#and you remember your knees that had been soiled from playing and having too much fun with the small flowers and the tall grass and

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash - Aemond POV

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Aemond!POV, murder, violence, blood, gore, infidelity, smut.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond!POV Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello my angels, I thought I would write this up considering I've had so many of you asking for Aemond!POV chapters for when he goes to Harrenhal etc.

So I have written two short chapters, one as an introduction to Alys Rivers (I can hear you all hissing right now) and the other will be the Aemond!POV of when he finds the reader after her assault. I'm sorry I haven't written too many Aemond POV's as of late, but I don't really have the energy to do it! So, I hope this feeds you for the time being. Enjoy <3

Alys Rivers

Alys Rivers was a woman of conviction, head strong, and assured.

Though a bastard and a wet nurse in Harrenhals walls, she had teeth that had been sharpened by the blade she had been raised on. Quick witted and patient, Alys was willing to sit back and watch things play out, and not be rushed to action.

Though, it helped to have her sight. A gift in which she had been born with, a gift in which her mother before her had guided her through.

Storm clouds and pools of water, flames of fire or cups of ale, Alys saw many visions and knew much of many things. She knew of the future, and of the past. And she saw the present as anyone else did, but with whispers of what was yet to come.

Alys had looked into the flames of a fire one night, and she had seen a vision of green and black, a vision of Fire and Blood, dripping from the earth, pooling thickly beneath it. She saw a mountain three feet tall, and she saw a man with silver hair, and one lone eye, standing tall with sword in hand.

She had seen the destruction of House Strong, and had not warned her kin.

Aemond Targaryen was a man of duty, but Alys Rivers contradicted this. For she was low born, a bastard of a House he unleashed years of collected rage and sorrow upon.

The Prince remembered the day clearly. News had come to Kings Landing, and death had come to Harrenhal in return.

He had every person, young and old, child and man grown, woman and babe, lined up for him in the yard of Harrenhal, and with Aemond’s hand, he delivered swift and unjustified death to all of them. 

They had watched one after the other be slain, all in a line, waiting for their turn to go next. Waiting on shaking legs, soiled in fear as they were pushed towards the One-Eyed Prince.

With each swing of his sword, slowly, but surely, the House Strong dwindled, and their numbers dissolved into a lump of flesh and blood. Each one begged for mercy, each child calling for their mothers, each woman begging for their life. But some of the men did not beg, and went to him without a word, eyes coldly staring into Aemond’s.

Strong. 

He supposed that was why the House was called what it was. He could not say the same for the women though, but they would fall, whether on their knees willingly or with the slice of his blade through their bones. 

Each and every single one of them was slain, until a pile of heads grew larger and larger, its base unsteady as new ones were tossed atop, rolling from the highest point down onto the blood soaked stones below. 

She had been one of the last of them.

Alys Rivers.

A Strong Bastard.

A woman, older than him, with jet black hair and bright green eyes. She had an air to her which invited mystery, allure, and Alys had walked towards Aemond, with no fear, as though she already knew her fate.

As though she knew that she would be spared. 

And she was. 

“Are you going to beg?” He had asked her cruelly, waiting for the tears to roll down her cheeks and her meek pleading to begin. 

But she didn’t. 

Instead, Alys Rivers spoke with confidence, “No.” She did not address him, “It is not my time. She waits for you…” Alys paused, seeing Aemond stiffen, hand readjusting on the large blade which dripped with the blood of her House, “Your zaldrītsos.”

Zaldrītsos.

How did she-

Aemond looked at the woman.

She was dressed in maids robes, and her hair lay shinily down her back. Her eyes were what drew him to her the most. They were the brightest green he had ever seen, brighter than the scales on Vhagar, like two emeralds that glistened behind her thick, black eyelashes. 

“Come.” Aemond had barked, flicking his sword out to the side of him, blood spraying against the stone.

Alys smiled.

She did not bow, she did not address him as Your Grace, My Lord, My Prince, she did not offer him anything but what she would willingly give. It intrigued him. And so with swift and wet footsteps, he stormed across the courtyard, leaving his men to deal with the mess that he had created, and to finish what he had started. 

Aemond had taken her, forcefully, brutally, and roughly in one of the closest rooms he could have found. His armour was dripping with blood, it dotted his face and stuck thickly in his silver white hair, clumping the strands together, and if she had any fear or worries about it, or about him, she did not show it.

And instead, Alys Rivers had welcomed him into her cunt, which was wet with her slick already without having been touched. 

And thus became a new duty Aemond created for himself.

To see her. His Alys. To watch her. Talk to her. Fuck her. Dive between her thighs, latch his lips around her nipples which leaked mothers milk into his mouth for him suck greedily, nipping at the stiffened peaks with his sharp teeth. 

As he grew to know Alys, he grew to love her too. His Alys. His witch. She sees much and more, and tells him much and most. She sees things, in the clouds, in the sea, puddles or chalices. In the flames of the fireplace, or the flames of Vhagar, who he let her ride with him, sat astride in front or behind, her soft skin pressed to him tightly. 

For any fear Alys had for him, she did not show it. 

She did not cower at his anger, nor did she shrink at the sight of his eye like others. She came to him, swiftly, confidently, and kissed the scarred skin, cradled it with milk white hands, whispered praise and adoration to him, and murmurs of her visions. 

Of his zaldrītsos.

And visions of herself. 

“I see a babe born of your blood, his fire licking at my womb. A young Prince.” Her hands soothed through his long hair, as she held him in the chambers he had demanded for her.

A Prince. 

A babe. 

His. 

Aemond hummed, “And when will the bastard Prince be born.”

“When the tenth moon comes and goes, the babe will be born as the air shifts, and another grows.”

“Another?”

“A true born Prince of silver hair and purple eyes. You will be wed to your zaldrītsos, and she will come to love you as I do.”

Aemond felt his heart race in his chest, “And you have seen it?”

“I have, my dragon. I have seen many things, heard much more. I see what is yet to come, and what has been.”

Aemond shifted, leaning on an arm so that he lay above her, “And what do you see, my witch?”

Alys looked into his eye and let a soft hand brush against his face and up through his hair. Leaning up, she pressed a kiss to his sapphire eye, then to his cheek, and then to his mouth, rolling her hips upwards to meet his own, his softened length beginning to harden again. 

“I see a union, of Green and Black. Of two great flames, united as one.” The witch rolled her hips again, feeling his length stiff and heavy upon her thigh. Reaching a hand down she grasped him and pumped him in her palm, “I see a love that was lost, united again.” 

Leaning forward, Aemond slid through her folds and into her waiting heat, pleasure rolling through the both of them.  As he moved in and out of her cunt, Alys continued to whisper her visions. 

“An ‘X’ to guide her way back to you. She walks through the dark to seek you out. To t-touch you.” Her back arched as Aemond dips a head to take a swollen breast into his mouth. 

Aemond began to thrust into her harder, “Ravens will whisper the words of a burning star, a crown forged of blood.” She cried, nearing her release as his long fingers made their way to her pearl, rubbing in slow circles, feeling her cunt flutter around his cock. 

“I saw a child, born from ice and fire, the Prince that was promised. Five years to come, from her blood, the Merciless Princess.”

Alys came with a cry, and Aemond toppled over the edge shortly after, laying on top of her for her to brush slow hands through his hair as they both came down from their highs, sighs and jagged breaths, Aemond’s cock softening inside of her. 

“She will come back to me?” Aemond whispered into her neck, feeling the heat from her body radiate up onto him.

“She will always come back to you.”

And Aemond always came back to Alys.

For she offered visions of hope, visions of love. Words of encouragement and praise. She offered a place of solitude, a place to be him. A place to get away, to hide, to seek out a warmth he never got from you, or his mother, or anyone who was supposed to love or care for him. 

Alys Rivers had seen many things. 

And she had seen you.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

@izzicle @ej-shitchats @may-machin @alegria1580 @witchy-jadda @videovampire @inkdelicious @queteimporta39 @virtualsweetsqueen @fo-cus @auratiqs @feyres-fireheart @queenofshinigamis @asoiafwh8re @teasandcrumpets @shesjustanothergeek @grungegrrrl@queenofsarcazm @marihoneywk @curlszx88 @virgogaia @loser-keiji @asoiafwh8re @whore-of-many-hot-men @vipervixxen @theonewiththeimaginaryboyfriends @watercolorskyy @lavendervisions @mazmack666 @chokefrog @orangejump-suit @nik2blog @serrhaewinin @ohemgeewhat @winxschester @cryptidsrcool @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @celestedonut @bloodyvelvet777 @iamapersonthatsalive @av-sos @yentroucnagol @sanzu-s @opheliaas-stuff @bellameshipper @maviee @persephonerinyes @neytiri-09 @ensnaredinwonderland @xbluegracex @sotragedynut @nattieot7 @shesawaywiththefairies-blog @coffedraven @prettycutebunny @celestedonut @the-jess-life @ssulfurr @out-of-life @madislayyy @crazylokonugget @cicaspair418 @katwmk @relminnie @milovart @teagrex @visenyaverse @bellameshipper @toodlesxcuddles @tempt-ress @dontmindmereading7 @qyburnsghost @55gyi53vtnquwziq5 @notnormalthings-blog @maidmerrymint @qyburnsghost @madislayyy @chelseaouat

Bold is who I cannot tag!

#aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond smut #hotd smut #dark!aemond targaryen x reader #dark!aemond x reader #dark!aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #dark!aemond #dark!fic #fic #series #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond #smoke fire and ash #Aemond!POV #Alys Rivers #Alys River x Aemond Targaryen

[strangerhottotties]

Ty's Kinktober | 6. Fucking Machine with Billy Hargrove

Warnings: Daddy kink, slight voyeurism, smoking, dom!Billy, sub!reader, first time squirting, brief fingering and

A/N: I don't know that I will have time to write much the next couple days so here is a little Billy until I can play catch up probably on Sunday. TOMORROW I GET MARRIED!

Billy Hargrove was toxic.

He pushed you past your limits. He wasn't nice about it either. There was always drama and unnecessary aggression.

Unfortunately, for every danger and negative aspect detailing your relationship, there was an equally fulfilling adventure.

You were always the good girl. Good grades, sweet as pie, and certainly not anyone that would normally be involved with someone like Billy Hargrove. No one believed you when you said you were dating him.

He'd let girls flirt with him right in front of you because you wouldn't say a thing. He liked riding you up, making you quietly boil over with jealousy so he could cuddle up with you later and make you all soft and pliant with the silk of his voice and tender teases of his hands.

That was the thing about him, as cruel and vicious as he was, he was sweet and addictive just as much. A ridiculous and dangerous combination. He may bite you waitress's head off when she brought you something you didn't order, but he was ready to fight for you at any given moment. And the things he does with his tongue... maddening.

You let him talk you into these types of situations because as scary as they sound, you've only ever experienced pleasure beyond your capacity with him. And tonight was no different.

Your legs were already week from orgasms. Your whole-body slick with sweat and other fluids, quaking on the duvet cover that was all sorts of fucked up by now. Still panting, sprawled out on your stomach, you watch Billy move around the bedroom. His jeans were still open, and you could see his softening cock still peeking out of the curls at the top.

You don't even remember what you had been mad about now, brain so fogged over with the three, sticky orgasms he'd drawn out of you before finishing deep inside. It was leaking out; you could feel it sliding over the sensitive skin of your cunt.

He moves towards the closet after lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. Billy spares a glance back at you, a warm amusement filling his face, making you gooey. It twists into a malicious grin. "I got you something, baby girl."

You give a happy little hum and watch him dig through the bottom of the closet. There was a large, unfamiliar black box that he hoists. You frown, still catching your breath against the mattress as he lets it bounce up by the pillows. It takes you a second to recognize that there was a small hole on the end.

Finally, you roll to look closer. Apparently, he has to set it up because he just continues to grin around the dangling cigarette. A short silver bar is attached to the end of it first. A cord dangles off it.

"What is it?" You finally hum.

"It's for when I'm spent, but I'm not done with you. Like tonight."

"But I'm spent," you whine to him softly. "Sore," you add, hoping it'll let him relent... Billy never relents though. He's insatiable, even when he's sated. He fixes you with a look and you sigh. Only to watch him attach a solid black piece of silicone to the end. Your brows raise at the equipment in front of you. "What is that?" You ask with a little more apprehension.

Billy straightens and passes you a dark look. "Oh, I think you know. Hands and knees." Your eyes widen up at him and then you crawl forward. The bed dips as he adjusts the heavy equipment behind you. "Good girl." His purr is accompanied by his hands guiding you into position, face first into the soiled sheets and dragging your hips back to meet the silicone behind you.

"Billy, not too much tonight, please," you whimper as he guides you so easily back onto the torturous toy. You gasp as it splits you open in a different way than his cock usually does.

Your boyfriend doesn't answer you as a mechanical rumble stirs behind you, followed shortly by the slow start up of a pistoning motion. You gasp as your slowly split open.

"Mmm, there we go, atta girl." He backs off, hands leaving yours as he wanders around all angles to admire the scene you had little fight for. Instead, you're just steadily getting fucked into the mattress while he watches. He shuffles back against dresser and hops up onto it to smoke his cigarette more appropriately.

He grins at you, kicking his feet like a child as you are left with a pace that is wearing your soreness away and leaving you keyed up in a different way. Already you wanted it faster. To help with that you bounce your hips back into it to get a little more friction.

"I thought you were sore," he taunts.

"N-need it fast... faster," you tell him. "D-does it go faster?" Billy chuckles at that and nods.

"It goes a lot faster. Do you like your gift?"

"Yes, Daddy," you moan. He hums in response, taking another drag.

"Reach back with your right hand, the dial is on the right side. Play with your toy, sweetheart." You sigh in relief that he's decided to be so kind to you tonight, but you should know better. The moment your fingers reach for the dial he tells you the condition.

"But you have to turn it all the way up, honey, and I'll know if it's not."

He had the advantage of knowing what exactly the fastest speed was, you did not. It could be a brutal pace for all you knew. It could hurt. You hesitate for a moment, but then realize that the pace here was going to kill you.

So you crank it.

The machine shouts its effort as your moans crescendo. You grasp for the sheets beneath you. It was, in fact, brutal. Your legs shake as it batters into you. You sink you hips with it, attempting to hold yourself up but angle it just so.

"That's it, make yourself feel good." You sob into the bed below you as obsenely wet noises slap from behind you. The dildo begins to plunge against your g-spot with a fire. You're getting louder and louder with the quickly approaching sensation that it brings. Another orgasm. "Gonna cum?" Billy mocks from his perch on the dresser.

He's blurry from the tears welling in your eyes. They're spilling over your cheeks as hiccups begin with you. You nod at him, hair scraping over the sheets below you.

"Please?" You whimper. "Please can I?"

He chuckles quietly, "Go ahead, baby. Let it all go."

And you do with a wail and a gush between your thighs. It doesn't quit until he's snatching the entire thing off the bed. You gasp, not seeing him move but the crash has you worried he broke the gift he'd gotten you.

"Fuck, did you just squirt?" He demands, easy playfulness burned out of his voice and replaced with an almost angry calliber.

You feel like jelly, sobbing into the mattress. Billy flips you over to investigate. His fingers slip in despite the push of your pelvic floor and he curls his fingers to milk more fluids from you. You whimper below him, too exhausted to fight despite the overstimulations.

"Holy shit," he murmurs. "You like it better than me?" He demands and you immediately shake your head at him. He snatches your jaw. "Don't lie to me."

"Liked... liked you watching, Daddy." He blinks in surprise at that and then his hold loosens on your face.

"Alright, alright, I'm gonna fuck you again and then we'll get you cleaned up." Your eyes roll back as he flips his cock out and easily sinks back into you. "Oh, shit..." He groans.

#billy hargove smut #billy stranger things #billy hargove imagine #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #tys kinktober masterlist #smut

[darkkitty1208]

The past few weeks before I finally returned from my unofficial hiatus, I've lost a lot of my motivation to write and anything to do with being part of the fandom as a whole. I contemplated quitting and never returning again, deleting all my works and socials and any other trace of me anyone could find, but I know that it's just the anxiety talking and my brain playing tricks with me due to IRL stress and that logically, I *do* have a place here in the fandom space. So I held back.

Now that I'm here again -- and have been welcomed very warmly by dear friends -- the urge to create has finally come around again and I want to get back into writing. It's just that, god, I feel very rusty. It's been quite a while and I feel like the words have run away from me after not using them for so long. I look into my mostly-abandoned WIPs and I can't find the right way to continue them.

But despite that, I decided to do a bit of the good ol' self-projecting and started a WIP (instead of finishing my old ones, lol). It's not much, but it's something. I felt compelled to share in hopes it would motivate me to write some more. This is all I've got so far, and it is admittedly very rough, but it's getting there.

~

Here’s the thing: healing isn't linear.

These are words repeated over and over again by those who you wouldn't think ever even had to heal. They're the kind of words that would lose its meaning the more they're said, and have you start wondering if to some people, they ever had any sort of meaning to begin with.

You can never really tell where it starts or where it finishes, or how it happened or if it ever did happen, the same way the flawed five stages of grief could never explain the true act of mourning and the same way your every emotion defies anything your logic could ever tell you.

Sometimes, Stephen finds, some things are just unexplainable like that.

Sometimes, Stephen doesn't think he's capable of healing. Sometimes, especially in nights where every bit of his sanity starts to fall apart and each choking breath would sting as it enters his damned lungs, he thinks he's too far gone to be capable of it at all.

(Sometimes he would sit silently and stare into nothing, thinking about the way nobody would understand that at some point in his life, he wasn't the man he used to be anymore. Sometimes he could feel it, the thing that consumed him, that took away who he was, and the way it would take up every space in his ribcage and burn his insides like acid, the way it would rip apart the space in his chest where his heart used to be. Sometimes he would think about it, and the way that it makes him nothing but an empty shell of a man. Every day that thing would grow inside of him and one day, it might ruin him; as if he isn't already far too broken to begin with.)

But it's here, in the roof of a sentient building he's grown to call his home where various pots are neatly arranged in small shelves, with his trembling fingers digging into rich soil and dirt sticking underneath his fingernails, that he starts to find proof that maybe, he had the capability after all.

It's here that he understands why humans would pick up a trowel and spend so much time getting on their hands and knees to dirty themselves with grimes of dirt.

