#but alas you’re across the country

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | bad reputation

ii. bad reputation by joan jett & the blackhearts 

a/n: andddd we're at chb! reader is mean to luke lol. vaping, smoking, mentions of addiction. crumbs of clarisse x chris!

series masterlist | previous | next

“kid, you really need to look at the bright side,” your dad said, taking a sip of his diet coke. “you get to summer in montauk for free. no paying rent, no worrying about what to eat, the world is your oyster.” 

“i don’t understand why i have to spend the entire summer here,” you glared at him, close to ripping your hair out. 

“you’re smarter than that,” he replied, placing his can down on his table. he kicked back in his chair, letting his sandal-covered feet prop up on his desk. his aloha shirt wrinkled as he placed his arms crossed behind his head. he was taking his camp manager role too seriously. “you got put on probation by your field hockey coach.” 

your eyes narrowed, “and?” 

“... for punching a teammate.” 

“who deserved it!” you argued, huffing as you sat on the seat across from him. if there wasn’t a desk separating you from your dad, you were sure you would’ve strangled him with the camp necklace around his neck. “i promised you i’d be on my best behavior, but no. you decided that i needed to be glued to camp all summer.” 

“listen,” he leaned over on his desk, “the girl probably deserved it, but you still got kicked out from summer conditioning, kid– from the top field hockey team in the country! not everyone gets to attend unc but you did and you fucked that opportunity, so until you can prove to me that you have your shit together, you’re stuck in montauk.” 

“gods, you’re ridiculous!” you howled, getting up from your seat. “i hate you.” 

“love you!” he called out, chuckling to himself. you got your dramatic flair from him so he couldn’t fault you too much for your reaction. he probably would’ve reacted way worse if he was in your position. 

“yeah, yeah,” you yelled back, already out of his office. “love ya, too.” 

you walked out into the campgrounds, still huffing and puffing at your interaction with your dad. groups of children and teenagers were checking in for the summer. it amazed you how popular camp half blood became over the years. your dad wanted to create a summer camp for aspiring musicians and creatives to meet others and learn from professionals. he already had the network for it given that he used to be a hot-shot producer in the mid-nineties until he fell into his addiction. 

your dad never talked much about those dark moments in his life, and not many people knew about it, but he was happy to tell you about what came after it; meeting your mom, falling in love, and having you. his sobriety became his top priority when you were born, after you and your mom, of course. camp half blood started out as a dream your dad had when you were still a child, unsure of what you were passionate about, and he hoped you’d fall in love with music the same way he did. right before you turned four, he opened camp half blood. he said he wanted to have the place up and running and established by the time you were old enough to join. but alas, when you turned six and still had no musical or creative bone in your body, your dad’s hopes of having a musical protégé as a daughter were shattered. 

he bounced back from it though when he saw how passionate you were about field hockey. the second you picked up a stick, he saw your eyes brighten and he knew it was lights out from then on. he attended all of your games, bought you the best gear for the sport, and supported you in any way he could. you were thankful for that, for him, but you also knew that he probably would’ve preferred a kid he could talk music with. you saw it when he bragged about the new artists he signed to olympus records or when he talked about the kids at camp half blood. 

you took a sharp right turn at the corner of the dining hall, making a beeline to the secret spot by the lake that you stumbled across when you were fourteen. it was the place you retreated to whenever you and your dad fought while you were at camp. fights and arguments between you two happened often. your mom said it was because you were too similar for your own good. it was true. you and your dad were both stubborn, hot-headed, and unable to accept when you were wrong, but it also meant that you and your dad understood each other on a level that not many father-daughter duos did. 

even though you refused to tell him–or anyone for that matter– why the altercation with your teammate happened, your dad was on your side. he always was. 

you sat on the worn out bench, years of weather damage evident on the wood, taking out your cherry ice vape from your pocket. it was a vice you picked up in college. you weren’t proud of it, and it definitely started affecting your ability to play, but the stress of being a student-athlete, plus all the commotion with your probation started to get to you. 

you stared out into the view, appreciating the way the trees framed the lake in a picturesque way. camp half blood was beautiful; nature everywhere, there was utter silence except for the sound of water and birds chirping when you got far enough away from the noise and chatter of the campers, and the weather in the summer months was perfect. you let the smoke escape your lips, watching as the cloud dissipated into the air. 

“oh, my bad. i didn’t realize someone would be out here.” 

you turned around to see a boy, an unlit cigarette hanging from the corner of his lips. he wore a black, tight-fitting t-shirt and gray sweatpants. there was a silver chain hanging around his neck with a pendant tucked underneath his shirt. his tussled curls peeked under his backwards yankees cap. 

“spot’s taken,” you said, facing the view once more. you took a deep breath, sliding your vape in the pocket of the hoodie you wore. “go somewhere else.” 

“that thing’s gonna kill you, y’know.” either the boy didn’t hear you or he didn’t care enough to listen because he slid on the bench next to you, taking out a lighter for his cigarette. he closed his eyes, letting the nicotine into his system, “that has like chemicals and shit.” 

you scoffed, “like your cig is any better.” 

“i know what i’m putting in my body,” he shrugged. he motioned aimlessly in your direction, “you don’t know what’s in there. it hasn’t been around long enough for us to know the long term effects.” 

“‘m not planning to be doing this long term.”

“sure,” he smiled at you, unconvinced. “i’m luke.” 

you stared at his outstretched hand, shaking your head, “i’m not interested.” 

“i was just trying to be polite.” 

“if you want to be polite, find another spot to smoke.” 

luke eyed you, undeterred by your hostility. he leaned back on the bench, taking another puff, “nah, i’m good right here.” 

you took out your vape again knowing that you’ll need it to get through this conversation. the two of you sat in silence as you both smoked, letting the smell of the cigarette mix in with the artificial cherry scent. you tried your best to ignore the boy beside you, but it was hard to when he was so close to you. the bench seemed much larger when you were fourteen, when you were alone as its only occupier. 

“so five star, tough day?” 

“what did you call me?” 

“five star,” luke nodded to your hoodie, flicking off the ashes on his cigarette. “your unc field hockey hoodie? like five star recruit.” 

you looked down at your sweater, completely forgetting that you were wearing your team merchandise. you tugged on the collar awkwardly, suddenly feeling like you were exposed. “oh.” 

“so, tough day?” 

you glared at him, “what makes you say that?” 

“well, for starters, it’s the first day of camp and you’re by yourself away from where all the fun shit is happening, smoking a fucking– what is that? strawberry?”

“cherry ice,” you corrected. 

“cherry ice vape,” luke continued, “and you’re biting my head off for trying to start a conversation.” 

“maybe i’m having a bad day because a boy disrupted my me-time and decided to start a fucking conversation when i obviously want to be alone.” 

luke chuckled, pointing to the cigarette between his fingers, “relax, i’ll get out of your hair after this one.” 

“don’t make it a habit.” 

“what? smoking?” he asked, a boyish smile on his face. “already a habit of mine.” 

“interupting my me-time,” you replied, blowing out rings with the smoke in your mouth. “i don’t care what you do to your body.” 

“should we exchange numbers and coordinate when we’ll be using the spot?” 

you rolled your eyes at the teasing tone of his voice. this guy just doesn’t quit, “no, because you won’t be coming back here.” 

“i dunno,” luke looked out into the lake, a soft smile on his face. “i like it here. it’s pretty.” 

“i was here first.” you weren’t backing down. this was your spot. your secret spot, at that. not many campers ventured this far out into the woods, too afraid to get caught by their counselors and get in trouble, or too scared to get lost in the maze of trees. 

“sharing is caring, y’know,” his tone was playful.

you looked at him, no emotion on your features. you studied his face, furrowing your eyebrows like you were trying to place him. he looked familiar like you’d seen his face before. his eyes were big and brown, innocent looking compared to the smirk on his lips. a scar ran down the side of his face, subtle, but noticeable if you looked hard enough. it was slightly discolored compared to the rest of his face. his jaw sharp and cheekbones defined, with beginnings of a summer blush dusted across the bridge of his nose and the high points of his face. behind his ear, a small tattoo of the number “4” was hidden under his curls. his ears were pierced, two, small diamond studs on each earlobe. 

you’d seen him before, but you just couldn’t remember where and when for the life of you. 

you blinked, “i don’t like to share.” 

he threw the butt of his cigarette on the floor, gently stomping out the remnants of it with the tip of his converse convered feet, “noted.” 

you watched as he got up, keeping his promise of leaving you alone after one cigarette. the smirk on his face remained as he turned to face you before he left, “see you around, five star.” 

you made an noncommittal noise, not missing the sound of a deep rumble from his chest as he laughed at your dismissal. you watched him disappear into the trees, noting how his back flexed under his tight shirt as he cleared a path to avoid ducking under stray branches. 

you waited around twenty minutes before getting up to leave. you didn’t want to risk running into luke again, just in case he got lost on his way back. you were not going to lead him back to the safety of camp. if he got lost after trying to take over your spot, then so be it. that wasn’t your problem. 

as you entered the main campgrounds, you saw clarisse, a teammate of yours, who also got put on probation for coming to your defense, leaning against a tree trunk by the registration table. she needed a summer job and housing since she wasn’t allowed to come to practices and live on campus during her probation period, and you were quick to recommend her to your dad to be a camp counselor for the summer. thankfully, your dad was kind enough to say yes. at least you wouldn’t be alone all summer. 

you walked over to her, smiling kindly at the young kids you ran into on the way, excited out of their minds to be away from home for the next few months. “what’s up, la rue?” 

she smacked your arm, “why didn’t you tell me?” 

“ow,” you winced, clutching your upper arm. the girl was strong. there were many moments where you were thankful that you played for the same team. you did not want to be the poor girl who stood in clarisse’s way when she was in the zone. “tell you what?” 

“poisoned mercury!” she hissed, crossing her arms over her chest, “why didn’t you tell me they were gonna be here this summer?” 

“oh,” you rolled your eyes, “i didn’t think it was a big deal.” 

“not everyone grew up around celebrities, y/n,” clarisse reminded you, shaking her head. “sometimes, i forget that you did. you don’t talk about it as much as i would if i grew up like you.” 

“yeah, well, it’s not all glitz and glamor, to be honest.” 

you thought about your last relationship– a boy from california that you met during one of your dad’s work trips. it was a whirlwind summer romance that ended in a lot of heartbreak and a promise to yourself that you would never, ever date another musician again. your dad did try to warn you about him, subtly, of course, since he knew better than to butt into a teenage girl’s relationship. the boy had been begging your dad for a record deal for ages and he thought that by dating you, he’d get one step closer to his goal. your dad dangled the possibility of a record deal in front of him like a carrot, his own personal entertainment since he saw right through the boy, and ended up blacklisting him from the industry after he broke your heart. 

a little extreme? sure, but it wasn’t like he was that talented anyway. you still cringe when you remember his terrible rendition of “grenade” by bruno mars. 

“do you know when they get here?” clarisse asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“i dunno, don’t care,” you shrugged, “when did you become such a huge fan?” 

“since i saw how hot their bassist is,” she laughed, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “seriously, y/n, chris rodriguez is fine.” 

“enough, there are kids around,” you shoved her playfully, laughing as you motioned for her to follow you into the cabin you were staying in. “i didn’t know they were gonna be here, actually.” 

“your dad didn’t tell you?” 

“i’ve been on a strict ‘no talking, unless it’s yelling’ rule with my dad the past few months,” you explained, entering your room and closing the door behind you. your bags were messily thrown across the floor, bed unmade, and walls empty. you didn’t get around to decorating and putting things in their place before you gave your dad a piece of your mind. “and i refused to accept that i would be staying here all summer.” 

“it’s not that bad so far,” she moved your training bag from your bed, sitting on it, “the kids are adorable little music nerds. i don’t think they’ll cause too much trouble.” 

“for your sake, ares cabin head counselor, i really hope they don’t,” you teased, beginning to put your things away. “i’m not worried about the kids, actually. it’s more of the people our age that i’m worried about. musicians can be such dicks.” 

“true,” she agreed, “do you remember the kid who acted like he was hot shit when he performed at the fall concert at unc?” 

“yes!” you let out a belly laugh, “the one who shamelessly flirted with lena?”

clarisse nodded, falling on your bed in a fit of laughter, “then ran away when he saw charlie.” 

“i mean charlie is a scary-looking dude,” you commented, taking off your hoodie and stuffing it into one of the drawers. you fixed the camp half blood shirt you wore under it, “big ass linebacker.” 

“but the biggest teddy bear.” 

“the biggest,” you grinned, thinking about your friends back on campus. you already missed them and your crazy, late-night adventures in your college town. you and clarisse met charlie the summer before your freshman year at unc during athlete orientation. he shyly asked if he could sit next to you and clarisse in the back row, not wanting to block the view for people behind him if he were to sit in the front. he was a timid guy for someone who could probably bulldoze you and clarisse without breaking a sweat. 

he introduced you to his girlfriend, silena, when the school year started, and the four of you became inseparable ever since. you were glad you found a friend group in college, one that you could trust and depend on. 

“and this is the cabin where you all will be staying.” 

you looked back at clarisse, eyes widening as you heard your dad’s voice in the living room of the cabin. he didn’t tell you that someone other than clarisse was going to be staying in the cabin with you. 

“there are six rooms in total. one master and five others. there are three bathrooms. one’s in the master and the other two are out here. this is the living room and the small kitchen is down the hall,” he continued to explain, “my daughter has dibs on the master bedroom, though, so tough luck for you guys.” 

“i didn’t know you had a daughter, mr. d.” it was a boy’s voice.

“yeah, i do, y/n,” your dad said. you can practically hear the smile in his voice. “she doesn’t like the limelight so i don’t bring her up too much. i’ll introduce you guys to her when i see her.” 

“chris, put that down!” another voice. this time it was a woman. she sounded older, and tired, like she’d said that phrase a million times before. “sorry about them, mr. d. they may all be of age, but i swear it still feels like they’re kids.” 

your dad laughed, “trust me, i get it, may. my little girl is turning 19 soon, but she’d give her 12-year-old self a run for her money.” 

“i call this room!” 

“travis, you can’t just call dibs on rooms when the rest of us haven’t gotten a chance to take a look around.” 

“you snooze, you lose, rodriguez.” 

clarisse jolted from your bed, jaw hanging as she put the puzzle pieces together. she pointed at the door, whispering, “is that poisoned mercury?” 

your dad was in the middle of a conversation with the woman, may, when you opened your bedroom door to investigate. he was nodding along to what she was saying, taking mental notes of her words. you walked towards them, giving may a polite smile when she noticed you coming their way. 

“speak of the devil,” your dad clapped his hands, placing a hand on your back to guide you into the conversation. “may, this is my daughter, y/n. y/n, this is may castellan, poisoned mercury’s manager.” 

you held out your hand, “nice to meet you.” 

“oh god, a teenager with manners,” she exhaled, immediately accepting your handshake, “pleasure to meet you.” 

“you know we can still hear you, right, mama c?” a boy with curly hair peeked his head out from the room beside clarisse’s. he was wearing a white tank top, his tanned skin adorned with patchwork tattoos on full display. he had a pearl necklace around his neck, a charm of the band’s logo resting between his collarbones. he had a wide smile as if he wore his emotions proudly on his face. “these walls are thin.” 

“you were supposed to hear me, chris,” she replied, rolling her eyes jokingly. 

you tilted your head, analyzing the boy. you understood what clarisse meant. he wasn’t your type, but he was definitely hers. she always did like the golden retriever type. you raised your arm, giving him a small wave, “hey, i’m y/n.” 

“it’s the famous y/n!” you turned around at the sound of your name to see a boy with dark hair and a vintage iron maiden shirt on. he was leaning against his doorframe, toned arms flexed as he stuffed his hands in his front pockets. “travis.” 

another boy, looking eerily similar to travis popped his head out his door at the sounds of introductions. you cocked an eyebrow, “are you guys tw–”

the boy shook his head, stating “no we’re not,” at the same time as travis nodded, “yes we are.” 

you looked at may for help. she shook her head, throwing a pointed look at travis, “they are not. travis is older than connor by a year.” 

“which one of you fuckers stole my charger?” 

you froze in your spot. you knew that voice. your mind started connecting the dots then– luke castellan, lead singer of poisoned mercury. you’d seen pictures of him on your twitter timeline from both your friends from college and from home. he seemed to be the topic of conversation every week because there was a new thing to write about. his wild rockstar adventures were a crowd favorite. 

you once heard that he had a pet monkey that he bought with his first check from their album sales, but tmz reported it so it wasn’t the most reliable source. the last article you saw about luke was titled “leaving a trail of broken hearts: luke castellan’s extensive dating history and how they ended.” typical. 

“oh, luke, i want you to meet my daughter,” your dad beamed, none the wiser. he placed his hands on your shoulders, twisting your body to face the boy. 

you pursed your lips, biting the inside of your cheek. so much for him getting lost.

“five star, nice to see you again,” luke’s eyes lit up, the corner of his lips quirking up in a smile, “looks like we’re roommates.”

#frances writes #poisoned mercury #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x y/n #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson

[reiderwriter]

hi!!! omg i’ve been following you for a bit now and i saw that it’s not only your 1k celebration(AHHHHHH OMG CONGRATS GIRL!!!) but also your birthday soon!!! So happy birthday and i hope you’re having a fantabulous day!!

If it’s not too much trouble, could i request #4 on your 1k celeb list for Spencer Reid? maybe like imagine they’re undercover in a club or at a party and reader has to dance on him for some odd reason and boy is already mad in love and now he’s got a hard on while his crush dances on him for a case and reader maybe takes mercy on him and drags him to a private place tooooooo😋😋

it’s totally okay if this isn’t to your fancy so don’t feel pressured at all!! i love your writing so much and i just know anything you write, even if you don’t write this ask or if you change it up, will be amazing!!! enjoy your birthday b and take loads of a care of yourself!💕💕

A/N: Thank you for the request, and I AM SO SORRY it took me nearly four months to get to 😭 I actually loved writing this one, so I hope you enjoy reading it! Thank you for the birthday wishes 💖

Warnings: public sex, sex in an alleyway, talks of oral (m receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, dirty talk, creampie, coworkers to lovers, spoilers for upto season 7 of Criminal Minds.

