bringing me these.” You toe a thick blanket with your boot.
Yet again, Cassian’s eyebrows go up. “Are you hinting at me to leave?”
“Just because I have to face the night in this hovel, doesn’t mean you should be subjected to the same fate. I wouldn’t expect that of you.”
“Well, fucking expect it, because I’m staying—”
“Cass—”
“Come here.” He opens his arms. “Right now.”
You stare at him. And in that instant, with him seeing you — seeing everything you are, everything you’re feeling, what you need — your anger simmers, and it threatens to turn into tears.
“You clearly need a hug.” He points out softly. “And I’ve missed you this past week. So come here.”
In an instant, you crumble. You’re stepping forward and damn near falling into Cassian’s arms. He catches you, just like he always catches you.
His arms band around you, warmer and more secure than any blanket. He pulls you tightly against him, and you allow your arms to snake around his waist. It’s only then that you realise how much you need the firmness of his body to hold you up. He’s like a huge, supporting wall that stops you sinking to your knees.
“I’m so sad.” You whisper, nestling your face into his chest. His scent and his warmth permeate his clothes, and they combine and wash over you in a soothing combination.
“I know.” His broad hand cups the back of your head. “Everything is a huge mess right now. But we’re going to get through it — together.”
You hate that you can’t believe him; not right now. Everything is too up in the air, too uncertain. A dark mass has followed you around this camp for the entirety of your life, and it’s closer than ever to closing in and snuffing out who you are.
“How can you be so sure?” You ask. “I don’t think I have the strength to fight anymore, Cass.”
He pulls back to study you. To cup your face and look into your eyes. “Yes.” He says firmly. “You do. You always have and you always will. There is nothing — nothing — you can’t face. I truly believe that, Y/N.”
Staring back at him feels just like…like the night in the cottage, when you lost yourself in him. Him being there for you, speaking the words that are so hard to believe and yet so what you need to hear. The same urge arises in you to give over to those feelings. Do something for yourself for once.
You think Cassian might read that thought on your face. Perhaps you wear it shamelessly.
He studies you closely — studies you hard. And his throat bobs as his eyes flit down to your lips.
“Y/N.” He says. “Let me make you feel good.”
You swallow, also. And you don’t need to think about it. “Yes.” You nod. “Yes.”
In a flash, he’s closing the gap between you, his mouth finding yours. The hot and heavy weight of his lips is a relief. One that makes you release a soft sigh.
You don’t let yourself think about the fact that you were kissing Azriel in this very building only earlier. Nor about the fact that it could have gone much further than that. Cassian gives you himself, and you take, your hands bunching in his jacket as you haul him against you.
His hand fists in your hair, tilting your face up to him. And as his mouth stains yours with his urgent need, he’s backing you up, walking you back and back until you collide with that very table that Az kissed you on earlier.  Cassian picks you up in an easy sweep and places you on the tabletop. He parts your legs and slots himself in between, his mouth never once leaving yours, never once faltering.
Until he parts from you and says, “Lie back.”
With his hand guiding you down, you do just that. You sprawl out on that table, anticipation coiling in your stomach. It warms you from the inside, makes your skin too hot and your clothes too heavy.
Cassian doesn’t mess around with teasing or taunting. He drags his hands over your breasts, your stomach, and down to the laces at your breeches. You don’t care about the cold air. You lift your hips and wish only for him to undo those laces faster. You want your skin bare, and his touch marking it.
“I didn’t get to taste you last time.” Your friend pants, pressing a kiss to your abdomen. “Will you let me now?”
Goosebumps erupt over you skin. You grip onto the edges of the table and breathe, desperately. “Yes. Please.”
So boldly, he yanks your breeches and undergarments down in one go. His fingers find the very centre of you, already soaked, already ready for him. What he finds there makes him groan.
“Here? You’ll let me taste you here?”
“Please.” You pant again. “Just…please, Cass. I need this.”
“I know.” A kiss lands on your skin. “I know.”
His hands drag down your legs at the same time he sinks to his knees. You bow your head forward — just to watch the predatory grace with which he aligns his face with your sex. He licks his lips like you’ve presented him with his most carnal desire.
He inhales slowly — breathes in your scent. A growl rips from his throat.
And then he dives right in.
His tongue licks a stripe up your centre, from your entrance, up to your clit. Your hips buck at the contact, one hand moving to bunch within his hair. As his tongue swirls over your clit, pleasure barrels through you that ends in a cry.
“Your taste is fucking divine.” Cass groans, and his hands pry your legs further apart. He wastes no time in lapping at your juices, damn near fucking drinking you down. He drinks and drinks like a male parched. “Gods, Y/N.”
“More.” You gasp, thrusting your hips towards him. You grind your cunt against his face, and you can’t stop your body jerking, your head lolling back. “Gods, Cass, more.”
“More?” His teeth graze against the sensitive nub. “Tell me what you need.”
“Your mouth. Fingers. You.”
A delicious, sinful chuckle, so incredibly deep and lilting, breaks from Cass and vibrates against you. He lands a harsh suck on your clit. “I love how filthy you are.”
And he shows you how much he loves it, as one finger suddenly gathers up your wetness and teases your entrance. You moan, plead, beg him to slip it into you. He does so at the same time that he fastens his lips to your clit and strokes at it with his tongue.
You feel him smile against you. Your responses seem to provide him with almost as much pleasure as your touch would.
“Just like that.” He growls the words onto you, sliding his finger out and back in — adds a second one. “Take what you need. Fuck my fingers.”
You need this pleasure. This release. He has no idea how much you need it. Nobody does. You need to feel like somebody else, feel like you’re somewhere else. You need to feel something other than…blinding pain.
And so you take what you fucking need, undulating your hips and moving yourself on his fingers, against his tongue. Cassian follows your lead, keeps up with your pace. As your moans pick up, so do the thrusts of his hand.
“Going to come for me?” His hand moves faster. “Come around my fingers?”
“Yes.” You throw your head back. “Fuck—Cass.”
“Come.” He growls. “Want to feel you.”
It’s as if your body is fully under his command, because the words have your climax bursting through your body and chasing you from every negative feeling that’s been plaguing you. It feels beautifully catastrophic, fucking mind-altering. It feels like an out of body experience.
You know, somewhere in your mind, that you’re being loud, but you don’t give a single damn. You welcome your orgasm and allow it to consume you. You allow your loud, gasping noises to echo around the building.
But perhaps it’s the loud volume of those noises that prevents both you and Cass from hearing the door open behind you. Perhaps it’s the heat of your passion that makes you immune to the sudden gust of cold air.
Whatever it is, neither of you notice a third presence until a voice bellows behind you.
“Cauldron fucking boil me, my eyes!”
Both you and Cass rise with a start, you scrambling to cover yourself. A horrified expression stares back at you both.
“Roza.” You both say at the same time. Both blink in shock, too.
Rhysand’s mother covers her eyes with her hand and turns her back to you.
“Please correct yourselves before you traumatise me any more.” She says. “Can’t turn my back on you idiots for five gods-damn minutes.”
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azriel tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd
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buff-muffin · 3 months
Text
I’ve been slowly brewing up little One piece canon compliant head canons. These could be used to write little stories if I or someone else wanted. But I just want to get them out of my head so here you go.
Just an FYI. I’ve only finished pre-timeskip so spoilers for till the end of marineford ig and if something is proven different by Oda or later on in canon. I want y’all to know I really don’t care.
1. When Shanks was visiting Foosha village he had never actually heard of bug fighting neither had almost any of the crew. To little Luffy that was essentially a hate crime and he ran out of the bar so fast all of them thought they had upset the boy. He returned around an hour later with two large bugs in his hands and the crew got to watch them fight. Thoroughly smashed and here to enjoy Luffys interests they got WAY too into the fight and started placing bets and were screaming, cheering for their chosen bug. Never had the town seen so many grown adults so worked up over two bugs on a bar table.
2. Nami helps Usopp with his hair care. Back at Syrup village he normally had the kids help out when it finally needed to be washed. But now on the Going Merry he didn’t exactly trust a man with three swords or Luffy near his hair. And Sanji wasnt much help either. He was scared to ask at first but after Arlong Park Nami agreed and it soon become tradition for them to kick Sanji out of the kitchen for Usopp’s hair day and spend the whole time talking and gossiping. Sanji was and still is jealous about it but it’s completely platonic
3. (continuing after 2) Chopper was the next member to join the ‘hair care club.’ While his hooves aren’t the best for helping out with washing or braiding, and his human form’s hands were too big. He liked hearing about what went into caring for different hair textures. And he just liked to be helpful. However it was through being in the hair care club did Chopper realise that being part human because of his devil fruit meant his fur needed to be washed way more often than it did. And after some trial and error with wash frequency and products, they found the perfect combo that leaves him adorably soft.
4. (also continuing after 2) Robin was the fourth member and was invited to join before the events of Skypia. Nami asking if Robin could braid her hair while she did Usopp’s. But Robin just quietly confessed she had no idea how to braid hair. Seeing as no adult in her life wanted to sit down and teach her at Ohara. Seeing that as an atrocity, the hair care club had their first offical meeting. Where they showed Robin all sorts of braids on both Nami’s hair and Usopp’s
5. (continuing after 4) Robin quietly found herself very proud of the knowledge of knowing how to braid. And on quiet hours on the ship while she was reading and everyone was doing their own quiet things. She often used extra hands to add little braids to Luffy’s hair while he either fished or napped. Luffy is completely aware she is doing this yet never thought to bring it up. He loves little acts of affection from his crew and waking up to braids in his hair never fail to make him smile.
6. (continuing after 2. This is the final one I swear) Brook is the last member of the hair care club. While he lets Chopper check his ‘roots’ and general hair health he actually knows how to do different hair styles for Usopp’s hair texture and happily teaches him as well as the others and now Usopp can finally branch out in hair styles
7. one of Luffy’s favourite pass times is to listen to his crew mates talking about their dreams. He sits at the table listening to Sanji tell tales about the all blue. Or listen to Franky and Robin ramble about work. He listens to Zoro talk about people he wants to fight, and the islands Nami wants to visit. He’ll listen to Chopper’s doctor mumbo jumbo and Usopp talking about plans for new weapons. He loves listening to Brook’s songs but he’ll also hear tales about the skeleton’s old crew and stories of Laboon. He tries to ask questions to sound interested but it normally just gives people the idea he’s not paying attention. So instead he gives them encouragement. Because his favourite part, is seeing the way their eyes light up talking about something their truly passionate about, and the shameless smile they give him knowing their captain would never once make fun of their dream.
8. Robin quickly found comfort in Luffy after joining the crew and for a while she couldn’t figure out why. Until she realised his ‘shishishi’ laugh sounded just like Jaguar D. Saul’s, the giant she met growing up. And when she realised it was the first night she slept soundly on that little boat.
9. After loosing his arm Shanks went through a really annoying yet hilarious adjustment period of getting halfway through a task before realising he needs two hands. His crew always laughed when Shanks did his ‘wait how am I gonna do this’ pause. And while they always help him out when he needs it. They know he will figure out how to open things himself. Hopefully without his teeth.
10. Ace very proudly has a scar on his arm from where Luffy accidentally bit him once way too hard while fighting. When Dadan patched him up and told them it was probably gonna scar Ace was pissed, Luffy was wailing in apologies and Sabo had been dying of laughter that Ace’s first ‘cool fighting scar’ was his brothers teeth mark. Now though? Among the other battle scars Ace’s skin bares. That scar is his favourite story to tell. And all of the Whitebeard pirates know to. Never let their fingers near Luffy’s mouth.
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pinkanonwrites · 1 year
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Hello there fellow human! Could I interest you in some headcanons of the dorm leaders + Jamil receiving headpats from a cute short female S/O?
I only do 7 characters per post for Twisted Wonderland, so for this post I'm going to leave off Jamil and just do the dorm leaders for this post. If you'd like to request Jamil again when the ask box opens back up, I'd be happy to write it!
Fem! Reader
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It takes a few seconds for Riddle to process what exactly you're doing, but once he does? He prickles up just like those hedgehogs he's so fond of, face flushing red all the way up to the tips of his ears as he tries and fails to stammer out... Something. Anything. A scolding, perhaps? A demand of an explanation? Anything to hide just how thoroughly you've flustered him.
Part of him considers the act incredibly demeaning. Something you would do to placate a small child, you're instead using on him? Do you even take him seriously? But he can't find it in his heart to demand you to stop, because the rest of him (the "never got positive reinforcement from a parental figure" part of him) actually adores the feeling of being coddled and praised by you, as hard as it is for him to admit.
It's a very subtle change, but you may start to notice him going out of his way to show you his accomplishments more often. Whether that's a perfect assignment grade or an Unbirthday party going off without a single hitch, he'll subconsciously start to seek out your praise and approval more often.
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The first time you do it Leona is lying his head in your lap, just about to doze off when he feels your fingers massaging his scalp. He's not even certain if it's real or a dream at first, the gentle touch of your fingers against his ears, the soft, mindless melody you hum to him to lull him to slumber. Whatever it is you're doing, it works, because Leona sleeps like an absolute boulder with his head resting on your lap.
Normally Leona would have no qualms in making demands of you, especially if they help him to sleep. This though... This almost feels a bit too vulnerable, too intimate for him to demand of you. He'll make a point to rest his head in your lap more often, but he's not brave enough to actually ask you to pet him.
If you bring it up first though, he's certainly not going to tell you to stop. Actually, that's the absolute last thing he wants.
"This doesn't bother you? When I play with your ears? I can stop if you want." "...Nah. Keep doin' it. Don't worry bout me, you'll know if you do something I don't like anyway."
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Azul is in the middle of going over his plans for the next Lounge event with you when you reach over and pat him square on the top of the head, and he immediately malfunctions. He stops in the middle of a word, droning out a single syllable as you watch his face get redder in real time until he processes what just happened and frantically excuses himself.
You've completely destroyed his train of thought. How is he even supposed to face you now? Were you merely teasing him, or was your affection genuine? Even though the two of you are dating Azul still has some trouble discerning between the two. He doesn't sleep well that night, mind racing with thoughts and questions and "what if's".
When you apologize the next morning for making him uncomfortable he's quick to brush it off, to assure you that you've done nothing wrong. To be honest, he did quite enjoy it, even if he wasn't mentally prepared. You're welcome to give him headpats from time to time, so long as no one else is around at least. He does have a reputation to uphold, after all.
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One of only two boys on this list who is willing to openly ask for headpats from you! The first time you patted Kalim on the head he thought he was going to ascend to heaven, you were just too cute! He let out an audible whine as soon as you pulled away, and quickly made it his mission to earn as many headpats as possible from you.
Jamil is torn on the prospect. Because on one hand, your headpats motivate Kalim to get his homework done quickly and on time for a change. On the other, he definitely cooks up a lot more troublesome schemes with the final end goal being nothing more than a pat on the head from you as a reward. You've got to drill it into his head that he doesn't need to throw you a party just to get a pat, that you'll gladly do it anytime.
He gets the biggest, dopiest smile whenever you pat him, leaning into your hand like a content cat. Everything else just seems to melt away when you play with Kalim's hair. He'll sllump into your shoulder with a big, cozy sigh and let himself float away at your gentle touch alone.
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To be completely honest, Vil's first instinct when you reached up to touch his head was to slap your hand away. Even if you were his girlfriend, he did just finish styling his hair and couldn't have it looking unpresentable. Luckily you were able to give him a soft little pat before instinct kicked in, and for once Vil found himself wordless at the unexpectedly heart-squeezing gesture.
Vil doesn't actively seek out your pats, nor does he request them outright. No, that would be terribly embarrassing, far too vulnerable for someone such as himself. But he isn't above asking you to massage his temples for him when he's feeling stressed. He enjoys being away from the public eye for a moment, letting his head rest in your lap as your carefully cradle him in your hands.
Vil doesn't make an active effort to mimic your affections, but the gesture seems to rub off on him. You're in a much easier position to receive headpats than give them given how short you are, and you always give him the most delighted, moony-eyed gaze in response. You're a very fortunate little potato, you know? He would never give out his headpats to just anyone, after all.
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Idia is so jumpy that it's hard to even reach for something near him without him flinching away in response. Your best bet at giving him some headpats is when he's in the middle of a game, especially a rhythm one. He won't even realized you've braided his flaming locks for him until he's finished the song he's on, and once he does you'll get to see that entire braid go a delightful shade of pink.
He'll stammer and stutter, doing his best to playfully admonish you for doing something so cheesy. "Wh-What is this, anyway? Some sort of otome event CG? So cringe!" But please don't take him seriously, because if you ever stopped Idia thinks he might just die. The bravado and teasing is just a defense mechanism, he doesn't actually want the headpats to stop.
Hes definitely at his most vulnerable when he's gaming, but it's pretty easy to give him headpats when he's tired too! He's the king of caffeine and staying up way too late on projects, but a few fingers carding carefully through his flaming hair is a great way to get his mind off of his programming and heading straight towards dreamland. He'd never be brave enough to admit it himself, but he loves to fall asleep to the feeling of you playing with his hair.
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Malleus is the only other boy on this list who is willing to openly ask for headpats from you once you start giving them to him. And can you blame him? Most people aren't even willing to get too close to him, but here you come along with your praises and your soft laughter and your gentle hands brushing his silky hair. He can't get enough.