There's something about the green of the Earth and the smell of her moist dirt in the early mornings, damp from the moon's tears, that soothes a part of him that he couldn't quite identify. There's something comforting about the mindless action of digging and burying and placing and watering. There's something comforting about knowing that his damaged fingers could sprout life even if it all depended on time.

But that's the thing, isn't it? Everything is just a matter of time.

(Sometimes he wishes healing isn't linear, the way he wishes time doesn't march on an ascending line.)

He remembers the same damp smell of moss and the same smudges of dirt on the knees of his trousers back then, the first time he was taught about gardening and farming and sprouting life from seeds.

He had still been a small boy in Nebraska, back then. He had been young, and he had never understood patience the way he does now. He didn't understand that what he planted was something that, if anything, was considered a miracle, and that miracles took time, and that miracles don't last forever. He didn't understand that life and decay is just a matter of time, and that everything including himself would eventually be nothing but rotting flesh and cracked bones, becoming one with the earth and consumed by the maggots and mushrooms.

Because that's the thing: everything is just a matter of time.

The experience had meant nothing to him then, and had taught him nothing much of anything at all, but it means something to him now.

#my writing #wip #ramblings

[juhaknyeonies]

incarnation | lee jeno (ft na jaemin)

summary: its always been him, always him for you. you’re entire life was based on him. the carnations were your guide. the petals followed behind. one day it wasn’t about him. you have never felt such relief in your life.

genre: angst - unrequited love, romance

warning: toxic relationship

wc: 4k (3,916)

a/n: there is another ending for jaemin linked

white carnation

That day in school when I met you, you greeted me in the playground. We played around for hours. We play every single game you could imagine. Hide and Seek was definitely my favourite game to play with you because you were so bad at it that you begged me not to play it and we would play your favourite game instead, tag. It was only fun for you because you were a fast runner, I was not. But I kept running so you would be happy playing this game until our parents came to pick us up. You were also the kindest person I’ve ever met, the day I scraped my knee on the playground and you were there with a spiderman band-aid and you put it on me, you cared for me so much and told me clean it properly when I got home even if it did sting a lot. It was a lot better than an infection that would be 10x worse than it was now, I went home and did exactly what you said. I still remember those moments. I remember them because we sat by those white flowers. They were the prettiest flowers you have ever seen. I think that day I saw something prettier than those flowers and I still think that way. Ever since that day carnations have been your favourite flower. I begged my parents to let me grow some carnations, the white one specifically. I grew them to give to you. You loved them so much I was so proud of myself. I loved this feeling. Maybe this was the day that started it all.

“Jeno!!” I ran towards you. The park we played in when we were 9 is a nostalgic thing to think about. “Look! Do you like my flowers!” I held out a bouquet of white carnations. “Oh I love these flowers!” You took them from my hands and stared at them. I admired your face while you looked at them. You loved my flowers so much I couldn’t disturb you. “How did you learn to grow them? That’s so cool,” He took one of the flowers out of the bouquet and gave it to me. “I had my mum help me,” You should come back my house and grow flowers with me,” I suggested. You were about to answer but your bestfriend came running over to you. “Jenooooo!” A boy with brown fluffy hair hugged him from behind. “Is this your girlfriend?” He asked. “No, we’re just friends.” You flashed him your cute eye smile. “Well if she’s not your girlfriend I can have these flowers.” He took it off of Jeno but he grabbed it back. “Why don’t you get your own flowers instead.” Jeno checked the flowers to see if they were okay from Jaemin’s rough hands. “Can you grow me some flowers too?” He asked. “Of course,” I answered smiling. “How about you two come over to my house and we can grow flowers together.” I invited them over. “We should go!” Jaemin convinced Jeno to come over and grow some flowers with me. Sometimes I’m glad Jaemin was there and I’m grateful that he was your bestfriend. But in all honesty, I didn’t want him here.

When you and Jaemin came over to my house we headed straight to my backyard. Jaemin kept complimenting the flowers grown in my garden. My mum was there supervising us. You looked at it quietly admiring its beauty. I did the same but at you. While we were staring Jaemin and my mum had gotten seeds out from my shed and we planted them together. You planted more white carnations while I planted heliotropes. You were planting them with Jaemin and I was planting them with my mum. You planted them so gently I thought you were an angel, you do look like one. When I was done planting I got up and you know what happened next. I tripped over the wooden fencing and fell straight into the bag of soil and my leg landed on the metal rake. Jaemin came straight to my side and cleaned me up while you helped my mum clean up the mess I made when I tripped. Jaemin cleaned my face trying his best to get rid of all the soil on my face. There was a lot and we ended up making a mess getting rid of it. I had a massive bruise and scratch on my legs and Jaemin had grabbed a paper towel and cleaned it up while you were just happily chatting to my mum not even seeming the littlest bit concerned. Jaemin was always there though. Why did he notice me and not you. “I managed to get some flowers and make a bouquet.” He grabbed flowers from his pocket. God knows how he did that. He gave them to me I took them but it didn’t feel right. “Thank you Jaemin,” I replied smiling at him. You came back in and you’re parents had come to pick you up. We had a quick good bye before my mum forced me to take a shower. I had fun that day.

red carnation

When we got into middle school me, you, Jaemin and my bestfriend, Sihyun were all super close. I know people envied our friendship because it was so strong. I heard everything people said about us. During this time I had grasped an understanding of love. A feeling I only linked to you. Despite what people said I loved you, not him. In class when we had a seating plan I wouldn’t stare at the board but at the back of your head. The person next to me, Jaemin would keep trying to distract me from “learning”. “Jaemin, I’m learning I need to pass this test. I’m trying to get into the same high school you’re going too on a scholarship because it’s so expensive.” I explained to him. “You know if you don’t get in, I can always pay for you.” Jaemin suggested. “No, do you know how expensive that school is?” I shut his idea down. “Yea, but I’m super rich so it’s okay. I can pay for anything.” He proudly boasted his money. “Well Mr Rich keep it down, you’re gonna get in trouble with the teacher.” I warned him.

As soon as class ended I had gone straight to you, “Jeno let’s go study in the library,” I grabbed your hand and led him to our school’s library. You didn’t mind since you liked the library and I knew that. Jaemin had finally left us alone as he was hanging out with Sihyun. I liked being alone with you. These moments were rare. Of course we talked to each other alone afterschool online but rarely in person since your schedule was so busy with your dancing and all the other activities you did. That made me admire you so much even when I thought I couldn’t admire you more than I already did. We studied and I taught you everything you didn’t understand. You were stuck on a certain question that even I couldn’t figure out. It took us a long time until I had finally come up with an answer. We finished the rest of the questions easily but when we looked at the answer sheet the question we were stuck on was correct while some of the easy questions were wrong. We laughed it off and started discussing how we might have gotten it wrong. “I didn’t know we had to simplify it.” I commented. “Exactly they should have made it clear we had to do that.” You complained about it. We started a new sheet of question but I chose the harder one. I wasn’t struggling with my questions but I saw you were so I started helping you and explained everything in detail. “You’re so smart!” You told me. “You’re definitely getting the scholarship.” I was flustered at the compliment. “You’re catching up to me I think you could get the scholarship too,” I reassured him. “I really hope I get it. Otherwise I won’t be able to go to the same school as Sihyun.” You said. “Jaemin wants me to go to the school so badly he offered to pay for me.” Our combined dream of getting into that highschool made us study harder until the extrance exam day.

Sihyun had came into the library looking for us. I know she was looking for you though. She liked you, and everyone knew it. Everyone around us always thought you had a thing for her which made me sad. We walked past some red carnations. You stared at them and commented on how I have these flowers in my garden. I did, they were newly grown I had just grown them this year. Sihyun pick up one of the flowers and handed them to you. She grabbed another one and put it in your hair. “Jeno, the flower in your hair looks so adorable!” She gushed over you. I felt like I was third-wheeling. “Yea, I think you really suit flowers.” I had awkwardly complimented you. Both of you didn’t pick up on how awkward I felt so thank god for that. You and Sihyun were both laughing and talking about flowers and occasionally asking me for all the flower facts while I had just admired the flowers and especially the flower in your hair. It was extremely awkward for me here but I acted like I wasn’t phased. I always acted like this anyways so you guys didn’t notice. You both never noticed. You were so comfortable talking to her I actually felt like I wasn’t there and I was just walking by myself. Jaemin had caught up to us and saved me from feeling more awkward than I possibly could. “You seem awkward,” He whispered into my ear. “I am but I don’t wanna disturb them.” I whispered back. I don’t get how he always knew how I was feeling. I ended up just talking to Jaemin the entire time. Actually we ended up splitting off going in different directions but you didn’t realise since you were busy talking to Sihyun. Before we split off I gave Sihyun a wink and she understood it instantly. I do love you but Sihyun is a precious friend and I’d do anything to keep her happy for my happiness. You were also really happy with her too so even though I had really strong feelings for you I let you go with Sihyun. Sometimes I wish I did something. Jaemin was there to cheer me up though. He was always there.

When it was the day of the extrance exam we both went together and sat down next to each other. The exam went on for 2 hours. Of course I had high hopes for myself knowing I’d most likely get in but I worried for you. I noticed how much you were struggling during the exam. I patted you on the back and said you did well. I know you did well, you always try your best. I admire that about you. When the results came in you didn’t get in. I did though. I had gotten the top mark for the entrance exam. It was an amazing feeling but my heart couldn’t help but feel bad for you. All our friends went to you cheering you up instead of congratulating me. Jaemin did though. I guess you were pretty popular in class and everyone just saw me as the girl you hung out with. “Your so smart you got in!” Jaemin celebrated with me. “Yea, but Jeno didn’t get in,” I said. “Now he can’t go to the same school as us.” I told him my worries. “Don’t worry maybe I can think of something.” Jaemin reassured me. “Actually I have an idea.” I told him. “You pay for my tutition and I gave out my scholarship.” I explained to him. “Are you sure? You get special perks with the scholarship?” He asked. “Yeah, plus you offered to pay for me anyways it’s not that bad.” 2 days later you were accepted into the school. You were so happy you celebrated in class and we were all happy for you. That night I received a thank you text from you and a fully paid tutition by the Na family.

yellow carnation

In highschool you had finally gotten into your first relationship with Sihyun. Everyone had been rooting for you. It was destined to happened. Of course I was sad. I actually cried about it the moment I got home. I wasn’t rejected in person but I knew I definitely missed my chance with you. Not like I ever had the chance anyways. Jaemin noticed how said I was. He did everything to cheer me up. I told him I was sad because you both stopping hanging out with us as often as we use to. Always on dates. Always told us you were busy. Always kept to yourself. I was tired of it and missed my bestfriends. It took a toll on me knowing I wouldn’t see you as often as I wanted too. Jaemin was also quite sad about it. Seeing me sad and having you cancel plans with him. Eventually me and you stopped being so close. I was still close with Sihyun but I noticed her putting some distance between us. I understood immediately and kept my distance from you. I never once told Sihyun how I was feeling about the both you feeling so distance from me. Jaemin spoke up though. I remember the fallout so vividly. Jaemin and Sihyun never spoke to eachother again after that. Me and you had to split them apart. Both Jaemin and Sihyun kept pulling me to your side telling me to leave the other. For some reason they both never did this to you. It was so stressful I had nightmares about it. “You always keep Jeno to you and its always you! What do you own him?” Jaemin yelled at Sihyun. “He’s my boyfriend and I wanna spend time with him!” Sihyun yelled back. “It’s not my fault he doesn’t wanna hang out with you!” Jaemin was livid. “Yea but that doesn’t mean you have to ignore me and your bestfriend who has been on your side for years now!” He went off. “Your a selfish bitch who doesn’t even let her boyfriend hang out with their closest friends.” Sihyun was so taken aback. “You fucking slut maybe you aren’t just as close anymore and you can’t handle it! Maybe if you weren’t so annoyingly clingly Jeno would wanna hang with you!” Sihyun was about to hit Jaemin but I stepped in and took the hit. “That’s enough both of you,” I split them up. I took Jaemin’s hand and led him away. I had a bruise on me from the hit. “You didn’t have to do that,” I told him. “No, you didn’t have to do that, you got hurt.” He worried for me. “Yea but you would’ve gotten hurt though.” I sat down near the yellow carnations. “These flowers are pretty.” I commented. “Don’t change the subject she deserved to be yelled at, I never liked her anyways.” Jaemin confessed. “Jaemin, it’s not worth yelling at her.” Jeno had called me in that moment and I picked up. “Hello?” I said, “I’m really sorry for that but we can hang out next week…” He offered. “No, Jeno that’s not gonna make things better I think we might need 2 weeks before you try to hang out with Jaemin again. Also I don’t think Sihyun would be very happy if we hung out alone.” I told him with regret in my heart. “It’s okay I understand. We can still hang out in class right?” He asked. “Of course, you’re still my bestfriend.” And I ended the call there. “What did he say?” Jaemin asked. “He wanted to know if we wanted to hang out next week.” I told him. “No, I’m not hanging out with him next week or else Sihyun is gonna claw me alive.” He rejected the offer too. “I already said no,” I said. “Awww you know me so well.” He commented.

Ever since that day Jaemin hung out with a different group of friends. His friends were Jisung, Chenle, Renjun, Haechan and Mark. When Sihyun was busy hanging out with Jeno by herself, Jaemin would come find me and convince me to sit with his friends since he didn’t want me to be lonely. I’m pretty sure everyone knew about the fallout and was convinced me and Jaemin were dating. I think you would be very good friends with Jaemin’s new group. Sadly you never got the chance to meet them since Sihyun had roped into her new group which she never bothered to introduce me to. I don’t think they liked me very much honestly. One day we had the chance to talk in class. It was great because none of Sihyun’s friends were there and we got to talk about how things were. I’m sad our friendship could never be how it was before. We spent our time talking about the past. Like the time we both went to the amusement park together and I spilled my icecream on the ferris wheel and it landed on someone but we finished our icecream before we came down so they wouldn’t suspect it was us and the time we went shopping and you had accidentally shoplifted a bunch of clothes because you didn’t scan them properly and you somehow didn’t get caught. You were always really lucky with these things. It was nice talking to you and I wished it lasted forever but all good things eventually end and it took forever until we got the chance to talk again.

The time waiting was eating me up inside and I so desperately wanted to talk you again but I couldn’t because you were hanging out with Sihyun. Jaemin was at my house at the time so we ended up walking to the warehouse. He dragged me around the place looking for soil but I explained to him I didn’t need any so we ended up looking at seeds. He kept grabbing seeds that couldn’t be grown in the season we were currently in. It’s the thought that counts though. Eventually I grabbed the yellow carnations. Jaemin then dragged me over look at more flowers. “There’s some more yellow carnations” I picked it up. “We should plant these in your garden” He suggested. We walked over to the checkout and bought both the seeds and the flowers. When we got home we headed straight to my backyard “You really like carnations,” He said as he looked around. “Yea, they’re my favourite flowers.” They were ever since the moment I saw you with them thats why. “You only have red and white carnations.” Jaemin looked around my garden. “That’s why I grabbed out the yellow ones.” I put the seeds into the soil. “They also remind me of something.” I muttered. “Remind you of what?” He asked. “You heard me?” He nodded. “Well it reminds me of the day we met and I had carnations that I grew. You were bright like the sun,” I explained. “You remind me of red carnations.” He said and I smiled at him. Red carnations are your favourite. My memory is really good so of course I knew. Red carnations also remind me of you. I happily planted my yellow carnations with a dumb smile. I seriously need to lose this crush.

purple carnation - new beginning

You’re relationship with Sihyun didn’t last after graduation. When we graduated we went to different school. You went to a dance academy to chase your dream of being a dancer and I went to a university that specialised in everything in the medical field with Jaemin. We never saw each other much. I missed you a lot. I’m not sure if Jaemin could tell but it was nice having him around. I did see you that day you were having the dance tournament that really started your career. I was working at the cafe and you were stressed out and I had served you coffee that you ordered. “Hi, Jeno.” I greeted you. “I haven’t seen you in a while,” You said. “How are you?” You asked. “I’m good,” I gave you your coffee. “Are you free to talk?” You asked. “Well, I get off my shift in 10mins, if you can wait then yea.” I had left to go into the back and serve more people while you waited there for me. When I got out you were there waiting for me outside the cafe next to purple carnations. I guess they just followed you everywhere. “How’s Jaemin?” You asked. “He’s well, do you not talk anymore?” I asked. “I guess not, Sihyun really changed my life. I’m gathering it back together now though.” You explained. “I’ve got a dance tournament soon and I’m really nervous since this tournament could make my career.” You held your bag with all your dance gear. “Well I hope you do well,” I said sincerely. It had been so long I forgot how to talk to you. “You wouldn’t mind coming to the tournament to watch with Jaemin, right?” You asked. “Maybe, he might be busy but I can come.” I thought about it. “Yeah, i’ll come tonight.” I went home while you went to your dance studio. I messaged Jaemin about it and he said he couldn’t make it. I’m not sure what happened about between the 2 of you but you should’ve made up by now. I got ready for the dance tournament but I didn’t realise I had to pay for entry. You ended up noticing I didn’t have enough money so you snuck me in as one of your staff. I still think you were smart for that. “Goodluck Jeno,” I cheered you on before you were due on stage. I really wish the best for you.

When you started dancing I felt a wave of emotions. You were beautiful on stage. The admiration I had for you years ago came back seeing you so passionate. I was happy you were on stage doing what you loved most. You were so carefree on the stage it was like a breath of fresh air. The stage was very purple, you were dressed in white with purple carnations all over. They suit you, after that show we ended up talking and walking around all night. We talked about how we use to sneak in conversations while Sihyun’s friends weren’t around it was exhilarating for you. Also those times we would bump into each other at the shops and hang out because we couldn’t in school. It made you realise how toxic your relationship was. Jaemin was in the right to yell at her. After we were done walking around you offered to take me home. I said no, but before you left I told you something. I love you. Before I walked away you kissed me. That’s something I will never forget.

pink carnation

Today we’re getting married. It took so many years but now I’m finally with you. The flowers next to me wrapped up beautifully are pink carnations. The ones you grew with me. I love you so much.