“Cover? Right now? I'm wading through three caseloads of paperwork right now, I don't have time to go gallivanting across the country for another unit.” You stressed to your Unit Chief as she smiled sympathetically at you.

“Temporary reassignment means your desk will be cleared of work when you return, I'll personally complete it myself. That is if you decide to come back.”

“It would take one hell of an offer to get me to join another team, ma'am, and you know it.” 

Working under your boss Andi Swann at the Domestic Trafficking Task Force was something you took a lot of pride in. The work you did saved hundreds of women across the country, and you found justice for the ones you were too late for. It had been your second choice after you'd left the academy and a particularly ambitious one, all things considered. 

“Y/N, the Behavioural Analysis Unit needs you. Now, I remember your resume as well as you do, most likely, so don't try to convince me all of the profiling credits and courses you took at the academy were solely to be used for trafficking work.” 

You flushed as the woman caught you off guard. It was true that you hoped to someday be able to transfer to the aforementioned unit, but you truly still respected the woman in front of you. 

Deciding that your respect trumped your human need to placate her worries about you suddenly skipping out on her, you simply cleared your throat and spoke as calmly as possible. 

“What is it exactly that the BAU needs me for?” 

The older woman smiled back at you and shook her head slightly before opening her mouth again. 

“It seems that one of their team members needs a date.” 

–X– 

Having recovered from the shock of your reassignment and its details, you'd found yourself packing a few things from your desk, grabbing your go-bag, climbing into the elevator and arriving at the doors of the BAU.

You then struggled for a few minutes to open with all the things crowding your hands. 

“Here let me,” a voice said from behind you, as you suddenly saw an arm come up around your side to push the door open. You followed your gaze up the arm until your back was against the door, moving backwards even as he pushed it open as your throat went dry.

The man in front of you was hot. It was as if some deity had plucked your ideal type out of your mind, moulded him with clay, and kiln fired him before placing him right back in front of you as temptation.

You were sure that minutes had passed since he'd spoken with you just staring up at him like this, but alas, you really couldn't help yourself. 

“Oh! Thank you,” you smiled, hoping it would diffuse the sudden awkward atmosphere that your staring had bought on. “I'm sorry, can you tell me where Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner's office is?” You mumbled out, trying to clear your throat silently as you lost yourself in the strangers' gaze. 

His eyes were locked on yours, and as he broke eye contact, your heart jumped as you noticed his ears were stained red, embarrassment apparently not lost on him. 

“Up the stairs, first office, his name is on the door. You must be SSA Y/N.” Shocked to hear your name drop from his mouth  you felt a Rusholme mortification as you studied the man once again. 

Slightly messy hair, pile of books in his hand, dressed like he'd fallen into a closet at a retirement home, tall wiry frame. 

Ashley Seaver's description of Doctor Spencer Reid had been spot on. Apart from the part where she had failed to mention, he was quite possibly the most attractive man on earth. 

“Doctor Reid?” You asked, voice a squeak, almost scared that you were wrong despite there being no suggestion that you might be.

“How did you…?” His eyes widened with a smile as he looked back to you again, searching for answers with his head cocked slightly to the side.

“I work in Domestic Trafficking. Agent Seaver and my unit chief both gave me brief descriptions of your team so I wouldn't get bogged down with introductions when I got here.” You explained quickly for fear that he'd think you slightly stalkerish for knowing his name, even though he obviously knew yours as well.

He smiled slightly awkwardly again  and gestured further inside the office, sending you off to your temporary new Unit Chief's office with a small whisper.

“I look forward to working with you.”

--X–

The debrief with Aaron Hotchner was swift  and you appreciated the man's ability to cut straight to the point. 

There was a killer targeting women in New York City, just like there were killers targeting women everywhere. But this one had taken specific issue with women who were social climbers, who attended events with high profile and successful men on their arms. 

So far, the NYPD could link 7 homicides to the killer and were under pressure to catch the guy before Lucky Number eight. 

The FBI had stepped in and suggested you be Lucky Number eight.

They'd been sent the case as a consult and provided the profile, to which the NYPD had asked for full cooperation. 

Which is how you found yourself on a jet heading to New York City two hours after Andi Swann had called you into her office. Productive day.

“What does your budget look like after a year of private jet travel?” You wondered out loud as you followed Hotchner onto the plane. SSA David had followed you onto the plane as well, having tried to introduce himself earlier. You'd allowed him the moment of humility before telling him you knew exactly who he was, and he'd be surprised if anyone in the entire bureau didn't. 

“Well they haven't put me on display yet, so I don't think I'm quite a fossil. Pleasure to be working with you.” 

His words were kind enough, but they were a reminder of the other man you'd met earlier. 

The man who had since climbed into the seat next to you, ready for the on the go case briefing.

“We've established identities for the two of you, ready for you to go in tonight to establish yourselves as bait,” Hotch explained, handing you each a personnel folder. 

“Spencer, you'll be Charles Buchanan, local businessman with alleged ties to several socialite families in the Upper East Side.” That seemed to earn a few chuckles from Agent Morgan from his perch at the other end of the plane desk, but he cleverly kept his mouth shut. 

“Y/N, you'll be Daisy Smith, you're a student putting herself through a graduate degree, who has turned to sugaring to cover course fees.” 

“Sugaring?” Rossi asked from Hotch's side, waiting for someone to clarify. 

“It's a term used to describe the act of being a sugar baby or sugar daddy. A usually non-sexual consensual relationship involving cash or other materialistic gifts.” Spencer filled in the gaps easily, without looking up from the file he was scanning ridiculously fast.

Okay, speed-reading and super intelligence check, and you were two for two on descriptions of Spencer Reid. Swann's description had also left a lot to be desired. 

“We've got Garcia establishing some online profiles for the both of you currently using the images you sent us earlier. Hopefully, we were correct in our estimation of his hunting grounds, but he'll need to stalk you for a night or two before he strikes.” 

You cleared your throat carefully as you finally decided to ask the question that had been bugging you the entire time.

“I'm sorry if this is forward, but is there a reason I was chosen for this assignment? I don't have much undercover experience, and I was told there were two women on your team. Was I misinformed?” 

“That's correct. Unfortunately, last week, Agent Prentiss decided to take a job with Interpol in London. Agent Jareau was also recently married, so she put in leave to enjoy her honeymoon. None of the candidates we have lined up fit our Unsub's type. You do.”

“As good as I would look in a dress, you're going to be much more effective at catching this guy,” Morgan joked from the side, just as Hotch accepted a video call through to the jet. 

“Morgan in a dress, sounds like one of my dreams come true.” 

“Calm it, baby girl, what have you got for us?”

“Invitations to a charity ball being held in Manhattan tonight, and around 1000 hits across five sugaring platforms for Miss Y/N. If the FBI turns out to be a letdown, you have a lot of serious offers here, sweetie.” You laughed out loud at how she blasted through and diffused all the tension in your team, without even thinking to introduce herself first. 

“You must be Penelope Garcia. It's nice to meet you.” 

“Not as nice as it is to meet you, I promise.” 

The remainder of the jet ride had been quiet if not restful, the presence of Spencer Reid a disturbingly pretty thorn in your side. 

You'd sneaked glances at him multiple times, not an easy feat on a jet filled with profilers. His fingers had grazed yours as he passed you his file earlier as well, letting you read up on his new character. 

What you found most distracting, though, was the now bare stretch of skin peaking out from his shirt collar. 

He'd decided to take a nap at some point earlier, and now you silently cursed him for it as you looked at the splash of skin distractedly. 

You could press your lips there and work your way up to his lips. Or you could go in the opposite direction and have more fun, you reminded yourself. 

It seemed that image had you waking up, jerking upright so that you would not let that go any further.

This was your job. You were a professional, an FBI agent. 

You weren't allowed to imagine giving this man a blow job on government time. You'd have to save that thought for after the case was closed, and you could go your separate ways, you thought.

Landing was easy  and you moved straight into dress fittings and practising your story for the party later that night. 

Which meant a blissful few hours without the distraction of Spencer Reid. 

Luckily for you, the first dress they'd given you to wear had turned out to be a good fit, showcasing some of your more prominent assets. 

It hugged your body tight, but it wasn't uncomfortable, showing off a generous amount of cleavage and leg as well. It wasn't quite scandalous, but you knew it was definitely the kind of outfit that would stick out like a sore thumb at a socialite dinner. 

Which meant it was perfect for baiting the unsub.

By 7pm, you'd been outfitted, prepped, and deposited in the back of a limousine with Spencer Reid, and you were right back at square one trying not to climb him then and there. 

His outfit choice had been slightly harder, apparently, given his taller frame, but the three piece suit they'd given him was do perfect it was hard to tell it wasn't tailored to his measurements. 

“Are you nervous?” He asked, whispering the words in your ear as he stroked your hand. Although the limousine driver was an undercover NYPD detective, you'd both been told to get into character as quickly as possible. 

There were a series of other undercover agents being placed throughout the party tonight - Hotch was going in as a representative of the District Attorney's office, a few NYPD detectives were serving guests drinks and food, and Rossi had managed to get an invite as himself. 

Morgan was left running surveillance in the van outside. 

Because of your outfit and the nature of the unsubs attacks, there had been no point in trying to put a wire on you at this point in time. It'd take him a week of surveillance to pick you up anyway. Tonight would just be the start of his hunt. 

So you let Spencer stroke your hand, fingers locked in his as you gave him a smile, and tried not to imagine them wrapped around his cock. 

“Just a little. I think it's the dress  shows off a bit more than I'm used to.” He took a second to glance down your body, as if he'd been waiting for your permission until now, and you watched his eyes pause over your chest and at where the hem sat at the top of your thighs, dangerously close to bearing everything.

“You look… beautiful. I think our unsub will like it, at least.” 

You tried to hide your disappointment as he pulled his hand away, ready to open the door as the car pulled up to your destination. 

You surveyed the room as you walked in, trying to memorise every particularly leering smile from men as you made your way to your seat. 

After half an hour, though, it seemed like catching your guy was going to be like finding a needle in a haystack. Or a creep in a room full of creeps. 

It seemed like every man who talked to Spencer only glanced at you to stare down your dress, a few even attempting to pat your back and let their hands drift south.

If it weren't for the sake of the job, you'd have sucker punched some of the richest men in New York City by now. And you'd have enjoyed it. 

Politely detaching himself from conversation, Spencer guided you away to the dance floor for a second. You'd planned it this way for when you needed some time privately to discuss potential suspects. 

A few other couples glided around the floor as you stood chest to chest with Spencer, surprised how confidently he was handling the caseload. 

His hands took their places, one on your hip, the other gripping your own as you both began to sway side to side. 

“Any ideas?” He whispered in your ear as you moved delicately. 

“Your 10 o’clock. Younger son of the Johnson family. He’s been sat glaring at me for 10 minutes despite his mother's attempts to network for him.” 

“It fits the profile, absent father, overbearing mother. He has obvious disdain for you. Is there anyone else?” His words were hot against your skin as you looked up at him, finding your lips surprisingly close as your bodies continued swaying together. 

“Half of the men in this room have undressed me with their eyes, the other half actually tried to put their hands on me when they were talking to you.” He stiffened at that, breaking eye contact as his eyes flashed with sudden emotion. 

His hand slid from your waist further down to stroke your ass slightly as he watched the crowd to see anyone taking offence at his sudden bold display of affection. 

At least that was what you assumed he was doing  as you too began to glance around, watching for anyone watching you, confident that Hotch, Rossi, and the others would do the same. 

When his hand on your ass pulled you closer into him, though, you weren't so sure. 

“Spencer, what are you-” You started in confusion, noticing that his gaze had returned to you. More specifically, that it had returned to your chest, as he stared down at how your breasts looked, pushed up against his chest as they were. 

He encouraged your other hand to wrap around his shoulder, freeing his other hand to land on your ass again as he pulled you closer still. 

You'd almost stopped moving, certain that having his body pressed against yours in every place hardly counted as dancing. You opened your mouth to say as much when you felt something twitch against your thigh. A low groan slipped from Spencer's lips as he adjusted your positions slightly as you felt something hard shift against your leg. 

“Do you seriously have a boner right now?” You whispered, as much in exasperation as in excitement. 

Spencer Reid was grinding his boner into you in front of a room full of people, and you felt like you'd just won the lottery. 

“I'm sorry, natural reaction. You look so hot tonight, and then your hands were all over me.” He rambled slightly in his explanations, mortification clear on his face as he tried to apologise. 

“It's okay.” You whispered in his ear, pulling yourself up on your toes softly to press a chaste kiss to his lips. 

If you just so happened to rub up against him going up and down, eliciting another deep groan for the man, then so be it. 

“Y/N…” He whispered you name like a prayer and it almost convinced you that there was no one else in the room. 

“Spencer, there's no way our unsub is going to approach us if you have that thing tenting your pants.” You kept your voice low as your hands trailed down his chest. Pushing one further, you gently rubbed over his clothed member as if accentuating your point. 

“We need to solve this problem, don't you think?” 

His jaw clenched as he contemplated your words, trying not to let any other sounds out. His nod was barely perceptible, but within seconds you were glancing around the room for a quick exit, and in another minute, you'd slipped through a service entrance  and out through some corridors into a dimly lit alleyway. 

As soon as you were cloaked in darkness, Spencer was on you. 

Whirling you around, he backed you into the wall until your back was pressed into it, and his lips were on yours. 

You moaned helplessly into the kiss, hands finding his chest again and moving south even as he began exploring your body. 

“This is an important case, and we're about to blow it because I can't keep my hands off you,” he whispered between kisses, lips trailing down your neck. 

“Do you know how crazy we both must be?” 

“I know exactly how crazy for you I am, Reid. Now, please let me suck your dick.” You moaned the words as his fingers found their way into your panties, stroking your clit. 

“Y/N, I'm trying to talk sense into us here.” He groaned as your fingers fumbled with his pant buttons, hand sliding into the material to wrap around his cock.

“How much sense are you talking with your fingers inside me?” You panted, willing him to just fully let go and let you both enjoy yourselves. 

“While we're out here, Hotch and Rossi are inside, noting down anyone who takes particular offence to our exit. We can enjoy ourselves and catch a better lead.” You started slowly pumping him then, as he pushed closer into you, allowing you to reach more of him at this different angle.

His head dropped to your shoulder as he breathed out a laugh. 

“Right, this will help.” He tried to convince yourself, and you grinned in victory, rocking your hips against his hand to find your release sooner. 

Until he withdrew his hand and used it to grasp your own, halting your movements. 

“Spencer?” You pouted slightly, but he pressed another kiss to your lips  this time forceful and demanding, to guess begging permission to enter and dominate you. 

You gladly accepted him into your mouth, even as you felt him pushing up your skirt, letting the material ride higher as it had been trying to do all night. 

Making sure you were steady against the brick wall, he pulled your hips up and around his, pushing your panties to the side as he pushed inside of you. 

The stretch was maddening. Everywhere he touched became hot against the cool night breeze as he began his frenzied strokes into you. 

You lost all capability for speech, which was probably for the best, as you were sure you'd only ask for him to do more disgusting things to you eventually. 

His mouth slid to the top of your breasts as they bounced with each thrust, waiting to claim a nipple in his mouth when one eventually came free of the offending material. 

“Such a little slut, begging to suck my dick. Maybe next time, princess.” You screamed and arched your back as he finally bit down around your nipple, soothing the skin with his tongue as he licked and suckled there. 

His other hand fell to your clit again, pushing you to the edge as you finally came on his cock. 

He didn't stop though, powering through as you tightened around him, moaning wantonly as his thrusts hit deeper still.

“Let's see what our unsub thinks when he sees my cum dripping out of you,” he whispered again, as he too let himself go, releasing spurt after spurt of cum inside of you. 

Making sure you were strong enough, he set you back down on the ground, keeping an arm wrapped around you protectively as you smoothed your clothes back into place. 

You helped him button his pants as he smoothed your hair, tucking a stray piece behind your ear before ducking in for one more sweet kiss. 

“I'm sorry that I couldn't let you, uh, perform orally,” he blushed again, his ears that same shade of red you noticed earlier as he guided you back inside. “I think someone would have noticed if I'd ruined your makeup that much.”

You practically choked on your own spit as you finally slipped back into the dance hall.

“Next time,” you said, making sure to finish the conversation you'd started. “We’ll have more privacy.” 

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid criminal minds

[jazzyoranges]

Nights - drabble

Jenna Ortega x gn!reader

Summary: you take a flight across the country for your girlfriend

Words: 0.6k

A/n: this is the closest thing you’ll get to a continuous series, i’m sorry 💀

Mornings | Afternoons | Nights

“You’re going to hop on a five hour flight to New York because you miss your girlfriend?”

“Precisely.”

“And they say chivalry is dead” Your brother sighs

“Well, chivalry obviously hasn’t met me”

“Right. And you said you were going to surprise her with what again?”

“Rose petals. Rose petals everywhere. Enough rose petals to kill a healthy adult”

“It sounds like you’re going to murder her with rose petals”

“Precisely.”

“…Alright. I’ll talk to you later?” Your brother sighs again, going to rub his temples like you’re causing him a headache. One of these days you’re going to give the man a heart attack

“Perfect timing! The jet just got here”

“Stop flexing your money on me, dumbass”

“You wish you were me. Love you!” Abruptly hanging up, you pocket your phone before boarding the private jet. Truly, who let you be so chivalrous? You were already having a great day just imagining being in Jenna’s embrace after what felt like decades

—

Jenna’s day has been pretty bad.