He'll go out of his way to plan you little surprises and bring you little gifts with nothing more than a headpat in mind as a reward. He's almost like a crow, the way he spoils you with shiny little trinkets. You'll notice that after you thank him for something he'll being to subtly lean down slightly, just enough to put the top of his head within your reach. He'll pout until you give him his reward.
You are the only person allowed to touch Malleus's horns in the way that you do. He'll tolerate maids or staff doing his hair or adorning his horns with jewelry for an event. But you're the only one who gets to run your fingers up and down the ridged onyx surfaces, mapping the bumps and grooves and digits with careful fingers. A dragon's horns are their pride and joy after all, so it makes sense that he should only allow his mate to touch them in such a manner.
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kichiyosh1 · 10 months
Text
He takes advantage of your feelings for him
modern au!scaramouche x reader
Ain't it nice when your crush is aware you have a crush on him and instead of being a prick and outright rejecting you he leads you on instead☺
warnings: it's in the title, good ending
༒༆࿐ཽ༵☆
It all started when he overheard one of your friends teasing you for taking a liking to him, which you were doing a horrible job at denying, with how quickly you stuttered out your words in protest. He might use this to his advantage, get you to do a couple of stuff for him and tease you a little bit in the process. Of course, he doesn't plan to return your feelings, pfft, no way in Celestia is that ever gonna happen. Totally no way would he actually start to appreciate you for something as minor as that.
How fortunate unfortunate of you to be his target out of the many others that also liked him, but why did he choose you? convenience? your naivety? who knows.
He wanted to test how far this crush of yours on him was, so the next morning he put his plan into action.
He never actually greets anyone he passes by, usually hanging around outside the school before the bell rings or just having his arms folded on his desk while he dozzes off, but today he put in the effort to say good morning to you before he rounded a corner.
Quickly doing a 180° turn right after to see your reaction, and low and behold you had your back to the wall, slowly sliding down, face in your hands.
Oh, so you really had it that bad for him, huh.
He was playing a dangerous game here, one that he was determined to win, and one he knew he would thoroughly enjoy.
Moves he'd make on you were subtle, but to you, from what he thinks, should be more than just subtle interactions, but meaningful ones.
He'd intentionally lean down right beside your ear, talking in a sweet voice as he pretends to ask questions while pointing at the notes he's seen you write down.
He knows the effect he has on you, can see how your hands struggle to hold your pen while your voice slowly becomes meeker as you explain the answer.
"Cute"
He didn't even realize what he said until he saw your hand stop moving. Luckily, everything still went into his favor when you abruptly stood up and quickly explained you had something to discuss with your friend, but he could clearly see how flustered you were.
He let's out a sigh of relief. 'It's alright, I meant to do that, just trying to butter up that idiot for the next step in my plan, yeah'
Something of uneasiness steers within him, but he ignores it.
These were just feelings of interest he's PRETENDING to have for you in order to gain your trust, nothing more and nothing less. It's all an act to get you to do stuff for him
But he has yet to realize the fast pace of his heart was the same as yours
Most of his assignments were already complete thanks to you, projects and reports he's forgotten to do, you are currently dealing with them.
It baffles him how easy and gullible you are
The guilt nips at his feet, but he strengthens his resolve saying you would have fallen for somebody else, and they would have done way worse things to you. (he gets a little agitated thinking about it, whether they'd use you for their own benefit or return your feelings, it makes him sick)
guilt tripping you didn't make it easier either
he wonders if you are aware of what he's doing, and even if you were then that's alright with him.
He'll keep this up, for as long as your heart continues to beat for him.
Its really short.
was gonna write a nsfw route but idk if i should since I'm really tired😪
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vorsdany · 10 months
Text
ᴀ ᴠᴇxᴀᴛɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ
Wednesday Addams x necromancer!reader
Words : 1.4k+
Summary : You convinced Wednesday to a date, but being a genius, you fell asleep halfway through.
could be part of this fic -> ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ʜᴏᴍᴇ
Warning (s) : autopsy, nothing makes sense, bad writing, possibly incorrect use of medical terms.
requested by @mikavlcs mwah <3
MY MASTERLIST
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“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
The atrocity of it all was baffling – you recalled the short outbursts of faint Enid would experience whenever Wednesday was feeling particularly.. barbaric, vicious, insane; the werewolf could come up with many more words for it, and you’d nod your head along, feeling sympathetic towards the evident suffering she was under. She even looked a little green when you told her your idea of a ‘date’.
You weren’t nervous, of course you weren’t. Operating on a patient wasn’t anything new – most of them hadn’t been alive, and though they weren’t exactly something you’d get excited for, you knew someone who would look forward to spending her time cutting open a corpse.
Giving the table a quick glance, hesitating upon the extent you’d gone through laid on it – scalpels, several surgery tools, sanitized bags, many others Enid didn’t bother looking at long enough to name them. She’d resigned after only ten minutes of explicit description of the activities you’d list out and almost made a run for the door, “You know what? You’re right, Wednesday would definitely love it. Just, please don’t discuss it with me.”
Now, the only problem is how to actually get said person to agree to your plan.
Wednesday Addams didn’t just spare her time for anyone, even if it was for her necromancer partner – one would feel insulted by the amount of attention she’d grant you, though you must admit it was equivalent to the time of day she was getting from you. It wasn’t unjust; you’d spent day and nights around one another, solving her mystery, conversing with the dead, writing her novels, causing trouble with the ghosts – only, Wednesday hadn’t felt the lack of dates to be an issue.
“I find them to be unproductive. Why do something else when we could finish this project now?”
“They are practically a series of unappealing activities. We shouldn’t waste a potential by sipping coffee and watching people.”
Safe to say, she’d done some in dimming your spirits – and you hadn’t been bothered by her refusal, after all, there were reasons you were partners. It wasn’t a core essential in your relationship; that was, until Enid skipped three study sessions for a date, a trip to weathervane with said date, and another date. She’d returned all rainbows and sunshine, bouncing on her feet and a million stories to tear Wednesday’s ears off.
It was the only reason she’d agreed to your gathering; it only consisted of two people, but Wednesday knew you were vigorously avoiding the word ‘date’ after plenty of her declination upon hearing any ideas you might come up with. She’d assumed you’d felt the same, thought the same – though, a little getaway wouldn’t be so bad, not that she’d ever admit it now, for it would imply her tolerance toward couple activities and nothing had ever rang so untrue than that.
“You know this is illegal?” Wednesday questioned the dingy cubicle you’d manage to squeeze everything in, seeing you almost crumble under her scrutinizing gaze until you remembered the corpse laying on a table in the far corner. Apparently, meeting the dead on a daily basis didn’t guarantee being immune to Wednesday’s signature deathly glare.
You cleared your throat and flashed her the best smile show off, poking her in the cheek before walking backwards while keeping your eyes to her. “Only if we get caught.”
If the fact that you’d stolen a whole body and sneaked it into this room wasn’t a thrilling discovery, Wednesday was thoroughly impressed with the condition of the patient – it looked oddly fresh; he must’ve only died less than twelve hours before, with what seemed like an unknown cause of death.
“He was homeless. People don’t really pay to find out their problems, especially if they’re dead.” So you did steal this body, and talked to the man in the body – Wednesday hadn’t known what to make of it. Were you nice? Undoubtedly. Smart? Questionably. Who in their right minds would converse with the ghost of the person you were stealing the body of and planning to operate on without consent?
Perhaps it was with consent. Her head pounded the longer she tried to make sense of it. Only you would get an illegal autopsy going more legally than she could ever manage to.
With the body placed on the surgical table, you’d taken a seat opposite Wednesday as she started digging into flesh and taking out organs, examining thoroughly as if she was a forensic scientist herself and you were – her assistant, one that does nothing but admire her flow of purposefulness, missing just a few key points to her examination that you were supposed to write down.
“Hematoma in the lungs.”
“Edema, right chest and abdominal wall.”
“Collapsed inferior vena cava.”
You’d stopped listening comprehensively after the tenth report, jotting down only the last of the sentences you barely caught as your attention was solely planted on the ravenette instead of – what were you meant to do again?
The yellow, definitely unsuitable light was hitting all on the right places; her onyx eyes was even more sharp even in the dead of night, her cheeks softer and the crease in between her brows more prominent – you weren’t sure that it was lightning the body at all, for all you could see was her profile reflecting your swooning heart. You could imagine the disgusted scrunch of her nose if she was to ever hear that sentence.
Ironically, it was also the last thing you saw as she pulled out a heavily tied intestines before sleep consumed you, and Wednesday was left identifying medical terms to – well, no one. Time went by faster when one was enjoying themselves; before you knew it, Wednesday was wrapping up and you were still deep in sleep, soft snores leaving your parted lips as her eyes trailed your closed eyes, momentarily considering leaving you in the cold before grasping the fact that she didn’t have the heart to do so.
Perhaps her brain had made up for the lack thereof.
The autopsy was a complete mess. She wasn’t able to find the true cause of death – you were supposed to take notes as she dug through, so she’d be able to analyze them later through textbooks and her own knowledge – when Wednesday found you snoozing away, a disappointment coursed through her, along with a different sort of affection sizzling in her stomach.
Wednesday was not pleased, to say the least, though she did bag some precious items; the slightly stained liver, a piece of the bone marrow, a sample of his brain, a fragment of his lungs.
Heavy patters of rain resonated from outside, signaling the storm hitting just as she intended to leave – the universe had ways to wreck her plan into shambles; only, you hadn’t awoken from the noise that should’ve rattled your dreams away. Wednesday reached out, pulled back her hand and hesitated, distressed at the options of calling out your name or initiating contact.
She’d touched you, of course, on your cheeks, and hips, most times unconsciously, as if her body was on autopilot and to touch you was the default settings – on a much rarer times, she’d hold your hand under the table, let you link arms as you circled the school and rest your head on her shoulder after an exhausting session with the dead. Still, the notion of making the decision to wrap her arms around you was enough to make her nauseous; only, it didn’t bring dread and block her airways like she’d imagined.
Just a really strange fluttering in her stomach that triggered her gag response.
Wednesday pitied you; escaping death itself just to be in the company of death personified. You’d laughed heartily, claimed that it was your best friend, and she was more than that. She’d felt heat creep up her neck, and would never admit the way your statement made her blush and kept her up at night.
It was then that she noticed the big, capitalized letters on top of the paper you were writing on, NSTI, a circle and several doodles lining the sides as if mocking her. Necrotizing soft tissue infection – Wednesday should’ve known better; all this time you’ve known, and left her in the dark to enjoy the thrill of it for herself.
What a vexatious creature.
Wednesday deemed you forgiven then, when the air turned chill and the roar of storms accompanied the grueling atmosphere about her.
Autopsy wasn’t the only thing she could spend her free time executing, as she came to realize that doodling – drawing, sketching the edges of your figure was quite pleasant, too.
This.. not-date was not a complete failure, after all.
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adelrambles · 3 months
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Tips on Writing Bishop
I've been asked a couple times for advice on how to write a good (03-style) Bishop, and I'm well-aware he can be a bit tough to get a grasp on. As someone who's studied him specifically to learn how to write him as accurately as possible, I figured I'd compile some thoughts in case it'd be helpful to anyone else. I know a lot of Rise takes on him are basing off the 03 version, so maybe this could help generate ideas, too. SO!
Big Overall Points!
At the core of EVERYTHING Bishop does are two primary motivations. The first: the protection of the earth. What this means to him can get tricky, because it doesn't necessarily mean protecting the people, at least not all of them. But it will be better understood alongside the other:
The second: The protection of his sense of safety. Bishop has been deeply traumatized, and everything he does is born of a want to avoid that pain ever again. In his mind, earth is a safe area, a controllable factor, and anything outside it is a danger that must be eliminated. This is why he will still be willing to put himself and other people on the line in service of this; any sacrifice is worth the greater goal. (It's worth noting, Bishop will claim the first as his motivation freely, but is likely not consciously aware of the second.)
Bishop deals in Big Picture ONLY. Another reason Bishop will willingly throw away anything, including the lives of the people he claims to protect, is that he seems incapable of understanding things on a small, individual basis.
Bishop is a cold personality. He does not have strong displays of emotion. He does emote, but for the most part it's muted, so I recommend using emotional bursts very sparingly. (In my own writing, as an example, I try to limit my use of exclamation marks in his dialogue as much as possible.)
At his core, Bishop is afraid, and his response to fear is aggression. This also makes it particularly difficult to talk him down, if he's put in an emotional state. His response to not being in control is often violent retaliation.
With those basic tenants understood, let's move next to some major personality traits:
Bishop is a controlling personality. This is a direct result of his trauma response. Things that can be controlled are safe, therefore he must control everything. If something cannot be controlled, it's a threat that must be eliminated. If he doesn't know why something happened, he becomes angry (including even when it benefits him.)
Bishop is very low-empathy. When writing him, I try to keep in mind that he cannot put himself in the perspective of others. (Or if he can, he doesn't care to.)
Bishop is a sadist. He gets personal enjoyment from hurting others.
Bishop likes fighting, but only when he's winning. He will quickly leave if he can't see a guaranteed victory.
Bishop is paranoid. This is probably self-evident, but it's the reason he's often so well-prepared even when things don't go to plan.
Bishop genuinely seems to enjoy science. He's shown to be far more lenient with scientist characters than anyone else, and he seems to involve himself in his scientists' projects to a degree. Enough to, at the very least, understand their work. (Given he was the one set to dissect the turtles, it might also be argued he has some medical or biology background, himself.)
Bishop is an opportunist and scavenger. He can roll with failures as long as he can find something to get out of it. If he's presented with an opportunity to stab someone in the back, and he has something to gain? He'll take it without a second thought.
Bishop is deeply self-blind. For all his perceptiveness and strategic prowess, Bishop is not very self-aware in the slightest. He is completely blind to his own hypocrisies, and thoroughly confident in his own righteousness.
Bishop adapts fast. He accepts situations for what they are and acts (Though he may still be angry about them, or what have you.) This is likely a skill developed via longevity; the world around him has changed rapidly, but he doesn't feel out of place at all.
Bishop will take extreme risks and thinks wildly outside the box. Also self-evident, if you're familiar with the plans he enacts throughout the show. He'll put a lot on the line if he thinks the reward is worth enough, and he's willing to go to extreme lengths to get what he wants, even if his plans would be considered crazy by normal standards.
Bishop is persistent. If he wants something, he won't stop until he gets it. If he fails, he'll retreat, make a new plan, and try again. It is very difficult to convince him to back down (and certainly not on moral grounds.)
Habits and triggers I've noted:
Being restrained of any sort puts Bishop in a panic. He is more likely to have an emotional response in these scenarios, and seems to have (an albeit muted) desperation to escape. (See: Leatherhead restraining him in the first encounter; His reaction to being trapped on the surgical table in Head of State.)
When being duplicitous or suppressing a reaction, Bishop will go to adjust his tie. This could possibly be considered his tell.
Bishop seems to have a particular fear of aliens blending in as humans. His slayer project was built around the assumption that this is a common threat. (Worth noting: This makes The Shredder the model of the exact threat Bishop is afraid of. Technically, Bishop himself may also fit the description of a threat shaped like a human.)
Writing considerations:
In 03's narrative, Bishop is EPF and EPF is Bishop. Narratively speaking, any organization Bishop is head of acts as if it is an extension of his will and character.
Bishop is shown to strike fear and/or discomfort into most characters he interacts with. Anything beyond this is an outlier, and will draw a reader's attention.
Dialogue-wise, Bishop is generally succinct and blunt. He does dabble in gloating, though, and especially likes to upset others. If he's given a chance to be mean, he'll usually take it. It can help to consider he has a Mission Mode and a Normal Mode. When it comes to Mission Mode, he gets straight to the point and hates unnecessary talking. Otherwise, he's still not very talkative, but will take the time to make pointed jabs or talk through a plan. A lot of his sense of humor seems to be rooted in how He's Better Than You (And You're Going To Die Painfully.)
It's a common pitfall that Bishop is depicted as seeking out the turtles. In 03, once he gets their DNA, he's done with them. Any encounters after that are incidental. Bishop does not care about anything that won't effect his greater goal. If he's targeting another character, it should have to do with a greater plan.
Bishop is an extremely competent combatant, shown to be able to handle up to 7 opponents at once. For a breakdown on his fighting style check out my other post on that!
Bishop is hard to kill, and oftentimes he accidentally contributes to his own defeat. (The hook from Bishop's Gambit is an example I get a LOT of mileage out of, as a perfect symbol of his self-defeating prophecies.)
We almost only ever see Bishop in the context of his work. While it could be construed that he depersonalizes himself, it's much more clear that the narrative depersonalizes him. As far as we, the audience know, Bishop's work is all that he is.
It's unclear if Bishop was released from his abduction or escaped. Depending on which you ascribe to, this can have ramifications for his mindset on how to deal with the alien threat. (Personally, because so much of his inability to cope hinges on a feeling of helplessness, I believe he was released. If he escaped on his own power, that undercuts it, somewhat.)
Thematically-speaking, Bishop parallels both his own torturers and his own victims at the same time. He has perpetuated the cycle that traumatized him in the first place by trying to fight fire with fire. (In that vein, I don't think he's capable of understanding that, not seeing aliens as people in the first place, just dangers. Considering how deeply ingrained his trauma is in his worldview and actions, it would probably ruin him, if he were ever able to actually grasp it.)