- your wife

#₊˚❥⊹┊oneshots #jeno #jeno lee #fanfic #one shot #jeno one shot #jeno x reader #jaemin #na jaemin #lee jeno #nct #nct dream #nct x reader #nct fanfic #x reader #ngl this felt longer than 4k words to me

[minaramen]

Sogo Osaka - 16 Idol Album - Part 2: The vinyl from my memories

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

*Osaka’s manor*

Soshi: Thank you for taking the trouble of coming to my son’s birthday event, today

Sogo: Thank you so much, Hondo sama. I’ve heard of you from my father

Hondo: Thank you for inviting me today. Your son is admirable, despite being so young

Hondo: Well, I wouldn’t expect anything less from the Osaka heir. I’d like my son to take his example

Soshi: It’s nothing special. He’s still an unripe boy

Soshi: There’s a banquet inside. Again, it’s nothing special. Please, enjoy your time at our home

Hondo: Thank you. See you later, then

Soshi:.... it looks like you could properly remember the Hondo family 

Sogo: Yes. I remember the names and the faces of everybody from the guest list, as well as what their business is

Soshi: You followed my instructions. Anyway, it’s the least I would expect from a member of the Osaka family

Soshi: Will you be able to understand who’s coming to greet us from now on, too?

Sogo: Yes. For generations, the Osaka family has…

Satoshi: Hey, Sogo. Happy birthday!

Sogo *thinking*: …! Uncle!

Sogo: Thank you…so much

Soshi: Mpf. Does the fact you showed up here today mean you decided to give up your shameless behavior?

Satoshi: Ahah. I came to say happy birthday to my precious nephew

Satoshi: And while I’m at it, I thought I could tidy up my room

Soshi: Go right to your room, then, and be sure to hurry up. You’re disgracing the Osaka family in public, standing in such a prominent place

Satoshi: I see. Well, I bet there are so many people who want to greet you. I shall go

Satoshi: See you, nii san. Sogo.

Sogo:...yes. See you

Honto: Osaka san, may I bother you for a while? A business partner I owe a lot to asked me if he could greet you

Soshi: Yes. Of course

Soshi:...Sogo, I need to leave for a while

Sogo: Yes. Understood

Soshi: There’s no need for me to tell you this, but don’t do anything that would soil the Osaka family’s good name

Sogo: Yes, father

Sogo *thinking*: I wonder if uncle will ever come back

Sogo *thinking*: I want to talk to him more… but father will scold me if I go to the living area

Sogo:.........

Servant:...I’m sorry, Sogo san. I was wondering if you had an idea regarding where Satoshi san is

Servant: I have to give him some documents, but I can’t find him

Sogo: Ah, my uncle is…

Sogo:...I know where he is. I’ll bring him the documents for you

Servant: Are you sure it’s okay?

Sogo: My father had to leave for a while, so I’m not really doing anything. I’ll take them

Servant: Thank you so much. I’ll leave it to you, then

Sogo: Yes

Sogo*thinking*: I have a reason to go now, so my father can’t scold me…I think

*Cut to a room*

Sogo: Sorry for the intrusion. A servant wants you to have these…

Satoshi: Ah, and Sogo himself took the trouble to handle these documents. I’m sorry to bother today’s main star. Thank you

Sogo: …no problem. I didn’t have anything to do

Satoshi: I see. By the way, you’ve really grown up, Sogo. Last time I saw you, you barely reached my knees

Sogo: I remember growing about 2 cm since the last time we met

Satoshi: Really? How admirable, Sogo!

Sogo: I’m admirable only because I grew up?

Satoshi: You’re admirable because you eat properly everyday, do physical activity and do your best to grow up

Sogo: It’s the first time anyone tells me that

Satoshi: There are so many sides of you to praise, Sogo, that people may not pay attention to the smallest things

Sogo: …Uncle, you told father that you came here to tidy your room. Does that mean that you won’t be back ever again?

Satoshi: No, that’s not what I meant. The fact is that I’m traveling around the country with my friends, from one livehouse to another. Basically, I’ve been dedicating myself tomusic 

Sogo: …do you perform?

Satoshi: I do! I play the songs I like as much as I want, together with my friends!

Satoshi: I won’t come back home for a while, so I decided to come and save some important vinyls of mine

Satoshi: My brother could throw them away while I’m not here, so let’s keep it a secret from him

Sogo:...okay. I understand

Sogo *thinking*: I’ve never seen my uncle so happy. It's probably because he really looks forward to doing music activities

Sogo *thinking* : He’s doing so even though my father would definitely scold him, if he found out 

Satoshi: Ah! Look at this! How nostalgic!

Satoshi: Sogo, look! This is the song that started the punk rock craze in the early 70s!

Satoshi: The physical vinyl is pretty rare, actually. Even just holding it in my hands is a big honor!

Sogo: Does it have monetary value? If it’s rare…

Satoshi: Well…yes. You’re certainly right, but the value of something is not only measured in terms of money

Satoshi: Of course, money is important. However, since music and art make people’s heart rich, they also deserve esteem 

Sogo: But my father says that the Osaka family doesn’t need these kinds of things, and that they’re outrageous. 

Satoshi:...ahah. I bet he does. Well, he’s not wrong either

Satoshi: However, there could be more than one answer. We just have a different way of thinking

Sogo *thinking* : My uncle and my father just have a different way of thinking…?

Sogo*thinking*: So, all the things that my father says are not necessarily right…

Satoshi: Do you want to listen to this vinyl now? Of course, if you like. But we need to keep the volume low, otherwise your father will find out and scold us

Sogo *thinking*: If I listen to it, maybe I’ll understand something…

Sogo:...yes, I’d like to 

Satoshi: Great! I’m sure you'll enjoy it

*music starts*

Sogo: ….that’s…

Satoshi: I think it’s pretty different from the music you usually listen to

Sogo: Yes…it is…it’s as if the sound reverberates in my heart…it’s somehow like it's spurring me on…

Satoshi: You understand as well, don’t you?! It’s the charm of this austere, heavy bass that resonates deep within your body

Satoshi: Especially the guitar solo right before the chorus! I can almost see the movement of the fingers, it’s the best feeling ever…

Sogo:...........

Satoshi: Ah..! I think I got a little overenthusiastic, didn’t I? I’m sorry, Sogo. You know, when I like something I really can’t hold myself back…

Satoshi: But I’m happy you understood what it feels like! When you listen to this song, you definitely gain courage 

Satoshi: It’s really like it pushes your back, like it raises you up. You know, this kind of feeling

Sogo: How about you, Sogo? How do you feel?

Sogo: …I…

Sogo *thinking*: This feeling is something I’ve never experienced before…

Sogo: I don’t really know how to explain it…

Satoshi: Don’t worry about that, you don’t need to use complicated words. Just say what comes to mind and try to describe your feelings

Sogo: It’s like…like I was overwhelmed with emotions…I mean…

Sogo: It pumped me up

Satoshi: This is called “being excited”, Sogo

Sogo: Excited…

Satoshi: You can’t buy such emotions with money, can you?

Sogo: You’re right…

Sogo *thinking*: Indeed, I can’t think about anything I can buy with money which could give me the same emotions

Sogo: However, I don’t want to fight with my father to have this

Satoshi: Yes, sure, you’re right…thank you for caring about me, Sogo. 

Sogo: N-no, that’s…

Satoshi: What you said is right. The way I live definitely seems foolish in the eyes of society

Satoshi: However, this is who I am. Egoistic, selfish. I want to live as I want and do the things that I like, even if I have to throw away my honor and my fortune to reach my goal

Sogo: And how about all those around you…? Because of your goal, you caused them sorrow…

Satoshi: Are you afraid that somebody will suffer because of you? 

Sogo: Well…I…

Satoshi: Yes?

Sogo: I don’t want anybody to feel bad, or hurt, because of me

Satoshi: Holding yourself back like that will make you feel bad. Is it still okay?

Sogo:........

Satoshi: Sorry, Sogo, I said something mean. There’s nothing wrong with the way you think

Sogo:.......

Satoshi: …I’ll give you this vinyl. Consider it your birthday present from me

Sogo: What?! Really…?  But this vinyl is so important for you, uncle!

Satoshi: It is. That’s why I want it back, once you're aware of its value

Sogo: Its value…

Sogo *thinking* : If I realize it, I wonder if my eyes will be filled with joy and I'll be completely absorbed in it…

Sogo *thinking*:  Just like my uncle…

Sogo *thinking*:  I wonder if I’ll be excited and my heart will flutter so much. Will I have the chance to feel all these emotions?

Satoshi: The way you perceive it will be alright. When the day comes, tell me everything about it

Satoshi: Ah, until then, do me the favor of hiding it properly. I don’t want my brother to find it

Sogo: Yes, I will…I will take good care of it…

End of part 2

#16idolalbum #Idolish7 #idolish7translation #sogo osaka

[ruki--mukami]

THE GRAND CLIMAX! THE LARGE REVEAL! //

eventually, the painter broke down at last, it ended up with them, falling down to their knees and screaming..

"I DID IT! I... I killed them. I killed my own mother and father years ago! "

The hiccuped, and held onto their own face, scratching it with their nails as they looked up at him, their dead blue eyes held a look of sheer insanity.

"Years ago... At a faithful night... I grabbed a knife, and first, killed both my own mother and father. They cried and screamed and apologized.... For not making me feel alive enough... For not loving me... For wanting to leave me... They screamed and screamed, tried to flee over and over again.. But I didn't let them."

The hiccuped some more and looked back down, and their hand loosely grasped onto the vampires shirt.

"And then... I went on to kill all of my other younger siblings... Because they were loved. Because I was jealous of them. I was born sick... So nobody loved me, nobody played with me. All I had were pathetic servants and they did nothing to make that void in me fill up. So... I killed hem too. And then, I set the whole mansion ablaze, and left at once. I last remember falling to the filthy and wet soil beneath, covered in blood and knife in my hand... "

"My true name --my true identity-- is Ellen Wright. A murderer and a monster with a body that is in a constant state of agony, and a soul that is condemned to the deepest pits of hell. "

“So, that means… Your siblings who I just met… They’re all ghosts because they perished at your hand? Including your parents,” the Vampire reiterated, not because he found himself perplexed or mortified by the painter but rather because he didn’t expect this sudden shift of events. Raising his hand against their moistened cheek, Ruki swiped the stream of tears away even if they kept flowing like an endless waterfall from those darkened oceanic abysses, riddled with grief and torment from recalling apparitions of the past and now present. More so than their deceased family, it was the painter's lugubrious visage that prompted his worry. “Don’t cry… What happened in the past is not worth shedding tears for anymore. We mustn’t dwell on it any longer.”

In their eyes he glimpsed remnants of his former self, especially when the painter spoke of servants who could not fill their void, yet he maintained a look of not sorrow but instead the most surprising sympathy given his vampiric nature. Drowning in a sea of their own jealousy, killing their own kin out of spite, not a hint of mercy spared for the soon-to-be soulless. Unashamedly, Ruki could relate to every bit of his beloved's story, further emphasizing those thoughts by drawing them close for a comforting embrace. Tears soaked the fabric along his shoulder as he stroked their hair gently calm the painter in his hold, every ounce of harbored love resurfacing.

"Everything that happened thus far… It’s all a part of you. And I accept whatever skeleton may lurk in your closet, not because I also experienced a regretful past, but because I love everything about you. You say no one loved you back then, which may have been true after all, but the person I know now… the person I hold in my arms, in this very moment... is incredibly dear to me. I care not for who you might’ve murdered before our fates intertwined. Ellen, correct? Ellen…” he repeated the name with a sincere smile, releasing the painter from the hug to gaze upon their face once more. “What a beautiful name for someone who paints only the most marvelous of masterpieces.”

Without hesitation, both of his hands grasped Ellen's cheeks as Ruki leaned in for a much-needed, much-prolonged kiss. A kiss that showed his beloved he would offer them all the love their family failed and neglected to show so long ago. Mansuetude blooms with each union of their lips, arms encircled around the painter's waist as his frigid breath feathered their tear-ridden cheeks when he withdrew himself.

“If you are condemned to a life in Hell, then I shall follow you there, hand-in-hand. I’ve killed many pathetic mortals in my time, all to sate my thirst for blood no less, so there’s no way I could ever fault you for what you did to your family. Indeed, family has always been important to me, especially as far as my brothers are concerned, but if my real mother were to walk the earth again, then I’d do the same as you. After what that woman did to me, I’d exact my revenge on her for enduring a Hell on Earth. So, I won't ever allow you to be alone in that regard. If anything, I'm quite overjoyed to know that the person who provides a loving life for you to delight in is none other than me. Call it selfish, but all of you—from the dreadful past to the haunted present—belongs to me."

Eagerly, he took their trembling hands in his.

"Come what may, Ellen, I will face it all with you. Nothing can persuade me from ever leaving your side, not even the ghosts of your family. I love you wholeheartedly with all that I am, and while I'm a Vampire who may know nothing about granting others mercy, I promise from here forward that I shall protect you and your happiness. It doesn't matter who I must hurt in order to do so. With that said, cease your tears... and smile for me again. These hands of yours may be soiled with blood, but they are the same hands that have guided me and shown me love countless times. Thank you, Ellen... Thank you for proving to me that carving our own fate together is very much possible with someone as wondrous as you."

#diabolik lovers #ruki mukami #mukami ruki #ask #painter s/o #ana-darkcloud #(( OMG WHAT A FINALE THIS WAS )) #(( i was not expecting this plot twist )) #(( and neither was ruki )) #(( but i loved all this lore so much )) #(( !!!!!!!!!! ))

[kyofsonder]

Find the Word

I was tagged by @on-noon to find a specific set of words in my WIPs, and tag others to keep the game going. Thank you for the tag, the more times I play this game the more fun I have and the more I enjoy the perspective it gives me on my own writing.

My Words: grow, worse, wind, snow, and wake.

I’ll tag @aohendo, @junypr-camus, @starlightscribe, @did-i-do-this-write, and @marinesocks this time. It's also an open tag for anyone else who wants to join, as always!

Your Words: voice, equal, second, purpose, and greed.

I found grow(s) in an original short story WIP, titled “Kiyo”:

Kiyo herself is pretty small, also like me, but her leaves are strong. They're bright red and her vines are a soft orange, so it's less that she grows like a regular plant and more that she spreads like a flame. She's a little wizened, with some crunchy edges of brown on some of her older leaves and a lot of black in her veins, but her roots keep pushing their way down through the soil. Reaching for water or more soil or whatever it is they find for her. The guy selling all those half-neglected plants hadn't acted like there was anything special about this one in particular, but I haven't heard of plants that look like Kiyo... pretty much anywhere.

I found worse in my novel WIP “To Be Honest”, although it does show up in a scene where there’s (magic-related) self-injury and mentions of blood:

The feeling from earlier is practically screaming at him now, rattling his bones until he thinks the vibration might knock him out. The way David had greeted him. The way his voice has been changing. The fact that Micah hasn't been able to see his face this whole time. The repeated circles when he'd tried to walk. Something is wrong. Micah can feel the magic in his own blood, warning him that if he takes too long to figure this out he'll end up trapped here. Not just here in the woods, but somewhere much worse. He can't control his breathing anymore and every spell he knows is gone from his mind. Alright. Fine. Screw patience, then. The witch takes as deep and steady of a breath as he can manage, wincing each time it catches on the way down to his lungs. Without sparing a second more to think, he brings the knife down on his arm at whatever angle fate decides. If he's lucky, it won't catch any major arteries and he'll be able to bandage himself up later.

I found wind in a draft of a Given oneshot fic “Present Tense”:

He steps toward the water, bracing himself against the wind. It isn't cold, somehow, but he still feels like he should be wearing a jacket of some kind. The sound of the ocean makes it feel like Winter, steady and calm. Rolling like the sand, only stronger. Moving steadily. Making itself known. White noise, washing away the feelings of early afternoon sunlight that had been so vivid just a few moments ago. He finds himself sinking into a crouch, closing his eyes again and holding his knees close to himself. He buries his face into his arms. Ah. He wants to sink into this sound. Let it wash him away, too. Out toward the sunset. The gradually darkening blue and fading light pink of nightfall. The warped yellow and orange of a sun saying its goodbyes for the night. He wants to fall into these soft colors like a fluffy bed and rest.

I found snow in a Sk8 the Infinity fic “True or False”, although it shows up in a scene where Langa is experiencing a type of unreality that might affect some readers:

It's quiet for a while, then Langa adjusts himself so he can speak -- still holding as tight as possible, "Sometimes... I have dreams. They aren't like normal dreams. When I wake up, I can't tell if they were real or not. If I was remembering things that really happened, or dreaming things that never did. It feels like I'm awake and just thinking about real memories, but it also feels like I'm asleep and dreaming. That doesn't make sense, but... the dreams don't make sense. They get... it happened for the first time after I got lost on a mountain as a kid. I was out in the snow all night. I kept thinking that I remembered the way back -- then I'd realize that it was the wrong way. The path I remembered was from a dream. No matter where I walked, it didn't get me home. It got... really confusing. Ever since then, I'll get that way again sometimes. Confused from dreams like that, I mean."

I found wake in my novel WIP “Apricots” when the main character is talking about how long it’s been since his girlfriend died:

Noah doesn't let him get away that easily, "The beginning is the day Jess died, whatever day or month or year it was when that happened. I think you know that much."

"Kade's lost track of time since then, too. More than usual. It feels like he started talking to her ghost months before she died, every time he was at her bedside, like he'd already known it was coming. I guess... when her condition... that's probably why you got mad at me. You knew she would die so much earlier than I did. I still don't think you should have blamed me for not knowing. I did the best I could to take care of her. It's been two months and I still wake up thinking I'll take the bus to her place to... I think I'm still not convinced that she's even gone at all."

Thank you again for the tag – there was a little more original content mixed in with the fanfiction this time! I'm learning to balance how much I write between original and fandom projects, which is encouraging to see when I play this game.

#writing #find the word #sonder stories #sonder snippets #both Apricots & TBH made it this time #also there were no Lingering Scars excerpts #how rare for this game #bonus fact #what Micah does is not how blood magic is supposed to work #it is a crude #dangerous #imprecise #last-ditch method of spellcasting #yes blood witches bleed for their spells #but by getting a few drops at a time #pricking their fingers or similar methods #or by having their blood drawn #by professionals #using actual medical gear #not by slicing their arms open #self injury #blood #unreality #death #a few rough topics get mentioned in these excerpts #fairly lightly I think #but still

[smileygoth]

27. Midnight Kiss (WODtober 2023)

Part 27 of my WODtober story. Taking the daily prompts and trying to weave a vampire story from them! In this chapter, Eliza and Harrogate settle their differences once and for all.