Her morning started off with bitter coffee, bitter breakfast, and nothing but sweet thoughts of you. Days in New York were cold this season, and without you to warm her up she only felt colder.

The rain didn’t seem to ease up, either. So now here she was, a soaking wet sad kitty as you’d probably say, walking down the streets of New York with a scowl on her face.

In Jenna’s mind, nothing could make her day better. Maybe if an angel descended from the heavens she’d be a little happier, but alas, no wings have made an appearance. All she wanted to do was get in bed, and hibernate for exactly one month so she could see you as soon as possible.

Nearing her hotel, she didn’t spare a glance at the man greeting her in the doorway. Sure she felt a little mean, but the only thing on her mind was a long shower and an uncomfortable white bed. Jenna misses what he says, but she decides it’s probably nothing important.

Jenna scans her card at her door, and is met with an… interesting sight to say the least

Rose petals make a path towards her room, and she immediately thinks of the worst.

What if someone broke in? Did they climb in through the balcony? Oh wait, she didn’t have a balcony…

Jenna silently puts her things down, and grabs the same pan she cooked her unsatisfactory breakfast in

The brunette, pan in hand, tip-toes her way towards her room.

There’s a faint humming sound when she nears the bedroom. There definitely isn’t a scarcity of rose petals, that’s for sure. Jenna takes a moment to listen. She recognizes the melody. Your melody. She remembers hearing it over call a few weeks ago

No way you were really here.

…right?

Jenna turns the door handle, and the humming abruptly stops

Opening the door, there’s a number of emotions running around her brain. Actually, it’s only two. Lots of confusion, but equal amounts of love

You’re sat criss-crossed on her bed in the middle of a giant heart made of rose petals. You adorned a wide grin on your face, and Jenna wanted nothing more than to pinch your dumb little cheeks and kiss your dimples until she ran out of breath.

Before you could say a word, there was a clank behind Jenna and then she was in your arms. You were trapped in a bear-tight hug, but you weren’t really complaining

“Surprise” You whisper in her ear, and your girlfriend only hugs you tighter. An angel really descended the heavens and made her day better

—

Bonus:

“Baby, why is there a pan on the floor?”

“Absolutely no reason, love. Just keep kissing me.”

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna x y/n #jenna ortega x gn!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna marie ortega #jenna x reader #jenna ortega x you

[shroomi1e]

❝ closer to me ❞

sampo + jing yuan + gepard + blade

summary: attractive ways they pull you closer / get your attention

cw: gender neutral, no phys description of reader, mostly fluff but blade's has a hint of spiciness

a/n: finals had me in a chokehold ya'll😭 also i'm in the middle of moving across the country so yeah that's been fun... safe to say i won't have much time for writing since i haven't had time for literally anything. have this in the meantime though

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

sampo : by your belt loop

the belt loop is a classic, maybe even overdone, but it’s something that just screams “sampo”

it doesn’t matter whether you’re chatting with friends or alone with him in one of the dark alleys of belobog; sampo always wants you close to him. sometimes it’s to see your cheeks turn pink, and other times it’s to pull you away from danger.

especially when you’re up and about above the surface, where cars and trains criss-cross each other when the traffic is busy. if you’re standing a bit too close to the edge to the sidewalk while a car is passing by, his first instinct is to put a finger through your belt loop and pull you closer to him.

but other times it can be possessive. not the burning envy and jealousy that often leaves a bitter aftertaste, but the light and teasing possessiveness that sampo often displays. especially when you’re chatting with the others in belobog with your lover right behind you.

he watches your interactions fondly, but you’re acutely aware of the way his fingertips lightly run along the waistband of your pants, subtle enough for the others to not notice. he even leans forward just a few inches, his breath teasing the shell of your ear.

and his finger hooks through the belt loop, but he doesn’t do anything right away. he wants you to wonder when he’ll pull on it, to watch you stumble over your words as his finger plays with the small piece of fabric hanging off of your pants.

once the time is right, the cat pounces, and sampo tugs you backwards so that the back of your head gently bumps against his chest. he holds in a smug chuckle at the way you squeak, your body stiffening at the sudden gesture.

“ah, r-right, we needed to be somewhere. i-isn’t that right, sampo?”

sampo doesn’t give you an answer, opting to give you a smug smile laced with feigned innocence. you hurriedly wave goodbye to your friends and walk away, much to their confusion. even as you lightly slap his arm, all your lover can do is chuckle. after all, you do look quite cute with your arms crossed, lips in a pout and your cheeks pink.

“don’t do that, it’s embarrassing…”

he quickly hooks a finger into your belt loop again, this time the one on the side. the tug is slightly harder, not enough to surprise you too much, but enough to make you stumble into him. he catches you by putting an arm around your waist, his gloved fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. he leans down, his lips grazing your ear.

“but you love it, don’t you? don’t lie to poor old sampo here, you’re gonna hurt my feelings!”

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

jing yuan : by your chair

jing yuan honestly thinks these meetings are a bore. perhaps even unnecessary. his chin rests on his palm, his eyelids drooping as they grow heavier and heavier. he hears words, but they only go in one ear and out the other. the only thing that’s keeping him awake is your occasional pinches to his thigh when he’s about to fall asleep.

and when he subtly glances towards you, all he sees is your stern expression, an eyebrow raised as a warning for him to stay awake. he’s promised to stay awake for today after missing multiple important meetings… but he can’t help it that he’s so bored!

he almost looks like a kicked puppy, sad that his owner won’t play with him. the least you could do is to entertain him, but alas, it seems you’re rather focused on the affairs of the xianzhou luofu. your eyes are fixed on the papers in front of you, your hands politely folded in your lap.

but jing yuan is determined. he’s promised to stay awake, so he will, but not without having his own fill of your attention. at first his hand starts on your knee. you give him a quick glance but don’t think too much of it.

his fingers drum against your knee, tugging on the fabric of your pants. when you shoot him a questioning glance, he gives you a small smile, silently asking for your attention. he’s hoping that maybe you’ll put your hand on his knee as well, maybe even hold his hand under the table. not to mention you’re sitting way too far away from him for his liking. but he also knows that you wouldn’t be shaken so easily.

upon receiving no reaction, his fingertips reach out for yours. jing yuan gives you puppy-dog eyes. c’mon, i’m so booored…

the way you narrow your eyes at him says it all. you’re the general here. stay focused while we’re on the job, will you? his pout deepens, a small sigh escaping his lips. is it so wrong to want your affection?

jing yuan’s had enough. his hand moves from your leg to the chair you’re sitting on, and as if you weighed nothing, he yanks your chair closer to his until you’re right next to each other. your shoulder bumps against his, your knees touching. the screech of your chair against the floor was loud enough for others to notice, much to your dismay… but your lover seems rather happy now that you’re sitting side-by-side.

you’re startled, to say the least. everyone in the room gives the two of you a quizzical look, but jing yuan thinks they should be used to it by now. the two of you are lovers, right? what’s wrong with him wanting you to sit a bit closer to him?

and with a victorious smile, he puts his arm over your shoulder and continues to listen to what his coworkers have to say. your wide eyes and parted lips don’t go unnoticed, but he could always attend to that later. (he still fell asleep btw)

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

gepard : slight tugs on your fingertips

gepard often has a hard time voicing his needs. on the battlefield, he’s always firm and assertive, ensuring that the silvermane guards do their respective jobs while also staying safe. but whenever he’s around you, his voice catches in his throat and his words come out in jumbles. while he has no trouble leading his comrades into battle, gepard often finds it difficult to ask for something as simple as holding your hand.

maybe he’s going out on a walk with you on a rare day that he’s free, or perhaps he wants your attention while you’ve been chatting with a friend you ran into while out and about. gepard doesn’t have to courage to simply grab your hand and hold it, so he instead holds your fingertips in his hand, giving it slight tugs.

“geppie, you know you can always just hold my hand or hug me, right? there’s really no need to ask every single time.”

he swallows a lump in his throat, and his first instinct is to apologize. “i- er, sorry… i’m just not really sure how to ask.” gepard wasn’t lying though, he genuinely isn’t sure how to ask. does he just grab your hand? should he still ask out of courtesy? what if you don’t want to hold his hand?

his hands are much bigger than yours, and it almost seems like he’s scared of hurting you with how gently he tugs on your hand. but still, the gesture is noticeable enough for you to catch on, and you eventually learn to know what he wants just from that small tug on your fingers. when you respond by looking at him with curious eyes or by intertwining your fingers with his, gepard feels a sense of relief knowing that you understand.

it’s gotten to a point where your lover always tugs on your fingertips before asking for something. of course, gepard always follows it up by shyly whispering in your ear or stumbling over his words. but it’s a way to let you know he wants something from you, even the smallest things.

whether he wants to hold hands, a hug, a kiss, or even for you to just look at him, it always starts with that tiny gesture. he’ll do it while you’re in the kitchen cooking something for him before hugging you from behind. he’ll do it while you’re walking side-by-side as a silent way to ask to hold hands. and he’ll do it on late nights when he’s tired, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips in a silent request for a kiss.

he still wishes he could be a suave, cool lover that can smoothly ask for a kiss or maybe even just kiss you outright. but gepard is a gentleman through and through, and every kiss, hug, and held hands will only be followed by his gloved hands tugging on your fingers.

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

blade : by your neck

the first time it happened, you were surprised. flabbergasted, even. the most conventional way to pull someone in for a kiss would be to either lean in close to them or hold onto their waist to pull them closer. but the last thing you expected was for blade’s fingers to gently wrap around your neck and pull you closer to him for a kiss.

his grip was soft, barely applying pressure to your neck. but it was still firm enough to lead you closer to him, close enough for your lips to meet his. and when the kiss broke, you stared at him with wide eyes. blade isn’t sure why you’re surprised, though. all he did was pull you in for a kiss, what seems to be the problem here?

even when hugging you, his hands don’t pull you in by your hips or waist; one hand is always on the back of your neck to bury your face into his chest. his bandaged fingers smooth over the nape of your neck, idly drawing patterns on your skin as he holds you close.

blade finds that his hands naturally want to touch your neck. he likes feeling the shallow thumping of your pulse against the pads of his fingers, wondering if his heart beat in the same rhythm as yours.

when he comes home from his duties, he’ll often find you sitting at your desk reading or attending to your hobbies. you can barely hear his feet pad against the floor as he approaches you from behind. you’re still not aware of his presence looming behind you, subtly looking over your shoulder to see what you’re doing. and before you know it, you feel a hand place itself on the base of your neck. you don’t fret though; you know exactly who it is from the feeling of the bandages wrapped around his hand.

“hi, blade,” you’d greet him gently. but your eyes remain fixed on your book. not him. that seems to be a problem.

“hm,” is the only reply you get. blade’s thumb rubs against the side of your neck affectionately, his fingers still gently wrapped around your neck. his hand moves further to the side of your neck so that his thumb can press against the underside of your chin. he tilts your head back, pushing your chin upwards so you can look at him while he’s standing behind your chair.

his hand moves up to hold your jaw, his thumb playing with your lower lip. you wait with a bated breath as if you know exactly what’s going to happen. and the moment your eyes flutter shut, blade leans down to meld your lips with his.

once the kiss is broken, he playfully drums his fingers against your neck. “mm, that’s better.”

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

i was giggling and kicking my feet while writing blade's part ngl

#hsr #honkai star rail #sampo #sampo x reader #hsr sampo #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan hsr #honkai x reader #gepard #gepard landau #gepard x reader #gepard hsr #blade #blade honkai #blade hsr #blade x reader #hsr fluff #hsr headcanons

[wheredafandomat]

In my Solitude

Thor x Reader x Loki - Asgard AU

18+ | contains smutty themes + adult themes etc. angst

Chapter 2 | prev | next

“And you’re sure?” You questioned cautiously, looking up at the nurse.

“Positive my lady” she nodded.

“No one can know, you mustn’t tell a soul” you threatened.

“Of course my lady” she nodded again as you began to stand, feeling a little lightheaded.

“Tell me about Midgard” you requested, your head against Loki’s arm as you looked up at the stars from your perch on one of the balconies. Taking the almost empty bottle of mead from your hand, Loki took a swig before he spoke.

“Well, I suppose it’s like here but with fewer stars” he answered.

“Really?” You asked, awestruck.

“Well there’s a few differences like they don’t have any magic there they have something else called technology and the music y/n, the music is dulcet. The harmonious melodies they have there are the real magic.”

“Really?” You gasped.

“Really” he smiled, glancing down at you before looking at the sky again “and they’ve got different countries with different rules and different rulers” he continued.

“I bet you would be the best ruler, you could rule them all” you giggled.

“I agree,” he nodded, “although I don’t think they’ll take kindly to that.”

“You’re wasted here” you murmured, looking up at him.

“How so?” Loki questioned, looking down at you.

“Here you’re cast to the shadows, always following in his footsteps but elsewhere you’d be able to shine, you’d be a king Loki” you grinned.

Loki let the words linger for a moment before he spoke.

“A king needs a queen,” he stated.

“We get along, I could be your queen” you suggested playfully.

“Yeah?” Loki smiled.

“Yes” you nodded, your gaze dipping to Loki’s lips as his lowered to yours. The tense seconds that passed between you both felt like hours as you ripped your stares apart, Loki clearing his throat.

“But alas, you’re promised to someone else” he continued the conversation.

“Well I’ll run away if you will,” you laughed.

“Yeah, we’ll meet at the palace gates and run off into the sunset together” Loki chuckled.

“Stranger things have happened my friend, stranger things” you smiled before a comfortable silence settled between you both.

“Will you take me one day, Loki, to Midgard?” You requested.

“I’d do anything you ask” he answered quickly, too quickly.

Eventually, the two of you decided to head back to your chambers, Loki helping you to yours as you stumbled over your own feet, giggling with each step. Allowing you to lean on him, Loki guided you towards your bed before you inelegantly threw yourself into it, rushing underneath the duvet. You looked up at him as he looked down at you, knowing you wanted to say something.

“Yes?” He prompted.

“I want to hear more about Midgard,” you asked.

“Of course you do,” he smiled, noticing your shiver before he clicked his fingers, igniting the fireplace as you moved across the bed to the other side, gesturing for him to lay down. Without pulling the duvet back, Loki laid down and began to speak as your eyes fell closed.

“And that’s not even the half of it” he finished, placing a kiss against your cheek as he heard your breathing even out. Standing to his feet, he looked at you for a moment, the rise and fall of your chest before he silently bid you goodnight and left your chambers.

Waking up the following morning, you cursed Thor’s mead as your head throbbed. Like most mornings, your chambermaids bathed you, clothed you and fed you before reading your daily schedule. Today you had meetings with your ladies in waiting, meetings that mostly consisted of you sitting bored as you sipped tea. As you left your chambesr to attend the first meeting of the day, you spotted Loki heading towards one of the training rooms. Dismissing your escort, you followed Loki, slipping in behind him before the door closed. You watched him, intrigued as he began laying out various weapons from the weapons vault, his back to you as you slowly stepped towards him.

“You know it isn’t polite to stare”

You gasped, your breath escaping you as Loki spoke in your ear. Spinning around, you were met by Loki who was smiling coyly at you. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw the other Loki practically disappear.

“A clone” you figured.

“You shouldn’t be in here” he smirked “this is my domain”

“Is that a threat?” You stood your ground as Loki began to circle you.

“Merely a statement, a fact if you will,” he shrugged.

“There isn’t anywhere in the palace I don’t have access to, this room, your domain included” you smiled smugly.

“I don’t doubt that,” he agreed. “However there are certain places that have certain rules, rules that must be abided by, even by you” he spoke.

“Such as?” You ventured.

“No one enters this room and leaves without a fight” he informed you.

“Am I supposed to be scared?” You smiled.

“Very” he answered in a tone that could have been mistaken for sultrily, a tone that made you falter for a moment before composing yourself again. “I promise, I’ll go easy on you” he assured.

“Oh Loki, the last thing I want is for you to go easy on me” you dared.

“So you want it hard then?” He smirked.

“I was trained as a Valkyrie Loki, do you want it hard?” You rebutted.

“Very well” he began, taking a dagger from his ankle holster and handing it to you “are you sure you’re dressed appropriately?” He asked, eyeing the dress draped over your body, touching the floor. Using the dagger, you tore the bottom of the dress off to allow your feet to move more freely before nodding.

“Give me your best shot” you spoke before you and Loki began to fight. Your blades clashed against one another as you dodged eachothers attacks. You couldn’t help the wide smile that spread across your face at the feeling of a sharp dagger in your hand again, the feeling of fighting again; you couldn’t remember the last time you felt this alive. You could tell Loki was holding back. He was one of the most skilled fighters in the nine realms and yet you had managed to nick at his skin a couple of times.

“Stop holding back” you shouted over the clanging of metal and your heavy breathing paired with his.

“I’m not, maybe you’re just that good,” Loki answered.

“Nonsense” you huffed, holding the dagger against his throat.

“Fine” he caved in, wrapping his arm around your back as he pulled you against him “if you step backward, this dagger plunges into your back.”

“And if you step forward, this dagger slices your throat” you shot back, your eyes boring into one another’s.

“So, we find ourselves in quite the predicament” he voiced.

“Although I’m at an advantage” you spoke, causing Loki’s smile to fall as you stepped back a little, freeing yourself from his grip as his dagger pierced through your dress, penetrating your skin a little.

“Y/n!” Loki gasped, dropping his dagger as he spun you around.

“It’s fine, just a little scratch, these dresses have such thick corsets attached” you dismissed.

“I could have seriously hurt you” Loki reprimanded you, untying the strings of your corset “let me heal you” he offered, removing your corset and placing his hand over the graze. The area felt cool for a moment before Loki let go. Unlike the last time in your chambers, you were wearing undergarments so your body wasn’t completely unclad, not that you would have minded with the way Loki was looking at you, forcing himself to focus on your eyes, hungry as you turned to face him.