Bishop and EPF are likely a commentary on the military of the time 03 was coming out. This can be something worth keeping in mind, when figuring out his greater themes in your story, though it can just as well be discarded if it doesn't fit.
Adding to that, Bishop has an extensive american military background. His skills and knowledge will reflect that.
Bishop also plays on and references a number of real-life alien conspiracies. It can be worth digging through conspiracy history to drum up ideas and themes, too.
The ethical and philosophical quandaries of Bishop's body-hopping and humanity tend to not hold too much weight, because Bishop, himself, doesn't seem to care.
If I think of more I'll certainly be adding on to the reblogs of this post! Or, if you have more thoughts, please feel free to add! If you're in the mood for more Bishop ramblings, that's practically most of this blog atm, but this post is a particular favorite. If you're interested in Fast Forward!Bishop, specifically, consider this post! (also read Taking Pawns. slipped in that self-promo, nice.)
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onewildwrites · 5 months
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Please Please Me [Calvin Evans x reader]
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Word count: 3.9k
Summary: You persuade Calvin to spend a little less time at the lab and a lot more time with you.
Warnings: 18+ no minors, smut, masturbation (m), oral (f receiving), brief thoughts of somnophilia, praise kink, brief mentions of breeding kink (but no really because it’s mostly just taking about cum and creampies lol), pet names (sweetheart, honey, little wife), no use of y/n, fem reader, a little fluffy ending!
A/N: This took me an embarrassingly long time to write so I hope you enjoy, and please don’t forget to comment and reblog🫶
Calvin Evans was an incredibly dedicated chemist. He seemed to care more for his work than anything else in the world.
Late nights were almost always spent in his lab when he could be sure his scientific process would not be disturbed, more importantly there would be no Donatti banging on his door asking when his latest experiment would be done.
His commitment to his work is what many (even those who weren’t particularly fond of Evans) would list as one of his greatest strengths.
Not you though.
Definitely not you.
You didn’t want to be misunderstood, you were truly proud of Calvin and his work. He was a brilliant man who deserved every bit of praise he got. You would accompany him to every award ceremony and never grow tired of hearing speech upon speech about what a wonder he was in the scientific community.
But you were getting very tired of spending most nights in your home alone.
Every night for the past month at 1:35am on the dot, you would be awoken by the feeling of the right side of the bed sinking to the weight of his lanky body. He would apologize profusely for waking you so late, and proceed to move to the couch in the living room.
In the beginning you hoped you could at least have a brief moment of alone time with Calvin in your shared morning before he went off to work. But of course he had already left for his early row by the time you opened your eyes.
Even weekends weren’t sacred anymore since moving some of his lab equipment to his home office. Calvin would leave his office when you alerted him dinner was ready, you two would stick to light small talk ( “How’s your research going?” “This is delicious” “Anything interesting in the news lately?” “Have you heard about what happened to Mrs.Jones down the road?”) Cavin would eat quickly, finishing before you were even halfway through your food, thank you for the meal and quickly peck your cheek before going right back to his office.
Like any sane person you were growing impatient with your husbands never ending busy schedule. A woman has needs just like any man does and Calvin should know that very well by now.
Much of your early relationship was spent exploring all the ways you could please each other. After all, Calvin was a scientist and he would reason the best way to find out was to experiment. That meant hours wrapped up in your white sheets, christening every surface of his home, trying things you never would have even fantasized of doing in your wildest dreams.
You missed that time desperately now and you had a plan to get it back.
Calvin was never good at picking up on social cues. Luckily most people thought he was simply pulling their leg when he took a joke or a sarcastic comment seriously. But he knew something had changed with you the moment he stepped into your shared home that Friday night.
He still made sure to close the door with extra caution so as not to wake you, even though he ended up almost constantly waking you when he slunk into bed anyway. Going through his usual routine of removing his sweat soaked running clothes, grabbing a pair of clean pajamas, and jumping into the bathroom for a quick shower.
After thoroughly removing the feeling of grime from his skin he makes his way towards your bedroom rubbing his tired eyes. He knows he has only himself to blame for his recent exhaustion but he’s never been great at putting anything before his work, and that includes sleep.
As he expects there you are sleeping sweetly, your left hand resting gently under your face. No matter how many times he sees you sleep he knows he will never get bored of it.
Calvin was quickly pulled out of his state of adoration when he realized something was off with the usual picture he was used to coming home to. You were sleeping on your stomach with your leg sticking out from the duvet. And Calvin may be downright lousy at picking up social cues but he always noticed a change in his surroundings.
You most certainly never had to worry about Calvin failing to notice a change in your style or a new haircut because he was the first to comment on it. “This new dress looks lovely on you.” he’d say while kissing the exposed bit of your shoulder.
In all the years he had known you, you never once slept on your stomach (it was a deeply inconvenient position for cuddling according to you), and you definitely never let your limbs hang off the bed (some old superstitious fear you had as a child that stuck with you into adulthood).
He decided to investigate further, even if it turned out to just be him reading too much into it.
Striding over to your side of the bed he looked for anything else that might be out of place. Your breathing was normal, the book on your bedside table was laying in the same place you put it all other nights, and your nightly glass of water sat empty. He was about to scold himself for being overdramatic when his eyes caught the lack of fabric on your shoulders.
Maybe you purchased a new sleeveless nightgown, Calvin tried to reason with himself. Maybe it was just a particularly low neckline or perhaps the fabric matched your skin tone so well he just wasn’t seeing it, after all the room was dark. Yes, that was possible.
Of course he couldn’t leave it at that - oh why didn’t he leave it at that and go right to bed? “You’re being ridiculous,” he scolded himself like a child in a whisper. “Just take a quick look, there’s no harm.”
Carefully he reached for where the blanket met your exposed back, making sure not to graze your skin, as much as he wanted to.
Sure enough there it was, you, completely exposed to him. The sides of your breasts pushing out against the mattress and your round ass on full display. “Shit…” the words fell out of Calvins mouth before he could stop them. He felt like a stupid teenager getting his first glance at a nude woman all over again.
Thoughts of temptation filled his mind. What would happen if he did touch you? If his hands slipped down towards the space between your thighs. Would you wake suddenly furious that he would ever wake you from your peaceful sleep? What about encouraging him to join you and take off his towel?
Of course he wouldn’t ever be sure of the real answer as Calvin could not bring himself to touch you while unconscious. It would be downright ungentlemanly.
He shook his head to clear his mind of the thoughts.
Calvin was lifting the edge of the duvet to cover you back up when you began to move. Panic filled him as he froze completely, fearing what you would think if you caught him ogling you in your sleep. Luckily enough for him your eyes did not open, but something unexpected did come out of your mouth.
At first Calvin thought he was hearing things, maybe the exhaustion of all these long nights in the lab were finally getting to him. Although that was a strong possibility in his mind there was no doubt the noises he was hearing were coming from you. Noises he was all too familiar with. Soft, breathy, moans.
This was not a sound Calvin knew you could make in your sleep. So similar to the sounds you let out when he was on top of that if he closed his eyes he would swear that’s where he was. While being swept up by his own imagination he nearly missed the words you spoke. “Mmph…Calvin…”
That was the straw that broke the camel's back. He could no longer ignore the growing bulge under the towel wrapped around his waist. Dropping the blanket back over you, he rushed back to the bathroom.
Leaning against the sink Calvin ripped the towel from around him, freeing his hard cock. Bringing his right hand up to his mouth he spit a glob of saliva into the center of his palm. Wasting no time at all he reached down and grasped the base of his throbbing length causing a gasp to escape him. “Fuck,” He moaned, his voice trembing with arousal. Calvin couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this desperate for a release.
Reminiscing about the last time he had gotten you all to himself Calvin began working his hand over his cock. The way you bit your bottom lip when you were close to orgasm, how soft your ass felt in his hands, or how you begged him so sweetly to cum inside of you. “Oh honey,” he groaned with teeth clenched. The more he thought about you the closer he got to the edge.
Keeping his arm still Calvin started bucking his hips forward, fucking his fist while picturing you on your knees below him. Your big doe eyes looking up at him with an innocent glint was his weakness. How was someone even able to look so naive with a cock between their lips? “That’s it, God you're so good to me,” he could no longer hold back.
Picking up his pace Calvins mind went blank, only the sensation of his impending orgasm could be felt. A jumbled mix of curses sprung from his lips as he watched the cum shoot from the tip of his cock onto his fist.
Calvin remained silent in the bathroom, the only sound to be heard was the heavy panting noise of him trying to catch his breath. After a few beats he decided it would be best to clean up the mess he had made, put his pajamas on and get out of there as soon as possible. God forbid you wake up for a late night bathroom trip and see him like this.
Walking back out to the living room he began to wonder how loud he had been, did he wake you with his erratic moans? Choosing to take a quick peak and make sure he hadn’t embarrassed himself further he gracefully nudged your bedroom door open a sliver. Clearly the universe was looking out for old Calvin because there you lay, sleeping soundly.
Letting out a breath of relief Calvin moved back out towards his bed tonight – the couch.
If only Calvin had stayed watching you a little longer he would have seen the sly smirk spreading across your lips.
Everything goes according to plan.
The sun peeked through the blinds, shining directly onto his eyelids when he woke in the morning. He had been too distracted last night to set his usual 6am alarm but he welcomed the extra rest. Honestly after the night he had Calvin was surprised he slept at all.
Figuring there was no time to waste if he still wanted to go on his morning row, Calvin sat upright on the couch, wiping the sleep from his eyes. While rubbing his eyes Calvins nose picked up an array of once familiar scents: eggs, toast, bacon, and…was that pancakes? It had been so long since you last cooked breakfast for him –again Calvin knew that was completely his fault.
Cavin was starting to forget what your warm meals tasted like, becoming accustomed to eating the cold leftovers whenever he returned home. Perhaps he could skip the row, just this one time…
Strolling towards the kitchen with a smile on his face Calvin nearly tripped himself when he caught sight of you. Standing as he expected in front of the stove top, humming along to whatever song was playing in your head while carefully flipping pancakes. What he did not expect was the lingerie you were wearing while doing it. He’d obviously lost track of time while eyeing you as you noticed him, slack jaw and all.
You fully turned towards him with a smile, “Good morning sleepyhead.”
How you wish you had a camera near you now. The look on Calvins face was priceless. You had never seen him so stunned before, and that includes the first time you agreed to go on a date with him.
“M-morning,” he stuttered, clearly trying (and failing) to fix his uncouth expression.
His gaze wandered across the outfit before him. A light pink set, silk top decorated with a delicate bow in the center of the chest, short ruffled bloomers, completed with a transparent tulle robe.
You turned back towards the stove. “Did you sleep well? I missed you last night. It’s always so lonely in bed without you,” you said, exaggerating the sadness in your voice.
That seemed to snap Calvin back to his normal self, “I’m sorry honey, you know I just worry about waking you up,” the genuine concern in his voice almost made you feel bad for playing it up so much…almost.
“Well you woke me up anyway, so why didn’t you just join me, hm?” You had a feeling you could see the panic on his face without even looking back.
A hitch in his breathing and a sudden step towards you let you know you were spot on. “When exactly did I wake you?” he questioned.
“Oh you know, when you were playing with your cock in the bathroom,” you stated it simply like you were telling him something he already knew. “I have to say I was very disappointed you didn’t invite me Calvin, you know I hate to think of all the cum you wasted without me there to clean it up.” You shut the burner on the stove off, moving the final pancake off the side with the rest.
Finished with the task at hand you looked back at Calvin. No longer the anxious face you were anticipating, no this was a look you recognized instantly, arousal.
Calvin licked his lips, “You dirty little minx,” wrapping his hands around your waist he swiftly pulled you towards him. His hot breath fanning across your face, “You planned all this out didn’t you?”
Batting your lashes at him you whipped out your best virginal response, “I have no idea what you could possibly be accusing me of Dr.Evans.”
He tilted his head to the side, “Are you sure about that?” His hands were now grazing further down your back causing an involuntary shiver to run over you. “So you didn’t sleep naked last night hoping it would drive me crazy? How about moaning in your ‘sleep’ expecting me to get hard?”
You shook your head at every accusation. Watching Calvin grow more impatient with your antics was only egging you on.
He let out a huff, “No? Not even wearing this skimpy thing to cook breakfast in?”
“How do you know this isn’t what I usually cook breakfast in? It’s not like you’re ever around when I do it anyway.” The facade you had put on dropped quickly.
It was clear a lightbulb went off in Calvins head, “Is that what this is about? Have I been neglecting my pretty little wife's needs?” He moved his head into the crook of your neck, his nose pressed against your pulse.
Now it was your turn to stutter, “M-maybe…” Your eyes closed at the feeling of him being so close to you.
His lips moved to graze your neck, making his words jumbled, “Well I think I know just how to apologize for it.”
You were about to ask how when suddenly Calvins lips crashed onto yours, pushing every coherent thought from your mind. Caught off guard you forget to move your lips with his. He pulled away briefly to let out a hoarse whisper, “Kiss me,” The command was so gentle it seemed almost like a question.
You could never deny him of what he wanted. Moving back into the kiss you meet him with equal lust, like you both had been deprived of touch for years. God you missed this, the soft groans passing by your lips as your tongues melted against each other. You noticed a growing hardness pressed to your upper thigh. “Getting excited over a little kiss Calvin?” you teased. Your forehead rested against his, nudging his nose with yours.
“Can you blame me? I mean look at you,” Calvins right hand moved up from its place on your back, undoing the tie in the middle of your robe. You shook it from off your shoulders, letting it fall on the kitchen floor. Calvin took a step back to get a better look at you, making you whine at the loss of contact. “So perfect for me,” he said, like there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that it was true.
“What are you doing?” You asked as he sunk slowly onto his knees.
His hands pulled at the back of your thighs, squeezing the soft skin. “I’m thanking my beautiful wife for putting up with me.”
Your eyes rolled at his dramatics. “Cavin I d-” the words ripped from you before they were even out as his lips moved to the inner part of your thigh. Dragging the delicate skin of his lips across you, your eyelids fluttered shut once more. “I should have known you would need me to take care of you,” he admitted.
The petals of his lips roaming higher up your thighs he shifted you so that your legs were flush against his torso. “Don’t you sweetheart, you need me to take care of you?” Although his tone was clearly mocking it still made you feel warm inside.
“Mhm, I do I do, please,” you nodded dumbly.
His smile pressed against your skin, “How cruel of me to ever leave my sweet wife and her needy pussy all alone.” Calvins right hand reached up to the center of your bloomers, thumb grazing over your clit.
“F-uck,” you gasped, dropping your hands to grip the base of Calvin's hair.
“You’re worse off than I thought you were,” he joked. Wasting no more time teasing you Calvin lowered your bloomers, pulling them with his teeth. Your eyes sprung open to watch him work.
Biting his lower lip Calvin admired the wetness dripping from you. “Miss me?”
“Yes, God Calvin Please,” you begged looking down at him with desperation flowing from you.
His eyes met your, “You don't need to beg for me anymore honey, I’m home now.” keeping eye contact with you Calvin kissed your aching clit. Gradually escalating from sweet pecks to open mouth licks you could feel your knees lock below you. Calvin shifted your left leg over his shoulder to drown himself inside your cunt, licking from your clit to your opening.
Moans falling from your lips before you even knew what you were saying, “Yes, fuck you’re so good Calvin,” you swore he always looked his best under you, even if your eyes were having trouble focusing at the moment.
Your praise was the only kind that Calvin cared about you recalled him telling you, and now that was obvious to you. Your words clearly have an effect on his performance. Encouraging him to lick and suck your clit with vigor. His moans vibrate your core pushing you further towards the edge of your impending orgasm.
Withdrawing his face from your pulsating cunt, Calvin lays his face on your thigh. Hastily replacing his tongue with his fingers and continuing the same motions. Seemingly mesmerized by his own actions Calvin stares at your pussy while speaking to you, “Yeah? You like when I pay attention to you?” His words came out wobbly like he was the one being pleasured.
Using all the strength you could muster you tried to really look at him like this. Face flush red leading down to his neck, your slick covering most of his chin, that one vein popping out of his temple. Never before Calvin have you seen a man look so determined to please.
“Mhm Yes, God Calvin, I love it when you pay attention to me,” you groaned.
“Good because I’ll be doing a lot more of it now.” going back in for another taste, he is like a man possessed. Calvin has always been an attentive man, inside and outside the bedroom and it was clear he was trying to prove something to you at this moment.
“Fuck I’m so close Calvin,” you warned.
He broke away from your pussy for a second time, “Yeah, you gonna come all over my face honey?”
You could no longer keep your eyes open, squeezing them shut tight. You wanted to say something- anything in response but the words failed you, opting to nod your head quickly.
“Do it sweetheart, come for me, please,” he coaxed, playing with your clit at the same steady pace he had been previously.
That was all it took for you to come, nearly collapsing into Calvin's arms. He held you upright as your orgasm overtook you. His praise continued as you came down from your high, “You're such a good little wife for me, that’s it honey, come just like that.”
After a few moments calming your breathing you decided to be brave and attempt to move on your own. You joined Calvin down on the floor, sitting in his lap. Letting out a sigh as you came back to your senses, “Fuck me.”
“I would but I'm afraid I may have gotten a little overly excited,” Calvin laughed. You took notice of what he was referring to, a large wet patch on the crotch of his pants.