Word Count: 994 words.

CW: Violence, guns, blood.

Image from The Vampire Diaries, courtesy of The CW.

Find the previous chapters here!

Harrogate slowly climbed out of the SUV, his eyes fixed on Imogen/Eliza, and pushed the door closed behind him. He didn’t even spare a glance as his ghoul was dragged, screaming for help, away.

‘You’re the one who killed my security guards in my lobby,’ he said. ‘I assume you;re responsible for the destruction here too. And I’m told you’re the one who broke out of the Prince’s custody. ‘You sure know how to pick your enemies, little girl.’

Eliza sneered. ‘You still haven’t figured it out?’

‘I have more important things to do than satisfy your ego, neonate,’ Harrogate replied. He met her gaze and pushed against her with his will. ‘Surrender now.’

Tucked away, Imogen felt the battering of Harrogate’s strong will against hers. She cringed away, ready to prostrate herself in the mud before him. If she had been in control of her body, that’s exactly what she would have done. She wouldn’t have been able to stop herself.

But she wasn’t in control. Eliza blinked, her head rocking back as if she had been punched by an invisible hand. For a moment she swayed. Then she said quietly: ‘No. No, I don’t think I will. In fact, I think you should surrender to me.’

Harrogate stumbled back a step, wincing. His hands flew to his head, as if he’d been struck with a sudden migraine. His legs buckled and he dropped to one knee, then caught himself. Glaring, his lips pulled back in a silent snarl, he got back to his feet. The muddy stain on his knee looked like a bloodstain in the dark.

‘Ah,’ Eliza said with a smile. ‘It appears we are rather evenly matched, Samuel.’ She flexed her hands at her sides, flicking the blood from her claws. ‘Looks like we may need to resort to more crude methods.’

Harrogate took a step back, colliding with the car. ‘Who are you?’ he asked, looking at her closely. ‘How do you know my name?’

‘You’re standing in my home and you still don’t know who I am?’ Eliza spat.

His eyes widened at this. ‘Eliza?’ he exclaimed. ‘How … Ah.’ Understanding finally dawned on him. ‘The diablerist. The one they said was stolen from the catacombs. Too much for her, were you?’

Eliza snarled. ‘I’ll be too much for you too, you miserable cur.’

‘Threats and name-calling? Speaking of crude methods…’ Harrogate snorted derisively. Then his demeanour changed. He held his arms out at his sides, his expression changing from scorn to sorrow. ‘Eliza,’ he said. ‘Old friend. You don’t want to do this. Can’t we settle our differences peacefully?’

Deep in her mind, Imogen felt a wave of admiration for this man. It was so strong that the thought of hurting him made her want to claw her way out front and take control to stop it. She pushed forward, but Eliza pushed back, holding her in place. She felt a stab of panic as she realised that Eliza’s strength had now overcome hers. She wouldn’t be able to take control again unless Eliza allowed it.

Eliza was smiling. ‘Oh, Samuel,’ she said. ‘You played that trick on me before, remember? Making me think I could trust you. Making me think that you could be reasonable, be kind. Fool me once, dear. Only once.’

She made a gesture with her hand, and Harrogate stumbled forward, his eyes dropping to his feet in surprise. The soil beneath him had become soft and wet, and his feet were sinking down. In just a few seconds he was stuck in the mud up to his ankles. Cursing, he tried to pull himself out, but it held him fast.

‘I apologise that this won’t be a very sporting fight,’ Eliza said, stepping closer. ‘But I won’t risk losing you again.’ 

Snarling, Harrogate’s eyes flashed. Reaching behind him, he pulled a small gun from his waistband and levelled it at her. In response, she leaped forward. Three shots rang out. Two of them missed, but the third punched through Eliza’s shoulder. Her left side jerked back, but she kept going. Inside, Imogen was trying not to scream from the pain. It burned. 

Eliza swiped at Harrogate with her claws. He dropped the gun and raised his arms to block the blows. His sleeves were sliced to ribbons, blood blooming through the torn fabric. He threw a punch that landed on Eliza’s cheek, sending her reeling. Imogen yelped as her cheekbone shattered. Eliza merely laughed and launched herself at him again. 

The fight was short, but brutal. Unable to run or even reposition himself, Harrogate nonetheless defended himself with a stubborn ferocity that almost matched Eliza’s fierce rage. He punched and dodged and bit at her until her claws had rendered him a bloody, torn mess. When he finally collapsed onto his back in the dirt, he looked as if he had been doused head to toe in blood and his suit was hanging in tatters from him. Eliza had her share of injuries, too. As well as her shattered cheek and gunshot wound in the shoulder, she had broken ribs and a bite on one arm that had gone clean through her clothes. Inside, Imogen was weeping in agony, but Eliza stood as if she didn’t feel a thing.

How can you not feel this? Imogen cried miserably.

I can feel it, Eliza thought in response. But I choose to ignore it. I have to finish this.

Please, Imogen moaned. Please do.

Eliza crouched down, straddling Harrogate’s prone form. She grasped his head in her clawed hands and lifted him up to look at her. He hung limply from her grasp, his eyes struggling to focus on her. ‘Wh-what are you going to do?’ he gasped.

‘What tradition dictates,’ Eliza replied. ‘What you deserve.’ She bent his head painfully to the side, making him cry out. Baring her fangs, she plunged them into his throat and began to drink.

#vamily #vampire the masquerade #vampire #vampirism #dark pack #world of darkness #vtm #vamptober #wodtober #wod #ventrue #lhiannan

[patelschulz7]

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[uncouth-the-fifth]

imagine damian and the reader at the wayne gala. he gets jealous when he sees her flirting with someone else. he ends up pulling her into a bathroom and fucking her in front of a mirror while saying that other person can’t treat her like he does

and that’s how the reader finds out damian has feelings for her. all this time he acted like he hates her because he’s in denial

Title: More Than They Ever Said

Paring: Robin!Damian (18+) / Canary!Reader

Tags/Warnings: semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, bathroom sex, slight underage drinking (reader is like 20 lol), mentions of golf.

Word Count: 7150

Notes: sooooo.... this def evolved beyond a drabble lol. the way gala sex kills me every time 😭 I was a little mushy w Dami here bc I miss his sweet side. This also sounded a lot like goldenspecs12's request from Wattpad, so I hope you don't mind that I meshed the two together 😚 I leaned toward Damian liking the reader more than being in denial, but that’s the only thing I sacrificed between the two requests. This one is my fluffiest and most romantic yet 💖

"can I request Damian w a Queen reader, like she's Oliver and Dinah's child? say the reader is a hero but not very active, like she comes in when her parents can't. so when she and Damian meet, they hit it off. The main request is that they sneak away at a gala held by Oliver and the reader and Damian have sex."

Ask to be added to my taglist for future posts!

The party was more fun than you thought it would be.

Benefits were usually chalk-full of old, wealthy people that thought they made good conversationalists. The board members of Queen Industries were tired of Oliver trying to escape their claws, so you’d been recruited in his place. While your dad got to play minigolf in the penthouse’s massive party floor, you were confined to the lounge, playing up what an intelligent, capable business partner you’d be when you were CEO. Fellow businessmen gruffed about their plans with you while their wives cooed and drank, pinching your cheeks.

You thought that you’d hate it, but the attention and the praise was nice. It made you feel like you were helping your dad and your family’s company, which was constantly criticized and judged for it’s choice in CEO. Everyone called your father a lazy silver-spooned idiot, but he was one of the only men in Star City who actually cared. By the time you had Q.I’s biggest donors laughing out of their seats, Dinah’s hands slipped over your shoulders and you were kissed on the side of the face. Thank you, she mouthed, and your position as family support-beam was covered.

Since most of the benefit-goers were at least forty years your senior, you gravitated to your dad. From the penthouse’s upper balcony, you could see his friends circling around the tiny green mats they were using as a makeshift golf course. Usually, Ollie made sure his public persona’s aim was as garbage as his taste in drink was. But tonight, he played as Green Arrow, who never missed. Not once. Especially when it came to Bruce Wayne, who’s golf game was abysmal at best.

But like Oliver, Bruce was a new man tonight. It looked like he was ready to break out the batarangs any minute now. The two men were barely civil about the viciousness of their competition, and if the view of the game from the balcony was interesting, then from below it must’ve been the greatest show of fragile masculinity ever displayed. You had to make fun of them.

The only opening in the circle of men, who all had their hands on their chins as Bruce lined up his next shot, was by the floor-to-ceiling windows to one side of the game. Just one man stood there, hands in his pockets. You slid next to him, unbothered, and squinted at the game.

Everyone in the crowd was dead silent. Bruce was lining up his golf ball so it would roll into a mug a couple of feet away, so you helpfully provided, “A little to the left, Mr. Wayne.”

Your words overlapped with someone else’s. Where you had said Mr. Wayne, they had said Father. Then the man next to you was his son, but...

You would have never guessed it would be him.

Reasonably, you knew that Robin was Damian Wayne. Oliver could be a little loose-lipped at times, and by his judgment you’d been a teenager just a year ago - what could a twenty year old do to Batman’s secret identity? Not much.

Until you saw Robin without his mask.

Damian was achingly beautiful. He was your age, but he stood and talked like he was much older. There was an angle to his shoulder that made him seem astute and sexy. His eyes fixed on you when you spoke at the same time, and they were a surprising mossy color that jumped out against his tan skin, like plants flourishing out of rich soil. There was just enough blue in them to make him seem haunting. Any moment, you felt like he was going to corner you and whisper your future throatily in your ear.

Looking into them, those piercing eyes, for longer than a second made you want to blurt, “You’re much prettier without your mask.”

But that would expose his secret to every golf-loving idiot in earshot, so Oliver had been wrong. A twenty-year-old like you could do fatal damage to Batman’s secret identity, but for Damian, the short-tempered, snappish leader of the Teen Titans, you would risk anything.

Damian stared, and you stared. He squinted, wet his lips, then turned back to the game. This was your only acknowledgment that he recognised you. His voice was deeper, smoother, than you remember it. “Queen.”

You shifted in your shoes, almost laughing in shock. “...Wayne.”

The game grew boring and Damian didn’t say anything else, so you said nothing too, sneaking glances at him. The last time you’d spoken to Robin had been in costume, when he’d thanked you for assisting with a mission. He’d really been thanking you for standing up for him. You didn’t team up often with the Titans, but when you did, you found that they were unusually snappy and mean with their leader. Not necessary on purpose, but you could tell that Damian couldn’t take as many bites as he pretended to. Standing up for him had been a simple thing. The good thing to do. Now, with that look in his eyes, it almost felt like he still thought about it.

He must have, because the kiss you shared at the end of that mission had glowed with heat. To be fair, you both may have believed you were going to die (before the team pulled through and saved you), so it could’ve been a heat-of-the-moment thing. But this was Robin - if he didn't want to kiss you, he wouldn't. And yet he did.

You’d kissed. And the energy of that kiss lingered between you now, drawing you closer together, putting tiny smiles on your faces. He was cute. Cuter without that mask on.

You stood in the stupid golf silence, feeling foolish. Flirting with boys was much easier in fishnets. It didn’t help how fine Damian’s profile was. He had soft, feathery lashes that occasionally touched down on beauty marked cheeks. His lips were even fuller from the side, forever drawn in a curious line. And those eyes, when they caught yours and danced away again, were much too nice to hide behind a mask. You couldn’t get that thought out of your mind.

When Bruce finally made his move, you leaned in to whisper something to each other at the same time, accidentally knocking shoulders.

“I - apologies,” Damian flushed.

“Oh, um, my bad,” you rubbed awkwardly at the spot where you’d collided. “...You were going to say something?”

Damian’s eyes flicked to your fathers, then to you, unimpressed. He lowered his voice so only you could hear. “They’re awfully hypocritical, don’t you think? Father snaps at me everytime I use my skills in public, and yet he’s putting with perfect aim like it’s not the very same.”

Chuckling, you rolled your eyes and scooted closer, ducking your voice into the bubble between your bodies. “My dad’s the same way. Don’t aim in the house, he says, unless it’s him trying to beat Bruce Wayne.”

Your company’s shoulders turned sideways, leaning into you. His breath ghosted the hair on your neck, standing it on end, and again that silky voice sent tingles down your spine. Damian must change his voice as Robin, because he never spoke like this then. So huskily, so low.

He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

You watched him. He watched you. You ran your tongue over your teeth, and Damian subtly adjusted his slacks from his pockets.

At the same time, you asked each other, “Would you like to get a drink?”

_

Your hiding place was a loveseat in the lounge, between more businessmen and their ditzy heirs. The bartender was your family’s, so he smiled and turned down your request for a drink, courtesy of your dad’s strictness. Luckily, he didn’t recognise Damian. You watched him order it at the bar, his rings catching the light, the muscle in his arms peeking out from under his blazer.

“I think he suspected I wasn’t of age, so he only gave me one.” He took the place next to you, propping his ankle on one knee and lounging out like a panther. Damian offered the cocktail to you, once he’d decided the coast was clear. It was a cute gesture. “Is that acceptable?”

You fished a five dollar bill out of your purse. “Only if you take this for paying. Don’t think I didn’t see you try and sneakily get that past me.”

Damian scrutinized the bill, then you, somehow managing to be a smartass without opening his mouth. Instead of thinking about how nice it would feel to kiss the slight crease between his brows, you traded hands with him so the bill was in his and the drink was in yours. The gentle brush of you palm to his knuckles put way too many butterflies in your belly.

You talked about everything and anything. About home, family life, your cities. The best of it was when Damian dipped his head so only you could hear him, keeping your secrets close and your bodies closer. This was the only way he talked about Robin, so you circled back to any vigilante subject you could think of just so Damian would keep purring into your ear like that. Better yet, he was smart. Talking to him was engaging, and within minutes he'd entranced you, so you sat there talking for more than an hour. Around you, the party rotated and went on.

At one point, you took a drink of the cocktail and passed it to him to share. Damian placed his lips right where yours had been, licking up the cocktail salt and gulping it down slow, adam’s apple bobbing, like it wasn’t the taste of the vodka he was savoring.

Eventually, your bliss was broken. Damian was called over to his father, again, to discuss business, and he left you with your remaining cocktail and the memory of that mission. You couldn’t find a reason to move from your seat. When you’d realized that you and Robin had been led into a trap on that mission, it’d been too late, and your efforts to escape became more and more futile. All you could do was pray the Titans got to you on time. Robin had offered you his glove as the walls closed in, and you’d watched up-close as he assumed you were both about to die. The fear in his eyes was strange - like it was familiar to him. At the same time, you cupped his neck and he held your upper back, and you’d kissed fervently, sweetly.

Damian had put his forehead to yours, and promised even as the trap shrunk around you, “You were excellent. More excellent than they ever said.”

In the big picture, it was a strange last remark to make, and afterwards you’d been too happy about surviving to think about it. But in the moment, you understood. You were understood. Somehow, Damian had reached into your soul and gouged out the words you’d been dying to hear, from your parents, from anyone, and uttered them to you with burning conviction. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe he meant it. Damian found you excellent. Someone, somewhere, didn’t think you were a failure.

Odd, how you’d never seen the face of the man you thought you’d die with (until now), and yet he saw you so easily. You watched him follow his father into the party crowd now, wondering. The Titans had saved you before you could ask what he’d meant. More importantly, before you could tell him the same. He was excellent.

_

Once you’d finished off your drink, you left it at the bar and grinned evilly at your family bartender. He rolled his eyes and slyly delivered you another, which, on your superhero schedule, would not have you drunk yet. Another heir to some big company was seated at your right, ignored by his father enough to look for some small talk with you.

He was one of the cute, nerdy types that were usually in awe of you. Girls, available girls, were typically rare at these kinds of parties, so he took you not having a boyfriend as permission to flirt with you. Unfortunately for him, your seat gave a perfect angle on Damian across the party floor. He was impressing the wives of Wayne business partners, who flocked around him like they’d flocked around you, pinching his cheeks. You could almost read their lips enough to guess what they were saying. What a handsome young man you are! Oh, Bruce must be so proud.

“...and then my father flipped over his kayak! Would you believe it? Two thousand dollars, thrown right in our family’s lake.” Your company snickered, howling at his own story.

You circled the rim of your glass, watching how Damian tried to teach some of the women phrases in Arabic. Unknown to them, they were some pretty funny swear words. It threw you into a bout of giggles, and the man next to you kept talking, spurred on by the noise.

The flock of hens around Damian receded, and his shoulders slouched in relief. That was cute, too. It wasn’t often that people understood how draining these parties were, but for people like you and Damian, it was a racetrack of endless, boring circles. Everything was a formality. Few things were genuine. Damian turned, and you caught his eye to let him know you were going to meet him. He nodded toward a side hall, his mouth a curious line again. If you looked at it long enough, it felt like a smile when he mouthed, escape?

Your company was still talking. He stopped when you grabbed his tie and planted a pity-kiss on his cheek, waving to him as you bounced away. “Sorry, kid. Not my type.”

_

You planned to bring Damian to the secluded balcony on the second floor to unwind, but instead, you were taken by the wrist and maneuvered into an empty powder room. It was colder than the steaming party air and smelled like champagne, with couches to sit on and mirrors to powder at. For a bathroom, the lights were warm and low. The noise of the party went quiet the instant the door was shut, like you and Damian had entered your own little world. No more circles. No more back and forth.

“Here,” Damian said, noting the mirrors. He tilted his head as he asked, like he was nervous, “Is this acceptable?”

“It is the ladies powder room, but I’ll give you a pass, since you’re cute.” You joked. Damian didn’t make a move to relax on one of the couches yet, hanging in front of you like there was more he wanted to say. There was more you wanted to say, too, but no good words came to mind.

But the silence wasn’t awkward. Again, Damian stared, and you stared. The glass he brought with him was set down. He put one fist on the counter beside the door, and like honey had been poured on your nerves, you realized how easy it would be for him to push you up against it. Kiss you senseless. Heat drooled off of him this close, and you wondered if he’d still lean in to whisper to you even if you were alone.

The lack of words drew to a point where something had to be said, anything, but his eyes felt so good on your skin and it was interesting to see him nervous. Something strange told you that Damian liked the silence, too.

You wet your lips with your tongue. Damian cleared his throat, and took a sip from his glass. “Was I interrupting something?”