“So, I win?”

“Get out y/n” Loki spoke, causing you to furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“Sorry I—” you began.

“Go, now!” He raised his voice a little, catching you off guard as you quickly spun around and headed for the door.

Bit of an abrupt ending 🤣

Next

Tags 🖤

@lokisgoodgirl @thenotoriouserg @chantsdemarins @donaweasley @xorpsbane @mcufan72 @loz-3 @sailorholly @lovingchoices14 @lokiedokiee @noideakitten @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @lokiprompts @lulubelle814 @fictive-sl0th @peaches1958 @gigglingtiggerv2 @tmilover1993 @lyds247 @dustychinchilla74 @lokis-dark-queen @november-rayne @12-pm-510 @newtomofgods @eyesbluelikethetitanic @lokiestorch @beautyb1ade @angelilacsworld @lokidokieokie @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @asgards-princess-of-mischief @anundyingfidelity

#Loki #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfic #loki (marvel) #oc fiction #loki fanfiction #tom hiddelston loki #loki x y/n #loki x you #asgardian reader #loki imagines #loki fluff #loki god of mischief

[chrollohearttags]

favorite song • e. jaeger

“I’m on the stage right now, singing your favorite song. I look in the crowd and you’re nowhere to be found as they sing along.”

synopsis: influencer (y/n) forms a close friendship with the infamous rapper, EJ after working together and Eren wishes it could be more. Too bad someone else is in the way..

content warning and themes: angsty vibes, early stages of their relationship, mentions of abuse and cheating, mentions of alcohol, light mentions of sex, kissing, comfort at the end because I truly love them. (also, a couple spoilers for the next reverb chapters)

📝: y’all know these two are just very special to me 😩🤞🏾 like I’m so hopelessly in love with a relationship that doesn’t exist and I couldn’t stop thinking about that Toosii song (legit had it on repeat as I wrote this)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Atlanta, Georgia. One of the most infamous cities in the country and a staple in the music industry. From the illustrious strip clubs where the rappers came to play and the countless, legendary musicians to be birthed from the famed A-Town..it was iconic. It was also one of EJ the Don’s favorite places to perform. The crowd’s energy was always top tier, the fans were live and he always enjoyed himself.

“Thank you, Atlanta! You know I fucking love you guys and I appreciate all the love you show me…” nearing the conclusion of his two hour set, the artist began to give him obligatory speech, thanking all of his loyal supporters and everyone who turned out tonight. From the insane songs that triggered two huge mosh pits to the slower joints that had brought forth the baddest bitches in the crowd..serenaded underneath dimmed lights as he strummed the guitar and sang to them. It was an entire vibe and like all of his shows, he never wanted it to end. But alas, it was getting later into the night and he was becoming jaded. However, he couldn’t leave his loyal fans without something special!

“This next song…this next song is one that’s very near to my heart..just like the person I wrote it for. They can’t be here tonight but I hope wherever they are..they hear it.”

upon taking a seat on his stool, a stage hand came out and handed Eren his electric guitar..a jet black Fender with chrome and red accents and hand painted roses; named Carla after his mom who gifted it to him on his twenty first birthday. It’s the most precious thing he’s ever received and now he was about, he was about to play a ballad to the most precious person in his life right now. Propping the instrument up on his knee, he’d take the pick that was pursed between his lips and begin to strum slowly..tattooed digits tapping at the E Minor and D strings, creating a soft yet high pitched tune. It was something that he didn’t normally do during his performances but there was a first time for everything. As he began to sing, accompanied by the instrumentals and backtracks, sounding out across the packed arena, he began to croon out the words to a track he titled ‘Everything’, in which he pours out his heart, how that person meant everything to him and everything that he loved about them. It was so beautiful, authentic and yet…maintained bits of signature rap style. The crowd was cheering; ladies fawning from the front row, men nodding their head and everyone was enjoying themselves. The one person he needed there however…was nowhere to be found. The person who inspired it and who burst into tears when he first played it. That person…was you. His precious (y/n). A girl adorned by many and the object of desire for for thousands of men. Captivating the world with your flawless pole skills and ethereal beauty. A one of a kind woman, as rare and priceless as any jewel. You were truly his everything.

but sadly, it could only be confessed in the form of this song, as he was certain you were somewhere in the arms of another guy. Laid up in bed, carrying on a loveless relationship with someone who didn’t see your worth. He hated it. He hated that he couldn’t be the one holding you right now and making all those doubts and insecurities disappear…he even recalled the last time he spoke to you. A little over three weeks ago…as he sat begging and pleading for you to be with him instead.

FLASHBACK

“I don’t get it, (y/n). Why the fuck do you even stick around? It doesn’t make sense..”

“I wish I could tell you why…but I can’t. I guess I’m just scared.”

“Scared of what?! Because if he’s putting his hands on you, I’ll splatter his brains as soon as he comes through that door.”

it was a conversation you’d never expect to have but an inevitable one nonetheless. It was going to come to this eventually…after all, you were sitting at the kitchen counter of your high rise condo, sobbing your eyes out and picking up pieces of shattered glass from a broken vase, slammed to the ground by your no good, sorry ass, abusive, cheater of a boyfriend. Why a woman as beautiful as you would ever think to stick around and put up with such bullshit, was beyond anyone. Including the man standing in front of you. The one who would wipe tears from that pretty face all the time..who had watched you cry as he held you.

“Look, (y/n). I can’t tell you what to do but I’ll be damned if I sit here and let you get treated like this. You deserve better than whatever the fuck he’s doing. Why won’t you just leave?!”

something far easier said than done..truth was, being in a relationship with a high powered executive while trying to make it up the ladder in the entertainment industry was not for the weak. And trying to break away was a whole lot harder!..the repercussions you could face; not only would he have you blackballed from every event or potential job you’d ever think to have but he’d have everyone turning on you. It’d be career suicide! Howvever, Eren didn’t care. He didn’t give a damn what that piece of shit thought he was capable of…he only cared about your well-being and watching you cover up your sadness with sips of liquor was driving him insane. He loved you and wanted to protect you with his life. He wanted to wake up every day next to you, smiling as he saw you in your most pure form; no makeup and all that natural beauty and make love to you every single night. He wanted to be the one who’s name you cried out as you clawed his back and begged him to go deeper. He couldn’t stand this..stepping closer, Eren cupped the sides of your face, tilting it upward so that you could see him. See him in all the vulnerability he had to offer.

“Listen..I just want you to be happy. Fuck all that other noise. Just leave with me and we’ll figure i—“

“Stop it, Eren, I can’t put you in this mess. He’ll ruin everything you worked hard for and that’s not fair. I’m not worth it!”

hearing those words nearly shattered his heart into a million pieces. Never had he felt the way he had about anyone in his young twenty five years the way he did about you. No one made his heart flutter and his soul feel complete the way you did and he couldn’t let you think anything less of yourself than what you were..

“..baby, don’t you realize I’m already in? I’m not going anywhere, even if you push me away right now. You mean more to me than any of this. I don’t care if I ever touch a Grammy, an awards show or any of that shit. You’re all I want. Please..”

and in that moment, you could do nothing more than helplessly fall into his arms. Stuffing your tear ridden face into the comfort of his chest and that black tee he was sporting and as always, he was right there to hold you close and coddle you in his grasp.

“Eren…”

PRESENT

so as he strummed those notes, singing out with all that he harbored..lights from illuminated cell phones swaying back and forth..

“And if you let me, I’ll be your everything..”

he hoped that somewhere, somehow..you could hear it. Not just with your ears but your heart and truly feel the message. That it would motivate you to finally go where you belonged. With him.

“Can you hear me, (y/n)? Are you listening…because I’m playing this song just for you. For us..I’ll always be with you no matter what.”

#cherry’s drabbles 🍒🌷 #aot #eren fluff #eren jaeger #eren x black fem!reader #musician eren #musician x influencer au #eren x black reader #eren drabble #aot drabbles #aot imagines #eren imagines #eren x y/n #eren x reader #aot au #aot fluff #fluff drabble #aot angst #angst drabble #eren jaeger imagines #eren jaeger x black reader #aot x black reader #eren aot #musician au #fluff #I’m a lil rusty I know #cw smut #cw abuse #cw cheating #cw alcohol

[theghoulgirl]

Adoration (Keith Kogane/Reader)

A 1,300 word oneshot that takes place after the war in which Keith and the reader both live together. Pretty much a slice-of-life in which they both get ready for bed on a cold winter night. (18+)

I also know I am writing for a pretty lifeless fandom, but alas, I wrote this because I wanted to. Not because I expect much traffic to come across it. If you do happen to stubble upon it, then I hope you enjoy!

As the sun wore down on the horizon, it covered the small town in a frigid chill. Luckily the two lovers were tucked away indoors in a desperate attempt to fend off the cold that crept outdoors. But despite their attempt, the youngest of the love birds could not effectively beat the freezing temperatures that had washed over the country. 

“Keith, my dearest?” 

“Yes hon?”

“I actually cannot feel my hands anymore.” Keith and (y/n) were snuggled up on the leather loveseat that sat in the living room of their house, with the memories of war behind them in the not-so-distant past. To further prove her point, she decided to stick an ice-cold hand under his shirt and rest it on his stomach.

Keith let out a surprised gasp and gently shoved her away with a bellowing cackle. “Dear god, go take a hot shower or something! What the actual hell, how is that human? Are you human? That’s not human. ” 

(Y/n) let out a giggle at his rapid fire comments. “I’m not so sure I am anymore. Or maybe you’re not human, especially considering you are still as fiery as a furnace.” 

“Yes. I am not fully human, we know this.” Keith waved his hand in a small circle. 

“But that?” He pointed down at her hands “That is not human. I know human, and this ain’t it.” (Y/n) rolled her eyes at his antics and sat crossed legged next to him with her arms stretched above her head. 

“Well it’s nearly a blizzard out there! You also won’t let me turn the temperature up, so I’m cold!” Although he is right about taking a shower. It’s nearly time for bed and my face feels incredibly gross. (Y/n) stared at Keith’s face in contemplation. 

In a moment of courage, she whispered “Take a shower with me?”Keith shot her a gleeful smirk.

“There wouldn’t be any actual bathing if I joined. So, unfortunately,  I am going to have to pass on your tempting offer.”

“But it would be fun and then I’d get to have, not one, but two different heat sources.” A crimson heat spread across her cheeks at the suggestiveness of her first comment. The corner of Keith’s eyes crinkled as his grin widened, and he patted her on as a sign to get up. 

“Now. Go get a shower. You’re an ice cube and I do not have a nuclear core to keep you warm.”

“Fine. Fine. I’m going.”

After her vision cleared from standing up too quickly, (y/n) wrapped her jacket closer to her and waddled to the shared bathroom. She turned the shower nozzle to the highest setting, which could be equated to the surface temperature of the sun. While waiting for the water to warm, she removed her makeup that has been resting on her skin for far too long. Keith decided at the moment the mascara was being removed, to walk in and lean against the door frame with an adoring expression. 

“Your eyes look like a raccoon.” 

“Fuck off Kogane.” He let out a playful ‘no’ in response and squeezed her waist with one hand as he passed by to grab his toothbrush and toothpaste. Keith nudged her hip with his to get her to scoot over so he had access to the sink. During the time that Keith began to brush his teeth, (y/n) had removed the rest of her make-up, racoon eyes included. She then began to notice the toothpaste foaming around Keith’s mouth. 

“Keith, my love, have you been out in the woods recently?” He cocked his head to the side in confusion at the strange question and spit a wad of toothpaste into the sink. 

“Not recently, but I did go this past weekend. Why?”

“Because you look like you caught rabies. Think we may need to get the vaccine for it.” (Y/n) smiled mischievously at her punch line and started to undress. Keith rolled his eyes at the joke and rinsed out his mouth. He grabbed the edge of his shirt and wiped off the excess water from his face. 

“Ha-ha.” Keith sarcastically replied. “Very funny. Truly, a master comedian. Seriously, we should sign you up for the giggle hut.” 

Now in the steaming hot water, (y/n) replied. “Oh yeah? Well I think you and I should do a dou act. We could call ourselves ‘The Racoon and the Rabies Virus’! Our entire act is just Steven King’s Cujo, but with a rabid raccoon instead.” Keith let out a genuine laugh at the comment and began to exit the room. 

“Well, while you’re in there, I’ll be sure to send an email about our inquiry.” He shut the bathroom door with a soft ‘click’. 

After the shower, (y/n) emerged into the bedroom with two towels wrapped around her hair and body. She began to rifle through her closet looking for pajamas, but also kept an eye on Keith’s side of the closet. 

Keith sat on the bed with his legs bent and a tablet resting on his thighs, but his attention was solely on his partner the moment she waltzed in. A bright blush unfurled across his face as (y/n) tossed clothes onto the bed. With the last throw of a shirt, that does indeed belong to him, he snapped his attention back to the tablet and cleared his throat. 

“I-um.” Keith bit his lip and began to fidget with his hands. “You know you’re indescribably beautiful, right?” 

A wide smile bloomed across (y/n) face at the compliment, which normally is not verbally expressed by Keith since he uses physical touch or action as a medium of love. Though, along with the smile, her face also began to flush and she vocalized “I know my love. But it will always mean a lot coming from you.”

The two lovers gazed into each other as they got lost in the wonderment and adoration of the other. 

What have I done to deserve someone as wonderful as her?

How in the world did I find someone like him?

As the sweet moment passed, a slow awkwardness began to settle in the air. (Y/n) started giggling. “It’s going to be very weird now when I take off my towels to put on my clothes.” 

Keith laughed along at her comment as a playful look shot across his eyes. “No, it’s only weird if we make it weird. And my dear, this is not the first time you’ve gotten dressed in front of me, let alone have been nude.” He let out a sound of surprise as he dodged the towel that came flying at his head as (y/n) took off her hair towel. 

“Put that over your head. I do not want you to look at me while I get dressed.” Keith, while laughing, obliged her request and draped the towel over his head. (Y/n) swiftly got dressed. 

Keith looks like a sheet ghost. 

“Okay, you’re in the clear.” Keith pulled off the towel and chucked it into the hamper. He picked up his tablet and put it on the side table before he opened up his arms as an invitation. (Y/n) approached the bed with a shy composure and lifted the duvet to crawl in and cuddle into his arms. She turned and rested her cheek against his shoulder and pressed a small kiss to his collarbone. Keith in response pressed a lingering kiss atop the crown of her head. They both took an individual inhale and exhaled as they sunk into the soft comfort of each other. Keith rubbed his hand up and down her shoulder as he said “Want me to turn off the lights?” 

(Y/n) nodded in reply. Keith slapped the switch that was above the headboard and settled deeper into the pillows. 

Despite the frost that was forming spirals on the window, the cold that was seeping through the floorboards, and the radiator rumbling in the basement, the lovers were both toasty between the heat that had formed between them. As the night wore and the wind grew colder, they dozed off into a dreamless slumber.

#Keith Kogane #Keith Kogane x Reader #Keith Kogane/Reader #Keith x Reader #Keith/Reader #Voltron Fanfic #voltron legendary defender

[lemmetreatya]

home for new years — husband!reiner x fem!reader

contents: fluff, sex, m!pen

happy new years to everyone!! last fic for the year but not the last from me! the last 4 months on here have been great and i cant wait to see what 2023 brings us! thank you to everyone whos supported me and my work so far i love u all MWAH! 🫶🏾🫶🏾

home for new years will have you declining invitations and calls from your friends who are asking both you and reiner to back the nye party sasha and niccolo are hosting.

“i’m sorry, sash! not this year. me and reiner already planned to just have a night in between the both of us.”

“but you can come and spend it together with us!” she’d whine into the receiver.

you could only chuckle at her. even though she may have come across as invasive or unregarding of the quality time you’ve decided to dedicate to spend with your spouse, you knew she came from a place of love.

sasha wasnt the only one. both of your respective messages were blowing up; relatives who lived in different countries already wishing you the new years well due to their forward timezones, friends asking about the motives and misc notifications.

none of them, however, were as adamant as reiner’s younger cousin.

“why cant i spend new years with you two?! if you’re only staying home then that means you’re not doing anything important.” gabi moaned.

“what we want to do is important enough that we dont need you around. we literally spent christmas eve, christmas day and even boxing day with you, isnt that enough?” your husband responded.

reiner was definitely tired of gabis back and forth notion that she practically needed to be in your hair on all seasonal events. even though he was too kind to say it to her face, he definitely made it known to you through the agitated expressions he occasionally made behind her back.

“no, it’s not enough! there’s no reason for you not to see me if you’re free.” she haggled.

reiner sighed loudly. you could tell that he was tapping out from the argument as from the way he rested his head against the sofa back.

seeing him no longer want to entertain his cousin, you decided to step in. with an easy smile, you replied to her instead.

“just because we’re staying home it doesn’t mean we’re free.”

she didn’t say anything but she definitely considered your argument a lot easier than she did reiner’s. reiner always said she listened to you better.

“if it makes for anything, we can spend new years day together?” you kindly offered.

gabi huffed as she crossed her arms over her chest and bounced herself onto the couch.

“that’s such a cheap excuse. no one does anything on new years. it’s a free holiday. you wouldn’t be sacrificing anything to be with me, you guys don’t even go nowhere. i am literally the only fun in your lives.”

even though you were surprised at her level of rebuttal, you couldn’t help but laugh aloud at the twelve year olds words. whilst you and reiner may not be the childless lavish-life living adults she wanted you to be, she still seemed to want to spend every waking moment with you both.

but alas, you and reiner were okay with that life for now because it meant you had room to spend new years at home.

you didn’t have to worry about childcare expenses or who was willing to have your kin on a holidays like this. you didn’t even have to worry about answering to anyone for anything. you both had the night to spend it within each other and that alone was the reason you were fine with how things were.