“Well I’m glad that took care of itself because I don’t know I would have had any energy to help you with it, you drained me.” You jested, but really you weren’t sure your brain was working properly enough to think, let alone suck Calvin off.
The both of you sat in a peaceful moment of silence after that, fixing the others' wrecked appearance. You realized that these were the moments you missed most when Calvin left, simply basking in each other's presence - even if nothing extraordinarily romantic was happening.
“You know when you want me to spend more time with you all you have to do is ask, right?” he broke the silence while brushing your hair behind your ear.
“You know it would be a lot easier to ask you if you weren’t constantly away working or rowing, right?” you asked with the same cadence as him.
That made him giggle, “Fair point, I promise not to let my neurotic ways keep me away from you ever again.” You planted a quick peck in his lips at that, delighted to hear him say it. “In the meantime is there anything else I can do to make it up to you?”
You pretended to be deep in thought about his question, furrowing your brows together and tapping your pointer finger on your chin. “How about sitting down and eating the breakfast I’ve worked so hard on with me?”
Calvin moved from underneath you, causing a frown to appear on your face. He stood up and reached a hand down, inviting you to grab it and pull yourself up. “You don’t have to ask me twice,” he smiled, pulling up two chairs to the dining table.
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kissagii · 7 months
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stardance - prince!sae x knight!reader
a fic for a trade with the lovely @saenora <33
cw: 2.5k words, gn!reader, hurt comfort, sae is pretty rude (to reader), mild descriptions of violence, there's a failed assassination but no blood or serious injury
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When the palace walls and king’s carriages proved at last too confining for the eldest prince of the Itoshi family, Sae was assigned a knight of his own. A soldier to fend off the creatures of the forests; to discourage burglars with a glare and blade; to guard a door in a palace so thoroughly guarded that at times even visitors struggled to enter. In his mind, his guard was an excessive layer of protection for an already coddled son, another attempt to shelter him from the kingdom he would one day come to rule.
But mostly, his guard was a nuisance. 
“With all due respect, your highness, just how long do you plan to look through these historical tomes that - if I may remind you - your father’s library already has.”
At the mere sound of your voice, he stopped flipping through the large volume in front of him. It wasn’t the one he wanted anyways, and neither were the twenty others the bookshop owner had presented him with. An honor to help the prince with his studies? Hah. If only the fools had what I needed. With a frustrated sigh, he motioned to leave in search of yet another shop.
“I’ll look until one of these shops has what I need.” He hardly looked back as he began making his way to the next bookstore. Technically, he was supposed to let you walk in front, parting the crowds around their crown, but in the near-empty twilight streets, he set a pace brisk enough to discourage anyone wishing to follow him, his guard included. For a moment, as the stars began to rise, he could forget.
Though peace of mind could never never last long. “Your Highness, it’s too late for you to be out. You know as well as I do that your father doesn’t like you being out in the city late, especially not on some wild goose chase for a history book that might not even exist.”
Sae knew that he should be returning to the palace. But in those grand halls, he couldn’t forget, not even for a moment. It was always someone or someone else pestering about something he couldn’t bring himself to care about. Courtship. Parties. Foreign gossip. Meaningless awards. Petty disputes between lords. His brother. His blasted annoying guard.
“Really, your highness, what even is it that you’re looking for?” You continued, beginning to get impatient. “Primary sources from the Cretaceous period? Because, I hate to break it to you, but crabs can’t write.” 
Against his better judgment, Sae nearly chuckled at that remark. Nearly. 
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At this point, you didn’t know if Sae genuinely hated you or if his tendency towards bitter words was an overdramatized facade. Though whichever it was, it was slowly slipping further toward loathing as you urged him out of the library. It was a war of his stubbornness against your orders, and though the king’s own word should always win, it never seemed to.
Worn down by tiredness and the convoluted organization of his father’s library, Sae snapped. Once more you tried to convince him to leave and he turned sharply to face you, eyes darkened. Whatever curious stars had once been behind them had died out, leaving only the aquamarine void.
“Just leave me.” 
So this is how he’s playing this. You pulled out his chair, a not-so-subtle sign that it was time to leave, regardless of what he thought. “Your Highness, I’m strictly forbidden from leaving you. I’ll escort you to your room now.”
“I’ll get to my room on my own,” He muttered, waving you off, “One of the sentries can take me if they see me.”
“Sae. You’ve had a long night, it’s time for you to sleep. You can find your books on a clear head in the morning.” There was a certain firmness in your voice this time - you weren’t about to let him ignore you, regardless of the fact that he was above you in rank and had no obligation to listen to you.
“Don’t call me that.” 
“What, your name? I don’t answer to you, I’ll call you whatever I like.”
“I outrank you, remember. I don’t care if my father ordered you to make me rest, you answer to me, not him.” He refused to turn to you, gripping white-knuckled on the arms of his chair. If he squeezed them any harder, they might break. A normal soldier would stop provoking him now - you should stop provoking him now - but there was no point in shoving the frustration down any further. Sae was insolent, stubborn, lived on his own time, and wouldn’t take care of himself. But you would protect him. You swore so on your life and honor.  
“They’re not his orders.”
“Then whose are they?” He seethed, turning to look you in the eyes. Though he couldn’t see your face in the dim light, Sae was sure you were grinning smugly, taking some sick satisfaction in watching him snap. 
“Mine.” You stated plainly.
“Blasted nuisance,” Sae huffed, “You have no authority to give yourself orders. Leave.”
Suddenly he found himself being pulled by the arm, yanked up and out of his chair by a uniformed hand. Electricity prickled down his spine as he was forced to his feet. “I have plenty of authority to care about you and want you to take care of yourself because I know you wouldn’t otherwise. With that said, I will be escorting you to your room.”
Without sparing even a moment, you began pulling Sae toward the door. Your grip was far from rough - he could escape easily if he felt like it - but he saw no reason to struggle. He had hardly noticed the fatigue seeping into his body, sapping his strength as the night grew late.
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Sae’s knight was an inevitability. A constant. Guaranteed to be somewhere in the vicinity, be it hovering at his shoulder or stationed at a doorway just out of sight. Even as he reclined in his barely lit sitting room, there was no mistaking the uniformed figure lurking in the shadows near the tightly bolted door.
“Aren’t I safe enough in here? You can leave,” He waved you off halfheartedly, “Get some of that sleep you’ve been hounding me incessantly about.”
Your laugh floated over from the dark corner. At least someone had the energy for humor at this hour. “Believe me, if I weren’t under direct orders to stay here until Kento comes to replace me, I’d be comfortably cuddled up in my bed. Like you should be right now.”
With a sigh, Sae stood from his reading chair and made his way to his bed. He was hardly tired, but pretending to sleep would at least give you peace of mind. The last thing he needed was yet another person overly concerned about his safety, especially not one who was only concerned because it was their job.
Or was it? 
I have plenty of authority to care about you. 
Your words echoed in his mind. That hadn’t been on his father’s orders – none of the insistence that Sae cared for himself had been. It was, startlingly, the first time that concern for his safety had extended past duels and burglars and-
“ASSASSIN!!!”
Sae turned his head sharply, watching as a badly illuminated figure entered his room from the moonlit balcony, empty glass bottle in hand. His heart stopped in his chest. His feet wouldn’t move. He urged himself to run, to make his way to safety, to make his way toward you. The most he could do was turn and watch you as you charged.
The assassin stepped up behind him. The bottle came crashing down.
The last thing he registered was you running toward him, sword drawn, radiant like starlight incarnate.
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“Good morning, your highness. How’d you sleep?”
Of course, the first thing Sae would hear after coming to consciousness would be his knight’s voice. Classic.
“What… what happened?” At some point, he’d been moved from the floor to his bed, and the lack of light from outdoors meant it was still night. The only people in the room, as far as he could tell, were him and the knight.
The knight chuckled. Someone ought to teach them that assassination is not a laughing matter.
“Well, some fool managed to climb up your balcony and hit you over the head with an empty liquor bottle. He got you pretty good, but at least you didn’t get cut by the glass shards. The doc said you’ll be fine in a day or two.” Somewhere across the room, your uniform rustled as you stood to leave, satisfied to know that Sae was alright. “Well, I’ll be going now. Kento, Miroku, and Tatsuki are outside if you need anything, but I’ll hopefully be back before you wake up. Get some sleep, you’ll need it.”
As Sae watched you retreat, he felt the sudden urge to reach out toward you; to thank you for saving his life yet again; to savor your company just a little longer. All that escaped his lips was a croaked, “Don’t-”
“Huh?” You turned, “Don’t what? You’ve gotta be specific if you’re giving me orders.”
Struggling for words, Sae sputtered, not entirely sure what he wanted. Don’t hate me? Don’t abandon me? Don’t resign from your post and never return?  “Leave.”
You sighed, turning back again. “Being evasive, I see. Good to know you’re back to normal. Goodnight, your highness.”
“Wait- No- Don’t leave. Stay. Please.” Sae didn’t realize, but he was reaching toward you with his hand as if trying to pull you back toward him. But of course, you were across the room, and  his fingers couldn’t find purchase.
“Your Highness, you’ll be perfectly safe, I promise. There are two guards outside and one on the balcony… I can tell Kento to come inside if that would make you feel safer.” It pained Sae how you didn’t look him in the eyes as you spoke – you hardly turned to face him. But that was about the treatment he deserved, considering how he had treated you, pushing you away and still expecting you to save his life.
“It’s not- Stay, Y/n, please. I- It’s nice. Having you around.” He begged, voice breaking. He cursed himself for sounding so foolish, so unnecessarily vulnerable. You were his guard, nothing more.
Oh, how he wished it was more.
“Oh. I guess… I guess I could stay,” You murmur, striding back toward him, “For what it’s worth, you’re not half-bad of a guy to guard. Following you around all day is pretty fun… even when you’re mad at me.”
Sae groaned, wanting nothing more than to hide under his bedsheets. Half the time when he snapped at you it was just to provoke a clever quip or witty insult from you who never seemed to care, and the other half the time, when he stepped too far, his stubbornness left the apologies aching in his chest.
“I’m not mad. Not usually,” He muttered, not entirely sure if you could hear or not. Sae assumed not, from the way you settled into one of his sitting chairs, leaning your sword belt against the arm. 
No, don’t sit there- The words were on the tip of his tongue, but you spoke first.
“I’ll sit here as long as you want, but you should get to sleep. Let me know if you need anything, alright? I’ll do my best to not doze off.”
“There is one thing,” Sae said, internally shuddering at how foolish his request seemed. But it was you, and you wouldn’t make fun of it… right?
You chuckled. “Spit it out before I fall asleep. This chair is ridiculously comfortable.”
“Come sleep with me. Propriety be damned.”
You looked at him incredulously, not believing the words that exited his mouth. A sentence you had long given up on hearing. But the response that forms bypasses that yearning entirely.
“Aww, does His Royal Grumpiness get cuddly when he’s concussed?”
He sighed and scowled – though the snarky reply made his heart skip a beat. “Shut it, Y/n. I’m serious. I’d like to be close to you.”
“As you wish, Sae,” You smiled, taking off your uniform coat and discarding it on the same chair that your sword leaned against. Sae watched you intensely as you removed your shoes and climbed into the soft, powder blue sheets. He’s quick to wrap his arms around you, drinking in the warmth of your skin. 
If only for a night, you could be his. You were his. And he was yours. By the witness of the stars. His troubled soul was held in the comfort of another, melting into the tenderness of an embrace outside of the reach of prying eyes. For the first time in far too long, the tension left the prince’s muscles, eased out by the soft breathing of his knight, his friend, his beloved.
In the silent depths of night, sweet words were whispered in dulcet tones. 
“I love you.”
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Bonus: Two Weeks Later
Exactly two weeks after the ridiculous attempt on Prince Sae’s life, Aiku – Captain of the King’s Guard and your somewhat-direct superior – summoned you into his office.
Not pleased to be away from your job for too long, you intended to make this quick.
“Let me guess, you need help training new recruits? Because if that’s what you want, I can’t do it. I’m with Sae full time now,” You said, standing in the doorway. Aiku looked at you from where he leaned against his desk, letting out a soft chuckle.
“Familiar with His Royal Highness, are you?” The Captain asked, smirking, “Well, therein lies the problem.” 
You furrowed your brow, not entirely understanding what he meant. “And how is that an issue? You’re plenty familiar with His Majesty the King, why should I not be the same with the man I guard?”
“It’s not quite the same. Rumors are spreading, you know, and if things continue like this then you might be reassigned.” 
“Really? Why? I keep Sae perfectly safe, no?” Captain Aiku stepped toward you, straightened posture making him seem unnervingly tall. He lowered his voice, as if worried someone would overhear. “Listen, Y/n. Let me put it this way: If the king catches you and his son making bedroom eyes at each other one more time he will replace you. The rest of us on the guard don’t exactly appreciate it either.”
Suddenly a gentle wrapped around your waist, the newcomer’s chest pressed comfortingly against your back. You didn’t have to turn around to know that Sae had come to intervene, tugging you gently away from the Captain.
“Sorry to interrupt, Captain, but I will look at my knight however I please. If my father chooses to reassign Y/n, I will deal with him myself.”
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i'm such a sucker for royalty au
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question about the omegaverse
Could you write Alpha Jason and Jeff's reaction (separately) when their Omega partner tells them that they are determined to be with them permanently and asks them to mark them?
(you know, those union marks that alphas make on omegas to unite definitive bonds)
So this got very long. But I hope you enjoy!
Jason:
The second you bring up the prospect of him finally marking you Jason is extremely caught off guard, and he gets overwhelmed by a bunch of different emotions. He's definitely excited, of course he is, because the prospect of remaining by your side as your alpha for the rest of his life is all he wants, but he's also scared and anxious. What if you come to regret taking him as your bond mate? What if you end up regretting allowing him to do that to you and then you're stuck with a mark and an emotional and physical tie to him? After all, once he marks you he'd be able to feel all your emotions flowing into him, and what if the first thing he feels is regret coming out of you? He's been standing there for a good few minutes since you'd asked him just staring into space with a mix of emotions running along your face, and it's beginning to make you nervous. When you timidly call his name, asking him if he wouldn't want that, Jason snaps out of it and is quick to assure you that he absolutely does want that, and he'll sit down with you and very thoroughly talk it over with you. 
Accepting a bond mark is a very big commitment, and he wants to be fully sure that you want this and that you're fully prepared. When you laugh at him and tell him yes, you've been thinking about this for months now, he finds himself relaxing and getting much more excited about the prospect of being able to claim you as his own fully. Of course, he gets way too caught up in the planning of it, as it must be done during a mating cycle, and you feel like you've never seen him more excited for something before, but how could he not be? He gets to spend the rest of his days as the alpha to the most wonderful omega in the world, nothing could make him happier than this, and... When he does finally get to claim you, when he places his mark on you, the first thing he feels is love, overflowing and wonderful, and it takes all of his efforts not to cry from how heavenly it feels to be able to actually feel your love flowing into him, melting his heart and making him so incredibly grateful to be yours. Jason has always done his best as your partner, but now, now he's more determined than ever to prove you right in choosing him. He will love, spoil, protect, and cherish you for the rest of your days, no matter what.
Jeff:
Jeff just about chokes on his spit the second you ask him if he'd like to finally bond you with his mark, and you have to help him calm down as he coughs and sputters from the shock of it all. Sure, the two of you had lightly discussed the possibility of it before, but Jeff never really thought you'd be the one to ask him, or that you'd do it so soon. You've been together a while, but Jeff had never been with someone quite this long, and he didn't think you'd be this committed to him. He trusted you, and he loved you more than anything else in the whole world, but the fear in the back of his mind that someday you would wisen up and leave him for a better alpha, a much less damaged one, one that was stronger, more emotionally sound, one that could give you better things that Jeff could. Although he hasn't said that part out loud, you can read his thoughts from his expression, sighing gently as you press a soothing kiss to his head. You assure him that he's the only alpha you've ever wanted, the one you'd like to stand beside for the rest of your life, and that you've never had a better partner than him, that nobody could replace him or do better. 
He is your alpha, yours and yours alone, and nobody could do a better job than him at making you feel loved and protected. Jeff glances at your neck, at the place where his mark could hypothetically be, and the thought of that brings him a tranquilness that he's not sure he's ever felt before. He asks you if you're sure, and when you affirm that you are, he feels tears sliding down his cheeks as he pulls you in for a tight hug. He never thought he'd get to be able to claim an omega, to claim you, and now that he has the chance to he knows more than anything that he doesn't want to let it go. Jeff finds himself feeling lighter than ever in the coming weeks, giddy and excited, more affectionate than ever with you as the two of you approach the time of your next heat, and when he finally gets to mark you, holding you tight as he does so, he feels an overwhelming sensation of home. You've always been that to him, his home, and now it feels more intense and obvious than ever before, he feels unbelievably lucky to be the one you gave the chance to feel this way, and he knows he'll do whatever it takes to make you proud to have him as an alpha.
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aphroditeslover11 · 5 months
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for oppie maybe he meets a foreign student when he is studying abroad like in the beginning of the movie in germany? he is so stressed then he could have used a friend… loved your exam piece so i thought maybe you would like an idea like this ❤️
An Unexpected Friend
Hi there, I hope that this is something along the lines of what you meant. My first ask, so I’m using that as an excuse if it’s crap! I ended up writing a little more of myself into this than I meant to. 🤣
I should probably warn that Oppie ends up having a bit of an existential crisis incase that bothers anybody. But yeah, please read and enjoy, any feedback or further requests are much appreciated.