“Between me and that guy?” You smiled gently, like you were reassuring him, and laughed to yourself. “Oh, man, you should’ve seen it, Damian. Poor kid really thought I was flirting with him. He’d totally convinced himself, it was hilarious.”

His profile was tense in the mirror, which you stole glances at to watch how the amber light played on his handsome skin. When Damian swallowed his drink, his throat rolled in the sexiest way, and immediately your mind fed you with visions of suckling, kissing, tonguing his neck.

“Why’d you ask?” Your eyes sparkled. Damian drew a step closer, and you used the opportunity to swipe a drop of alcohol from the corner of his lip with your thumb. “You jealous?”

It was the touch or the suggestion that made Damian pause. He didn’t stutter, but lagged over what to say, eyes vast and wanting as they raked over your face. “I don’t get jealous,” he clarified, “but… I do intend to be the only man to kiss you tonight.”

Damian’s hand took your chin. Your belly exploded with instant arousal, hitting you like a bullet of liquid lust. “You’re the only man who’s kissed me like that,” you whispered, taking his tie in hand. “I hope that’s always true.”

His voice had gone throaty. “May I kiss you again?”

Again, he reminded you.The two of you had kissed before, and it had been spectacular, terrifying, and excellent.

“Please,” you said, and Damian rushed to your aid.

Not a moment more was wasted. Curling his tie into your fist, you drew him in, slow and deep and wonderfully. Damian’s cologne hit you before his lips did, and both made your core throb for friction. Two broad hands slammed your hips into the door. His fingertips smoothed up the fabric of your dress, pressing you back and squeezing you in until you could feel his belt buckle against your belly. Damian was a sweet, magnetic kisser, chasing your lips like he was on a crusade to save them. Each time they met, he swam deeper. The point of his nose bumped against your cheek. You hummed your laugh against his lips, and Damian groaned as he pulled away, readjusting, twisting, testing the limits of the kiss. And you followed him at every step or more, revelling in his taste.

You didn’t want him to think you wanted the kiss to end, so you drew the hands braced under his blazer around his neck. Soon, that didn’t feel close enough, so you cupped each side of his face and pecked Damian until you were breathless. He brought you in until your arms were flat to his chest, the kiss almost vertical in its intensity.

He groaned when you parted, gasping and blinking just inches from your face. Your mouths were still connected by a thick string of drool, which hung until it split and clung to Damian’s chin and fell, marking a wet strip down into his collar. You panted, watching it go.

Damian left your waist to hold your wrists, keeping your hands around his face. He settled warmly into your touch, basking in it, and the pure enjoyment on his face made you smile. You wondered if anyone else had cared for him like this. If Damian had ever felt someone hold his face and treasure it. The thought gave you a strange urge, so you followed it.

You brought Damian’s brow level with your mouth and sweetly kissed his forehead. Then his nose bridge, then his temples. His face was so quickly warm that you giggled. In the most unsubtle way possible, Damian drew back his hips so you couldn’t feel the heat there, and closed his eyes, begging you to continue.

“I want you,” you whispered against his jaw.

Damian shivered. “You have me.”

You shifted one hand to his shoulder, giving yourself more room to nuzzle and kiss his neck. The line of drool was still there, so you cupped his skin and tilted his jaw up, and in one stroke, licked all the way to his earlobe. Damian’s moan poured from his mouth like a growing flood. You even felt his thighs press together between you, and pleasure tingled in your throat when he choked at the glide of your tongue.

He released your wrists, reached beside you, and locked the door with an audible click.

Then, Damian devoured you. Both hands hooked around your back, arching your chest into his, and finally, bringing his bulge between your hips. You clung to him for dear life, helpless as his teeth pressed into your neck like a vampire. Damian fed like one, too, suckling the skin there like he was starved. Your panties were so wet that you were desperate to get out of them, grinding your core against his.

Damian retreated, gasping. He licked the spit off of his lips and glared into your eyes. Bluntly, he said, “I want to eat you out.”

Once more, you kissed him, delirious with excitement. Your lungs burned for air, but your core burned harder for him. “Take off that suit and you can do whatever you want to me.”

His eyes gleamed. “I plan to.”

Quickly, you shoved your hands into his sleeves and pushed them off his shoulders, giving you a crisp glimpse at his carved shoulders. Damian's fingers blurred from button to button, but he saved the last for you on purpose. You worked in tandem and with little thought. If he could, Damian would steal a kiss, and you would bite his lip and chase him into more. When that last button was popped, his white button-down parted for a gorgeous plane of hard-earned muscle. His abs, ribs and pecs were pockmarked with scars, shrapnel marks and in some places, bullet holes. You stopped.

At your staring, Damian pressed his lips together.

“It's.. not appealing, I know,” he monotoned.

“No,” you disagreed, palming his stomach, “it’s impressive. All these do is show how strong you are, how long you've survived. You're so… built...” you didn't hide your thorough examination of him, “...I mean, we have to be to do what we do, but still… It suits you. It's sexy.”

You worried you'd ruined the moment with your babbling, but he glimmered under your praise. Damian brightened in the way only Damian could, smirking devilishly and towering over you like a supervillain.

“Sexy?” He pressed his naked chest into yours, whispering hotly in your ear. You could feel his silk tie pinned between you. “Does that mean I'm your type?”

You rolled your eyes. “Eavesdropper.”

“Temptress,” Damian replied, just as easily.

To claim your title, you found Damian's belt and pulled on it until the clasp gave. It made a satisfying whipping noise as you ripped it off of him, shouldered into his space to grab his waist in one hand, and cupped his throbbing boxers in the other. Damian's sigh came hoarsely and wanton from his mouth.

“Fuck me,” you demanded, grinning with delight.

Instead of wasting time on a response, Damian fell to his knees, a faithful worshipper. He did the gentlemanly thing and helped you kick off your heels. The tile was icy on your bare feet, but it only mattered until Damian ran his hands up your thighs. Sliding his fingers underneath the fabric, he bunched it up your middle, peering up at you smugly through his lashes. You could feel the debauchery of it - Damian, on his knees, tie hanging still from his neck, pinning you to the door. You, your legs spread and wanting.

Damian sucked in a breath. Your panties had an obvious wet patch, put there by him. He thumbed it carefully, watching your brows tense and your eyes close, basking in your initial whine. All of it enchanted him. You were soaking because of him, trembling because of him, marked because of him. There was not one place he would rather be than here.

Damian collected your sweetness and sampled the taste on his thumb, trapping it behind his smug smile. He ran his tongue over his teeth, spreading the flavor around his mouth, savoring it. As Damian rolled your underwear down your legs, his cock twitched in his open fly. You were beautiful. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

“Put your leg over my shoulder,” Damian ordered, smirking, “I want to taste you.”

Warmth exploded in your cheeks. “G-go ahead.”

Gradually, you situated your leg across his back, pussy tensing at the touch of the cooler air. This didn't matter for long. Damian's warm lips nuzzled and kissed the thigh closest to him, painting messy reflective circles on your skin with his kiss. Even that made your legs tense wildly, so Damian shoving his wet, blazing tongue into the folds of you cunt pumped moan after moan from your mouth.

“Damian!” You yelped.

Oh, he definitely liked that. Damian pinched your ass and used his mouth so passionately that his head shook back and forth. He darted right for your clit, sucking it until his cheeks were hollow and humming smugly between your legs with every squeal. Parting your folds with one hand, Damian kissed your core just as dirtily as he'd kissed you. The dangerous glint in his eye never faded. He plunges his tongue inside you in earnest, slurping obscenely, purposefully. There's no need for Damian to shoot you cute looks or put on a show - his skill was the performance, because that skill was unbeatable. Your pussy was already tender, fucked nerveless by Damian's filthy mouth. He vibrated your cunt with a deep groan before he drew away, face dripping with slick like a pornstar’s.

“You're suitably wet,” he said, matter-of-factly, “would you like me to use my fingers?”

All the strength you had went into a weak, pleading nod.

Damian was polite enough to grant you your bearings first, letting you grip his hair and squeeze the counter before he resumes. You give him the sweetest, most precious whine when Damian licks you open again. He wisely starts with one finger and builds from there, earning you with pumps and curls of his digits. Damian's talents quickly become a currency, one that you exchange with mewls and pants of praise.

“So good,” you whine, “oh, fuck - fuck, just like that…”

Damian smirks between your legs, jamming his fingers faster into your sore pussy. Lust sizzles low in your gut, ramped up again and again by his thrusting. It’s so powerful that you roll and buck off the door, your hips in his face. You want him - want him more than you want anything.

“You're ravaging,” Damian hums between licks. His eyes are closed, but that only gives the way he touches you more meaning.

It’s so surprising from his mouth that your hold on his hair slips, setting Damian free. He pants, catching his breath, and it’s easily the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. The effort has slouched him from his knees to his calves, further spreading his legs and opening up the fly of his pants. A solid bulge has formed and spilled out there, straining to escape his briefs like an arm in a sling that’s too small, way too small, for someone of his size. Three of Damian’s fingers are still twisting inside of you.

Slowly, Damian tipped back his head and hung down, arranging himself beneath your cunt. “So beautiful.” His free hand splayed where your leg met your hip. “May I touch you?”

“I-I get it’s the gentleman thing to do, to - to keep asking, but fuck, Damian,” you cursed, “you can do whatever you want to me.”

Damian’s intense jade eyes were so dilated that you could barely make out the color. He dragged his cheek against your thigh, fingers still circling inside you, and grinned like a shark. It was probably a bad idea to give the heir to the Demon’s Head that much power over you.

His other hand squeezed your skin, slow to passionate, from your belly to your breasts beneath your dress. It’s clear by the way Damian looks at you that he loves what he sees. The texture of his veiny, calloused hands feels good on your waist and ass, dragging you closer to him. He chuckles when your back arches, when your nails press into his hands, his back muscles, throwing himself into his task. Damian’s nose prods your folds as he licks you clean, tongue dipping and sliding against your sore clit. It’s like he’s done this for you before, in this exact way. Though he utilizes his tongue the most, his lips too are brutal, matched perfectly to fit your pussy lips.

But that tongue - how Damian’s jaw isn’t tired, you don’t know. He parts your folds and latches onto your clit, flicking his tongue at superspeed until drool and cum bubbles from your sensitive core. Your back winds tighter at every vibrating lick, paralyzing the muscles in your legs with glorious pleasure. It’s so exquisite you start to melt to the floor like warm clay, only to be bolstered back up by Damian, both hands viciously squeezing your ass. He keeps going not for you, but himself, sucking down every last drop of your juices.

Shattered, you twist hopelessly into his mouth, chasing the strained feeling like it’s the last you’ll ever glimpse. “Fuck, fuck - D-Damian, ah…”

“Did it feel good when I made you cum?” He teases, “It certainly tastes good. All those filthy little noises you make for me…” Damian shakes his head at himself, like it’s too fantastic to indulge again. He leaves your clit with a satisfied kiss. “Beautiful.”

Once more, the words are surprising to hear from him. You always considered Damian the prude type, but here he is, on his knees for you, mouth and chin glittering with your juices while he teases you in low, sexy tones. At your surprised look, Damian has the gall to blush.

With his ring finger in his mouth, he ponders, “If a man has never said that to you before...” pop, “consider me surprised.”

“Never while finger-fucking me, at least,” you admited, legs still trembelling. “It was sweet. You… you meant that?”

It was hard to imagine Damian Wayne finding anything beautiful. Even you, who was pretty enamored with him, figured he would judge by quality or skill, not beauty. The words tasted new on his tongue.

Slowly, Damian stood and stretched, his shoulders tight after staying in the strange position for so long. Lifting his arms coincidentally let his waistband sit lower on his hips, flashing his green boxers your way while showing off the huge, carved muscles of his arms. Truly, Damian’s subtlety was unmatched. You didn’t mind his miniature bragging fest - not when he had so much to brag about. Eating you out had put an excited shimmer in his skin, so the gold-toned lights of the room reflected sexily off his sweat, already accenting his kissable tan.

“I did,” he told you, moving on to his sucking middle finger. His other hand played on your thigh, stroking it. “I’ve always been… drawn to you. Every mission we’ve had together. I have a profound feeling that we are very similar.”

You laughed. Not at what he said, but the timing of it. “Would you believe me if I said I felt the same way?”

Damian made a face like his heart was doing jumping jacks. “A few hours ago? No. But now…” he barricaded you against the door, first with his hands and then his hips, closed in so tightly that you had to look past your nose to meet his eyes. “Your crush is adorably obvious. I’m annoyed that I didn’t see it before.”

Your rounded your hands against Damian’s shoulders, then his tie. It twisted nicely around your fingers, silky and cold in comparison to your flushed skin. You were tempted to fix your dress, but nothing, not even the world ending, could make you leave this room.

“My crush is obvious? Damian, all you’ve done for the last two hours is sneak me drinks and imply how much easier it is to be around me.” You grinned, “What’d you say earlier? There you are, Queen. Finally, someone intelligent enough to speak to me.”

Damian shrugged. “It’s true. Your knowledge of bioluminescent ocean life is fascinating.”

“I can’t believe you said that after giving me head for ten minutes.”

“It’s actually been closer to twelve,” Damian smirked.

Playfully, you pinched Damian’s cheek, then pulled him by the tie into a starved, energetic kiss. He must’ve been praying for your permission to continue, because the plan he’d been forming is quickly put into action. You’re hugged, arms scooped under your back as you kiss him. Damian surrenders his mouth to a bit of revenge tonguing while undoing your dress. No amount of kissing will pull him from his task, but your hand is a special case - it smooths down the front of his boxers and Damian melts.

“Y/N,” he groans.

Damian petulantly resists the temptation to close his eyes, but your touch is soft and sweet, demanding him to yield. Your lips suckle on his neck and Damian’s knees buckle. If getting his mouth between your legs didn’t turn him on, then this will finish him for sure.

“I missed you. Kissing you.” You purr into his throat. “One could never be enough for me.”

Is this what it’s like to be wanted? Damian asked himself. The only possible answer thrilled him, and he found himself pouring even more passion into the kiss, into you, wanting to share that rush of affection. You respond to his every touch with vigor. Damian’s heart stalls each time your thumb strokes his face, each time the other strokes him through his slacks.

“Me either,” he rasped, and helped you out of your dress. His tone was shy, but his words held too much depth to be meaningless. I want a wealth of them. I always want to kiss you, was what he wanted to say, but Damian was too embarrassed to raise the words. This moment was too special to ruin with his hopeless romanticism. He kissed you again and again, and to his amazement, you kissed him right back.

“Fuck me,” you begged him between breaths. “Right here. I don’t care if we’re caught.”

I don’t care if we’re seen together. I want to be seen with you, I’m not ashamed of you.

Damian cupped your face and almost knocked you both over with the strength of his kiss. Nose-to-nose, eyes closed, he commanded, “Bend over the fucking counter.”

In a blink, Damian turned and there you were, open and waiting for him. The sink was hip-level, so the bend was nothing but perfect - Damian could fuck you from behind and watch your lust-blown reflection without issue. Your perfect pussy drooled leftover cum down your legs, making your sex shine in the light.

In the mirror, you watched Damian’s eyes darken in delight. His pupils followed the line of your ass to your back, appreciating it like an artist would, like he intended to paint you later and needed to memorize the greatest shapes of your figure. The marble was icy against your hard nipples, which Damian had exposed when he’d impatiently shoved down your bra. Now, he cupped one of your breasts as he bent over you, kissing and suckling his way down your back.

“Perfect,” Damian hissed.

Shyly pressing your butt back against him, you buried your face in your arms and bit your lip, waiting for him to open you up. Damian’s shadow came to hover over you, and in the mirror his eyes were vicious, pools of circling sharks. “Are you ready?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Take your time.”

Though you weren’t being sarcastic, Damian took it that way and pinched one cheek of your ass. “With you? I will.” Then, with the same smoothness, Damian asked, “Condom?”

“Pill,” you replied, and Damian nodded his approval.

His pants rustled as they fell down his legs. Where you couldn’t see, Damian committed the sight to memory - his cock in hand, your pussy spread open, all for him. You squeaked when his hot tip touched your cooling clit, and squeaked again when it glided down your pussy and tested your opening. He knew he’d found the way when you winced.

In an unsurprising moment of compassion (for those who truly knew him), Damian kissed the top of your head and offered you his hand. “Would you like to hold it while I…?”

You took his hand and squeezed it to your chest, squeezing him closer in the process, too. “Thank you. Go slow, for this part…”

Damian complied. His sweat-sticky chest hovered warmly over your back. Even if Damian was big, you were wetter than you’d ever been in your entire life - any pain would quickly slide into pleasure. He braced himself with a deep inhale, and a hot, sharp sensation told you that he’d entered you. Where you choked in a needy gasp, Damian poured out his version of a whimper. You both held it. Then, breath by breath, you were struck with the realization that you’d been dying to feel this for weeks, for months, and only now was that heat being satisfied. Damian’s tongue and fingers had come close, but this is what would cure that aching emptiness - his big, girthy cock.

The deathgrip you had on Damian’s hand loosened. “You look perfect,” he murmured into your hair, instantly making your core flutter. “Oh,” he chuckled filthily, “you like that? Funny, how badly that idiot at the bar wanted to be in my place right now…but it’s me who gets to pound into—”

“Damian,” you warned.

He smiled smugly against your neck. “Nothing.”

Dutifully, Damian withdrew his hips, taking all of the heat with him. When he rolled back in, a hot, tingling sensation roared over all of your senses, and you let the moan at the top of that tsunami loose. It was clear that he couldn’t fuck you like he wanted to with one hand fished down at your side, so he glued both to the base of your back and started to thrust in earnest.

“So full...” You mewled, and Damian became a human pile-driver.

Your head seemed to roll off your shoulders with every crazed, rhythmic slam, so you grabbed the faucet and held on for dear life. Every slap was so loud, so powerful, that you prayed this one random bathroom in the penthouse was soundproofed. Anyone walking past would know you were getting railed out of your mind. You tried to compensate by moaning and squeaking quietly, but with force came volume. It didn’t matter how silent you were, Damian’s hips, your ass, the squelch of him inside you - each noise filled the bathroom, echoing off the tile.