“i’m really happy we’re spending new years like this.”

reiner placed the last platter down onto the coffee, the look on his face giddy as sat down next to you.

“same. i feel like we don’t get to spend a lot of our holidays with it just being the two of us. it’s a nice change.” you replied, fingers already sneaking into one of the snacks.

reiner’s arms found solace over your shoulders, his warmth already seeping into you as you pressed play on the remote which started up the movie.

“we should deffo do it more often then.”

he said more quietly due to his awareness of the movie starting. still, looking down at you, reiner couldn’t help but plant a closed mouth kiss to your temple.

“deffo.” you agreed, your attention already captivated with the movie introduction.

there was no doubt; reiner would definitely treasure this new years.

throughout the year, the two of you were always so busy. if it wasn’t work then it was extra-curricular commitments and even in between those times, the both of you were deeply involved with the lives of your family and friends.

deciding to simply spend it with just the two of you was a well curated decision. really and truly, the both of you could have spared yourselves once again and indulged with the lives of others.

but deciding to chose each other just this once was the best decision you could have ever made.

“god, i love you so much.”

reiner endearingly muttered into your ears as he pumped himself in and out of you. the soft whimpers you poured out into his were just as sweet as your arms hooked around his neck.

“i-love you too, rei.” you breathed, the feeling of his dick stretching your insides so familiar yet estactic.

and oh how you did love this man because when he first offered for the both of you to ditch all new year plans just so he could spend it with you, in you, you couldn’t help but to allow him what he wished.

making love to reiner in the most enchanting low light and soft candle glow was such a way to go into the new years.

rough and lustful sex had its place and it was definitely one of your favourite past times with reiner. but there was none of that right now. there was no biting, rough handling, guttural or carnal intent, nothing.

just you and reiner underneath the blankets, vulnerable and opened for the other to indulge in.

and you loved that, because this, was how you wanted to spend new years. with reiner, and totally enamoured by him.

and just as the neighbouring fireworks bursted outside your bedroom window, and your phones simultaneously buzzed with texts, you couldn’t think of a better way to go into the next age but within his arms.

with the indication that you had been graced into a new year, the both of you wispily smiled into the others embrace.

reiner continued to chase his climax as he lightly kissed the top of your shoulder, his face then burying into the crook of your neck

“ha-happy new year, baby.” he said with a grin, his hands still working over your curves beneath the duvet.

“happy…new year to you too, rei.” you muttered back, your hands gently caressing the short bristled hairs on the back of his neck.

#reiner braun #reiner headcanons #reiner aot #reiner x reader #reiner imagines #reiner smut #reiner x black reader

[gav-san]

THE QUEEN OF THE KING 14/15

Previous/Next

It's warmer here, near the desert. 

You aren’t sure when exactly you left Hyrule, never having reason to leave the confines of the country, but you know that you are not there. The small villages you sneak around contain no flags or ensigns, and the people talk in ways and with words that aren’t familiar. You’re not taking any main road, paths of dirt are far more common than stone.

You grimly wonder if an even more primitive manner of living awaits you if you make it to the mysterious Gerudo City. What would living in the desert entail? Hiding under boulders in those sealskin tents, everyday sand creeping in your clothes, having to watch for terrible things who want to make a home in your shoes? That your buttox is in a consistent state of pain?

You had even given in to wearing a veil, like a true Gerudan woman, but only because it was the best way to save your face from burning under the increasing heat.

The stories the Gerudo women have told you with smirks no longer are so strange or jesting. What if they were the truth? Would you have to so soon come to terms with your own ignorance and pride?

“My moon, look aloft. The spires of my forefathers.” He says, pointing to the distant mountain peaks that had grown over the ride. You do your best to be unimpressed, not wanting him to know this was your first time seeing such mammoth rocks. The ones in Hyrule now looked like gentle hills!

“Are they so tall to keep thieving Gerudo in?” You say sharply, giving your best to appear as haughty as you can. It’s the worst insult you know, sharpened to hurt him as best you can.

There was a lot of time to ponder these things, riding aloft the mighty black horse of the Gerudo King. Ganondorf, as he wanted you to call him, did his best to capture your attention. He seemed to be able to read your mind, and unfortunately, the fears deep inside. 

The worst part isn't all in vain. He is successful, in part because you are bored but mostly because he is an excellent conversationalist.

“Or to keep rogue princesses in.” He replies lightly, not falling for your bait.

How you hated how charmingly intelligent he was. There would never be a day when you wouldn’t be entertained!

Witty, clever, and educated to an absurd extent he is exactly the sort of knife you like to sharpen yourself against. But unlike most with those qualities, he doesn’t cut when he finds himself.

You pause, jaw left open.

You realize that despite everything, you are having fun. Real, genuine enjoyment just speaking to him. You aren’t bored or tired or even offended. He has navigated you better than you can understand!

And more so, you weren’t the only one.

Occasionally when you do come across a traveler it becomes apparent that you aren’t the only one who finds him delightful. Strangers do stop and stare at your spectacle, a male Gerudo adorned in gold, pulling a giant black demon horse with an angry, sunburnt fairy in matching silks.

Not even you can deny the absurdity of your situation. 

For those that do recognize him, it’s even worse. You think you might be saved when you first see the group of men, riding their horses. They appear to be a mix of both Lanyruan merchants, with their carts, and as soon as they see you they start catcalling. 

Not at you, but the Gerudo King.

“Desert-man!” They say, comfortably approaching, “How good to see you, Gerudo King!” Another called, “Where are your fair retainers?” 

Your eyes stay wide as they pay you little attention, entirely fixed on the King. The foremost gives a deep bow as you approach. 

“Beedle, fine to see you this day.” The Gerudo King says, placing his large palm on his chest and nodding. 

“King Ganondorf! I’m surprised to see you alone on this back road! Are you here to trade?” He says, black eyes bright. Ganondorf smiles, moving to the side and holding a hand out to the merchant who enthusiastically shakes it.

You blink, flabbergasted at the strange friendship 

“Alas, I am not,” He tilts his head, but doesn’t quite move out of the way to fully reveal you on his horse. You glance down to the ground, wondering if it’s possible to dismount the horse and steal one of theirs. 

The man’s eyes widen, so big they look like tea plates, round and white. 

He bows again, arms to his sides.

“My apologies. I hadn’t realized you had gotten married, King Ganondorf.” He says, and you gasp. “I shall gift my finest specimens.” He has turned, opening up a large box and you almost gag. Inside are a variety of thick bugs, pinned to the back like some macabre show.

You are about to chastise him, but your ‘husband’ intercedes, pulling Beetle and his disguising bug box aside.

“Ah my friend, your fine gift honors us both, but we are traveling light,” Beetle nodded, not being the slightest bit offended. “Next time you are at the Gerudo Market I shall accept your trade and give you my best dyes in return. But my bride and I must be on our way.”

The man nods, placing his hands together, thrilled. His companions look awestruck and jealous.

You aren’t sure what warrants this level of awe, but it’s clear that these are Gerudo Allies, though you think they should be yours.

So you keep your mouth shut.

After you had left in different directions you couldn’t help but satisfy your curiosity.

“I didn’t think Gerudo Town let in any males.” You said, thinking back to how you promised to seduce one, and his resounding rebuttal.

“You are right,” Ganondorf replies, moving to stand by your side. Even with you riding on his large horse, his height is impressive. He holds his hands aloft, and you let him take your waist so you can dismount. Standing on the ground your legs feel shaky, but you are glad for the rest. “But at the first outpost, before entering the desert we hold a large marketplace every two weeks during summer. That way traders can come to us without having to risk the desert until it is cool enough for the Oasis Marketplace to be opened. There are more adventurous travelers but few.”

“Sounds complicated.” You say, watching him unpack. You accept a woven blanket, finding two bare trees that it can be strung between, making quick work to set up your hammock in a victory for all independent women. 

You aren’t as ready to collapse as days before, but the thud you make when both you and the hammock hit the ground gives him reason to chuckle. You don’t even bother getting up, and the King easily strings you and the hammock more tightly.

Once he’s done you lazily wave a hand and he goes and fetches your watch and some of the jerky he’s saved. You take both gladly, scarfing them down much to his amusement. He lifts his hand as if to caress your hair, only to pull it back before he touches you. It makes you feel bereft for some reason you shove deep down.

“How are you, my moon?” He says softly, eyes Milton gold as he looks to your feet, and shortly, your rear end. It’s clear he knows that you’ve been biting back your pain.

Your groan is enough confirmation, and he goes to pull out the blister gel.

—X—

You don’t remember the name of the first ‘shrine’ you come across, and you’re not even sure you know what exactly a ‘shrine’ is. You’ve of course heard of the Spirit Temple, along with the ‘Temple of Time’ and other mysterious old ruins. They dotted Hyrule as well, but you hadn’t had much interest in them, nor had even looked at one up close before.

So when you find yourselves approaching something like a gray toe with a long nail sticking up out of the ground, it is a bit underwhelming. 

You make a noise in the back of your throat as Ganondorf pulls the black horse, and he glances back with a highly amused look. It strikes you that things have become very comfortable between you both, far too quickly. 

You had been trying to be as cool as possible after waking in his arms again, knowing that it had indeed been you who had crawled into his warm embrace. Again. It turns out desert nights were not warm, but freezing cold.

It makes your cheeks warm, almost sting, to know how wanton you have been. You want to escape, you tell yourself over and over. You have to! This man has kidnapped you, a great princess! 

But under the smooth veneer that you desperately cling to, there is something in you that ignited when you first saw the Gerudo King. Something bubbling under the surface that brooked no pretty lies you can fool yourself with.

It scares you, that thing.

So you sniff loudly, twisting your head away, and he gives an audible laugh. Shifting your brows, and mouth purse you hold back the smile his laughter brings. But in a moment you don’t need to hold it back, because it’s completely gone.

Because you can see the path you’re going to have to take to get to the blasted thing, pardon your language. 

Because the path to the shrine finished at the end of the most unstable-looking rock you’ve ever seen, filled with curves and turns that would make an experienced climber cry.

“Never fear, my moon. I promise that you shan’t be disappointed inside.” He replies to your disdain, even misguided as he is as he leads down the winding tunnel.

“Are you not tired?” You ask as he navigates the path, not a trail of sweat coming off of him as he bounds down, in an extremely good mood. 

“How can I not possibly be?” He says, only glancing back a moment. “I am with you.” It’s enough to make those butterflies in your stomach begin flying with attention. Oh yes, your butterflies love his attention. He gives a low chuckle.

You clear your throat knowing it’s not just the fictional butterflies that enjoy his throaty voice.

Instead, you focus on things you know will keep you bothered. The rocky path, the way your rear hurts in the saddle, the uncomfortable pink where the sun hits your skin, veil notwithstanding. You want to wail the loss of your carefully manicured visage.

You look to the cliff side realizing it isn't a perfectly smooth wall. There are many pathways, carved into the deep rivets and winding deep into the mountain. A heavy sense of something tangible rests on you.

It isn’t until you reach the bottom that you can name it.

It takes a surprisingly short time for you both to reach the bottom, and in the shade, you hold your arms until Ganondorf can fish out your bear covering that you reluctantly pull on.

You can’t help but be glad for the cool air inside the mouth of the shrine, though it makes your sweat feel uncomfortably cool. It’s here you can see the deep blue glow intertwined with the shrine’s stone.

“It feels… sacred here.” You say to Ganondorf as he softly helps you down until you balance steadily on your feet. 

He nods, looking pleased.

“Yes. We have long believed that the old sheik who served the great goddesses built these shrines so that those who entered would be given a test that they must pass to gain enlightenment.”

You blanch, and he chuckles.

“Have no fear, my moon. I have already entered all the shrines here in Gerudo as all things do. For the Kings and Queens of the Desert, it is a right of passage. Now they are only used for ceremonial washing and marriage cleansings for the couples.”

You blink.

“Marriage cleansings? We’re not just going to… wash in separate areas?” 

He grins wolfishly, leading you to the mouth of the shrine, rather quick for his laid-back nature.

“They say that the fated couple who binds themselves together in the waters of the sacred shrines, then present themselves at the Spirit Temple will gain the power to wipe away the calamity of the world.” You press your lips together, your nerves starting to build as he presses a hand against the stone, almost wrapping you into his embrace doing so.

It lights up bright orange, startling you into jumping back into him. You latch onto him, wrapping your arms around his torso. He softly returns the embrace, looking both concerned and thrilled.

A panel in front of you slides away, revealing a black hole where it seems like you’re just supposed to trot in.

You turn up to him, hands digging into his arms.

“If you are going to sacrifice me, I am taking this moment to object.” You hiss. He thinks you’re joking again, because he laughs, gently pushing you inside.

The entrance closes behind you when you are both inside but it isn’t the pitch black that you expected. The soft orange glow is inside as well, leading down a deep path into the rock. Slowly Ganondorf coaxes you down it until you reach the bottom. 

You enter the overlarge room, eyes wide. 

The room is lit in a soft blue glow, from strange, cut rocks from the ceiling. Crystals are at every corner, aloft tall spires exiting the perfectly smooth pool that fills most of the room.  

You don’t need to be prompted to go forward and stick a toe in.

You yip at the cold.

“What in the!”

“Water, especially cold water, is precious in the desert.” The King says, wasting no time in taking off the long strip of silk that crosses his chest.

“Wha- What are you doing?!?” You cry out, and he raises a brow, stepping in as if the water had been heating on the stove to a pleasant temperature.

“The water can only accept those with a willing heart and mind,” Ganondorf says, his thighs already engulfed. You watch as the thin, silky fabric goes dark and saturates the deeper he goes, something dangerous and terrible inside prompting you to stare unabashedly. You shouldn’t look but there is no stopping, watching as his abs flex as the cool water hits them, the way goosebumps pimple his flesh.

“In order to survive the desert without the special skin and constitution of the Gerudo, this holy water must be visited.” He pauses for a moment. “No sunburn.”

You raise an arm, chuckling, eyes narrowed.

There are parts of him revealed you cannot speak of, but you don’t turn away. 

Instead, your feet move.

You’re in the water before you realize it, and even then you’re sure you wouldn’t break from your trance but it’s the coldest water you’ve ever felt. You automatically try and calculate how long until you lose feeling and are in threat of hypothermia- but your mind stops cold.

Ganondorf has his hand out to you. 

And you can feel his heat, almost boiling in this pool of ice.

He’s only standing a few feet away but the ground looks like it drops off, enough for the water to be at his clavicle. His hair has been let loose, falling into the water and surrounding him like a circle of flames. Droplets bead down his jaw, winking in the mysterious light of the crystal walls.

“Come my queen.” He commands, “Think no more of those people who don’t appreciate and can’t love you I see. I wish to worship you.”

Who are you to resist such passion?

.

.

.

You’re not sure that the ceremony you just went through is legally binding, but for the first time in your life, you feel bound. Not captured, violated, and dirty, a prisoner to some system you can’t overcome. But you feel safe, like a chick under its mother’s fluffy feathers. 

It seems that you spend hours in the embrace of the Gerudo King, the water lapping at the edges of your searing skin. You almost believe that you have been reborn anew. 

“The moon is brighter here, I think.” You mutter under the stars. “Hyrule is always cloudy. I do love the rain but at the expense of the stars?”

You had finally exited the shrine, choosing to camp next to it. And tonight, you didn’t bother waiting for a reason to lay on him. It was so much warmer to snuggle up together.

“It does rain in the desert, for around a month every year.” Ganondorf murmurs sleepily, “It just pours and pours. It’s quite the problem because it washes away the sand.”

You turn, tapping a finger on his chest.

“When I first became a princess of Hyrule Castle I wanted to help the people from the country that I loved, just like my own parents. I didn’t just want to parade around, so I decided to study with the most eminent tutors who would accept a girl. My uncle thought it was fine. I remember reading in a report something about how the deep slopes of the caldera, next to the village of the Gorgon had an unusual amount of rain one year. One of our most learned men found that if he placed sandbags measured with a specific mix of both rocks, dirt, and sand, that it absorbed the excess water.”

You pause, a bit sharply. It causes Ganondorf to look at you.

“I apologize. I hardly think such a topic is suitable for the moment.” You say, voice getting soft. It causes Ganondorf to shift, twisting so you rest on his chest. It makes you shy to try and look into his eyes, but he brings your chin back, holding your gaze.

“I love hearing you talk.” He says with no guile. “The world would be a much worse place without your voice in it.”

Tears fill your eyes.

You give a sad smile.

“The world is no place for such things anymore.” You say. 

“You told you that? Who dared say anything to hurt you?” You blink, surprised at the venom in his eyes. Not for you, but for whoever hurt you. “Give me the name, and whoever hurt you shall be dealt with.”

“I think I have left those things behind me.” You struggle to form the right words, turning to sit up and sliding off him. “They no longer matter.”

Ganondorf isn’t dissuaded, sitting up to follow you.

“Everything about you matters to me.” He replies like it’s only natural. “Tell me everything.” Your throat catches, and you struggle to breathe. 

If he had pushed you any further, had tried holding you like you were a baby, you would have shut your mouth and may never have spoken again. 

But he just listens. 

And so you tell him, everything that has ever happened to you. 

-X-

He isn’t sure when he goes to sleep. He had thought himself alert enough to wait one more night until he reached the outpost. He shouldn’t have waited, should have let you kiss him later. The was so much danger that he didn’t want to inflict on his beloved. 

He should’ve waited.

But how could he have?

Not when you told him of your entire life. Not when you have revealed how alone you had felt since the death of your parents. How you had been assaulted by the Archduke, and how you had contrived since that day to overcome every enemy you had ever met.

How you had received a dream about delaying your marriage but only after being almost forced into a tenuous marriage with several men. 

“And your dream.” He said, remembering you looking at him so vulnerable when he asked such a question. Your hair was still wet, clinging around your fair face, and you brushed it out of your lashes, blinking as you did so. 