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Robert Oppenheimer was thoroughly fed up. He was twenty two and in the middle of a real dip in his life. The last year that he had spent studying at Cambridge had been nothing short of a disaster. He was starting to doubt himself intellectually for the first time, he felt as if he was losing his identity. Though he would be hard pushed to admit it, he also felt as if he had nowhere to turn, his friends all seemed to be meeting women, some making the more permanent choice of settling down into early domesticity, leaving him feeling completely alone in the world. This was where his decision to pack his bags and move to Germany had come from, to try and reinvigorate his love of physics if nothing else.
He was on an overnight train, headed to Gottingen for the place at the university that he was taking up. He was dosing in and out of sleep, waking up for the third time since he had finished the sandwiches that he had bought before he left the station. The lights of the carriage were slightly dingy, yet he reached for the book that he had been reading earlier that evening, a newly published physics paper, hoping to get a bit more reading done before he arrived.
After about half an hour of reading he was fully awake again, concentration completely engaged, only to be pulled out of it by a knock on the door of his compartment. He opened the door to find a girl, about the same age as him, carrying a suitcase and with a reticent look on her face.
“I’m really sorry to bother you Sir, I got onto the train at the last station but I can’t find any seats, all the other compartments are dark and I didn’t want to disturb people if they were sleeping.” Robert ran a hand through his hair in contemplation, then moving away from the door to let you in.
“It’s alright, I’m on my own. We can share it for the night. I’ll warn you that I’m planning on staying awake for the rest of the journey though, so the light will be on.”
“That’s not an issue, I’m probably going to read anyway. I’ve always been a dreadful sleeper. Thankyou, Mr?”
“Oppenheimer, Robert. And you are?”
“Y/N.”
~
You had both started the evening with your noses buried in books, trying to be quiet and not disturb each other. Robert had uncharacteristically broken the silence when he realised what you were reading a volume of Plato. You started a discussion between you about how philosophy and physics could be compatible with one another, learning that you were both heading to the same university to study your respective subjects. When you got off the train you agreed to meet up soon.
Over the first few weeks of your time at the university you saw each other a lot. Neither of you were hugely social, of course making some friends through your courses, but you certainly considered Oppie as your closest. You met up most evenings, sometimes going out to eat at a local café, but most often just reading and working on assignments or papers in silence. It was always nice to know that you could talk if you wanted to though.
It was on one of these evenings that Robert started an unexpected conversation.
“Y/N, I was wondering if I could ask you about something. I don’t want to put any pressure on you, but it’s just been bugging me recently.”
“I’m all ears Robert, go ahead.”
“Do you ever just walk into a room and feel like everybody in it hates you. That you open your mouth and everybody just thinks ‘what the hell is this idiot going to start on about now’.” He was saying everything very matter of factly, though it was clear that opening up to someone wasn’t easy on him. You paused briefly, trying to decide how to respond.
“People that you know, or just everyone?”
“Everyone. Although it’s easier when it’s just new people, you can just put up a facade for a bit, you know. Convince them that you aren’t as bad as you really are.”
“I guess I kind of know what you mean, I ended up with a bit of a complex because my mum used to ask me not to talk about my interests. She used to say she didn’t want to know because she didn’t understand, I don’t think she could handle the fact that I knew more than her. It kind of gets better though when you make some decent friends… the complex I mean. What’s so bad about you anyway Robert?”
“All I’ve ever done is academics, I don’t have a personality outside of that. I hate making friends and nobody ever understands me. I went to Cambridge and got stuck doing lab work, I was hopeless, just couldn’t do it.” His fragile facade was starting to drop now, you could hear it in his voice. “I couldn’t even manage the one thing that I’m meant to be good at. Without my science who the hell even am I?” He was trying to hide it, but you had noticed the few small tears that had fallen from his cyanic eyes.
You moved from your seat to be beside him on the sofa where he was sitting himself, wrapping a gentle arm around his shoulders. Given how reserved he usually was, the picture of perfect manners and politeness, it caught you off guard when he wrapped both of his arms around you, burying his head in your shoulder. It was rare to see him so vulnerable, it was the same of any man really, but it was strangely gratifying that he trusted you enough to be around him like this.
“You are J Robert Oppenheimer. You are you Robert, and that is enough to ask of anyone.” You spoke firmly. “I can’t speak for the rest of the world, but I certainly don’t hate you. In fact, I think you’re the best friend that I’ve had in a very long time, and I’ve had my share of identity crises as well.” He pulled back from your hold then, sitting up straight.
“Is this feeling ever going to go away though? I can’t bear it, I just can’t.”
“It will, it will take time but you will get past this. Both of us are learning who we really are, and when we do we’ll be all the better for it.
“Would you mind if I hold you, just for a bit? I just need to know that somebody’s here, with me.”
“Of course I don’t mind. In truth, it’s been a very long time since I’ve been able to feel this comfortable with someone.” With that, he put a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you securely into his side.
“Robert, I promise I’m not going anywhere.”
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serenescribe · 7 months
Note
Saw a post about an AU where Silver was kidnapped in the Ghost Marriage instead of Idia and thought it was a fun idea. Could you write it for fic frenzy? Particularly Lilia kicking down the doors to save his son?
[✐] ficlet frenzy
Slam!
“STOP THE WEDDING!”
A familiar voice bellows through the air, one that causes Silver to perk up, a sliver of hope finally filling his heart. He twists his eyes in the direction of the sound, as far as he can, to catch the figure in the doorway — Lilia, his father, decked out in an elegant suitor’s suit, a dark vest over a collared shirt, a fancy green jacket draped around his shoulders.
The ghost bride startles at him, lips twisting into a frown. “What do you want?” she asks, before her eyes widen with recognition. “That hair… Are you one of the wedding crashers?! Don’t you dare try to ruin my extra-special day!”
Silver stares at his father with pleading eyes. Surely he will get him out of this mess? Silver regrets getting him entangled in this to begin with, but… the prospect of dying and spending his eternal afterlife with this rather obsessive ghost isn’t exactly what he wishes to do.
Silver isn’t sure what he expects. Perhaps he had expected his father to fight back — the ghost bride didn’t seem like she would go down without a fight, after all. But when Lilia’s scowl smooths over into a pout, arms folded as he strides forward, Silver blinks in confusion. “I’m afraid you have forgotten something crucial when it comes to a wedding,” Lilia says in a terse voice.
“And what would that be?”
“Why, asking your suitor’s father for his hand in marriage, of course!”
Dead silence. Silver stares, mouth parting in utter shock. All of a sudden, he can feel many, many eyes landing upon him, stares from the other paralysed students, the ones who’d tried — and failed — to rescue him. This is the way their secret gets revealed?
Then again, he reasons with himself, if it’s to save him…
The ghost bride startles, eyes blown wide. “His hand in marriage?” she echoes. “But… Oh, I had never even considered the thought! Are you implying that you are his father?”
“Why, of course I am!” Lilia scoffs, thoroughly irritated, hands resting on his hips.. “Who else could possibly raise such a diligent and dutiful boy?”
“So that means… Oh, I must ask you for his hand in marriage? Would you possibly consider it, dear future father-in-law?”
So this is how Father chose to deal with the situation, Silver thinks as he watches Lilia get into a drawn out argument with the now-worried ghost bride. Not with violence, but with wedding traditions…
…It is a rather good plan, he decides, a smile slipping onto his face.
160 notes · View notes
lottesreads · 5 months
Text
Why Me? - Part 6
Pairing: Bob Floyd x Mitchell! Female Reader (Callsign Mantis)
Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, bruises, (someone gets punched), details of panic attacks, swearing, one "daddy" joke, pining, big Rooster warning here, mommy issues, mentions of death, insecurities
Word Count: 5860
Summary: Going over flight maneuvers for the day doesn't go as everyone planned. Somethings from your past get revealed, and you grow a little closer to Bob.
A/N: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS, this one is a little heavier and angstier, so I apologize for that. Things will get better though! Also, sorry for taking so long, I started a new job and had to take two tests so yay for me.
Masterlist
After what you are now calling the most awkward lunch ever, the day goes by… fine. The squad spends the remaining hours listening to feedback from your father, which surprisingly doesn’t ruffle anyone’s feathers too much. You pin it on the fact that it’s a Friday and everyone just wants to get out as soon as they can. You, of course, want to get out of there as well to spend time with Bob, and finally meet Sylvia. From all the pictures you’ve seen and how Bob describes her, she seems like the perfect dog.
But you’re also thinking about what Phoenix propositioned Bob with as well. It had sent you spiraling. All you can think about as Mav drones on about Payback and Fanboy’s practically perfect barrel roll, is how Bob is being set up with this woman. A woman, might you add, that he has never met or heard of before this day. You can’t help but stare straight in front of you, right at the back of Bob’s head. You’re able to see the tiniest bit of his profile, the wire frames peaking out atop his cheek. You’d like to believe you aren’t jealous. But history proves this wrong time and time again. This woman is just another thing you can add to the ever-growing list.
Bob turns his head ever so slightly, catching a glimpse of you staring out of his peripheral vision. You immediately look down at your papers, attempting to act as if you’re in deep thought about what Payback and Fanboy could have done better. Your eyes stay still on the paper as your brain moves a million miles a minute. God, Bob. Why did he have to be such an amazing person? You would have been able to move on if you had gotten to know him and realized he had a crappy personality, but unfortunately that is not the case. Now you’re stuck feeling jealous over some random woman who has no idea the implications of her attending Phoenix’s party next weekend. You chance a glance back up to Bob’s face and find that he’s already turned back to look at you.
“Mantis”, he whispers as he motions his head to the front of the room, right where your dad is staring you down.
“Sir”, you say, straightening up in your own seat. He raises his brow in a warning, as you shift your attention to the screen, seeing now that your own flights are up for critique.
“Thank you. Now that I have your attention, I have to say I am seeing noticeable room for improvement.” He turns back from the screen, pointing to where you took too sharp of a turn, or where you needed to slow down. You write down everything he says, even as the tips of your ears begin to burn in embarrassment. He is your captain, you know this. Everyone else knows this, but they also know what it feels like to get scolded by a dad. And you can’t help but see the similarities at this moment. He finally finishes after what feels like an eternity as he looks back at you, “Any questions?”
“No sir”, you respond bluntly. He was being nitpicky, for once in his life, and you weren’t sure what caused it at this moment. But you’re still a little confused at what you thought was a perfect run.
“Alright Rooster, you’re up.” You glance over to Rooster’s hard stare as he brings his gaze to the front of the room. You cannot wait to see your dad rip him a new one. It’s what he deserves, and honestly you could fly circles around this guy. “I have to say, I am thoroughly impressed with your work today.” Wait, what? Rooster’s face softens into a slight grin as your brow furrows in his direction. Folding your arms across your chest you sink back into your chair, watching as your dad gives Rooster a glowing review. An undeserved one in your opinion. And then Mav decides to tell you one of the worst ideas he’s ever had.
“Single-seaters, I’m gonna put you in groups and you’re going to go over the notes I gave you to hopefully help you execute these maneuvers better. Two-seaters, you’re going to do the same, but with your pilots and your WSO’s.” At this point, you’re just hoping you’re with Coyote or Fritz, hell, even Hangman. Mav looks down at his podium, going over the list before announcing them, “Fritz and Coyote, you’re a pair. And then we’ll have Rooster, Hangman, and Mantis as a group.”
“Jesus Christ”, you mumble under your breath. Was he trying to kill you? As the rest of the pairs move around to find places to talk, you very lazily turn your head in Rooster’s direction as he does the same to you. Hangman is standing in the aisle, looking back and forth at the both of you, very confused as to the standoff happening before him. You really don’t want to get up and walk over to Rooster. It may seem stupid, and childish, but you are not going to let him think you’re just going to waltz back over to him. Hangman breathes out a laugh, shaking his head at the two of you, ultimately taking the seat next to you. It makes you smile inside watching Rooster roll his eyes as he pulls up a spare chair.
“If any of you need me, I will be in a meeting with Cyclone and Warlock, so please direct any concerns to Hondo”, Mav announces as he points to Hondo giving a small wave in the back of the room.
“Well”, Hangman starts, “Since daddy-dearest gave Rooster a perfect score, I guess that just leaves you and me, Mantis.”
“No surprise there”, you mutter as you start looking through your notes. Rooster scoffs from the other side of Hangman, prompting you to look up at him. “What?”
“Nothing, just didn’t realize you’d be so bitter about someone on your team doing well. But then again I shouldn’t be surprised.” Adding a smile onto the end of his sentence he goes back to sorting through his notes.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I just think that when you have to rely on each other, you should be happy when someone does well. Especially when it’s our lives at stake here.”
“Well, I think giving someone confidence in their lack-luster abilities is dangerous, to everyone.” You say, folding your arms.
“And I completely agree”, Rooster nods, “that’s why Mav was honest with you. If he inflated that false confidence anymore than it already is, your head might have exploded.” Hangman raises his brows at the exchange before him. Why your dad thought it was a good idea to pair the three of you together, he’ll never know.
“Do you guys wanna get back to-”
“Oh, I have false confidence?”
“Or not”, Hangman finishes his sentence after being interrupted. Interrupted, not heard. It doesn’t really matter at this point while he tries to fade into his seat, waiting for this argument to be over and done with.
“He’s literally just blowing smoke up your ass, so you’ll ‘believe in yourself’”, you add in air-quotes,  “or whatever bullshit he made up. Or maybe he just wants to get on your good side to make up for lost time.” You’re vaguely aware of your own voice raising as everyone else’s conversations start dwindling and they turn to your group.
“Are you still on that? I thought we were past it already.” He responds, visibly agitated by your persistence.
“No, Rooster, you two got past that. I haven’t heard a goddamn word from you on the matter, or an apology. So no, I’m not past that.”
“Oh do you really wanna start this here?” Rooster asks, daring you.
“Oh I really do.” You respond just as sure. “So whenever you’re ready to apologize you know where to find me.”
“Everything alright over here?” Hondo has since made his way over to your group as he stands to your right. You obviously hadn’t noticed being too caught up in whatever this is.
“You think you deserve an apology?” Rooster’s voice raises, caught off guard.
“Yes! Why wouldn’t I? You just left, and even though I was twelve I still tried to get in contact with you for six years after the fact.”
“And you think I should be sorry for that? For the fact that I didn’t answer the phone when you tried to rub it in my face that he just let you go to the Academy?”
“You think after you he just let me go?!”
“Of course I do! That’s the only reason you’re sitting in this room with the rest of us!” Rooster stands right as you do, now physically looking down on you between the barrier that Hangman creates. He’s pushing on Rooster’s chest, while a hand comes to rest on your shoulder.
“Is that what you’re angry about? You’re jealous of me?” You ask incredulously, still not lowering your volume.
“Why the FUCK would I be jealous of you?”
“Rooster” Phoenix warns him. He continues anyway.
 “Jealous of the fact that your Navy connections bought you into the TopGun program in the first place, into the Academy? Huh?!” You almost flinch as he gets closer to your face, but you hold steady, chest heaving in anger still, but not backing down. “Or is it the fact that you think I’m jealous of your family, cause that sure as hell isn’t-”
“That is ENOUGH.” Hondo announces. “You are supposed to be professionals, how many of these meetings are going to end in fights?!” Your stony gaze falls from Rooster to the hand on your shoulder. You recognize the long fingers as Bob’s, he squeezes your shoulder lightly as if asking if you’re ok. You’re not, but the fact that he’s here and has your back has you taking a deep breath in, deeper than any you’ve been able to take since Rooster opened his big mouth.
“Ya know”, Hangman starts, “back in the olden Navy days they would have handed you boxing gloves and let you fight it out from there.” His attempt to relieve the tension falls flat as the rest of the team gauges if the two of you are actually done fighting.
“Yeah well”, Rooster responds, “From what I remember Mantis does a better job taking a punch than throwing one. Just ask her mom.” And just like that your breaths grow shallow again as your stomach drops. An audible breath leaves your mouth as everyone’s eyes fall from Rooster to you, and as much as you try to remain stoic, your bottom lip begins to wobble as your mouth falls open slightly. There’s an immediate sense of remorse in Rooster’s eyes as he realizes what he just said. But much like everything else he’s done, it’s too late. The damage has already been done.
“ROOSTER”, Phoenix scolds him. You don’t even stay to hear the rest of it, turning on your heel you leave the room, not being able to stand the looks of pity from your teammates. Once in the hallway you make your way to the women’s locker room. Each footstep seems louder than the next. The closer you get, the heavier the tears start to form on your lash line, only falling once you slam the door open and swing the curtain closed in a shower stall. Sliding down the wall of the cubicle, you hug your knees to your chest, attempting to silence the cries that are only coming naturally with the tears. It’s getting harder to breathe, even as you attempt to take large breaths. 
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Phoenix yells as she pushes Rooster. No one dares to stop her as she continues to berate him. Bob is absolutely stunned at the information Rooster just dropped, but is shaken out of his thoughts as he looks at the door you just fled through. By the way you rushed out of here, he thinks you’d like to be alone, but on the off chance you need someone, he slips out of the room to go find you. He passes the men’s locker room and heads to the women’s hoping that’s where you escaped. Knocking on the door, he slowly opens it.