The only way you could think to describe him was filling. First, there was the hot, cinching tension of his hands fused to your waist. Then there was his cock, which begged to be squeezed more and more with every pass. You responded to each throb with a mighty clench, which bent Damian over you like an animal, gasping for breath. His balls were painted with your slick. The closer you came to orgasm together, the closer Damian came to you. His hands migrated to higher on your sides, then up by your shoulders, then around you, where Damian kissed your back and rubbed your belly while he made love to you. He talked more than he moaned. Your ear was filled with sweet nothings, with vicious promises of what he would do with a whole night alone with you.

Damian’s reflection was wild with lust. He met your eyes as he fucked you, whispering how beautiful you are, how good you take his dick. His deep green eyes were so dark you couldn’t make out the brown in them anymore. The long muscles on his arms drew taut with each thrust, making his biceps bulge and pin your hips to the sink. Soon enough, a bruise would form from the pressure. One of many treasures from tonight - you would be thinking about Damian in his crisp suit for months to come, and the mess he’d become with you now even longer. Your pleasure built and built and built, like a nail struck further into the ground with a hammer. A very, very big hammer.

“M’ cumming,” Damian husked, slowing his plowing to a sloppy glide. Even his endurance was spent, and you were glad he’d spent it all on you. “Where d’ you…?”

You braced your hands on the counter, then on one of Damian’s. Together, you smoothed his digits down your stomach and between your soft, abused folds. “Inside me, please, please please—” you begged him, “fuck, a-as deep as you can go.”

As a test of your flexibility, Damian turned in and kissed you. Just as he parted your lips with his tongue, he parted your folds with his fingertips, overriding your clit as his cock throbbed inside you to the hilt. He took the invitation as a command. Damian pressed in until you could feel his abs mold to your ass, then stuttered his hips in quick, agonized dips to get himself there. With his fingers and his cock putting stars in your eyes, you finished first.

The white marble counter fizzed in your vision, until all you could see was that powerful, endless white, humming in your mind’s eye. Still, Damian wasn’t finished yet. You bumped your temple against his chin and hummed, “Cum for me, baby… fuck, a-ah!”

Your pussy’s throb raced and raced until it spilled over, pulling Damian right under the current. One clench and he was done for, so the velvety, periodic squeeze of your cunt emptied his store. You hung there, spasming in unison, until that overwhelming heat spurted in a ring around Damian’s cock and flooded out of you. Only then did his fingers stop on your clit, and you settled warmly in each other's arms and tried to remember your names and who you were.

Damian pulled out, then snuggled back in. He would’ve been nervous any other time, but he’d just put his dick inside you, so a little instinctive cuddling could be forgiven. On shaky legs, you turned around and sunk into him. You could tell by how he was eyeing the sink that he was desperate to get clean again, so with one kiss (on the cheek), you set Damian loose.

In companionable silence, Damian cleaned up and you collected the clothes abandoned on the floor. Staring at the corner where you’d just had the best sex of your life put an embarassingly pleasant warmth in your chest. Interesting, how one terrifying moment could become something as special as this. Fascinating, how you’d felt like you’d known him all your life.

“You know… I think you’re excellent, too.” You told him, finishing off the knot for his tie.

Damian dipped his head to hide his smile, but something so bright was impossible to hide.

#damian wayne smut #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x reader smut #damian wayne x you #robin smut #robin #dc smut #dc comics #dc #user uncouth

[albaedhoe]

when only the two of us exist

pairing : immortals x gn!reader (separate)

summary : places to kiss him and his responses to them.

tag : @anormalguyreader

a/n : this includes zhongli, venti and xiao.

z h o n g l i : hands

admiring and loving the hands of the god you served for centuries (and hopefully more to come) had posed a sort of fondness no mortal love could ever equate to.

they were rough and sturdy in texture; millennia’s spent shaping soil and rock and protecting those who build their life atop it. yet, there was more to it than that meets the human eyes, they were gentle and kind; the way he holds you close, when he strokes your cheeks or massage your scalp.

a shame, really, that nowadays your lover hides his pretty hands underneath those wretched gloves. when he touches you, you can no longer feel his natural warmth nor the crevices of his palms. he knows what he’s doing. though, despite this, you’d like to think that you were the only one worthy of seeing his bare fingers.

behind closed doors, when only you and him exist in this world, you would sometimes tease him by kneeling on one knee and pull his hand towards your face in a light but urging grip. you’d kiss his knuckles, thoughtfully and with adoration.

after your ministration, you close your eyes lightly and would bring the back of his hand onto your forehead, savouring and capturing this moment in your memories like the many others you made with him.

“i would like to spend the rest of my life by your side, if you would allow it, my archon.” you tease him, a sarcastic tone lacing your tongue. he chuckles and plays along. “now, now, darling. we have been through this plenty of times, have we not?”

seconds of a comfortable silence pass and he would slide his hand down to your cheek and tilt your head up to look at him again. his eyes, so amber and bright, filled with love and fondness, you would not think this was the same god known as the god of war and commerce.

even if he were to have no title to his name, you would still serve and love him the very same.

v e n t i : hair

though you are aware that this façade of a form he has taken doesn’t belong to him, but a dear friend, you still find comfort in his unique and trance-inducing ombré locks. they would often glow when he is feeling a burst of emotions, whether that be happiness to anger.

if you squint, ever so slightly, you would often notice the feint luminescence in his hair when talking to you. you wonder how the people of mondstat hasn’t noticed anything yet (perhaps they did, but chose to ignore it).

during the early mornings when the sun has barely appeared in the horizon and late nights after drinking and the moon is at its peak, he would leave his hair unbraided and free. if he allows it, you run your hand through his hair, playing with it, braiding it for him. unsurprisingly, he smells like alcohol, but it has grown to be a scent you recognise as so him.

you would bring his hair to your lips and plant light kisses, your common gesture of greeting him in the mornings and saying goodnight before you drift off in slumber.

often the times where he feigns drowsiness just so that you kiss his hair more. he thinks he is discreet in his act, but you catch on once his hair emanates a soft glow that lights up in your hands. you keep quiet about it.

do not be surprised nor alarmed if you catch wind of a new ballad dedicated to these moments between you and him. of how he knows that other couples do not show their love the way that you do, how he would give up the entire world if it meant you did this with him for the rest of your lives.

“well, if it isn’t my little songbird.” you welcomed him home after a long day of entertaining the public. he collapses into your embrace while you untied his braids, he rests his head onto the crook of your neck. “i’ve been hearing of this new ballad you’ve supposedly made about me, correct?” he only nods, too tired to look into your eyes, but he eventually speaks up, albeit, muffled. “i did it with intentions of making the people of mondstat jealous of you and i, my cecillia.”

x i a o : forehead

if ever someone asks our dear vigilant yaksha about the purple diamond that sits perfectly at the center of his forehead, he would only shrug them off and say it is nothing of their concern. he does not want to admit that he, too, does not know why it is there, only that it has been with him for as long as he could remember. the only thing he does know, however, is that he finds comfort in it when it is the spot you kiss the most when quelling his depressive episodes.

when the karmic debt builds up to the point where it becomes unbearable, it starts affecting his thoughts more so than before. he thinks of scenarios of evil taking over your body and having to kill you. or how he may be the one possessed and forced to watch as his body fights yours until you are nothing but a memory. he imagines you leaving him for being too harsh. he imagines you dying in his arms.

you would often be the one to snap him out of this state. you gently take his hands into your own, interlacing your fingers together so he couldn’t escape from you. you would ask him to breathe with you and focus only on you. he would take your advice, desperate to escape the voices that plague his mind.

he calms down and his breaths were much more stable than before.

you remind him that you are still here, with him. alive and well. you reassure him that you are not going anywhere as everything you would ever want or need is him.

moving towards his forehead, you place a delicate kiss on his purple diamond, instantly eradicating all the corruption within him if only for a moment. you then face him and lean your head against his, eyes meeting.

you frown slightly as you witness the uncertainty and insecurity swirling in his amber hues.

“xiao, i have walked and defended the lands of liyue along side you for several hundred years now. you of all people should know by now that i am more than capable of defending myself.” you sigh softly, your lips only millimetres apart from his own. xiao closes his eyes and relishes in the temporary stop to time around the both of you. he trusts that you will keep your word.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #Xiao x reader #Xiao #alatus #alatus x reader #Zhongli #Zhongli x reader #venti #venti x reader

[sopxhiea]

Disturbance

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: The scary gangster realizes that there’s only one creature that will not do as he says and his soft spot for the eldest girl grows into something else before he can prevent it.

Part 1

“She’s cranky.”

“Move away if you don’t want this kiss.”

He’s not going to say it.

Not when he watches you fiddle around with the buttons in your hand, the one your younger sister ripped off her jacket the same morning. He will not open his mouth when you come around to talk to him about some shipments and some things that don’t add up. Not even when you’re so close to him, standing right next to his seated form that he can smell the vanilla off you. 

Although everyone knows it.

The match was rather uneventful, a test of some sorts for the gangster to make sure he kept his hands to himself. He had behaved, asked after the girls and about you and you’d given him vague information while wearing what he thought seemed like a golden shower. He had gone out to gather himself a few times, leaving a confused pretty lady and snickering Ollie behind.

He was a man that got everything he wanted.

People never said no to him, most of the time they already knew what he wanted anyway but you just toyed with the gangster. A few smiles here and there, a slight touch on his arm and he was feeling some type of way already. He had dropped you off at your house after collecting your sisters and found his eyes searching for you in every little corner.

He was right fucked, as he’d put it.

It’s been a couple of months of you working for the gangster. The workload is significantly demanding and the more time passes, the more jobs he gives you but you don’t dare complain. Your sisters are all in school, some sort of daycare in the weekends whenever you have to work and he’s the one making sure you’re all taken care of. 

There’s less screaming in the mornings, as Essie has grown fond of the broad man who shows up nearly every morning with breakfast in his hands. She’s young, and even Lily doesn’t see the way he steals glances your way but Emily, the oldest is not blind and the gangster forgets that. Although he doesn’t mind in the slightest.

The bakery is hot with the changing season, hot to a point where short sleeves do not cut it anymore. The women at the front bakery store have told you to wear skirts, long ones with less garments underneath but you have decided on a dress, nothing fancy but something to get you by around the house as well. It almost hugs you too tight in some areas and you realize this once some bakers start giving you a look but are too afraid to flirt or even comment.

Since you’re off limits.

Apparently everyone knows but you. The workers, the bakers around the front, even Emily but she won’t say a word because she thinks Alfie will take away her going out at night privileges she’s earned by taking care of Lily. You climb the stairs, footsteps soft against the wood and he hears it, almost feels a lump in his throat but decides he’s too much of a man to feel light-headed around a woman, whatever that means.

You knock once and enter, don’t realize the way his eyes are ogling you in the dress you’re in. A smile is apparent on your lips and he knows what day it is. 

“Mr. Solomons-”

“‘s Alfie, lass.” he says, like a plea at this point to try and get you stop calling him by his surname. Not only does he want to hear you say his name but the formality does things to him where he has to shift in his pants.

“Mr. Solomons, Lily has that ballet recital today and I was wondering if I could leave early to get ready.” you say and he nods, looking at your eyes the entire time. 

He knows what day it is, since Lily has spoken of it so much and you realize the gangster remembers everything, well almost everything, they say. She’s been showing him some moves she’s learned for the recital every morning he’s around and all he’d do was to clap with Essie on his lap.

“When is it, pet?” he asks, the pet name stuck on you after months of working for the man and you don’t mind. If anything, it’s the evident mark on his soft spot for you but you don’t ponder on it too much. 

“Around 7, I think. Shouldn’t last too long.” you speak and he throws a light smile your way. His lips are closed this time as he watches you, head to toe and you wonder about how appropriate some things he does around you are.

That is not to say that you’re not oblivious but you’ve been around enough men to know the signs. The way he leans towards you while walking, the small nods he throws your way each time you’re around his perimeter and not to mention Essie telling you that Alfie had been calling you ‘the pretty sister’ for a while now. 

But you decide some things take time.

And you speak this time, before he can ang the slight glisten in his eyes do not help. “You want to come with?” you speak, and his eyebrows raise slowly.

He’s a smart man.

Taking care of his late employee’s girls as much as he could, that was smart. Offering them all his help and even visiting them in the mornings, that was smart. Hiring his pretty little daughter who happens to be an excellent bookkeeper to walk around in dresses, that was not smart. 

Going to the younger one’s ballet recital, that would not be smart.

He didn’t care for the talk around town, people loved to gossip and he knew it from being around the streets but he figured it would hurt the little girls and her. And he wouldn’t let that happen, it simply wasn’t smart. 

But he did want to see you in a different dress, all dolled up.

He wasn’t too proud of the dreams he’d been having, they were mostly daydreams but he’d caught himself envisioning you in too many scenarios that involved a lack of clothing and an expression of pure bliss. He knew the boundaries but the looks you would give him didn’t help.

“Lily would like it.” you speak and it’s the last blow.

And you know it.

Unlike what many would’ve thought, the gangster is not all he was told to be. Sure, he’s scary looking and very cruel to some but not to little girls. He’s soft, too kind at times you find out as you watch him play with your little sisters every morning. 

He doesn’t care, he realizes and the words leave his mouth before he can stop himself, although it doesn’t bother him in the slightest. “I’m fuckin’ there, lass.”

------

He can hear the screaming.

He knocks once on the door and braces himself. The man has been to war, seen dead bodies with their brains all over the soil but this, this he has to get ready for. Emily opens the door with a scowl, which then turns into a smile when she sees it’s him. She’s wearing a pretty dress, hair done beautifully and Alfie wonders how the other ones are looking.

“Hello, Mr. Solomons.” she speaks, Alfie can tell you have taught her to speak that day but reckons he can do better.

“Aye, Emily, what did we say about ya’ callin’ me that, hm?” he asks, not swearing although it takes all his might to be careful.

“But Y/N said-” she says and confirms his suspicions. Alfie throws a smile at the young girl before stepping in and realizing the living room is empty, although the screaming has not stopped.

“Eh, your sister says a lot of things, don’t she.” he asks and sits down on his usual place on the sofa and Emily sits next to the gangster and nods. She’s changing by the passing day and Alfie feels like he can’t catch up.

“Good thing she’s pretty.” Emily says in all seriousness and it causes him to burst into laughter, laughter in which Emily joins her.

And that’s when you emerge from the bedroom.

Lily is holding your hand, wearing a purple dress with ribbons on her hair. Alfie can tell she cried from the hiccups that come and go but she has a smile on her lips now. Essie, on the other hand, is still crying as you hold her on the other side. Her dress is slightly different in color, looks wonderful nonetheless.

And there’s you.

Your dress is slightly shorter and completely different in color. The olive green material ends around just under your knees, with a generous look around your collarbones. Your hair is tied, a low bun which Essie threatens to ruin at any given moment. Alfie feels himself get stuck for a second but Emily slightly elbows him so that the brute can gather himself and speak.

“’ello, pet.” he speaks and Lily slowly approaches him, as she sometimes does and reaches for the beard. Alfie lets him, eyes traveling from the little one to you.

“I didn’t hear you come in.” you say, voice soft as you put Essie on the couch next to Emily so you can get your coat and theirs.

“Em let me in.” Alfie says and Emily nods, her youngest sister on her lap.

“Oh..okay.” you say and disappear behind the door. The entire time, Alfie is watching you go and Emily is watching him. She’s amused to say the least.

And that’s when Essie starts crying again.

You emerge from one of the rooms with all their coats. The little one is not coming with you, as your trusted neighbor has agreed to watch her for the night. You dress Lily and Emily dresses herself in their coats and Alfie clears his throat, making you look up at him and he signals Essie and her crying.

Although he’s far too used to it at this point.

“She’s just cranky, I don’t know why.” you say, clearly frustrated as you finally let go of Lily and reach for Essie to put her coat on.

“Tried the bribin’?” he asks with a smile on his lips and you shake your head.

“Well, if you’re talking about giving her sweets to shut her up....yes.” you say and he chuckles with a curt nod.

Then all of you get in the car, with Alfie’s hand on the small of your back and you carrying Essie. You don’t miss the way Emily looks at you, eyebrows wiggling each time she catches your eye but you just tell her to stay put. Then you drop off Essie, with much trouble and get to the recital with a gangster sitting next to you.

----

The recital goes on pretty smoothly, all cheers and smiles as Alfie lingers at the back. Emily claps for her sister, a smile on her lips as she does so but you excuse yourself a little after to get some air as they get ready for the next act. Alfie watches you walk towards the back part through the exit and decides Emily is old enough to take care of herself.

He finds you sitting on the pavement around the back part of the building, breathing deeply as you look around every now and then. He knows you need these moments. Moments of stillness without any screams, without Emily asking you for a dress or Lily’s chocolate covered hands. He knows you love them but the deed is much too strong for you.

“Y/N.” he says, cautious as he approaches you. You’re no longer sitting but leaning against the concrete block. 

“Emily’s inside?” you ask, your prior concern always being your sisters. He nods and speaks.

“Yeah, she ‘s.” he says and you nod this time.

You search his eyes then, for something that will tell you why he’s there. It’s easy to grow fond of him, you think, especially when you see him so much but there’s another side to the coin you don’t like to think of. The danger that comes.

“Something wrong?” you ask and see the heaviness in his gaze. You don’t quite know what it is, since he’s not a man easily read but you figure you know a thing or two by now. 

He shakes his head and then looks at you. There’s uncertain things swimming in your orbs much like him and he wonders if they’re the same things. Doubts and then turns his face to look at the sky. 

“There’s somethin’, yeah..” he speaks and you know better than to interrupt him.  “.....somethin’ I really wanna fuckin’ do.” he says and you nod, urging him to go on but he seems to stall for a second. He then speaks, he’s not looking at the sky anymore but you. “But see, pet, there are things yeah, fuckin’ things blockin’ my way.”

he says and watches you nod, understanding but then you stop and a smile graces your lips. It’s not mocking but not sweet either.

And then you speak, not afraid to counter his words. “I never took you as someone who’d stop just because there were....things blocking the way.” you speak and you half-know what he’s saying. 

He’s not the most subtle of admirers. You’re not bothered by it, quite the opposite if anything. You know he’s a man of power, known as cruel to some although you’d speak to differ. His lines are all harsh, you’re too soft compared to him so you don’t count on the opportunity of anything happening. 