“A meaningful existence.” You close your eyes, letting your arms reach the cool air around you. “For freedom to be myself.”

You lay asleep, your glorious hair spread like a halo of light, still curled from the water. And looking at you so free and unbound by the thick Hyrulian dresses and crowns made his spirit soar, putting his heart at rest.

So just like that, he fell asleep. 

And he only woke up at the attack of the Yiga Clan.

#rehydrated ganondorf #ganondorfxreader #ganondorf thirst #ganondorf #fanfic #botw fanfic #ganondorf x oc #ganondorf fanfic #what a hunk #winkwink #ganondorf x reader

[nightghoul381]

Congratulations on the milestone! 🥳👏 May it be the first of many more!

I will request Star Crossed Lovers with (ofc) Keith. His POV. I'll let you choose if Main or Alter or both, and if SFW, NSFW or suggestive. I just love this prompt very much and I believe it's SO THEM (Main a bit more than Alter but anyways, THEM).

Thank you so much! 🥰

OOOHHHH this was a fun one ^w^ I kept it SFW (but can always make an epilogue 😉) I hope you enjoy it and thank you so much for following me 🥰🥰

Whatever It Takes

Keith Howell (POV) x Reader Prompt: Star-crossed lovers Genre: Fluffy angst WC: ~1.5k

It’s so difficult to see you across the room and know that I wasn’t able to be your escort. The gala was supposed to be a way for our two countries to further develop their relationship, and to say that I hadn’t been eagerly looking forward to this would be a complete lie.

You look immaculate, hair pinned elegantly and dress perfectly fitted to your curves. My heart flutters as your eyes meet mine. I doubt I’ll ever truly be able to get over the way you make me feel, the way you’ve decided that I am worthy of your love.

I long to make my way over to you; to sweep you into my arms and lead you around the room in a delicate dance. I wish I could demonstrate to all the world how strong my love for you is, yet at this time, it is impossible.

If only our countries were not on the verge of war, then surely we would have the blessings of our respective kingdoms to pursue our love. Alas, the way things stand I fear that we may never get the chance to openly express our feelings toward each other.

I hadn’t realized how long I had been staring until a nobleman in the group I was gathered with mentioned it.

“Prince Keith, you’ve been eyeing that young lady for quite some time. Would it be wrong of me to presume she strikes your fancy? You know full well you can’t be seen cavorting with the enemy,” He warns, shooting a distasteful glare your way.

The instant rage bubbling inside me at the brazen comments is not something I’m used to. I try very hard to keep my emotions in check, especially during social functions such as this. If I let myself get too overwhelmed, He will take control, and I can’t trust him not to make a scene and jeopardize everything.

He loves you too, and you him. It’s so strange to know that you are somehow so full of love that you can make both of us feel completely loved without one being neglected. I admit that I don’t know if I would have the same ability to love two women equally at the same time, my mind is only ever devoted to you, and yet I feel that your mind is always filled with both of us in equal measure.

I glance down at the noble and quietly deny his assertions, brushing them aside with a mention of how you had looked familiar but that I must have been mistaking you for another noblewoman.

I still can’t seem to curb the anger I’m feeling at his blatant disrespect toward you, so I politely excuse myself, making my way to the edge of the room. And my breathing quickens as I see you do the same, moving closer to me. I feel like this may be the only opportunity for us to speak tonight, so making eye contact with you, I step out into the hall and move to one of the offices nearby.

Impatience fills me as I await your arrival. Surely, you understood what I was trying to convey when we exchanged that look. I need to see you. My head is spinning and I can feel my agitation growing.

A very soft, almost inaudible knocking on the office door stops my frantic thinking, it’s you. I ease open the door and you slip inside as I close and lock the door behind you.

You’re even more breathtaking up close. The shimmer of the fabric of your dress makes it look as though the sky had descended and wrapped you in a gown of stars, the heavens themselves jealous of your beauty.

Your fragrant perfume wafts over me as you approach and I take in a deep lungful, savoring how the scent toys with my mind, sending washes of joy, comfort, safety, pleasure, and desire rushing through my body in tandem.

I allow my long legs to bridge the last bit of distance between us, drawing you in for an urgent and needy kiss. You are all too happy to oblige, working your plush pout against me in such an intoxicating rhythm. The taste of your lips fills the aching hole that has haunted my heart since last we parted. I can feel the aching loneliness fading, replaced with the heavenly feeling of your love.

When at last we separate to get some air, I take in the heady look in your lidded gaze and feel my blood rush faster. You certainly must not be thinking what it seems you’re thinking, could you?

“Darling, we can’t do this, not here and not yet. I’m expected to speak in a few moments.”

My words cause such a disparaging look of disappointment to mar your beautiful face, guilt threatens to overwhelm me. He wouldn’t mind giving into you in such an exposed place with so many pressing matters that need to be attended to.

The negative thoughts spiral, and I feel the all too familiar sensation of self-hatred leading to him taking over. I’m so torn, reluctant to give up control out of responsibility, yet at the same time, willing to let Him take control to ensure your needs are met.

In the end, I resolve that I need to ensure this engagement goes as planned and manage to battle Him back, vowing that we will find a way to make sure you don’t leave here dissatisfied. You deserve the world and I hope I convey that in the kiss I drop on your forehead.

“I’ll make sure we have time together at the end of the night,” I promise, running a hand over your shoulder, so small and delicate beneath my long fingers.

You nod briefly, shaking off the dejected look and replacing it with a warm smile.

“You promise?” you ask, blinking your gorgeous eyes up at me. If only I were a different man, I would hold you close right now. I’d make sure that such a sad look never again crossed your features. I would keep that beautiful smile on your face to the best of my abilities. You deserve to be happy and that is all I want you to ever feel.

“Of course. I don’t think I’d be able to go another night without holding you.”

Heaving a heavy sigh, I let go of you, allowing you to re-enter the ballroom before I eventually makes my way back in myself.

As the event finally begins to wind down and draw to a close, I find myself anxiously scanning the few remaining people for your lovely face. My heart sinks as I realize you’re no longer in the room.

Please don’t tell me she’s already left…

I rush out of the room, heading toward the front of the castle. Perhaps if I’m fast enough I’ll be able to catch a glimpse of you before you disappear. Who knows when the next time will come that I’ll be able to see you.

As I sprint down one of the halls, I hear my name hissed in a hushed whisper from one of the rooms. I skid to a halt, jogging back toward where I thought I heard the voice.

There you are. The relief flowing through me is overwhelming and as soon as I enter the room, I capture you in a desperate hungry kiss. My heart is still racing from the fear that I could have missed you. That I would have had to go at minimum another month without seeing you as you would head back to your country and remain under constant supervision. The only reason you’re not under lock and key now is because your handmaiden took pity on us, covering for you with the other servants, and granting us this time to be alone together.

The eager passion you fill each kiss with is drowning my mind in such a pleasurable haze, and soon the only thing I can do is focus on the way you taste and the heavenly feel of your arms around my neck. I lift you, holding you in my arms and allowing me better access to your mouth.

This blissful reunion is all I’ve been craving for so long, filling me with such immense joy I almost ruin the kiss with the dopey smile that I can’t seem to control.

My love for you is boundless and I swear on my life I will do whatever it takes for us to be together. Whatever it takes.

Taglist: @candied-boys @aquagirl1978 @ominousjangling @violettduchess

#ikemen prince #ikepri #100 followers! #ikemen prince fanfiction #ikepri keith #ikepri keith howell #ikemen prince keith #ikepri fanfic

[whitestlotus]

Fragment of a Memory (Scaramouche/Wanderer x F!Reader) | Chapter 1

Synopsis: The Teyvat Empire has fallen and split into seven kingdoms. In the serene electro kingdom, Inazuma – resides the crown prince of the original empire, Kabukimono. At a young age, he was introduced to the newly chosen crown princess of the Kingdom of Liyue, Princess Ningjing. Over the years, the prince has grown fond of the princess and later on asked her hand in marriage. This strengthens the political ties between Inazuma and Liyue amidst a faltering peace treaty among the seven nations. Alas, it only took a matter of time until a war broke out ultimately ending the life of the beloved princess. Devastated, Kabukimono vows to protect Ningjing in another life.

In the year 2023, over a thousand years after the Teyvatian War, Celestia – formerly known as Teyvat – was a flourishing country. Y/N, a 21-year-old college student studying Psychology, cross paths with Kunikuzushi. He is not the most positive person for lack of a better word. But what happens if suddenly as each day passes, a fragment of a memory that feels familiar returns to you?

And you are not the only one.

Chapter Warning: Swearing

Book Masterlist | General Masterlist

Book Playlist

┉┈◈◉◈┈┉  

A loud thud can be heard from across the room. Everyone drew their attention to the source of the sound and to no one's surprise, it was just Scaramouche. He threw a book at Xiao. The mint green-haired man maintained a deadpan face as he slowly returns to what he was doing prior to getting thrown at.

“Scara, could you PLEASE – for the love of God – calm the fuck down. Why did you throw the book at Xiao?” Y/N sighs as she walks over.

“All I did was tell him that if he wants to live up to his degree, he should quit his temper” Xiao mutters while resting his chin on the palm of his hand; eyes still locked on the book he seems engrossed in.

“So much for majoring in psychology” Lumine’s giggles were abruptly stopped by her twin, Aether, slapping her shoulder.

Scaramouche scoffs and gives everyone the middle finger before storming off. Y/N asks Xiao if his head was okay but Xiao just lets out a small ‘mhm’. She massages her temple and lets out a quiet frustrated groan. Annoyed yet concerned for Xiao, Y/N walks out of the classroom and makes her way to the clinic to grab an ice pack. As she passes the food court, she noticed a familiar purple-haired figure struggling with the vending machine. She leans on the wall nearby watching him like a hawk anticipating what he will do next. He pulls his sleeves up and tilts the vending machine forward, his drink was stuck. Y/N stifles a laugh as she walks over and gives a small pat on his shoulder. Scaramouche was startled but regained his composure quickly. He adjusted the vending machine back upright and as he was about to leave; Y/N pulls the hood of his hoodie back.

“Your drink?” She points at the still-stuck drink.

“Well Sherlock, it's clearly stuck.” He rolls his eyes crossing his arms in the process.

Y/N scans the food court for any student or staff. She looks at Scaramouche in the eyes and brings her index finger up to her lips. She reaches behind the vending machine and grabs ahold of a key that was left there. She unlocks the machine door, takes his drink out, and hands it to him. She swiftly puts the key back where it belonged leaving no trace.

“Wow, an actual thief.” He stares at her with disbelief.

“Oh come on, it's not like you didn’t pay for it. Before you say anything, I do pay for my drinks too.”

“No one would suspect a thing though if you just steal.”

“I have morals, Scara.” You press a few buttons on the vending machine after slipping a mora bill through the slot, treating yourself to a drink as well.

“If you say so.” He shrugs as he pulled the tab of his drink making an audible hiss sound.

“You know, you’re gonna have to fix that temper of yours if you want to make it through the course let alone the school year.” You pulled a random chair nearby and took a seat as you twist the cap of your drink. 

“Can’t help it.”

“Well, you obviously can’t with a mindset like that.” You retort.

“Have you submitted the paper for our group already?” He ignores your statement.

“Are you seriously changing the topic right now? And no I haven’t”

“Then get to it.” He walks off.

You stare at him in disbelief as he disappears from your sight as soon as he makes a right turn. You feel a hand pushing your jaw upwards gently which startled you. You look to your right and it was Tartaglia. He was still wearing his basketball jersey meaning he just finished his varsity training.

“Stop gawking at him like a goldfish, girlie” He jokes.

You swat his hand away and pinch your nose as tight as possible, “You actually reek.”

Tartaglia puts a hand over his chest and expresses an offended scoff, “Excuse me, it is a product of my HARD WORK”

You roll your eyes and push him toward the direction of the locker room with your index finger. He looks back at you and lets out a pout. He actually looks like a dog and you hate it. You let out a sigh and decide you will walk him to the locker room. He lets out a goofy smile and slings an arm around your shoulder, still obviously wet with his sweat.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, the clinic just so happens to be in the same general direction” You clarify.

“What are you doing in the clinic? Did you get hurt or something? Do you want me to carry you?” He teases as he bends down in front of you gesturing you to ride his back. You walk past him pretending he didn’t exist anymore.

“Oh come on, I was just kidding!” He runs back to your side again without the arm around your shoulders.

“Scara threw a book at Xiao.”

“Sad”

“I got worried because it was a hard-bound book too”

“Double sad”

“Could you just shut the fuck up?” You flick his temple, enjoying the sound of him letting out an ‘ouch’.

After dropping him off at the locker room, you made your way to the clinic. You requested an icepack from the nurse and walked back to the room just in time before the bell. You gave Xiao the ice pack before returning to your seat. Classes were the same, nothing interesting, and the occasional pop quiz here and there. You stare at the notes you had taken during each class and skim through each one as a sort of review. Every so often, you would glance at your phone to check the time. 

“That’s odd…” You thought to yourself. It's stuck at 3:33 pm.

You take a look around and noticed that everyone is gone. Your heart rate quickens out of both fear and confusion. You leave the classroom only to find nothing but empty halls. Your head starts to ache, making you drop down to the ground while grasping your head. All of a sudden, an image? No, a memory appears in your mind.

“Princess, this is Prince Kabukimono. Think of him as your playdate!” 

Kabukimono? Why does his name sound so familiar…

“Salutations Prince Kakukimono!” A little girl smiles cheerfully.

“It’s Kabukimono, but greetings Princess Ningjing.” The little boy, a prince, sticks out a hand for the princess to shake.

The memory was interrupted by loud chattering mixed with murmurs and whispers. You look up and found yourself in the middle of the school building entrance on your knees. You quickly prop yourself up and run back to your classroom. You check your phone, 4:26 pm. As you arrived back at your classroom, you packed your notes and laptop. You bid your friends goodbye and ran back to your dorm. You didn’t brush off the event a while ago so quickly, you were concerned. 

“What was that…” You set up your laptop and did a quick search. You typed in ‘Kabukimono’ and analyzed the results. He was the last prince of the Inayue Dynasty – a dynasty wherein the kingdom of Inazuma and Liyue merged due to a political marriage. You took out a notebook and jot down what you just read and what you can still recall from the memory that you just saw. You then searched ‘Ningjing’ and lo and behold, she was also a real person. She was the last princess of the Inayue Dynasty as well. Her death, however, was a tragic one. During a war that prompted the Teyvatian war soon after, she was shot by an arrow to the heart. She was then laid to rest on Mt. Narukami. Her husband – the prince – was also laid to rest next to her. His cause of death was unknown. 

You rest against the backrest of your chair and let out a deep exhale. You quickly made safe assumptions in your mind.

Yes, they are real people.

Yes, you did see a possible memory of them and no, you are not so sure if that is how they exactly met.

Yes, you are intrigued…too intrigued.

Ruffling your hair, you stand up and plop onto the bed. Being too tired from today’s events, you didn’t bother to change your clothes and immediately fall asleep. Instead of seeing darkness from closing your eyes, you were engulfed in a bright light. You rub your eyes to adjust your vision. As your eyes focus, you found yourself in a large garden. Cherry blossom leaves dancing in the wind, the sound of a small stream nearby caressing your ears, and a beautiful red gazebo with two children writing on a piece of paper and a woman who you believe resembles that of a shrine maiden next to them. She had pink locks complimented by her soothing voice.

“Your Highness Ningjing, this is how you write-” The shrine maiden’s hand was wrapped around the small hand of the little girl, ready to teach her how to write. She was interrupted by the said little girl pouting.

“Miss Miko, please don’t call me ‘Your Highness’ just call me Princess or Ningjing!”

“My apologies, Yo- Princess…it is, however, royal protocol to address you as such.”

“It's just the three of us here no need to worry!” The little girl lets out a wide smile.

“That is noted, Princess” Miko affirmed.

The scene then fades to white and then to black. A loud sound blares through your ears, it was your alarm.

┉┈◈◉◈┈┉    

Next Chapter

#scaramouche modern au #reincarnation #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #wanderer x reader #wanderer #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche royal au

[shitminds]

Arabic That Is Not ‘Yala’: How Moon Knight Is The Anti-Orientalist Dream 

Alternative Title: Why I LOVE Mohamed Diab 

In most contemporary pieces of media set in any area deemed the “East”, orientalist portrayal is almost certain. It is easy to spot works in which ignorance about non-western, non-white cultures is prominent- othered people of exotic traditions. In Aladdin, for example, there is an obvious mixture, for lack of a better term, of Middle Eastern and South Asian traditional attire, landmarks and street markets. And when you’re mixing up completely different regions of the Earth, there is little hope for country-specific accurate representation. A more recent, and frankly hilarious, example is Sam Wilson’s complete gibberish that is meant to pass for Arabic in the Falcon And The Winter Soldier. Seriously, it would’ve taken you two minutes on Google Translate to get it right, but alas. 

All of that is to say I’m no stranger to the increasingly frustrating portrayal of the Arab world, specifically, and the “East”, generally. 

Moon Knight, however, was a glaring exception. When I started watching the series, I had no clue that there would be an element of Arabic or Egyptian culture included in the show let alone have it be a main part of the plot; therefore, I can safely say I was surprised when Layla showed up with her slight accent. A quick google search revealed May Calmaway and Mohammed Diab, and I just knew this show was going to be so fucking good. 

I’ll start this off by talking about the soundtrack because oh my god it was unbelievable- the perfect balance of classic Egyptian music like Abd Al Halim’s Shghalony and Warda’s Batwanas Beek and modern “mahraganat” like Made in Egypt. In stark contrast to whatever the fuck kinds of music usually play with the ahhh-ahhhs in the background when shots of The Pyramids or Morrocan street markets are on screen, Moon Knight chose the right music to play at the right time and it landed. 