“Hello? Is anybody in here?” He doesn’t receive an answer, but he can hear someone crying who he can only assume is you. “Mantis, are you ok?” Still no answer. “Mantis, I’m coming in” With his eyes glued to the floor he follows the sounds of your sniffling and sobs until he reaches you. “Hey, I’m opening the curtain, ok?” He slowly slides back the curtain to find you in the corner of the stall, face tucked between your knees as you attempt to take in ragged breaths. He’s immediately on his knees in front of you and his heart breaks at the sight. He thinks you know he’s there, but he can’t be sure. It’s obvious you’re in the middle of a panic attack and he doesn’t want to scare you, so he gently rests a hand on your knee.
“Mantis, can you hear me?” You raise your head at his voice, revealing a very red and splotchy face as tears continue to fall out of your eyes. Your breathing is still very ragged as you grip his hand on your knee as if he would float away if you let go. He would never dream of doing such a thing, but he grips your hand right back.
“It’s ok, I just need you to breathe for me, alright?” You nod your head at his words as he demonstrates taking deep breaths in, holding, then letting them out. You’re attempting to follow them as your head continues to swim, taking note of this he moves your hand from your knee to over his heart, pressing it against his chest. “I’m right here”, he tells you as you continue to follow his breathing. The soothing nature of his heartbeat helps to bring you back down to earth. And little by little you start to feel the rest of your body come to its senses. It starts with your fingertips, feeling the pressure of Bob’s rough hand pressing it against his steadily beating chest, as the feeling crawls up your arms and legs. The tears begin to subside and all that’s left is the dried tracks they left as they swam down your cheeks.
Bob remains in front of you the entire time, even as you realize just how close the two of you are, he doesn’t falter. You’re now acutely aware that your hand is still sandwiched between his hand and chest, your fingers instinctively wiggle against his as you finger the material of his flight suit.
“Are you gonna be alright if I leave you here for a sec?” You nod, not daring to make eye contact. “Ok, I’ll be right back.” He places your hand back against your knee as you stare at the spot he once occupied, your head beginning to ache. There are still so many emotions going on, but your body is starting to feel the after effects.
Bob’s quite literally back in under a minute as he assumes his previous position, only now holding a bottle of water. He opens it for you as you graciously accept it, taking a couple small sips to start out with. You manage a small “Thank you” as you hand the bottle back to Bob. Embarrassment begins to overtake your system as you curl back in on yourself.
“Are you feeling any better?” You nod your head slightly, still avoiding his gaze.
“Yeah, thank you.”
“Any time”, and though other people would pass it off as a way of Bob trying to say you’re welcome, you know he genuinely would help you any time you needed him. You’re still not sure what to say, so you don’t say anything. Bob moves to sit next to you against the wall, not breaking the silence.
“You don’t have to stay here with me”, you manage to croak out.
“I know.” He says so sure. “I just need to make sure you’re gonna be ok.” You let a deep sigh out through your mouth as you lean your head back against the tile wall. At this moment you’re just feeling drained. That’s what panic attacks usually do. You were just so mad at him, and then he shared one of your deepest, darkest secrets in front of all of your coworkers. You had maybe thought you’d be able to patch up your relationship with him if he owned up to his mistakes, but now? You don’t think you’ll ever be able to get past this. If your dad wants to spend so much time with Rooster, let him. You don’t want to see his face ever again, which you know is a big ask, knowing that you have to work together. Maybe you should just put in a transfer, it’s not like you see your dad a lot outside of work anyway. You’d miss most of these people more than they’d miss you.
Your thoughts are interrupted by Bob gingerly grabbing your wrist and facing your palm upwards, and reaching into his pocket he retrieves something, laying it down in your hand. He lets it go and you miss his touch as he rests his hands on his knees. Looking down at your palm, you realize that he’s left a single penny behind.
“What’s this?”
“A penny”
“I can see that”, you smile slightly, “what’s it doing in my hand?”
“This may shock you, but when I was younger, I wasn’t much of a talker. Sometimes it was like pullin’ teeth to get me to talk-”
“I know the feeling”
“Yes, well, my Grandpa noticed how it didn’t come easy to me. So sometimes when he noticed I had a lot going on he would hand me a penny, and without having to ask, I would just start talkin’”
“A literal penny for your thoughts” you realize outloud. You grasp the penny, staring as you hold it between your fingers.
“It doesn’t mean you have to say anything”, Bob rushes out, “Just- if you want, you’re free to share your thoughts with me. No judgment” This is quite possibly one of the sweetest things anyone has ever shared with you, and staring at the penny you know you’re safe with Bob. Safe to share your feelings, safe from… anything really.
“I really want to tell Rooster to go fuck himself.” Bob gives you a small chuckle.
“Well, I think Phoenix may be doing that as we speak.” Good, you think to yourself. You shift the coin between your fingers and thumb before deciding to speak again.
“I was so sad, for so many years. And now I’m just starting to feel angry. Every time I see his face, I just can’t stop myself from laying into him.” It’s quiet for a moment as Bob waits to let you continue. “I don’t think I’m asking for too much, or that I went too far. And he just- God, he just laid it all out there for everyone.” Bob notices your fist beginning to clench and he slowly reaches over to grasp your hand in his.
“I’m sorry. And if it means anything, I don’t think you’re asking for too much.” You hadn’t even realized you started crying again until Bob’s thumb was swiping a stray tear away. Your breath catches in your throat and his hand moves away quickly, as if touching your face had hurt him. He clears his throat. “Were you going to wait for your dad, or did you want me to take you home?”
“Home? I thought I was supposed to meet Sylvia today?”
“Oh, yeah”, Bob chokes back, surprise coating his features, “We can go to… my place then?”
“If that’s alright with you?”
“Of course it is”, Bob says almost too quickly. “I mean”, he coughs, “Sylvia, she would love to meet ya”. And then he gives you a smile. You know the one, it’s closed mouth but it causes his cheeks to scrunch up beneath his eyes, taking over half his face. It’s almost enough to make you forget about this whole day.
He stands, offering you his hands to help you off the ground. He doesn’t leave you immediately at first, he just stands in front of you as if assessing the situation. Weighing his options. Glancing down at his watch, he looks at the door, “I think everyone should have gone home for the day. But if you want, you can wait in here while I grab my stuff?” You nod, taken aback at his thoughtfulness once again.
He leaves for a short bit while you grab your own bag from your locker. He knocks on the door once again, signaling his return as you make your way through the halls. The setting sun illuminates the parking lot and glares at you through the glass doors. Bob opens the door allowing you to go first as you spot his truck and make your way to it. The ache in your head is starting to come back and you can’t wait to take your hair out of the tight bun it’s in now.
“Mantis!”, you turn around as someone calls your name and immediate regret fills your system. You roll your eyes at the sight of Rooster walking toward you as you turn to keep walking, Bob right behind you.
“Mantis!”, he yells again as if you didn’t hear him the first time. “Come on Bug!” You stop in your tracks, rage once again emanating from your pores. Turning on your heel, you drop your bag onto the asphalt. This catches Rooster by surprise as he stops right before you.
“Do NOT call me that”, you grit through a clenched jaw as you point your finger at him. You can’t help the way your arm shakes in anger.
“Sorry”, he lets out dejectedly, placing his hands on his hips. Even if your brow wasn’t furrowed from squinting in the sun you have a feeling you’d still be staring at him with the same expression.
“Oh, so you do know that word”, you scoff. Rooster bites his tongue as he looks down at his feet. “And I’m not in the mood to talk, so save it for someone else who doesn’t want to hear it.” In the distance you’re aware of Bob throwing his bag in the back of his truck as he grabs yours and does the same. 
“I just want to-”
“I told you, I’m not in the mood”, you move to turn to Bob’s truck as Rooster reaches out and grabs your wrist.
“Mantis, c’mon-” The grip on your wrist sends your senses into overdrive as anger takes over. As he tugs on your wrist, you turn and collide your free fist into his face. It’s funny really, you weren’t aiming for anything in particular but you land it right on his cheekbone. It was enough force and surprise to knock him backwards
“Jesus Christ!” he shouts, grasping his face in his hand. Tears begin to well up in your eyes for the second time today as you shake out your hand. “What the hell is your problem?” He yells at you.
“Carole would be so disappointed in you”, you rasp out, cradling your hand. You stare Rooster down as he looks up at you in shock, until he can’t stand to anymore and tears his eyes away. Bob’s standing right behind you as you turn and bump into his chest.
“Are you ok?” he asks, lightly resting his hands on your shoulders.
“No”, you whisper, “Let’s just get out of here.” You don’t dare to spare a look back at Rooster, but Bob does as he leads you to his truck. The man is standing at his full height now with his shoulders slumped. The skin just under his eye is already starting to swell as he watches you walk away this time.
The ride back to Bob’s is quiet as you stare out the window. The radio’s humming quietly in the background and he doesn’t dare disrupt the silence, so he takes a glance at your hand. The skin around your knuckles is slightly irritated from the force you punched Rooster with, but other than that it doesn’t look too bad. He knew you were tough, but he never thought he’d see you punch someone in the face. If it had to be someone, he was glad it was Rooster though. That guy had it coming, especially after what he said today. You’re still staring out the window with a look of indifference, and you still had the penny he gave to you earlier, but you hadn’t said anything about what Rooster had revealed. So, he wasn’t going to push it until you were ready or wanted to talk about it.
You’re pulled out of your trance once the truck stops in Bob’s driveway. He grabs both of your bags before you’re able to grab yours, but he stops as he’s about to open the door.
“Just a warning, it’s probably a mess in here, so I apologize.”
“I have a feeling that your definition of a mess is my definition of clean.” He gives you a slight smile as he opens the door.
“Only one way to find out.” Opening the door you find, just as you suspected, an immaculate house. There may be a couple dog toys lying around, but that’s about it. You’re startled a little bit as Bob whistles, “Syl! Come ‘ere girl!” You smile at the accent coming through, and then the thump of something on the second floor running down the stairs. Sylvia comes barreling down the hallway as fast as her claws against the hardwood allow her. Bob is immediately on his knees in front of her, scratching behind her ears and speaking in what you can only describe as baby-talk, “Oh Syl, I’m so sorry. Daddy was gone for such a long time today wasn’t he?” You’re attempting to hold back a laugh, eyebrows shooting up at his use of the word “daddy”.
Sylvia’s tail stops wagging as she notices you standing behind her dad. Bob looks back at you and then at the dog, “Now Sylvia, this is Mantis. Mantis is a very good friend of mine, and I know she has a funny name, but you’re just gonna have to get over that, ok?” You can’t help but chuckle at how talkative he is with her, and even as you stare at her enormous brown eyes you immediately crave her approval. You start to kneel down next to Bob, but before you’re able to get on your knees Sylvia is cowering away and running back upstairs. You huff out in frustration as you stare at her retreating form.
“Hey, it’s alright”, Bob explains, “Like I said, she’s kinda skittish, and it takes a little bit for her to warm up to new people.” You nod in understanding as Bob leads you to his living room. It’s fairly simple, and again very clean. Bob tells you to take a seat as he grabs you a glass of water from the kitchen directly behind the living area.
“So daddy, huh?” The glass just about slips out of Bob’s hand upon hearing your use of the word. He swallows, taking a moment to collect himself.
“Uhm”, he coughs, “Yeah, I don’t know. It just sort of happened.”
“It’s cute”, you smile to yourself. Bob returns with a glass of water and an ice-pack wrapped in a kitchen towel. He awkwardly offers it to you as you accept it.
“For your hand”
“Oh yeah, thanks.” You lift it in appreciation before placing it on your knuckles. Wincing at first at the sensitivity. Bob sits a little farther down on the couch and watches you fiddle with something in your pocket. You tentatively reach for the penny, turning it over before handing it over to Bob. He laughs through his nose, nodding as a smile plays on his face.
“Come on, it’s your turn now.” Bob begins to chew on his bottom lip, avoiding your eyes. “If you want to ask me about it, it’s ok”, you let out more solemnly. He glances over at you, huffing out a sigh.
“How’s your hand?” He decides on, making you laugh.
“Not what I meant, but it’s ok. A little stiff.” You get the sense that he wants to know, but is getting shy with you again. And even though he doesn’t ask, you get an overwhelming urge to tell him. Taking in a shaky breath, you start in the only place you know where to, “Do you know how I got my call-sign?” He shakes his head.
“Although, I do recall you telling Hangman you’d bite his fucking head off” The two of you laugh. Sylvia, just as sneaky as her dad, pops her head up out of nowhere, resting it on Bob’s thigh. His hand instinctively goes to pet her head as you try not to acknowledge her existence, hoping she’ll make her way over to you.
“That’s what I like to tell people. But, no. When I was a kid, I was deathly afraid of insects, still am if I’m being honest. But, there was one incident”, you smile at the memory, “Where I was at the park, and I turned to look behind me and there was a praying mantis, just sitting on my shoulder. I, of course, freaked out and was trying to get it off me, but it wasn’t until Carole- Bradley’s mom, calmed me down where she was able to carefully pick it up and take it off me.” You’re laughing a little at this point, and Bob can’t help but smile at your own.
“She got me to stop crying and explained that it was just a little bug”, you swallow, staring down at your iced hand, “like me.” Bob’s face softens as he remembers Rooster’s words. “That became her nickname for me, and when she died and Bradley left, nobody called me it again until-” You cut yourself off, choked up just talking about Carole, and remembering how Bradley used to be. Before he was Rooster.
“Anyway, I hadn’t had a run-in with a praying mantis until flight school. I was out on a hike with the rest of my class, and what do I see on my shoulder when I turn around? A damn praying mantis. I screamed again, just like the first time, and everyone thought it was hilarious. So, the name Mantis stuck. It just felt like…” you struggle to find the word.
“Fate”, Bob finishes the sentence for you. You look up and find his eyes trained on you. Giving him a slight smile, you nod your head.
“Yeah, exactly.” Your eyes remain on his, and your heart beats a little faster. “So I’m not exactly bug, but that’s ok, because I don’t think anyone but Carole can call me that. Even if Bradley used to-” You look away, only to find Sylvia standing between you and Bob. Having must inched her way closer while you spoke, “I don’t want him to anymore.”
“I think that makes a lot of sense, and I also think Mantis suits you.” You smile and dare to reach your hand out to Sylvia, who simply sniffs the approaching limb. She nudges her nose closer, sniffing your palm as you very gently scratch her ear, much like Bob did earlier. She leans into it, daring to walk closer to you. Taking in a deep breath, you let it out before you lose the courage.
“It wasn’t a regular thing”, Bob’s loving gaze at Sylvia falls as he looks up at you, “Just when she got really angry, or I reminded her too much of my dad I guess.” Your hand stops petting Sylvia as you stare at the glass of water on the coffee table, the condensation dripping down onto the coaster Bob thoughtfully placed underneath it. “Carole and my dad found bruises a couple different times, but I was too embarrassed to tell them how they got there. But she knew. I guess Bradley must have known, too, or he wouldn’t have brought it up today. I think they tried to do something about it, but they wouldn’t grant full custody to my dad because of his work, and… I don’t really know what happened after that.” Sylvia’s head now rests on your thigh, much like it did earlier with Bob. You grant her a small smile, moving your hand once again to give her some attention.
You don’t have to look up to know that Bob’s staring at you. Your nose starts to tingle, alerting you to the fact that tears were starting to form in your eyes. “It got better when she remarried, her focus wasn’t on me as much anymore. She was busy with her husband and his kids.” You scrunch your nose, attempting to rid yourself of the feeling, but it’s no use. The tears start to fall and you hastily wipe them away with your free hand. “Jesus, sorry”, you say as you give him a watery laugh.
“Don’t be sorry”, your tears continue to fall, “None of this is your fault.” Bob’s words hit you deep as you stare at the ceiling, willing these tears to stop, but they just won’t. “Can- Can I hug you?” You look over at Bob and give him a fast nod of your head.
“Yes please”, you whisper. He moves along the couch to get closer to you, and then wraps you up in both his arms as you do the same. Even through both of your flight suits, Bob is warm as you melt into him. Your eyes close as you breathe him in. He smells like sweat and jet fuel from being in a plane all day, and you’re sure you smell the same. It’s comforting nonetheless.
Bob just wants to pick you up and take you far away from here. Away from everyone that dares to make you hurt. He feels you sag against him and he pulls you just the tiniest bit closer as he breathes in the scent of your shampoo. He’s realizing now it’s been a while since he’s hugged someone like this, and maybe it’s the case for you, too. His hand goes to soothe along your back and your eyes flutter shut at the motion. He remembers you saying your mom wasn’t too happy when she found out about the Naval Academy, and he doesn’t want to think about what happened after the fact.
“I’m sorry you have to go through all that”, he whispers just above your ear.
“It’s alright, things are starting to look up”, you sniffle, pulling him just a little bit tighter.
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@lemmons1998
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willalove75 · 6 months
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The Estate | Lady Dimitrescu x Fem!oc Chapter 2
Summary: Your first day of work continues and you try your best to impress your new boss.
Warnings: 18+ minors DNI
Tags: Fluff? Dash of angst at the end, not much else to tag for now!
I'll add more tags as needed!
Notes: Chapter 2! I am trying to make this a genuine slow burn so it's going to take a tiny bit to get going (especially to get to the fun smutty stuff - but don't fret, it will definitely happen!) but I hope you all stick around and enjoy the ride! I have a lot of great things planned for this fic so stay tuned!