He takes a step towards you, and then one more until he’s entirely too close. You don’t dare move and his eyes are locked into your lips. You are right, he thinks, he’s not a man that stops at anything just because he’s had a couple of doubts. But then, the doubts are worth taking into account if it’s you. He’s all harsh lines and your softness seems unreachable to him.

His eyes look at your lips for a solid second, his entire presence looming over you as you stay still. He’s tall, a bit too tall for you if you’re honest but you just crane your neck and he leans down slightly, you’d know what his lips would feel like against yours.

And then he moves and speaks. “Move away if you don’t want this kiss.”

He’s not a man of doubts, he gathers and yes, there is a lot at stake but he goes after what he wants. Alfie always has and currently, the thing he wants is standing right in front of him and he’ll be damned if he’s gonna pass up the opportunity to kiss the pretty lass.

His lips are soft, unexpectedly so as his hand finds your waist and resides there while the other cradles your skull with a gentleness that seems foreign to him. He kisses you softly before pulling away slightly to see if you’ve moved in any way but sees you staring at his lips, standing exactly still.

Then you reach for him.

He thinks he’s dreamed it until your lips peck his for the last time and you break the kiss. He sees the blush rising on your cheeks, lipstick smeared and hair slightly puffier than before. He doesn’t take a step back, stares down at you as you fix yourself too fast for him to realize what’s happening but he remembers you’re good at fixing people up.

You sigh, licking your lips once more to savor the feel of his lips before you speak. Your voice is breathy and he has to stop himself from assaulting your lips once more. “Come on, then. Emily will be waiting.”

And he follows you like your tail for the rest of the evening.

-----

He’s smiling like a damn fool.

It’s easy to realize that the big scary gangster is not all that cruel. Sure, there is a side to him that’s simply cruel. He’s not the most forgiving when it comes to some either but he also happens to be a huge teddy bear, you think as you watch him handle Essie after you’ve opened the front door to the house.

“Emily, can you take care of Essie for a minute?” you ask, not waiting for an answer from your sister before you drag Alfie by his sleeve to the kitchen. The girls stare at each other for a while before they all move to their rooms, except Lily who waits for you in front of the door.

You close the door, immediately after he enters the kitchen and look at him with a stern gaze. He’s making it obvious, all of it. The big scary gangster has had a stupid grin on his face ever since you’d kissed him and it makes you frustrated. 

“What?” he asks, still smiling a little as you stand in front of him, arms crossed and not amused at all.

“Are you going to stop smiling?” you ask, a slight mock to your words as you stare up at him.

He takes a step towards you then, his aim to trap you between his broad form and the door almost achieved before you escape his embrace by ducking under his arm. 

“Lass, come ‘ere.” he says with a tone you haven’t heard before and you don’t follow his orders, as much as you want to.

“Alfie, the girls are right outside.” you say, trying to take steps back each time he takes one towards you. Your back meets the cold wall then, a ‘shit’ passes your lips and he chuckles. His breath tickles your face. It’s not that you don’t want to kiss the gangster but the chance of Emily barging in to see the scene is too high to risk it.

But it seems as though he doesn’t care.

His lips are greedy this time, not as soft as they’ve been as he devours you within the short amount of time he’s given. You moan lowly at the way he’s kissing you and hear a thump against the kitchen door which makes both of you stop.

“Let me in!” Lily screams and it makes Alfie chuckle while all you do is glare.

Before you can open the door and pick your sister up, Alfie traps your small frame between the wall and him again and speaks. He’s not daft and knows how he wants to carry this out. His voice comes out muffled between his small pecks.

“We’ll talk once they’ve gone to fuckin’ bed, yeah, I’ll wait, pet.” he says, eyes greedy as he lets you go. You nod once more before opening the door and taking a red-faced Lily in your arms.

She doesn’t say anything at first but then speaks, connecting the dots a bit faster than you’d initially thought she would. She speaks as loud as she can and you swear she’s doing it on purpose.

“What were you doing?!” she says and finger points at Alfie but before he can answer you put her on the sofa and speak.

“Grown-up stuff.” you say and that seems to shut her up for the time being.

Emily then comes in the living room with Essie on her arms, Lily now sitting on Alfie’s lap as he tells the little girl a story about another dog he had. You watch him as his eyes meet yours in the middle of speaking, a childish glisten before he cradles her in his arms and speaks.  “Now, time for bed, innit.”

The rest of the night is filled with you running around as Essie screams and Alfie rocks her around. She doesn’t seem to mind the rocking until she almost throws up on him and it makes you laugh entirely too much for an accident. Emily takes care of herself, in bed before bedtime and you take care of Emily in the meantime. 

When you walk into Essie’s room, you see her on his arms as he rocks her back and forth, the little one sound asleep. You note the way she’s holding onto his bracelets and how he hesitates to put her in the crib. You give him a small nod and close the door behind you. He pecks your lips once more before taking your hand and dragging you away into your room and murmurs under his breath to not wake the little one. “Time for grown-up stuff.”

----

Tagging: @clairecrive  @parkbearum @sourirez  @vetseras​ @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum

A/n: Heyyy I hope you liked this chapter, do let me know what you thought and if you’d like to be added to the tag list !!

#alfie imagine #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons scenario #alfie solomons fluff #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons series #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x shelby!reader #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons peaky blinders #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders scene #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fiction #peaky blinders x reader #tom hardy imagine

[indianamoonshine]

Girl Talk | Din Djarin x Reader | Oneshot

Summary: What does a gal do when she’s just been railed by the most notorious bounty hunter in The Galaxy? Call her best friend of course.

A/N: Just something to tide you over until the next installment of Strawberry! I have anxiety and I need to busy my hands without thinking too much! This takes place after season 2!

There’s a crackling on the other end of the receiver. The telegraph service majorly bites out here on Besiana, which has been dubbed “the trench of The Galaxy”. Getting connected to Gabriele at all is a miracle in itself, though not without exploiting a few (somewhat) illegal hacks by yours truly.

Hells, not even this shitty phoning service can put you in a sour mood.

When Gabriele’s voice sounds at the other end, it gives the air that he’s just awoken from a heavy sleep or he’s suffering a hangover. Probably both. “Now what the hell are you doing all the way out in butt-fucking-nowh…” he starts.

You’re quick to cut him off. “Take a guess.”

Gabriele groans and there’s a rummaging in the background. Something sounds as though it falls off a surface - his alarm clock, probably. He must be in the inner rim somewhere.

“Miss girl, I don’t have time to play these games with you. My head is pounding. Now tell me why you’re in the catacombs of The Galaxy’s ass and…”

Behind you, a body shuffles from outside the refresher door. Your heart thuds rambunctiously in your chest as you carefully peer through a crack of the opening. Din Djarin - The Galaxy’s most notorious Mandalorian- is taking a seat with his rifle in hand. You watch as he begins to disassemble it with great technical precision. Something about watching him take apart his weapon causes your stomach to flutter.

And your knees to weaken.

“I just had sex,” you tell him in a whisper.

Gabriele is silent on the other end for a moment and then lets out a sigh of great disappointment. “Congratulations. I’m going back to bed. Goodnight.”

“The best sex of my life.”

There’s another pause. “Oh?” His interest has piqued, voice more alert at the prospect of juicy gossip. After all, what were best friends for?

You let this linger in the air for a minute, just to marinate his curiosity, and then peek at Din again. He’s taking a rag and wiping the barrel of the rifle; if it weren’t for the helmet upon his head, you’d swear he was concentrating with furrowed and ascetic brow.

“Do you remember that Mandalorian who made a giant fuss a couple of years ago?” you inquire lowly, eyes unable to leave the steadiness of Din’s deft hands.

Those hands. You have to stop yourself from moaning at the recent memories. You swear you can still feel the ghostly sear they left in their wake. The naked skin upon your hips tingles at the sheer recollection, the slick still upon your thighs all-too prevalent.

“You’re lying,” is what Gabriele gasps, absolutely scandalized. You imagine him shooting up in bed and covering his mouth in awe. He was always so dramatic but you couldn’t blame him if he did. This was the exact reaction you were hoping for.

Din grabs another piece of his rifle and starts up again. You have to tear yourself away from looking at him and instead surmise yourself in the mirror. It isn’t very big in any sense of the word but it’ll do. You take a look at your face (blushed and bright) and then your eyes (dazed and dick-drunk). Hells, this man has ruined you.

“I know you have questions,” you reply, tapping at your cheeks. They feel softer somehow.

Gabriele squeaks a bit under his breath. “Did he take off his helmet?”

You shake your head, though he can’t see it. “No. And I think it awoken something in me.”

He tsks. “Damn. I wanna know what he looks like. Okay…”

“I know he’s a brunette,” you say slyly.

Gabriele shrieks at the other end and you have to angle the receiver away with a laugh. “Is it big?”

You recall the tactical consideration- albeit brief - it took to get his dick in your mouth. You did it though, ‘ole girl. You tap yourself on the shoulder with a proud grin.

“Oh, it is. It’s…it’s very nice.”

You find yourself looking out the door again. Din’s moved onto another gun - he’s already put together the last. You grow weary at the sight of his gloved hands alone, but when your eyes trail downwards you find yourself swallowing something thick in your throat. Which in turn, of course, reminds you of the tanginess still lingering upon your tongue.

“Gabriele,” you say seriously, voice so low you can barely hear yourself. “I came eight times.”

“Shut up. You did not.” Gabriele sounds more than just excited - now he sounds jealous. You can’t help but giggle.

You raise a hand to your chest in a show of honesty. “I mean it. Eight times. He went down on me for an hour.”

“I thought you said he didn’t take off his helmet?” Gabriele asks suspiciously.

You chuckle lowly. “Oh, that’s where it gets really good.”

Gabriele - one of the biggest sluts in The goddamned Galaxy - was no stranger to sex. So when you tell him that you were blindfolded during this portion of an absolute wild ride, you’re shocked to find him screeching once more.

You’re about to continue - to confide in him about the brutal rhythm of the ordeal - until a knock startles you. You press the receiver against your chest, still flushed and naked from the previous romp.

Din calls your name from the other side of the door. “Are you alright?”

You freeze, contemplating on everything you could say to this most bland of questions. “I’ll be out in a moment!” you decide, scolding yourself for being so timid. You were at the end of his dick a half-hour ago.

Din mumbles something and then departs. After he’s within a safe distance, you quickly raise the receiver and say, “I have to go. But I’ll tell you everything later.”

Gabriele gawks, “Was that him?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes. Now I really have to go.”

“Oh my gods, okay. Fine.”

You smile, clutching at the durasteel of the phone. “Promise. Love you.”

Your best friend sighs theatrically. “Love you too. Be safe, okay? I don’t even know who I’d call to go after him if something happened to you. No one would be stupid enough.”

The idea of Din doing anything to put you in harm’s way is inconceivable. You’ve only known him for a short amount of time - a couple of weeks at most - but you already trust him with your life.

“I’d die a happy woman,” you joke.

A short while later, you exit the refresher with sopping, clean hair and any traces of sex scrubbed away from between your legs. Din’s allowed you to wear one of his night shirts (an honor in itself) because your clothes had been soiled.

Din is placing his rifle upon its rack when you sneak by for the kitchen. You pour yourself a cup of Java - black, unfortunately, because of Din’s lack of sweet tooth. The liquid is steaming hot so you blow on it before bringing it to your lips.

“Do you want one?” you ask him, taking a sip. It burns. “Oof.”

Din turns, armor somehow so dexterous in its bulk. “No, thank you. But…”

In a surprising move, Din reaches for your hips and pulls you flush against him, ignoring the mug altogether. You shriek, worried it might spill, and set it upon the countertop, but he pays little to no mind.

“You took awhile,” he mumbles, hands grasping at the flesh of your hips. They’ve already been treated so roughly today, and now you were sure there’d be bruising. Good.

You chew at your bottom lip, desperate to know what his eyes might look like. You imagine he has dark eyes - like the color of the sky at nightfall. Maybe they became brighter in the light of the suns. Maybe they crinkled when he laughed - if he were capable of that, anyway. You’ve yet to hear such music.

“I didn’t realize you were waiting for me,” you confess, avoiding the steel gaze of his faceplate.

Din hums under his breath and taps your chin, lifting it just barely so that you can meet his stare. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You shrug, fluttering your lashes in a vain attempt to remain mysterious.

Din reaches for something behind you and reveals a scrap of fabric. “How about we try for nine?” The modulator of his helmet crackles a bit, causing his voice to sound more severe than what he may have liked.

But it does something to you.

You nod sweetly, a tiny grin threatening to sneak its way upon your face, before he takes you within his arms and lifts you upon the counter.

A shrieking, but playful, giggle bursts from your lips. “Din!” you chide, but tie the fabric around your eyes all the same.

The hiss of his helmet sounds, notifying you that he’s revealing himself to the elements now. You can hear his natural breath and feel the way it fans against your collarbones before he kisses you fiercely.

“Let me give you something to really talk about.”

#din djarin #din x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x reader #mw1 #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #din x you #the mandalorian x reader

[littlest-dark-age]

request: a very soft and fluffy sirius black fic where she forces him to make flower crowns with her and maybebe he tucks a flower behind her ear something like that it’s all up to you!

i’ve been feeling kinda ehh lately and this would be so precious

thank you soo much (which nicknames do you like?)

love youuu 🤍🤍

-🎀

E prometti domani a tutti parlerai di me

Taglist @plzineedhelp @randomoutsiders

Sirius grew tired of the book in front of him quicker than he expected, he knew that it wouldn't keep his attention for all too long but he had hoped it would last him longer than it did. His dark eyes find your figure, laying on the soft blanket the two of you had stolen from James for when you felt the need for a picnic arise. His lips curl upwards in a sweet smile, reserved for when he was looking at you and only you.

Thoughts begin to swirl in his mind, soon becoming consumed with you and how ethereal you look with the golden shimmer of the sun soaking you as if it were an old friend. You can feel his piercing stare but pay no mind to it, knowing if he really wanted something he would get your attention as he does effortlessly every day without realizing.

A sweet summer breeze brings the dark haired boy's attention to the soft looking flowers that have rooted themselves in the soft dirt. Due to his lack of paying attention in herbology, Sirius can't quite place what flowers they are. Only the fact that they would add to your beauty, something he is sure of.

His soft smile turns into his classic grin as he leans to pick a few from the soil, making sure to pluck them up just before the roots so as to not get any unnecessary dirt. Quickly, he has a handful of the delicate plants and slowly starts to work on weaving them. Clumsily, at first before he remembers how he used to play in the dirt and make daisy chains for regulus. Who always wanted the gold and pearl crown sat upon his untamed curled, looking up at his brother with a grin.

A glimmer shines in his eye as he recalls the cold dirt and how happy his younger brother looked, you notice as you glance up at the shaggy haired boy. Seemingly lost in a world of his own, his own book lying in the grass whilst his nimble hands work the stems of the small forget-me-not's. Their blue matches the shade of the sky above you, delicate and sweet. You feel your heart warm at the site, seeing how calm and at peace Sirius looks. A much welcomed look versus the one he carries this time of year usually, his family always near about breaking his spirit. 

His shirt rumpled and wrinkled from where the two of you had a nap, letting the clouds roll about while he held you on his strong yet lean arms. Hair a mess, more so than usual, from your hands running through it and scratching at his scalp with your nails. His cheeks unusually cool for this time of the year, as he likes to joke that he's cold blooded and needs you to supply him with the proper warmth.

Sirius looks up, catching your eyes before sending you a wink and looking back down at the half done flower crown. Zoning back out, pushing every thought but you from his wandering mind. Trying his best to not crumple the flowers, not wanting your crown of sapphires to crumble and wilt before you even get the chance to wear it. The shade of blue would go beautifully with your complexion, he decided. The bright blue would compliment your every feature, even if he usually prefers the red and gold of his own house. 

Finally, Sirius thinks, as he finished your beloved crown. Quickly he checks it to make sure there are no holes or any stray stems that did not get plaited along with the others. Gently holding it in his large and scarred hands, he sits up on his knees and stretches his long arms to place it atop of your head. 

Your eyes flicker to your lover, wondering what on earth he was doing before you pieced it together. You've heard the stories of when he was merely a boy and would play in the garden with his baby brother, often being told those were some of the happiest moments they shared. Before the mile wide wedge was forced between them, that is. 

"For you, my love. My only wish is to give you real jewels. Perhaps, one day, in the shape of a ring…"

#marauders era #sirius x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius black x y/n #marauders era imagine #marauders #marauders x reader #marauders x y/n #marauders imagine #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagines #harry potter x y/n

[magnus-the-maqnificent]

Laks hello.

not being able to write because of work/uni feels pretty shit aaghhh.

I have a few lyrics because all TS songs are bangers??? Why would you make me choose???

It's alright, just wait and see Your string of lights is still bright to me Oh, who you are is not what you've been You're still an innocent It's okay, life is a tough crowd 32, and still growin' up now Who you are is not what you did You're still an innocent

-Innocent

2. I've had (I've had) too much to drink tonight How did I go from growing up to breaking down

-Nothing New

3. Tonight I'm gonna dance For all that we've been through But I don't wanna dance If I'm not dancing with you

-Holy Ground

Okay have fun writing bb. Hope this helps you in any capacity. Take care 🌻

Hellooooo!!

Whoops 🤭 my bad

Sooo 3 (angsty) prompts huh *stretches* *cracks fingers* Kay let's go

***

1

"So. There you go," Magnus said, his voice breaking the silence that had settled between him and Alec. "You know the whole truth."

"I do," Alec’s voice was soft, guarded as his eyes flitted across his face. "Magnus, you know it doesn't- you know this doesn't change anything right?"

Magnus blinked at that, feeling suddenly as if someone had dimmed the lights in his house. He looked away, though he still looked at Alec through the corners of his eyes. "You always say that the past matters."

"I do," Alec said. He looked at Magnus as if he'd correctly guessed at an answer, though Magnus couldn’t imagine why. "I just- maybe I should elaborate."

Magnus silently raised a shoulder in a shrug. There was the sound of cloth shuffling as Alec drew closer, and then his hands were cupping Magnus’s cheeks, slowly raising his head until they were looking into each other's eyes again.

"I love you," Alec said, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. "I love all of you, Magnus. Even the ugly bits. Even the parts that you're ashamed of."

"Alec." Magnus’s eyes slid close as Alec’s lips touched his forehead.

"You saw me at my worst and you still loved me," Alec whispered, his breath warm against Magnus’s skin. "Let me return the favour, my love."