There are also the accurate shots of the architecture across the Nile, the street markets (that looked almost identical to El Ataba), and the buildings in downtown Cairo. Everything from that one hilarious taxi driver to the streetwear was absolutely on point. I genuinely thought they were shooting on location because of how precise the shots of the city were until I learned that the set was built in Budapest. 

I’m not exactly an avid reader of Ancient Egyptian Deities, but as far as I’m aware, the history was quite factual too. The Ancient Egyptian spoken was cool to hear as well, but unfortunately, there will be no fact-checking from me here. 

Other minor details include things like the dialect, which actually was Egyptian and not Jordanian for once, the traffic patterns (which is something you’d never even think of if you’ve never been to downtown Cairo), and tiny little things said in passing like Layla’s name pissing people off (which, I’m pretty sure, is because in Arabic it means wine). 

By the end of it, I was so completely enamoured with the whole series. I am entirely In Love with Layla’s character, just ass over tits for her. It was the first time I ever watched any media with a satisfactory portrayal of the “East”, and it left me wanting more. 

THANK YOU MOHAMED DIAB!!!

#this was made for me #a rant #no but seriously this show was THE HIGHLIGHT of my summer #moon knight #watch it #marvel #the falcon and the winter soldier #mohamed diab #may calamawy #orientalism #anti orientalism #egypt #cairo

[jofie-does-things]

L’Assassino Immortale

Summary: As a seasoned art curator, you’re no stranger to mishaps in art auctions on the small and large-scale. On this trip to Italy, you thought you’d seen it all. Accidentally stumbling into cult stuff is a new one for you.

Pairing: (Technically) Modern!Ezio x Art Curator!Reader

Word Count: 5.9K

Genre: Angst (ig?), Fluff, Suspense

Warnings: Implications of death, Blood, Attempted human trafficking, Canon-typical violence

Author’s Note: I know that I said that the next fic I posted, it’d be a Connor one, but I wanted to write something for Halloween. And also it was supposed to be 1K words MAX, but, alas, I simply do not control the plot.

I’m still working on a few different fics and the requests that are in my inbox so don’t worry! I’m hoping to have a little more free time soon to finish those.

Feel free to drop a request into my inbox and enjoy!!

“You look wonderful, mia cara.” A small shiver runs down your spine at the pet name, but you mentally chastise yourself for lingering on it. It’s not his fault that he’s been familiar right off the bat, but what you can control is how you interpret his friendliness. And it’s not a good idea to make advances on your temporary escort to a very important art auction.

“Grazie Ezio.” The roll of the ‘r’ is awkward and stilted off of your tongue and the man helping you tug the zipper of your dress up has the opportunity to tease you for your rusty Italian, but he doesn’t take it. The heat in your cheeks must rival a space heater at this point. “I really appreciate you helping me out with this. I don’t know why my dress chose now of all times to revolt against me.”

It was your attempt at shifting the embarrassment off of your shoulders because you’d rather have him think of you as witty and charming than awkward and dumb. A small brush of warmth flows across the tops of your shoulders as he huffs out a laugh and you have to fight back another shiver.

Then his warmth is gone, leaving you cold and properly cinched into your dress for the night. His brown, almost golden, gaze inspects you with a scrutiny that has you puffing up like the world’s most self-absorbed peacock.

You really couldn’t thank him enough for his help and guidance over the week that you’ve been in Italy. You’d mentioned through the haze of jetlag that this was your first time in the country. He’d asked you what your plans were sightseeing-wise and when you had no answer for him (mostly because you didn’t want to seem as hopelessly lost as you felt) he’d promised to be your personal escort around Tuscany.

He rang true in that promise and dragged you all over the region until you were too tired to go anywhere anymore and collapsed onto the couch in the lobby. Only to wake up in your bed in your hotel room hours later to a hot tray of food on your bedside table and note to take it easy until the auction.

You were in love with him by the end of the week.

Now you’re standing in front of him, dressed to the nines and hoping he can’t see how you wobble ever so slightly in the heels you’ve adorned tonight. Though you can’t tell if that’s due to the height of them or how handsome he looks in the three-piece suit and gold embroidered blazer.

He’s guided you to his car, hand held firmly in his as you struggle down the stairs, feeling like a princess and you can’t see how this night could get any better.

Briefly, you wondered if you’d have to fake a medical emergency to get out of this. Then, a caterer walked by with a tray of the Caprese skewers and you realized you didn’t have to fake a medical emergency if you just got your hands on one of those toothpicks. Alas, you’d been stuck in conversation with a businessman, with a name you can’t remember for the life of you. Was it John, James, Tom…? Which meant no toothpick for you.

In any case, he’d mistaken your polite smile and small-talk for a gateway into discussing his “prominent” art career that boiled down to “my daddy has a lot of money for me to get high and fingerpaint and because I’ve never been told no in my life, I want you to buy a few of my works”. You decided that he was only known to you now as ‘trust-fund’.

Out of boredom, your glassy gaze takes in his well-tailored suit, the pin on his tie sporting a cross, his receding hairline, and the hands that look like they’ve never done a hard day’s work in their life. Thankfully this mental probing goes unnoticed by him, as he’s launched into his next retelling of how he painted the eiffel tower blindfolded. You really can’t take any more stories that end with his parents’ friends telling him he’s the ‘Modern Day DaVinci’.

Truly an affront to Messer Leonardo.

However, you hold your tongue because if Samuel found out you’d sent another trust fund kid into a public tantrum, he’d have Rick from Archives take your place in securing collections. And that’s something you’d never live down. You need these quarterly travel opportunities; for your sanity. But you also didn’t work as hard as you have only to be put in curator time-out until Samuel saw fit to let you return to your duties.

If you didn’t stop your thoughts from being spoken aloud, you’d have to kiss the very nice villa situated in the Tuscan countryside good-bye. And its very handsome caretaker.

Speaking of which, he’d promised to accompany you and yet, from a quick glance around the room, he’s nowhere to be found.

Ezio had ducked away almost 30 minutes ago, with a comforting brush to your lower back and a promise of returning soon with drinks on his lips. An action you were only slightly (read: very) disappointed by because you were in the middle of eagerly discussing the different types of art on display and poking fun at the misnumbered lots.

A piece seemed to be missing, with only the lot number in its display case, and your money was on an art thief stealing a painting while he was insisting that it was probably a statue that simply didn’t wish to be there and walked away on its own. The joke had you choking on your flute of champagne, only barely managing to swallow it down. Ezio offered to grab you a new one from one of the caterers and was off before you could say a word, leaving you to watch the red ribbon wrapped in his hair disappear in the crowd.

So, now you’re stuck with the world’s most boring man, wondering when you’d be able to free yourself from the bonds of this conversation.

The chime over the loudspeaker rings through the building, signifying that the guests were to move into the auction room now that the collections were ready to be sold. One last, desperate sweep over the room told you that your escort had, indeed, vanished. It left you a little miffed, but you came here for more important things than ogling over the man. With the artwork signed over to you earlier this evening, you have no other need to be here. Time to make a hasty retreat to an uber that will take you to the nearest gelato shop.

That is, until an elbow is extended in your field of vision. You glance up to the man attached to the arm and your heart deflates at the sight of trust-fund gesturing to the double doors of the auction room with his head. Waiting to see if he asks you to accompany him, you stare down at the offering. He clears his throat and wags the extended arm again, as if you couldn’t see it 6 inches from your nose.

You think of Samuel’s potential lecture and gulp before wrapping your arm through his and he tugs you through the double doors into the darkness.

~~~

Upon entering, you’re quickly ushered into a row of chairs, sandwiched between your temporary escort and a woman who you believe is working as a model. Her unblemished skin is stretched across her perfectly sculpted skull structure that makes her look particularly ghoulish, but that’s probably due to the white glow of the spotlight up front. She still makes the ghostly look work for her.

You’ve noticed that your chatty partner is uncharacteristically silent as you survey the room, but the silence is a welcome relief to you. In the absence of his prattle, you noted that the woman has a ring on her finger with the same red cross symbol that trust-fund has on his tie pin. You look between the two, noting that they haven’t acknowledged each other in the slightest.

They don’t seem to know each other. The auctioneer has been rambling for minutes now, and all attention has been on the lots. Taking advantage of everyone’s attention being elsewhere, you slowly lean forward to glance at the man escorting the model. He, too, has a cross symbol, but on a pendant around his neck. Even the security personnel posted throughout the room have the symbols on their badge.

You’re starting to feel out of place. Maybe if you can escape to the bathroom you’ll take a few “wrong” turns to the exit.

Before you know it, you’re up and out of your chair, moving to slide out of the row and towards the back of the room when a steel, bruising grip circles your wrist. A hiss of pain escapes you that you fail to smother. Turning toward trust-fund, you level him with a look that you hope conveys every emotion you’ve felt about him since politely smiling to him. Samuel’s lectures be damned.

“What the hell is your problem?” you spit, your statement packed with as much venom as you can muster in a whisper-yell.

He says nothing, only looking at you like you couldn’t be worth any of the effort he’s putting in to keeping you here. The idiotically blank look on his face is starting to piss you off. So, you do what any woman would do: stomp on his foot as hard as you can with your shiny maroon heels. As he releases you and grips his foot with a loud, pained gasp, you hope that it bruises in your march to the back doors.

Sweet blissful freedom, and delicious Italian gelato, is within your grasp as you’re in arm’s reach of the door handles. Or they would be, if the doors actually budged when you went to open them. A few curious looks were thrown your way as you tried to subtly-but-not-so-subtly lean your weight onto the wood grain.

The familiarly painful grip of trust-fund wraps around your upper-arm and wrenches you away from the doors. A distant, swirling thought comes to you of how hands that were so soft could hurt so badly. His palm is raised and ready and you duck, waiting for the blow to come.

It never does.

You peek out from under your other arm to see that his attention is fully enraptured by the lot that the auctioneer is announcing. And, now that you notice, you remember the missing lot number. The one that was just presented.

Like a magnet to metal, your gaze snaps to the stage, curious as to what’s happening.

There’s the sound of a few men grunting, the signs of a team struggling to lift something heavy. A small group of three security guards are making their way to the spotlight, lifting a chair that a man is sitting on. As the men set the chair down, the man’s torso lolls forward, but stops abruptly, as if being held back by something.

Goosebumps trail up your skin and a shiver runs down your spine.

“....is a fine specimen indeed–”

You shouldn’t be here.

“Messer Ezio Auditore. One of the only subjects to have survived the good doctor Malfatto’s experiments in the year 1494…”

They’ve changed his clothes. Thrown him into something oh so cliché and fitting of a vampire from a cheesy horror movie. And if he’d donned it himself in the comfort of his home, you probably would’ve laughed. But now there’s a bitter taste in your mouth as one of the men yanks his head back by his loose ponytail. The ropes holding his frame in place creaking with the rough action.

“...one that was promised eternal life, when imbued with the energy of the First Civilization.”

It’s a heavy confusion that has you tuning back in to the auctioneer.

“As we all know, this man, thi-this thing has been a thorn in our Order’s side for too long,” A murmur of agreement passes through the audience, nodding along with the statement. “Today is truly a special one; where we are finally rewarded with the capture of il Vampiro.”

This…can’t be real. The nodding and cheering of the crowd in the darkness of the auction room has your heart dropping to your stomach.

What the hell kind of cult have you stumbled into?

You want no part in this charade. It stopped being funny a long time ago. So, you’re back to the attempted wriggling out of trust-fund’s grasp. Although his attention has completely turned back to the stage, his grip on your arm is no less unyielding. Your struggle has him pulling you into his side, seizing your jaw and guiding your focus back to the events at the front.

Your writhing is put to a stop with his fingernails digging into your cheeks and a harsh whisper of “Stop it!” spat directly into your ear.

You’re forced to watch as a security guard hands the auctioneer a vial of red liquid and your heart stutters. You hope that’s not what you think it is, but with how this night has been going, you have a sinking feeling that you’re right.

The vial is held under Ezio’s nose for only a moment, but that’s all it takes for him to lurch forwards against his bindings. Reanimated as if he wasn’t as limp as a dead fish just moments ago. The ropes are creaking and he’s letting out a hiss, fangs glinting even from all the way across the room.

The auctioneer jolts back in alarm as the snap of Ezio’s jaws comes a little too close for comfort. His grasp on the vial is lost as the blood spills over the rim, onto Ezio, and the glass shatters on the stage.

It completes the look of a monster having just taken a bite of its prey and you hate yourself for thinking that because you shouldn’t be making that comparison.

He’s just Ezio. The kind, warm owner of the quaint villa situated in the rolling hills of Tuscany. The man who carried all your bags up the stairs to your room. The man who took you to see all the sights. The man who carried you to your room and made you dinner. The man who offered to escort you to this damned event.

But Ezio is still there, on that stage, eyes wild, covered in blood, and looking every bit like Bram Stoker’s ‘Dracula’.

“...here today for the purpose of continuing Doctor Malfatto’s work in experimenting for eternal life. We’ll start the bidding at 50 million for whoever would like to have a ‘crack’ at cracking the poor bloke open,” the auctioneer lets out a breathy laugh at his own joke and the polite chuckling of the audience makes your stomach turn. “Oh! And–”

Now he’s gesturing to the back.

And you're moving, pushed forward and tripping over the wine-colored hem of your evening gown. And oh, how ironic is it that you’re wearing such a fitting hue for this. The universe probably has something against you.

You’re still fumbling all the way up the stairs, escorted by trust-fund and his iron grip on your waist and upper arm.

“He has, very kindly, brought us a special guest that we’ll include in the lot, free of charge! She’ll do wonderfully as a food source! To ensure he stays healthy enough to endure anything!” The auctioneer is terribly excited to offer you up as a human sacrifice. Your breathing has quickened to the point that there’s black spots dancing in your vision. If it wasn’t for trust-fund’s relentless grasp, you probably would’ve met the floor by now.

Distantly, you hear bids already being made, but your gaze has slid to Ezio, now that you’re closer.

The golden-brown color of his eyes have been stained a dark, crimson red, almost as if they’d been injected with blood themselves, and his hair is falling loose from the ribbon he’d tied it in at the beginning of the evening. He’s jerking in the chair, ropes very frayed, but of no concern to the people around you. And those fangs are even more lethal looking up close than they were from afar.

“Aaand sold! For nine-hundred and fifty million euros to Mr. Laurent! Let’s have us a little demonstration before we’re finished with these two, shall we?”

It only takes a moment for trust-fund to drag you closer to Ezio. But all the convincing you gave yourself on how harmless he is seems to have vacated your brain and left nothing behind because now you’re pushing back against trust-fund to get away from the wild man in front of you. The fighting is no use and, in the blink of an eye, your face is shoved forward to meet the crimson gaze. His jerking movements have stopped at the source of food being shoved so abruptly in his face. And he’s leaning in.

Oh god he’s leaning in towards your neck.

You’re going to die here in this snooty manor in the-middle-of-nowhere Italy and it’ll be because you accidentally got caught up in some freaky cult stuff when you should’ve been in an Uber back to the villa.

“When I tell you to drop, I need you to dead weight as hard as you can. Nod if you understand.” A voice whispers into your neck, small enough that it almost goes unnoticed by you. You nod minutely. “Good. I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, mia cara.”

A stabbing pain shoots through you, from your neck to your toes as Ezio latches his mouth onto your throat. Blood rushes from the broken skin, some sliding from the side of his mouth, onto your collarbone and the bodice of your dress.

There’s the sound of someone screaming; the scratch in your throat tells you that it’s coming from you. You can’t focus on anything except the feeling of suction at your neck and, when that’s gone, when he pulls away, you’re left feeling like you ran a marathon four times over. Your muscles ache and a coldness washes over your limbs and you’re gasping for air like it’s your only purpose.

“Now!”

The lack of stability sends you careening to the floor of the stage anyways, effectively throwing trust-fund off-kilter and into Ezio’s path just as he rips himself free of the ropes. You decide to not acknowledge the feeling of more warm liquid splattering over your form. Nor do you want to make the connection of that with the sound of trust-fund’s body hitting the stage next to you with a sickening thump!

From what you can see in your hazy vision, there’s mass chaos as half of the people in the audience scurry to any exit they can find and the other half are fighting their way up to the stage to restrain the storm of vampiric fury that they’ve unleashed.

The river of warmth trailing down your neck reminds you that you’re still alive. You won’t be for long if you don’t staunch the flow of it soon. Your hands fumble with the hem of your dress, tearing two strips from it and clumsily fastening a wad of the fabric to your neck in a slightly unhinged choker. You’re definitely not getting your deposit back on this.

Sounds of fighting stop momentarily, left with only indignant yells of “Get him!” or “Quick!” from those ambushing the stage. With a grunt, the floor disappears from under you as you’re hauled up into the embrace of Ezio, carrying you bridal style as he zips with inhuman speed to an exit off to the side of the stage.

His hair is still wild as it whips around your arms that are wrapped around his neck, but his eyes are back to their usual golden-brown. And the lack of fangs poking out of his lips serves to highlight the presence of the scar across his lip. Despite his previous vampiric features, he feels warm to the touch.

It’s probably not the appropriate time to be noticing these details about him, but it’s all you can focus on in your state.

He’s running through the halls, searching for a way to the exit and jostling you every step of the way. You come to what seems to be the dead end of a hallway, backed into the corner by the rapidly approaching crowd that managed to gather their wits enough to chase after you both.

A loud crash explodes in your ears and there’s chunks of marble flying through the air and dust gathering in your lungs. Glancing quickly to your right, the marble bust next to your head seems to have spontaneously shattered. The sound of another gunshot sends the glass window behind you bursting into fractals of crystal.

Ezio turns his back to the crowd, bringing a solid hand up to shield your head and cradle it into his chest before he’s leaping through the remnants of the exploded panes of the window.

The air is crisp and freezing as it billows past you, stinging your face and arms. The blood pounding in your skull is overwhelming and you think, maybe if you tell yourself to stay awake, you won’t black out from the speed at which Ezio is moving.

You’re wrong.