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After Alcina leaves for her meeting you get settled at your desk. Opening the new laptop box you're surprised to see it's a new MacBook. You were expecting some kind of crappy ThinkPad. Once you're settled and hooked up to the two monitors you start diving into the estates social media accounts. Switching between checking them out on the computer and seeing how they look on your phone, you start taking detailed notes of your initial impressions. You note a few analytics you were able to find and you write down some ideas on how to improve the channels.
After you vetted the social media channels you look at the past marketing strategies your predecessor had laid out. Impressed with the work they had put into the strategies, there wasn't much that needed changing. Most of the things you tweaked were more personal preference than anything else.
You thought it would take time to get back into the groove since it's been almost two years since you've done any of this, but to your pleasant surprise it was seamless. Before you know it you have half a dozen pages of written notes on the social media accounts and marketing strategies. Although you're not sure if it's because it's your first day on the job and you want to impress your boss, or because it's been so long since you've been able to sink your teeth into something like this and you're making up for lost time. Glancing between the monitors and your notebook, invested in your work, you didn't realize Alcina came back from her meeting and was standing in the doorway watching you.
With her arms loosely crossed over her chest, leaning against the doorframe, Alcina watches you for a few minutes as you work. Observing you as you look between your notebook, writing what looked to her like very detailed notes, and your computer screen. You're completely oblivious to her presence. The corner of her lip curls up just a little as she hears you muttering to yourself. She's impressed with your diligence, but is curious if the effort you're putting in now will last or if you're just trying to impress her on your first day. Dropping one arm, she gently knocks against your office door.
You're pulled from your hyper-focus when you hear a soft knock on the door. Looking over, you see Alcina leaning against the doorframe, one arm laid across her chest.
"Oh! I'm so sorry I didn't see you there." You say as a blush creeps across your cheeks.
"No apologies necessary," She says, her voice as smooth as velvet. "I see you've made some progress with the social media channels?"
"Yes, I was able to go through them. Not as thoroughly as I wanted to, but enough so I could get an idea of where everything stands."
"And what are your thoughts?"
"Oh, did you want me to go over everything now?"
"I would. I am very curious to know what your thoughts are, especially since you came so highly regarded from your previous employer."
You feel your heart almost leap out of your chest.
"You- you talked to my last boss?"
"I did. I do with all of my potential employees, especially those with a two year gap in their CV's." She says, raising an eyebrow at you.
You let out a nervous chuckle and you feel yourself getting warm.
"Wh-what did they say? If you don't mind me asking, that is." You quickly add.
"That you were an excellent addition to their staff. That you are brilliant at what you do and that it was a pleasure to work with you. Your boss also mentioned that he was sad to see you go but wished you well."
A blush creeps across your cheeks. You really liked your old job, but after everything happened you couldn't stay - you couldn't do anything for two years honestly.
"Oh, well, that's really nice of them to say. Did he, um, say anything else about my resignation?"
"Only that you resigned due to a personal issue outside of work."
A wave of relief washes over you, you weren't ready to have that conversation with your new boss - not yet at least. There was a part of you that thought you were insane for calling your old boss, asking him not to mention details of your resignation. But it seems like the conversation paid off, and as usual, you were able to trust him.
"Oh, good." You say with a little too much relief. Alcina tilts her head and her eyes narrow a bit at you. "Not good, I meant, it's nice to know that he respects the privacy of his employees, past and present." You say, trying to save yourself. Alcina purses her lips a bit, you can tell that now she's even more curious about why you left your last job and why you haven't worked since. "The last two years have been, difficult, really difficult actually. But things are finally getting better and I'm really excited to be working again, to be able to put my skills to good use."
Alcina can't quite make heads or tails of your situation. She knows you have a 3 year old, so she was one when you stopped working, "Perhaps it had something to do with her daughter? Or maybe something happened to her. Maybe she was sick? But she looks healthy." Although Alcina knows better than anyone that looking healthy doesn't necessarily mean you are healthy. She wants to push you for more information but not only does she know that's incredibly unprofessional and inappropriate, she can tell you're avoiding talking about it so she lets it go for now.
"Then I would love to see your skills." She says as she walks up to your desk and stands behind you.
"O-okay." You say, looking up at her. She looks down at you and the corner of her lip just barely curls into a smile, her blue-grey eyes boring into yours. Fuck, she's gorgeous. You take a subtle deep breath to calm yourself and inhale the scent of her perfume. It smells expensive and mature, but also pretty and calming. It completely distracts you for a moment. You can hear her shift her weight from one leg to the other behind you and you snap back into the present.
"Is there anything in particular you want me to start with?" You ask, looking up at her over your shoulder.
"No, just show me what you've done so far." She replies with a wave of her hand.
You flip to the first page of your notes and start from the beginning. Starting off with the estates Instagram page, you tell her your thoughts on the visual aspects, the layout, the images themselves, how they could be improved, captions and hashtags that could be utilized more often, ideas for reels, stories and posts that can promote events and day-to-day operations. Next you move to the Facebook page, showing her some of the analytics you've collected, how the page can be improved, etc.. You go through the rest of the social media channels; telling her that embracing newer apps like TikTok and more professional ones such as LinkedIn can help drive traffic to the other social media accounts as well as the website. Alcina rolls her eyes at the mention of "TikTok" which makes you giggle a little.
"Something funny?" She asks with an unamused edge to her voice.
"Oh, no, sorry." You say, freezing in place. "It's just, I've seen that reaction quite a lot when talking about TikTok and it always makes me laugh a bit."
"What about it is funny?" She doesn't sound offended, at least you don't think she does. God you hope you didn't offend her on the first day.
"Because it really is a stupid app, it's like Vine but for Gen Z kids." She gives you a look when you mention "Vine," which lets you know that she doesn't know what that is. "Uh, Vine was a short form video social media channel, you could only make six second videos and it was mostly used by Millennials and some Generation Xers. It became massive quickly and a lot of the videos turned into popular memes. It was only around for four years before it was shut down, but it had over like, 200 million users or something crazy like that. Anyway, TikTok is similar to that. It's definitely hard to take it seriously when there's a lot of ridiculous videos on it. It's so massive and so popular, it would be stupid to not utilize since it can drive so much traffic to our other socials and even drive people through the doors."
"Is that your professional opinion?" She deadpans. You look up at her, confused. "That it would be stupid to not use it?"
Biting your lip for a second, you realize that what you said without thinking could easily have come off as if you're calling her stupid. With no way of digging yourself out of this one you shyly reply "Yeah."
Alcina quirks and eyebrow and her eyes go back to the screen.
"Interesting, continue."
After you go through the rest of the social medias and a little bit of the analytics that you found, you move onto the marketing strategies your predecessor left. Alcina is quiet but nods her head along as you go over what they left and what your thoughts are on it. After you mention the few things you plan on changing you make it a point to let her know that it's more for personal preference rather than professional reasons. She looks pleased as you go over what the person before you left and she gives you a nod of approval when you tell her what you plan on changing.
"I like the changes you plan on making and I agree with you in terms of personal preference. John was brilliant but I couldn't stand the way he did things. But how he did what he did worked so I had no real qualms with it. I already know I prefer your way."
"Thank you. It seems more logical and straightforward doing it like this, at least to me. I try to keep things as simple as possible so there's little room for error or miscommunication."
"Those are all things I appreciate. Very well done Kathleen, I must say I am impressed." She places her hand on your shoulder and you have to stop yourself from relaxing into her touch.
What is wrong with you? Have you really gone that long without physical contact? There's a part of you that thinks that it's just her putting you under her spell - whether she knows it or not. But you quickly push that thought out of your head. She's your new boss for gods sake! You need to get laid. You make a mental note to give your friends-with-benefits guy a call this week.
"I must say, I had my concerns when I hired you. I was aware of the fact that you've been out of work the last two years. My main concern was that you would be a bit rusty right off the bat, but just from what you've shown me you've already been able to put those concerns to bed. I am pleasantly surprised and happy to see that your work is just as wonderful as the work in your portfolio." Alcina gently squeezes your shoulder and takes her hand away.
"Oh, thank you so much. I really, really appreciate that. Please let me know if you have any other concerns so I can do my best to ease those as well." You say with a smile.
For a moment Alcina looks impressed but just as quickly as the look appeared, it disappeared.
"My only other concern would be that you strive to impress me early and then fail to do so after the first few weeks. Which I certainly hope is not the case. Aside from that, I believe you're going to do a wonderful job here."
"I absolutely understand. I know I tend to hit the ground running, but I can assure you I have the endurance to keep up the pace I've set."
"We shall see about that." Alcina says as she heads towards the door. "Wonderful work Kathleen. I am looking forward to see how well it all pays off."
Once Alcina is out of sight you lean back in your chair and exhale. It worries you a little that she seems to have some doubts in you. But from her perspective, you can understand why she would and you try to not let it get to you. You pick up your phone and you realize that you were with her for over an hour. There's no way, it felt like you were talking to her for maybe 30 minutes. How did that take over an hour?! And how was she standing there in those heels for so long without fidgeting or sitting down? That thought alone bewilders you. You're sitting for most of the day and you can't wait to get your shoes off the second you walk inside. She gave you a thorough tour of the place and stood there for over an hour and walked away like it was nothing? You were impressed to say the least.
With only a few hours left in your day, you decide now is better than ever to have lunch. After debating for a few minutes if you should shut your door or not, you decide to close it to give you a few minutes of peace while you eat. As you're eating your lunch at your desk, you scroll through Facebook and Instagram mindlessly. Michelle hasn't texted you since this morning so you're assuming everything is fine but you text her anyway to make sure. She responds a few minutes later with a picture of Emma asleep, taking her afternoon nap. The door to your office flies open and almost slams into the wall, causing you to jump in your seat.
A young, redheaded girl walks through the door with a backpack slung over her shoulder. When you jump she notices you and jumps too, letting out a yell.
"OH MY GOD WHO ARE YOU?" She yells.
You sit there for a moment in shock, unsure how to answer. This girl can't be older than 16, who is she? And what is she doing here?
"I-I'm Katie, the new marketing and social media strategist. Uh, who are you?"
The sound of heels against the floor takes your attention away. When you look at the door, Alcina is standing there with an unamused look on her face. She's looking at the young girl, you almost feel sorry for her but you're grateful she's not looking at you like that right now.
"Daniela." Alcina says through her teeth.
"Hi mommy!" She says, amping up the sweetness. Daniela wraps her arms around her mother and Alcina returns the gesture. She looks up at Alcina and Alcina arches an eyebrow at her, very well aware of that fact that Daniela is trying to soften her up so she doesn't get in trouble.
"Hello bug. Did you forget that our new marketing and social media strategist was starting today?"
"Yes, sorry mamă."
"Mhm." Alcina mutters before placing a kiss on the girls forehead. She pulls away from the girl, leaving one arm around her shoulder.
"Kathleen, this is my youngest daughter Daniela. Daniela, this is Kathleen."
"Wow you're pretty!" Daniela says.
You try and fail to bite back the smile that crosses your face and Alcina lets out a low, wait did she growl? That's what it sounded like, towards her daughter.
"Sorry." Daniela says, looking down at the floor.
"Its okay." You say with a smile. "It's great to meet you Daniela."
"It's nice meeting you too Kathleen!" She says, the excitement in her voice suddenly back. "Can I call you Katie?"
"Daniela." Alcina warns.
"It's okay," you say to Alcina with a smile. "Yeah, you can call me Katie."
Daniela's face lights up and she looks at her mom, beaming.
"So Katie, what's your favorite color?"
"Daniela that's enough." Alcina says, softer this time. "Kathleen is busy and has work that needs to get done. Your shift doesn't start for another 30 minutes, why don't you go find something to do until then?"
"You work here?" You ask, your words leaving your mouth before you even realize it.
"Yeah!" Daniela says, turning towards you. "I wait the tables, I can't serve alcohol until I'm 18 so I can't be behind the bar like Cass, but I can't wait to learn how to bartend! Mamă," she says, turning back towards Alcina. "where am I supposed to go now? There is where I would hang out!"
"You can stay in my office bug."
"Ugh. But your office is so boring!"
"I apologize draga mea but that seems to be your only option. Unless you want to start sweeping the tasting room before your shift starts?"
Daniela pouts at her mother who looks down at her adoringly.
"Fiinnneeeeee." She says, defeated. "Bye Katie! It was really awesome meeting you!"
"It was great meeting you too Daniela."
Daniela walks out and heads towards her mothers office and Alcina turns towards you.
"I apologize, again, for my children's behavior. Daniela seems to have a never-ending amount of energy. I would like to promise it isn't always a zoo with them around, but-"
"It's okay, really. I get it." You say with a smile.
"I appreciate your understanding. Now that you met two of my three girls, I'm sure you will meet Bela tomorrow. She only has one morning class and is usually here for the rest of the day. If you would like, I can have her show you what she's been doing with the social media channels tomorrow and have her start to gradually hand over the reigns."
"Yeah, that sounds great."
"Excellent."
Alcina turns on her heel and walks out of your office. You almost completely forgot about your lunch so you scarf it down quickly and get back to work.
As you're focused on working out the latest marketing tactic, you hear a "pssst" at your door. Looking over, you see Daniela, now in a white button down shirt and black dress pants, her long red hair is pulled back tightly into a ponytail.
"Hey Daniela, is there something I-"
"Shh!" She says, putting her finger over her lips. "I don't want mom to hear. She'll get mad at me for bothering you." You can't help but giggle at her and she steps further into your office. "Sorry if calling you pretty before embarrassed you. Mom is always telling me I have to think before I speak but you're just, super pretty, and I just blurted it out and-"
"Daniela," you say and you notice her starting to spiral. "it's okay, I'm not upset, I promise. Thank you for the compliment."
Daniela tilts her head at you, almost as if she's confused that you're not upset with her. She squints her eyes at you, as if she's trying to decipher something.
"You're different. I like you. I'm going to give you a new nickname."
"And what nickname will that be?"
"I don't know yet, but when I know, you'll know." You look behind her and see Alcina standing behind Daniela with her arms crossed over her chest and eyes narrowed at her daughter. How did she not make a single sound in those heels? And how long was she there for? Alcina clears her throat and Daniela jumps and turns around, looking like a deer in headlights.
"Mamă!" She says, trying to butter her mother up again.
"Don't even try."
Daniela smiles wide at her mother and turns back towards you.
"Bye Katie!"
"Bye Daniela." You say with a smile.
Alcina's eyes don't leave Daniela's head as she turns and leaves your office and Alcina follows behind her.
"Ce ti-am spus despre deranjarea ei? Nu înțeleg cum ai întârziat la tura ta, în timp ce ești aici de o jumătate de oră." (What did I tell you about bothering her? I don't understand how you're late for your shift meanwhile you've been here for half an hour.)
"Imi pare rau mama!" (I'm sorry mom!)
The rest of your day goes by rather smoothly and by the time you know it, you're packing up your things and getting ready to leave. Before you go, you stop by Alcina's office and knock gently on the door.
"Come in."
You open the door and Alcina looks up from her computer and smiles.
"Ah, Kathleen, is it the end of the day already?" She asks, more to herself you think, and she looks at the clock.
"Yeah, it went by fast. Is there anything else you need me to do before I go?"
"There is not, thank you. But I did want to speak with you, do you have a moment?"
"Absolutely." You say and she motions to the chair in front of her desk.
"So, how was your first day?" She asks, taking off her glasses and giving you her full attention.
"Honestly, it was great. I feel like I got a lot done and made some great headway on the new campaigns and strategies."
"I'm very happy to hear that. Is there anything you're unsure of or any questions you have?"
You pause for a moment to think.
"Um, not right now, but if something comes up I will let you know."
"Excellent. I'm glad you had a productive first day. I am looking forward to see the things we spoke about come to fruition."
"So am I."
"Well then, if that's all, I will see you tomorrow. Have a wonderful rest of your day Kathleen." She says with a smile.
"Thank you, you too."
After getting your stuff from your office you walk through the tasting room and see Daniela.
"Katie!! You're going home already?!"
"Yes ma'am!"
"Will you be here tomorrow?!"
"Yes I will be!"
"YAY!"
"Daniela." Cassandra growls from across the room. Daniela shrinks down a little and looks up at you apologetically.
"It's okay kiddo." You say, giving her a gentle smile. Daniela's face lights up again and she gives you a big smile.
"I'll see you tomorrow Katie!!"
"See you tomorrow Daniela." She heads over to one of the tables and you turn towards the bar to say goodbye to Cassandra. She glares at you and turns her back to you. "Alrighty." You say quietly to yourself and head to the car.
You pick up Emma and talk to your in-laws for a bit, giving them a brief recap of your first day. They both seem happy for you and you sense a little bit of relief from them too, but you know neither of them would ever say it out loud. When you get home you talk to Marge, giving her the same brief recap and she tells you she's proud of you. With Emma in tow the two of you head upstairs. Emma insisting on walking up the stairs herself since she's "a big girl."
Once dinner was eaten and cleaned up you gave Emma a bath and put her to bed. When she's finally asleep you pull out a bottle of wine and pour yourself a glass. With your wine in hand you sit on the couch and flip through a few suggested shows, settling on re-watching a few episodes of your favorite comfort show. After finishing the wine and relaxing for a bit, you get yourself ready for bed. Before you know it, you're fast asleep. It's the fastest you've been able to fall asleep in a long time and you're grateful for it.