***

2 (Hooooly shit this one was so hard sksjsnans)(Also tw for vomiting)

Magnus had been an adventurous boy when he was young. Sure, his adventures consisted of climbing on top of stray rocks and little mounds of soil that construction workers sometimes left behind after they worked in his father's backyard, carrying around a backpack full of compasses and torches and hand-drawn maps that he absolutely did not need, but it was the mission that counted, was it not?

It was obviously inevitable that an adventurous boy like him would've met with many accidents. Cuts and scrapes and bruises, colds on the nights after he was out playing in the rain, and on one memorable occasion, swallowing a few mouthfuls of pondwater infested with algae and little insects when he'd almost drowned in said pond.

Magnus had spent half a day crying over his subsequent stomach ache and throwing up in the toilet. He remembered kneeling on the bathroom floor, his mother sitting right beside him as she brushed his hair away from his face with a gentle hand, rubbing circles into his back as he gagged and retched over and over again.

Somehow, fifteen years later, he was in that same position, but it was a whole other bathroom and the air smelled distinctly of alcohol and there was no one rubbing his back. Magnus’s fingers tightened around the rim of the toilet, and he could feel the impending hangover loom over him, along with a fresh wave of nausea.

Clearly, he'd had too much to drink tonight.

He wondered how things had come to this, how a simple life could turn into a sharp decline so suddenly and so intensely.

Magnus let out a sigh that quickly turned into a gag.

He just wished he had someone to hold his hair back, even now.

***

3

Jia Penhallow's voice was muffled here, behind the podium, where Alec sat on one of the several wooden boxes, palms clenched nervously around his knees.

He hadn’t been this nervous since, well, since the day he'd first asked Magnus out all those years ago. Back then, Alec couldn’t think of anything more nervewracking. Yet here he was now.

Back then, he was just a young Shadowhunter boy asking the man he admired out on a date. Now? Now he was going to be Consul. Now he was the biggest leader of the Clave, of the shadowed world at large.

Somehow, that was the least nervewracking thing about all this.

Alec was more concerned about the people watching him. About the Downworld leaders, who he'd insisted be seated in the front rows. About the Warlock Representative, who would inevitably be there. About Magnus, who would be seated close enough that Alec would inevitably meet his eyes when he was swearing in.

Alec wished he knew what Magnus felt about all this, about him. How he felt looking at the scrappy little Shadowhunter he'd dated several years ago now getting ready to lead a society. Was he proud? Alec couldn’t help but hope so.

His heart gave a hard, spiky jump at the thought, and then his heartbeat grew slow and mellow.

Would Magnus ever know that his fingerprints were all over Alec’s work? Over every bill he wanted to pass, every law he had to change, over the proposal regarding marriage laws that he'd tucked away deep inside his desk, to be dredged back up when he'd finally find the strength?

Do you know? Alec wanted to whisper to him, pulling him close, his arms wrapped around his body or holding his face, he didn’t know. He could still feel the phantom touch of Magnus’s skin on his fingertips. Do you know I'm doing all this for you? Do you know that everytime I look back on the journey that brought me here, it always leads me back to your face, over and over again?

Do you know I still dream of you, sometimes?

Why? He imagined Magnus would ask.

The answer was forever on the tip of Alec’s tongue, even if he'd never say it out loud.

Because I love you, even if you don't want me back. Because I'll forever fight for you, even if you're not by my side.

Because Alec Lightwood loved one man so much, he changed the world for him.

#the 3rd one got away from me #i have no regrets #i may have cried a little #:') #kay imma go to sleep now #malec (taylor's version) #blues and then purple pink asks #malec #alec lightwood #magnus bane

[brat-tamer69]

Dead Branches and New Leaves

♡ Summary: Levi’s relationship with his son Eren reaches a new low, and Y/N is there to confront Levi in an effort to rebuild. Very much inspired by this picture and in response to this request.

Part Two TBA

♡ Notable Tags: AU, Married, Parenting, Levi x Fem!Reader, Broken family, daddy issues, argument, angst and over 3k words holy shit!

❥ Disclaimer: Levi and his actions in this are not intended to be perceived as anything other than him being emotionally unavailable. He lost his temper and it is acknowledged numerous times that he is remorseful. I would like to emphasize that he is not emotionally or verbally abusive but this content may be upsetting to some readers. Please use your own discretion if you are sensitive to the topics.

♡ Send requests here!

Levi’s head instinctively whipped around to face the house’s front entrance when the screen gritted against the doorframe’s track. If he was not mistaken, his son would come bounding into the house from the front yard to ask for yet another snack. And Levi would once again shave down a carrot and before handing it over so it could be crunched down in seconds. How the kid had the energy to take off and put on his rain boots so many times in such quick succession, Levi didn’t know. But Eren did thankfully understand that if not for that talent, his dad would rip him a new one for tracking mud onto the freshly mopped tile.

As if summoned by thought alone, the percussive pattern of little feet hitting the floors echoed, and the urgency in it suggested that he was running. Levi pressed his lips together and closed his eyes, trying to cling onto what felt like the last second of peace he might have since Eren was running.

“Dad! Dad!” the toddler addressed him shrilly.

“What is it, runt?” Levi sighed and rotated in his spot in front of the stove to face his son.

“I was playing outside, and- and there was a big boom in the sky! And- And I wasn’t scared at all,” he added matter-of-factly. “But there was a little kitty outside, and I think him was scared.”

Levi stared down at the boy, bemused by how he managed to squirm and point every which way during a ten-second-long story. He then shifted his gaze back in the direction of the screen door, praying that Eren had possessed enough sense to close it behind him on the way in as the heavy rain had been accompanied by wind all morning. Levi had bargained with Y/N to support his stance of keeping Eren indoors but, in exercise of her wonderful parenting strategy, she insisted it would be better for him to play outside and get used to the daunting nature of thunderstorms.

Well, it’s working, Levi noted as he circled around the “big boom” Eren pointedly mentioned he wasn’t scared of. Still, his concerns were loyal to the furry little pest that seemed to be taking shelter in his front yard. “It’s ‘he was scared’,” Levi corrected. “And that’s too bad. Maybe he’ll run off somewhere safe on his own.”

Eren deflated, his shoulders and his volume falling while the size of his eyes grew. “But what if he can’t, Dad? What if the rain gets him sick?”

“Then the rain gets him sick,” Levi shrugged. “Not everything is meant to survive in this kind of weather, Eren. Besides, he might already be sick if he’s out there hanging around our house.”

An indiscernible emotion flashed across Eren’s face and disappeared just as quickly Levi picked up on it. But before he could engage, Eren was sprinting away and to the front yard again.

“Whatever,” he mumbled to the likes of himself. One thing he’d learned since become a father was that the less he knew, the better. If Eren did do something drastic like fall into a puddle of mud or befriend a sickly cat, he would scale the mountain of mishap once he approached it. For now, he had his focus on finishing dinner just as he promised his wife he would, and that was all he had the mental energy to do.

Perhaps one too many moments passed where Levi worked on simmering his kimchi nabe in the quiet, the slightly gentler rain being the only noise in the background. As he replaced the lid to the pot, he seemed to simultaneously sink back into reality. The thunder had finally ebbed. Y/N was still working on hemming some of Eren’s new clothes…

And Eren. The damn toddler that was notorious for popping up for snacks and attention hadn’t reappeared once in the past twenty minutes. The thought made Levi’s mouth dry and his throat swell faster than they would if he’d have swallowed a handful of cotton rounds. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered. A clenched fist still equipped with a ladle, Levi set a brisk stride toward the front yard where, if his nonexistent god had any mercy, Eren would still be playing in the rain.

During the walk, the rain, the shuffle of his house slippers against the tile, and every other noise slowly faded. All he had in his ears was the vivid imaginary scream of his wife as she found out her son went missing under his watch. And the image of Eren with teary eyes burdened by fear was not any kinder to his growing panic.

“Shit–” he spat.

“Momma said that’s a curse.”

Levi looked down at the origin of the voice, the relief he felt in seeing Eren standing in front of him in perfectly healthy condition lasting but a second. It was instantly replaced by rage. As the panic drained from his body, every inch of him became ignited by disgust, disappointment, grief and a slew of other emotions he was too angry to even process. The blankness in his mind caused by the adrenaline rush was being filled in by the stench of the sopping wet stray cat being held out in front of him. “Eren…” he seethed in a low voice. “What the hell is that?”

Eren chewed his lower lip in hesitation. Levi almost wrenched when the boy had the gall to hoist the rancid being up higher, as if his father wanted to inspect it. “It’s the kitty! See?” he answered in earnest. “It’s the kitty I told you about! I told him to go find a new house so he doesn’t get sick, but he didn’t want to! And his tummy is bleeding, too!”

A soaking wet, bloody, feral cat. Levi didn’t know if he should give in to the hysterical, exasperated laughter bubbling in the depths of his stomach or if falling to his knees and sobbing would free him from the chaos he felt. Helpless to his anger toward his own child, all he could do was touch his hand to his face in a feeble display of his emotion. The outwardly endless consequences to Eren bringing a bleeding cat inside the house started to appear in his mind one by one, each adding to the pressure he felt building underneath his temples.

“Daddy?” Eren squeaked.

Levi was so distracted by his inner turmoil that he hadn’t even realized the minutes of silence that passed between them. “Go put it outside and wash your hands. Now.”

By the particular tone of voice his father used, Eren knew better than than to disobey him—even a single casual command from Levi would normally be enough to move him. But after trading glances between his dad and the injured cat, Eren shook his head.

Levi was in disbelief. He could feel his heart racing with every ounce of searing blood it sent through his veins. His hand trembled as it gradually fell from his face to reveal a nearly crazed expression, his eyes opened as wide as they could go but his brows furrowed impossibly low over them. “Did you just shake your head at me, boy?”

“Uh, well, the- the kitty is scared and has blood on him,” Eren gulped. “H-He can’t stay outsi–”

“Put it outside. And the next time I have to repeat myself, I’ll put you and the damn cat out.”

A small gasp escaped Eren’s quivering lips, but he swallowed it quickly before tucking the cat underneath his arm and escaping out the front door in a flash. Levi sucked in a shuddered breath, only now noticing the thick, brown splatters of mud and the droplets of red that created a trail to the yard and soiled his previously spotless tile.

“What happened? Where’s Eren?” Y/N’s soft voice questioned as she paced into the kitchen. “I heard you raise your voice. What’s going on?”

The worry in his wife’s shaky words gave way to her equal distress if not for the hand gently laid over her heart. It was enough to draw the ire from Levi’s body. Like the bright red leaving the eye of a cooling stove, anger steadily seeped from parts of him he wasn’t even aware were tensed. His set jaw unclenched, he lowered his shoulders and his fingers loosened from their intense hold on the ladle.

“Eren,” Levi replied to his wife in a breath at long last.

“Eren what?” she urged, her pupils growing.

“Eren’s fine. He just brought a fucking dying cat into our house.”

Confusion distorted Y/N’s features while her eyes moved frantically across Levi’s face in search for some sort of unspoken answer. When she didn’t receive it, she whirled around with a small huff then grabbed a fistful of her skirts and hurried to the front yard.

By her reaction itself, Levi knew he was finished. Y/N’s kindness knew no bounds in even the most stressful situation. In circumstances where his own instinct would be to react first, his wife was guided by the purest ethics; she would comfort, ask questions then gather herself enough to find a solution. But her consideration skipped him this time, and it was because she was livid with him. Levi could tell that much.

Bending at the knee to retrieve the cleaning supplies from the cabinets, he expelled a wearied sigh. He figured there was no better way to postpone is annoyance with the situation than by losing himself in the pleasures of cleaning on his hands and knees. He forced himself to focus on the acrid scent of chemicals burning his nostrils instead of the gut-wrenching sobs he could hear once his wife opened the front door. He tried to remember which solution was best to polish the ivory colored tile, but god damn it, he couldn’t think when he saw Eren’s little body, defeated and dripping wet, shuffling down the hall. His knuckles blanched as he all but strangled the cloth, putting all his upper body strength into scrubbing away what little remained of the muddy footprints.

Y/N watched Levi in silence for a brief period, absorbing how pathetic he looked down on the floor, frantically erasing the nonexistent spots while his son cried himself to sleep in the other room. She didn’t know what possessed her, but her nails were starting to dig into her palms in effect of how hard she was trying to contain it. If not for the pitiful picture of her baby boy standing outside, wailing over the corpse of a cat, she might have been frightened; she had never felt this way about Levi. But today was different—for everyone.

Levi released his rag and sat back on his heels when the shadow of his wife fell over him. At the same time, a coldness that he was far from feeling fell over his eyes. He could only hope it would protect him even a little bit.

“What the hell did you do?” Y/N demanded of him through her teeth, her voice faulted by an emotional tremolo.

He rose to face her and swiped his palms over his apron. “I did what any parent would do if their kid brought in a dying cat from outside. I told him to put the vermin back where he found it and wash his hands.”

“You cursed at him,” she sneered. “And you threatened to put him out of the house if he didn’t listen to you. It’s raining!”

He tried to keep his voice leveled though his need to emphasize his point superseded the attempt. “Well, if he listened to me the first time, I wouldn’t have cursed. And he’s a smart kid– He knows I wasn’t going to put him out.”

Already jaded by the argument, Levi mentally readied himself for Y/N’s rebuttal. But it didn’t come. Instead, her open hand flashed across his line of peripheral vision, and if it weren’t for his unique reflexes, it would have left a bright red print on his left cheek. Overwhelmed by the sequence of events, Levi’s defenses fell. By putting his energy in holding his wife’s wrist tightly, just mere inches away from his face, he’d lost his composure. His mouth went dry as it fell slightly agape and his eyebrows were pressed upwards together in sheer astonishment.

“Y/N–”

“You bastard!” she cried, her tears leaking through her voice as well as onto her face. “Do you have any idea how scared and alone he felt, watching that cat die in the rain?! And to make things worse, you were punishing him for your selfish ass obsession with keeping the house clean!”

Levi’s eyes darted past his distraught wife and landed on Eren’s bedroom door, paranoid that his mother’s shrieks might wake him. “It wasn’t like that.”

Y/N shook her wrist in his hold defiantly. “Then explain it to me! Explain to me what the hell you wanted to do! What, were you scared of telling him he couldn’t keep it?”

“No, I wasn’t!” he growled back. “The first thing I told him to do was let the damn thing go. It was a dying cat, Y/N! That thing could have given him or any one of us all kinds of diseases with its filthy fur in seconds! What if it had bit him or scratched him?”

Y/N met her husband’s eyes squarely and stared into them for an unwavering minute. His volume had fallen off marginally by the end of his question. Her eyes narrowed as his softened. She caught him. Letting out a mirthless laugh, she finally ripped her wrist from his grip. “You didn’t even check if it did, so why are you bringing that up as if you actually care?” she whispered.

Shit. “He would have told me it did,” he answered then swallowed, not quite convinced of his answer himself.

“Don’t you get it? He doesn’t want to tell you anything, Levi. And he wouldn’t ever if he had the choice.” He braced himself as he noticed her hands balled at either side of her waist. “You’re so goddamn bent on policing him that you forget to parent him, and you’re nothing but an authoritarian that feeds him. Our son has the biggest heart, and by the way you treat him, he would never know that he got any of it from you because you act just like your father figure, not his.”

Levi prided himself on his steel-like aplomb. But if anyone could melt steel, it was Y/N and any selection of words that came from her heart. Often times, they were sweet—almost cloying as he felt he never deserved her praise. This time, they were filled with venom and provided a sensation no different than someone plunging a blade between his lungs. In fact, each of his breaths in following were shaky at best.

Y/N knew that Levi hated being likened to the weasel of a man that raised him almost as much as he hated the man himself. Still, she pressed on, resolved to defend Eren and put an end to the struggles he had with his dad. “You’re silent,” she pointed out. “Because you know it’s true. I’ve tried so many times to get you to understand, to be more gentle with Eren, and you just aren’t. Today would have been the perfect opportunity for you to bond with him. But you didn’t. You couldn’t even treat him like he was worth something. You didn’t reason with him. You didn’t listen, you didn’t explain the why’s or even make sure he wasn’t being hurt by what was happening. You just cursed at a child– My child for having empathy. And you let him sit out in the rain, grieving and crying alone.”

Nausea washed over Levi as the color drained from his face. He felt as though someone had tied an anchor to his lungs and allowed them to dangle precariously in his chest. Tears sprung to his eyes when he realized that the way Y/N described the evening’s events were simply how it happened for Eren. While Levi had been driven by his compulsion toward cleanliness, Eren was acting on his innocence. The child wasn’t hardened by and consequently numb to death like his father was. Eren only saw an injured animal, retrieved it then looked to his dad for help. And Levi had sent him away, practically abandoning him. Even if it was just for the moment that he’d lost his temper, the impact on Eren was irrevocable.

He started to fix his lips to apologize, but he knew the words would be insultingly inadequate given the circumstance. “What do you want me to do, Y/N?” he asked thickly.

By the time his words were out, it seemed an eternity had passed and Y/N already had most of her back to him. What he could see of her face was a perfect and painfully personal illustration of disillusionment. “I want you to stay here, with Eren.”

“What?” Levi felt his own voice sounded like a distant echo in the room.

“I can’t stand to look at you, to be perfectly honest. And you hurt Eren more than you’ll ever know. You need to fix this—all of it while he’s young or you’ll never have the relationship with him that I always wanted for the both of you.”

Y/N turned to walk away again, but in this instance, it felt more final. It was why Levi threw his hand out toward her as if it had any power to halt her from such a distance. “Now you stop right there,” he ground out, masking his misery with a roughness. “You can’t just leave after the shit you’ve said. So where the hell do you think you’re going?”

She paused, providing truth in her earlier statement by keeping her eyes trained on one of the pristinely cleaned tiles. “I’m going to say goodbye to Eren then going to my mom’s house. And if he’s not attached to you by the time I get back, then you can set up a new living arrangement with her.”

#levi ackerman imagines #levi akerman imagine #attack on titan imagines #attack on titan imagine #levi aot #levi ackerman au #attack on titan au #levi ackerman fic #snk imagine #snk imagines #snk au #snk fic #levi x reader #levi x fem!reader #aot headcanon #aot headcanons #snk headcanon #snk headcanons #levi ackerman headcanon #levi ackerman headcanons