When you open your eyes you find yourself in that all-too familiar field. Where the sky is clear and blue and the green grass is blowing in the wind.
You look around and finally spot the figure in the distance once more. Your heart clenches in your chest and you try to move towards it but you can't. No matter how hard you pull against your legs your muscles won't budge. The harder you fight against the led in your legs the harder it becomes. A silent cry rings out into the air and you find yourself becoming more and more desperate to move.
When you look up, you see the figure begin walking towards you. No matter how loudly you try to call out to it no sound passes through your lips. It closes half of the distance between the two of you before stopping once more. With one final desperate pull you're finally able to move your leg. Your movement is so slow, it feels like cinderblocks are tied to your ankles but you continue moving closer.
The shadow across the figures face lightens just enough so you think you can make out who it is. With your heart hammering inside of your chest you try and push forward faster. Just before the shadow falls away the figure begins to fade. You try and scream. You feel it reverberate through your vocal chords but again no sound comes out. Desperately you try and push forward faster, trying to reach it before it disappears.
Just as you reach out to touch it, it vanishes.
"NO!" You scream.
Your voice echoes through the valley. It combs through the tall grass and expands in the air reaching as far as the eye can see. Tears stream down your face and you fall to the ground on your knees. Another wail tears through your vocal chords. The sound flies through the air and as if it hits a wall, it reverberates back to you.
Your eyes snap open and you shoot up out of bed. With a ragged breath your eyes scan the room and you realize you're in your bedroom. You put your hand over your chest and you feel your heart hammering away inside of your ribcage. The sound of your alarm goes off again and you shut it off. Dragging your hand across your cheeks you realize you're wiping away fresh tears.
Looking down at the empty side of the bed you feel your heart ache. You grab your necklace from around your neck and trace the heart shape with your fingers in an attempt to ground yourself. When you feel your heartbeat finally settle you decide to get out of bed and get ready for your second day of work.
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hardstraykidshours · 1 year
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stray kids fic-mas: day 9
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pairing: chan x afab!reader
genre: smut (more suggestive), 18+ (minors dni)
summary: you give a polaroid picture as a gift to chan that keeps him hot and bothered all night.
length: 1.3k
warnings: profanity, christmas mention, suggestive/sexual content, teasing, lingerie, exhibitionism???, implied penetrative sex, implied orgasm denial, implied dom!chan (but no obvious sub/dom dynamic), afab reader, nsfw 18+ (minors dni)
a/n: this brilliant idea comes from a lovely anon! this was literally so so so fun to write! i hope you like it!!
ficmas 2022 masterlist
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you take one last look at the little polaroid before slipping it into the christmas card and jotting a little note on the bottom. you just know chan is going to completely lose his mind when he sees it. he loves seeing you in lingerie, and the set you're wearing in the photo just so happens to be one of his favorites. it’s all black, made of a soft mesh so see through your nipples are visible. it’s simple, but classy, with just enough straps in all the right places. and with the addition of the black thigh garters you bought as a surprise, you’ll be lucky if chan can even remember how to form words when he sees it. 
and that doesn’t even take into account how he’s going to react when he reads the note you left in the card with the picture. the one informing him that the photo was taken just moments before putting on your dress for the holiday party with the other members you both are going to tonight. 
you wish you could see the look on his face when he opens that card. but that would ruin the entire point of your plan. if you were still at home or in the car when he opened that card and saw the polaroid of you in lingerie, the lingerie you were still wearing under your clothes, you knew you wouldn’t have made it to the party without at least three orgasms between the two of you. and while that sounds like a very good time, it’s not exactly the kind of fun you had in mind for tonight.
so instead, you wait until he pulls up out front of seungmin’s apartment. he parks the car and moves to get out, but you stop him with a hand on his arm.
“wait! before you go inside i have something for you.” you reach into your purse and pull out the card. “here.”
“what’s this?” he asks, eyebrows raised in confusion.
“it’s a card, duh,” you tease, giggling to cover the sudden rush of nerves and excitement racing through you. “you have to wait until i go inside to open it though.”
“okayyyy...” he draws the word out, clearly unsure about the whole situation. 
“oh come on, just trust me.” you lean over to press a quick kiss to his cheek before hopping out the car and rushing inside, trying to escape before he notices the blush creeping up your neck. you say hi to the other members and mingle for a bit, knowing it won’t be too long before chan comes in.
he enters the party only a few minutes after you and from the flush on his cheeks and the slight tension in his shoulders, you know that the picture did exactly what you had intended. his eyes scan the room and the second they land on you, he’s striding towards you, not bothering to say hi to anyone else.
“are you serious?” he bends down and whispers in your ear. “this is a joke right? you don’t actually have that on under your dress right now? right?” his voice has just a hint of desperation to it and you can’t help but smirk, pleased that your plan is working. without saying a word, you make eye contact with him and nonchalantly pretend to scratch your shoulder while moving the sleeve of your dress just enough for him to see the strap of your bra, confirming his fears.
“fuckkkk me,” he groans under his breath while running a hand through his hair.
“what? you don’t think it looks nice on me?” you stick your bottom lip out in a faux pout, thoroughly enjoying how distressed he is over the situation. 
“no, no, no, baby girl, you know i love you in that. it’s just that i love how you look in that a lot more than is appropriate for a party with my friends.”
“oops, my bad then,” you taunt, and he opens his mouth to respond but a loud voice interrupts.
“there you are, chan! i didn’t see you come in!” changbin shouts as he makes his way across the room and chan quickly morphs his pained expression into something a little more pleasant.
you slip away while the two of them talk with a smile on your face, excited to see how the rest of this night plays out. even though he'll sometimes fuck you until you’re screaming his name so loudly his neighbors can hear, chan would never even dream of doing anything around other people. especially not around his friends.
little does he know, that photo was just the beginning. you plan on subtly teasing him the entire night, seeing just how far you can go before he fully loses his mind.
and you do just that.
when he’s standing in the crowded kitchen talking, you squeeze past him to head to the bathroom instead of asking him to move, letting your ass brush across the front of his jeans when you do so.
when he’s sitting in chair playing videogames with felix and jisung, you lean across him to grab you phone off the table next to him. you make sure that the loose neckline of your dress droops slightly, giving him an eyeful of your tits.
and when you know he’s the only one behind you, you bend over the couch to talk to jeongin, pretending to look at whatever game he’s playing on his phone. you make sure you lean far enough that your dress rides up just slightly and shows off the bottom edge of the thigh garters you have on. when you stand back up and turn around, straightening your hem in the process, you have to suppress a smile when you see the way chan is clenching his jaw and gripping his phone so tightly you think he might break it.
throwing him a small smirk, you saunter your way into the kitchen, swishing your hips ever so slightly as you do. you start pouring yourself a drink and he comes up behind you, his chest barely brushing your back as he reaches for a cup and leans down to whisper in your ear. to everyone else it looks like he’s just working around you to make himself a drink as well, but you know that whatever he’s putting in that cup is the last thing on his mind.
“i'm growing very tired of this game you’re playing with me.”
you throw him the most innocent look you can manage and you hear him practically growl under his breath, the sound causing arousal to shoot straight to your core.
“you know exactly what you’re doing and frankly, i think it’s entirely unfair. so, i’ve decided to even the playing field just a little.”
your expression changes to one of confusion at his words and he pauses to look around and make sure no one is looking before continuing. leaning in to gently nip at your ear, his voice drops to a deadly whisper. “i have spent the last hour trying to make pleasant conversation with my friends while my mind runs on an endless loop of all of the things i plan on doing to you when we get home.” you shiver slightly as he looks at you out of the corner of his eyes, his gaze dragging down your body in what feels like a sensual caress. 
you bite your lip, your panties growing wetter with every second he spends this close to you, murmuring in your ear.
he looks around to make sure no one is watching before leaning in to gently nip at your ear, whispering one final thing before pulling away. “just know that i’m counting now. and every minute that passes from this point until we finally leave this party is another minute i’m going to make you wait before you can cum later.”
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blindmagdalena · 9 months
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I’ve spent the last two days stalking this page and ao3 so I could read all your Homelander stuff. And I freaking love it. I especially enjoy how you write Homie, like I don’t know what it is but out of all the authors I’ve read I like your version the best.
I haven’t seen an ask/blurb/etc about this. What do think would happen if Homie is with a softer/more innocent reader that after being (or working) in the tower a few times wanted him to come with her to the bathroom/private areas/keep her company at night because she was scared or felt watched. And Homie immediately knows it’s Translucent.
Like does he just yeet that guy into space? Or does he fuck reader in the bathroom while saying something like “better hope no one else sees you, I’d kill anyone that even thought to look at you”. Or does he confront Translucent while away from reader so he doesn’t scare her?
If it’s not Translucent and she’s just scared- she says something sweet and heartfelt that hits Homelander right in the heart.
this is so kind, thank you! i'm glad you enjoy my spin on our favorite terrible man.
this is SUCH an interesting scenario. initially, Homelander would see this as... let's say a teachable moment. he IS irritated by the depravity of his team. they disgust him, disappoint him, and generally fail to uphold the heroic image he desires for The Seven, as seen when he scolds them for their petty squabbling in front of new recruit Starlight.
it's a bad look when even the naïve new hire is picking up on the fact one of their esteemed heroes is a goddamn pervert. it's unprofessional, it's sloppy, and it makes him look bad.
so he flashes her a sharp, pearly white smile and says, "Don't you worry. You're perfectly safe in the Tower. I'll keep an eye on ya." caps it off with a friendly wink as he taps the corner of his eye with his index finger. she gets thoroughly flustered, thoroughly grateful. it's... cute.
he gets familiar with her scent, the beat of her heart. He gets a clear enough image that he can pick her up anywhere in the building. He listens for the jump of her pulse and the bitter smell of her fear and adrenaline.
his plan of course is to catch Translucent in the act, to snatch his ass and threaten him where it counts: his wages.
but he gets distracted by the 180 flip in her demeanor when she sees him. positively awestruck, she asks how he knew she was getting that feeling again, and he tosses out some vague answer about, "Ohh, just had a hunch. You know, superhero things."
all the while, Homelander is listening to Translucent slink away like the noxious little vermin he is. It hardly matters, it'll happen again. the guy has a fucking problem.
ohhhhhhh i have way too many ideas for this! i think this will have to be a proper fic. 🤭
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moodymelanist · 5 months
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Would you want to write a fluffy cuddlefuck when they start off spooning but it gets rough fast for nessian
hope you enjoy 🤪 5 days of kinktober left folks!!
“You want to take a nap with me?”
Cassian paused the new Spider-Man game and looked away from the TV, his heart automatically melting at the sight of his girlfriend looking adorably cozy. Nesta was wearing one of his old college football shirts and no pants, but it was so big on her she didn’t need them. He loved seeing her in his clothes, especially when she looked as soft as she did with all her defenses lowered just for him.
“Right now?” Cassian asked.
“You can finish your level first, if you want,” she replied with a little shrug. “I can wait.”
“Give me like ten minutes,” he told her, not quite ready to stop playing but also not wanting to miss out on a chance to snuggle up to her. “I’ll come find you.”
She smiled at him. “Okay.”
Cassian gave himself another few minutes to finish his latest mission in the game before he shut down his PlayStation and went to find Nesta. She was curled up on her side of the bed under a thick blanket, her hair loosely pulled into two braids so it didn’t get tangled while she slept.
“You look cozy,” he said, shrugging out of everything except his underwear. Saturdays were for lounging around the house in pajamas, but he’d always liked cuddling with her in as little clothing as possible.
“That’s what happens when you’re tired,” she said back. Her eyes opened just enough to send him a sleepy glare, one that he returned with a sunny smile. “Come on, I want to be the little spoon.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he replied playfully. He pulled the blanket back just enough for him to slip under it, his arms automatically pulling her as close as possible so they were pressed back to front. “Mhmm. You’re nice and warm.”
“I’ve been under here for a little,” she answered, her voice already slow and syrupy.
Cassian leaned in and pressed a kiss to the side of Nesta’s throat, deeply content with nuzzling his face into her soft skin. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” Nesta mumbled, burrowing her face deeper into her pillow.
They laid in silence for a few minutes, Cassian thoroughly enjoying the way their breathing began to line up. He loved that he could hold Nesta close and just be. She felt so perfect in his arms that he wondered how he’d gotten by without having her there all those years before they’d met.
As content as he was to just lay here and drift off to sleep, though, it seemed his body had other plans.
“Nes,” Cassian whispered, hoping that she hadn’t fallen asleep yet. His dick had a near-Pavlovian response at having her so close and had taken a strong, sudden interest in his current predicament. “You still awake?”
“Mhmm?” Nesta mumbled back.
Thank God she hadn’t fallen asleep yet. “You wanna fool around?”
“What?” she asked, stirring a little in his arms. He had to bite back at moan as she inadvertently rubbed against his quickly-hardening cock.
“Please?” he replied. He shifted the arm wrapped solidly around her waist so he could start rubbing aimless patterns into her stomach, and if his hand happened to brush the undersides of her breasts, it was a happy accident. “Just the tip?”
“What are we, fourteen?” she fired back. She inhaled sharply as his fingers brushed over her a hard nipple. “If you want something, ask for it properly.”
“Please let me fuck you,” he responded, starting to press wet, open-mouthed kisses to the side of her throat. If she really wanted to take her nap he’d fuck right off, but he had a feeling they were both about to get lucky. “I’ll do all the work. Promise.”
Nesta let him feel her up for a few more seconds before she turned over her shoulder and kissed him, her tongue hot and insistent against his. “Fine. But I’m getting my nap after this or else.”
“I’ll put you to sleep, sweetheart,” Cassian promised smugly. He leaned in for another filthy kiss and rocked his hips against hers, a promise of exactly what was to come. “How do you want it?”
“I thought you were doing all the work,” she retorted with a roll of her eyes.
“I can’t ask a question?” he fired back. “You must want it hard with all that attitude, hmm?”
Nesta turned back around, her head hitting her pillow with an exaggerated huff. “Whatever you say.”
“Brat,” Cassian teased affectionately, reaching down to tug at her underwear. “You gonna help me get these off you?”
“I guess,” she replied. Between her wiggling hips and his eager hands, the two of them managed to get her underwear off.
His hand slipped between her legs and found her clit with practiced ease, his cock practically throbbing as he discovered how wet she was. “All this for me, sweetheart?”
“I don’t see anyone else aro — oh,” she answered, her moan cutting off her snarky reply.
“What did you say?” he asked a touch too innocently. Even though she couldn’t see it, he couldn’t help his smirk. “I didn’t quite catch that.”
“Fuck you,” she panted, grinding against his fingers.
“That’s the plan, sweetheart,” he said. He shifted his fingers lower and plunged one inside her, then two. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”
“I’d be even wetter if you put your cock where it belonged already,” she said back, rocking against his fingers with a gasp. “Any — oh, fuck, Cassian — any day now.”
“Thought you wanted to nap,” Cassian replied. He pulled out his fingers and she automatically lifted her left leg to give him better access; they’d fucked like this so many times neither of them had to really think about how to move their bodies accordingly.
Nesta was practically panting as he took his cock out through the hole in his boxers and rubbed it against her cunt from behind. “Please don’t make me beg.”
“Why not? It’s my favorite thing to make that pretty little mouth do,” he told her cheekily. He quickly amended himself, adding, “Well. My second favorite thing.”
“This was your idea,” she retorted, reaching down to help guide his cock to her entrance.
“You’re thinking way too hard right now, sweetheart.” Cassian groaned as he finally got the angle right and thrusted inside Nesta, her little gasp like music to his ears. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
“Move, move, come on,” Nesta demanded breathily. “Cassian.”
As much as he liked to tease her, she felt too good around him for him to stay still. He grabbed her leg behind her knee and used it as leverage to fuck into her, already half out of his mind with how tight and hot and wet her cunt was around him.
“Thought you didn’t want to beg,” he replied, pulling out almost completely before slamming back in.
“Can’t help it,” she answered. One of her hands dipped between her legs and he wished he could watch her play with herself, but there were only so many things he could do at once. “You make me fucking insane.”
“Yeah?” he panted, a little out of breath from the hard pace he’d set. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Tell me,” she responded. Her breath was coming hard and fast now, and from the way they were rocking together, he knew it wouldn’t be much longer for either of them.
“You’re all I think about,” he started, all his favorite things about her flashing through his mind like a greatest hits montage. Her smile, her laugh, the way she looked in his favorite lingerie, how his name sounded coming out of her mouth. He loved her so much it hurt, but this wasn’t the time to turn into a giant sap. “You’re a giant fucking tease, Nes. You know how much I think about your perfect cunt? How good you look taking my cock?”
“Oh, fuck,” Nesta moaned.
Cassian wasn’t finished, his words running together as he thrusted in and out of her as hard and fast as he could. “Wish I could just bend you over whenever I wanted and make you take it—”
Nesta cried out and clenched hard around Cassian as she came, and the feeling of her coming on his cock yanked him right over the edge with her. He buried himself to the hilt as his orgasm hit him, leaning forward and sucking a hickey into the closest bit of skin he could reach, some primal urge demanding he mark her as his.
“Just the tip, he said,” Nesta grumbled after a few minutes. She was still laying on her side while he’d rolled onto his back, both of them still catching their breath. “I can’t stand you.”
“Isn’t that why you’re lying down?” Cassian asked cheekily.
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