~~~

There’s hands on you, gently nudging you awake after what feels like minutes. The rays of sun streaming into your face tells you otherwise.

You crack your eyelids open slowly, head throbbing at the light flooding your senses. You turn towards the movement beside you and only manage a glimpse of Ezio before a wet cloth is placed on your forehead, effectively clouding your gaze. An indignant noise bursts from your throat and you jerk upwards in the bed, the cloth landing with a wet plop into your lap.

Not a good idea. The vertigo has you gasping and the feeling of throwing up has hooked into your stomach, giving an unpleasant tug as you dry heave into the basin that’s placed in your lap. A crinkling noise vaguely registers in your brain while the muscles in your neck flex with the effort of emptying your stomach contents. Ezio must’ve bandaged the bite mark up while you were out.

Memories of the night before, or what you can assume is the night before, rush back with the dull throbbing of your wound.

You take the opportunity to try and lift your head as the towel is brought to your forehead, dabbing at the sweat there. Once Ezio is satisfied with your lack of gagging, he gently takes your hand and places it over where he’s holding the towel. Then he’s retreating with the bowl, to go wash it out, you assume.

With the absence of him in the room, you take a moment to observe your surroundings.

You’re not in your regular lodgings. By the way the room is lavishly decorated and homely, you assume that this must be where Ezio stays. There are art pieces from all over the globe from different time periods. Had last night not occurred you would’ve assumed he was just an avid collector of timeless pieces, but you know better now.

There’s a portrait situated above the fireplace, depicting a man and a woman sitting in two chairs beside each other, holding hands over the end of the chair arms. A line of three young adults are positioned behind them, all donning content smiles as they pose for the portrait. Two men and one woman. They have their arms thrown around each other, looking every bit of the ride-or-die siblings they seem to be. There’s a little boy there too, situated in the middle and sitting on the ground, playing with a feather in his hands as he smiles at the artist. The time-period is easy enough to guess with them all dressed in Renaissance fashions.

Each person pictured has an air about them that makes them unique and brings a sort of life to the painting as a whole. And in the little details, the personalities of them all shone through. It’s almost as if, behind the scenes, just beyond the frame, there’s a warm, loving family that would do anything for each other. That, maybe if you reached your hand past the frame, you’d somehow join them back in the 15th century.

The golden mantle under it has an engraving: “La famiglia Auditore”.

“That was painted by Leonardo Da Vinci.” Ezio’s suddenly by your side even though you could’ve sworn you hadn’t heard him approach and it unnerved you just a little.

You let out a breath of a laugh, expecting it to be a joke.

A small smile has graced his features, one that doesn’t necessarily reach his eyes. The pallor of his skin and dark circles around his eyes age him, but that’s not even physically possible for him. At least, you don’t think so. How accurate is vampire mythology when it comes to a 35 year old from the Italian Renaissance?

Not sure if that was a question you’d like answered in this very second, you deflect your thoughts.

“So, you and your family knew him then?” A small nod is the answer to your question and he allows for the silence he’s left to be filled with your questions.

“Are they also…” A dark look crosses his face at the lingering implication and you’re kicking yourself for asking such a dumb question. You‘ve only known this man for a week for crying out loud! “Oh my god! I’m so sorry, I did not mean to ask you that. That was so rude of me to-”

“It’s okay, mia cara. I’ve had five hundred years to get over it,” he’s trying to crack a little joke to lighten the mood and you appreciate the effort. “But no, they are not, uh, vampires like me. I am the product of many experiments gone wrong. Or, right as Malfatto would say.” He spat the name out like it burned his tongue to even speak it.

You recognized the name from the auctioneer’s spiel. Something about Ezio being one of the only surviving subjects and eternal life and an apple? There was a string of questions you were dying to know the answers to, but you didn’t know which to ask first.

And your brain helpfully supplied: “I’ve heard ‘an apple a day keeps the doctor away’, but why is this the one case where it’s done the absolute opposite?”

Stunned into silence, you want nothing more than to bury yourself beneath the covers and never come out. Ezio is staring at you, trying to properly process what you just said.

Then he’s laughing. More than laughing. Full-on guffawing and wiping tears from his eyes as he slumps down onto his knees as his torso relaxes into the mattress. Your face is burning as you clutch the covers over your face to hide from him and you wish you would wither away on the spot.

Through his fits of giggles, he waves away your defensive position.

“Please don’t be embarrassed. It’s just that I’ve never had such a positive response before.” You deflate only slightly in relief. “To answer your question, the dottore had an obsession with a device that has since been lost to this world called ‘The Apple of Eden’. It gave one many abilities that would’ve been the death of society as we know it if it fell into the wrong hands. And it’s something the Templars want to use for their ambitions. Doctor Malfatto-”

Ezio must’ve noticed the lost expression on your face because he sighed, readjusted himself into a more comfortable position on the edge of the bed, and took a gentle hold of your hands in his.

“After everything you’ve been through because of me, I will tell you everything, but only if you think you’re ready to hear it.”

The sentiment was touching, and very much appreciated. But you’ve come so far in the past evening that you’d be damned if you didn’t take the opportunity to get answers when they’re freely offered. So, you nod your head and tighten your fingers around his.

It took hours, and many breaks for food, for Ezio to explain it all to you, but you were enraptured by every second of it.

He’d started with his condition. Turns out that Bram Stoker’s ‘Dracula’ definitely held up in one aspect. Ezio did need to drink blood, human blood specifically, to gain superhuman strength. Otherwise, he’d been subsisting on animal blood, saying something about how the different cells in human and animal blood are the deciding factor on how nourishing they could be for him.

You were a little lost with the scientific explanation. But the alternative-diet explanation definitely helped sway a few worries.

He told you about the Assassins, the Templars, and the Old Civilization. He told you about the tragedy of his father and brothers. He told you about how, on what was supposed to be a simple mission to Rome, he’d been snatched off the street and had woken up, strapped to a table in the lair of Doctor Malfatto: a man notorious for killing and maiming courtesans for his own sick pleasure.

He’d told you of the horrific torture he’d been subject to (though you’re pretty sure he kept it a little more PG due to the fact that you looked like you were going to be sick all over again), things that the doctor performed on him more for fun than for experimentation. And how, after what seemed like months of torment, he’d finally achieved the unthinkable.

Until his prized possession was snatched away in a rescue led by Ezio’s uncle.

He talked about how, for years, no one noticed the changes that had subtly taken place. They chalked up his never-changing features to a form of eternal babyface. That is, until everyone got old and he hadn’t aged a day.

No one noticed his more bloodthirsty pursuit of his enemies, choosing to believe his newfound dedication had something to do with guilt over being missing for so long. Until his Uncle Mario found him on a dark, secluded rooftop, curled over a Venetian guard, blood soaking his robes and pooling around him as Ezio drank the poor man dry.

That night, years of pent up guilt, grief, and anger broke through the dam and his uncle held him as he sobbed through the night, feeling like a child again.

Mario promised that the new-found discovery would never reach his sister or his mother; or anyone else for that matter.

Then his uncle was killed and Ezio swore to avenge him and all of his family by dismantling the Templars one by one and wouldn’t stop until he’d gone through every last one of them.

Over the years, his fire for revenge had faded and morphed into caring for, and cultivating, the most beautiful pieces of history and art. Things that needed protection from the horrible things that this war in the shadows would inflict. It was a subject you found yourself resonating a lot with, and one of the things that led to you becoming a curator: to preserve the beauty in this world.

“I’m sorry for everything. You wouldn’t have been roped into this mess if I hadn’t showed up with you. Believe me that I would’ve never let you go if I knew what they were planning.” He takes your hand in his and you know that you don’t blame him for any of it. Something in you told you that you still wouldn’t have made it out of there even if you hadn’t shown up with him. With everything he’s told you about the Templars, you’re just relieved that he was there.

“I’m also sorry about this.” His other hand brushing against the bandages on your neck. “It was all I could think of to get us both out. And without it, I wouldn’t have been able to break out of those chains.”

The apology leaves your face heating up and his tracing of the gauze doesn’t lessen it. And the guilt that’s clear on his face makes your heart clench.

“...and after last night, it’s not safe for you here anymore.” That has you balking, staring in disbelief at the man before you. He’s since moved from the end of the bed to settle beside you at the head, moving to take your empty bowl of soup out of your lap.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Why would I be joking about something this serious?”

“I can’t just leave this– everything that’s happened– and everything you’ve told me– behind like I didn’t just experience something life-changing.” You adjust your positioning to face him properly and your knees knock against his, “So what, I’m supposed to go back to my job in America and pretend like this never happened?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

He’s right. What else can you do? You’re expected to be on a flight back in less than 24 hours, to a job you’ve always dreamed of having. But this? This is a once in a lifetime chance encounter. You can’t leave it behind like you hadn’t just bonded with the man, who’s running a soothing thumb over your knuckles, in a life or death situation.

“I’ll have to leave the country as well.” He continues, glancing around the space, already mentally saying goodbyes to the belongings in the room. “I won’t be away for long, but now that they know I’m in the country, it’s not safe for me here either. And I’ll…” He’s gazing wistfully off into space, but you don’t have to hear the rest of his sentence to know that he’ll be alone again.

And in that split-second, you decide.

“I’m staying.”

His eyes snap to yours. He’s about to argue with you, but you hold your palm up to silence him before he can start.

“I won’t be talked out of this. I’m going to go back to America, pack up my old life, and I’m coming back to join you, wherever you end up.” A genuine smile cracks at his lips, stretching the scar there and drawing your eyes toward it. “And besides, I’ll still be doing what I love; just with a super awesome 500-year old vampire assassin as my eternal escort.”

While it came out as a joke, the statement whispered in the stillness between you is meant more as a promise. His small breathy laugh, ghosts over you as he inspects the intention in your face.

Then there’s a hand smoothing over your cheek and cupping the back of your head before he’s pulling you into a gentle kiss that’s tinged with the promise of underlying passion. He pulls away with a content sigh, resting his forehead against yours and basking in your declaration. Your lips are tingling from the chill that’s left behind and you’re thinking the dangerous thought of I could definitely get used to that.

“I hope you’re aware of what you’re getting yourself into, mia cara.” The silky drop of his tone sends a thrill up your spine as he moves closer into your space.

“For you, mio caro, I’d get myself into much more.”

And he’s tugging you towards him again, not for the last time that night.

#ezio auditore da firenze #ezio x reader #ezio auditore #ezio trilogy #ezio auditore x reader #Assassin's Creed #assassins creed #assassins creed 2 #Assassins Creed Brotherhood #fanfiction #fanfic #assassins creed fanfic #vampire #ac #ac2 #ac brotherhood #reader insert #jofie writes #ac fanfic #Halloween #this took me forever im sorry #ezio #ezio my love #this blog is gonna be dedicated to that stupid Italian man if i dont post anyone else soon #mario auditore #x reader #i have wips that are almost done i swear #this semester is just kicking my trash #anyway enjoy

[euphoricfilter]

Devil That I Know (Part 6)

~ Golden

Pairing: Demon! Jungkook x Human! Reader

Genre: (Inaccurate) Historical AU || Strangers to lovers AU || Supernatural AU || Smut || Fluff || Angst

Summary: You never expected to meet the king of the country, nor his assistant whose face brings back a few memories.

Word count: 9k

Tags/ warnings: fluff, mentions of blood and injury, smut in the forms of: fingering, male masturbation, dom/ sub undertones but no clearly defined dynamic, implied big dick jk (but he's a demon so he's gonna have a massive schlong), king! yoongi, reincarnation (finally!)

Notes: it's finally here!!! a little delayed but i've been so busy! i finally travelled home after nearly 3 years because of the pandemic!! and have been enjoying my time seeing family after so long.

my full masterlist

this series' masterlist

part 7

+++

Upon opening your eyes, you find yourself staring up at the bright, blue sky. There is no sun, just cottony white clouds that drift over your head, moving in tandem with one another, a practiced routine that they’ll continue to follow; travelling like a flock of birds, location far from where you lay, your limbs sprawled across the golden pasture. The clouds, moving with a clear goal in sight; keep moving until you can’t anymore.

And you envy those in life who seem to have direction, you felt more like pollen in the wind; being pulled this way and that with no control over where you landed. Only hoping that wherever you may land, you’ll be able to settle, and grown and bloom into a flower that attracts beautiful butterflies and bees that work hard for honey. Attractive enough that those more beautiful, elegant, and hardworking would think to look your way, even if only briefly, a fleeting attraction.

You push yourself to sit up, fingers tangling in the golden grass that stretches into the horizon, an endless sea of gold with flaxen waves rocking gracefully in the wind. The grass tickles the material of the silken hanbok you adorned, one you have no recollection of owning. But it looked similar to the ones Jungkook liked to wear, colours almost identical; threaded with golden thread that rivalled the glimmer of the golden grass.

And when you think about it; this wasn’t the hanok.

The air was nice, wherever you may currently be. The air wasn’t as thin as it was up in the mountains, and it didn’t smell like damp soil and damp wood. You could hear the faint swish of the grass as it caresses its neighbour; and the wind seemed to be whistling a beautiful tune for you as it skims over your warm cheeks. A gentle touch, letting you know it was there.   

Déjà vu swims in the back of your mind, that annoying itch that you can’t quite locate, and will bug you until you can remember that small detail your mind has seemed to have forgotten. You tilt your head to look up at the clouds, hoping that maybe they’ll drift into the answer, but alas, they only continue their long journey. And you’re left just as clueless as before; a feeling you weren’t all that fond of.

You stretch your arms above your head, a satisfied sigh leaving your lips as your bones cracked. Standing up, you decide you might as well try to find some sort of civilisation. Your own fears tickling up your spine the longer you sit here alone.

You wince at the sting in your ankle as you put pressure on the taught skin, red raw from where the flames of the fire had licked up your leg. And then that settling sense of déjà vu clicks out of place, the small detail you’d forgotten making an appearance.

Your mind reels back to the haunting moments you’d played a part in back at the hanok. The sick little show you’d put on for the stars that did nothing but watch you from above as you suffered.

You feel your skin itch where the flames had danced too close to your bare skin, deft fingers of the thick, black smoke squeezing your throat as you gasped for breath, wispy fumes clawing their way down your windpipe, squeezing your lungs until you could only pray, you’d escape alive.

You remember that you sat and watched your home being eaten by the flames, bright reds and oranges dancing behind your eyelids as you close your eyes, thinking back to the scary few moments you’d experienced.

Your fingers come to skim over where your heart sits—currently beating languidly in your chest- Jungkook’s panicked face flashing behind your eyes, the phantom excruciating pain of his blade piercing the delicate skin of your chest, sticky red blood pooling around your limp body as you watch him cry, tears like little rain drops that mix with your own saline tears, gently caressing the skin of your cheeks, a silent comfort as you experienced probably the wort pain a living being could endure; with no words to explain it.

You turn to look over your shoulder, wind pushing your hair back as you try to orientate yourself. Sighing when you realise there was no indication of where you were, or which way would lead you to somewhere less deserted.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been walking for; you’d looked up at the sky but there was no sun to indicate what time of day it was, nor the direction you had been wandering either. So, you could only pray to some higher power that you’d made the right choice, and you were on your way towards a saviour. Or your imminent death, that was another possibility.

As you tilted your head back down, the silhouette of a tree came into view with someone stood under it. You squint, trying to get a better look at who could be stood under the large tree. Your footsteps quicken; before you started to run towards whoever was there, worried they had plans of leaving before you could ask them for help.  

You ignore the zing of pain that shoots up your leg. Tender burnt skin being pulled taught as you carelessly scramble towards the calm figure that stands in the shade under the tree with golden leaves. Unease settling in your bones the longer you wander in your own company, starting to weigh your limbs down like your bones were made of lead.

“Jungkook?” you called out when you noticed the familiar back of the demon you’ve spent years with.

Jungkook turns to look at you, a smile gracing his features as he opens his arms; beckoning you to fall into his embrace.

Launching yourself at him, you wrap your arms around his torso, looking up at him after a moment of relishing that he felt real. Some form of comfort coming over you now that you were with someone familiar, and you weren’t left to fend for yourself in an unfamiliar land where anything could happen without anyone knowing.

“Jungkook, where are we?” you asked him as he brings a hand up to brush some of your hair out of your face; the wind sweeping it into your eyes.

“Your dreams, angel” he tells you and you furrow your eyebrows.

“It doesn’t feel like a dream” you tell him honestly and he just softly chuckles. Endeared.

You were just too cute.

“You look tired, my love. Why don’t we go and rest?” Jungkook offers, threading his finger with your own. Squeezing your fingers lightly, an indicator that this felt a little too real to be just a dream. You could feel the warmth of Jungkook’s body, and the rough tips of his fingers as his thumb caresses the back of your hand. The wind felt cool against your cheeks and the grass tickled your ankles where the hanbok had ridden up your leg with each strike you took.

You peek over Jungkook’s shoulder, “Is there a place we can stay?” you ask, curious. Because from where you stood there didn’t seem to be any shelter for what looked like miles, an endless sea of gold that melted into the bright blue sky, holding hands on the horizon.

Jungkook starts walking from the tree, easily pulling you along as you let him take you towards his mystery destination. Trusting that he’ll take you somewhere safe.

You stare at Jungkook’s back as he pulls you along, wondering if maybe it was a mistake to naively let him take you to presumably a secluded area, where he could do anything, he desired to you, and no one would be the wiser.

It’s not like you had any family that was looking for you, that would be worried if you strayed away from home for too long and would hunt you down until they knew you were safe and sound, coddled away from the big, wide world. You didn’t have any friends that would sit and wait until dark for you to come home or sit outside for days because they hadn’t seen you wander back home since you’d announced your departure. You had no one. Only the demon who you naively trusted with your life, a life he could easily snatch if he ever desired.

It wouldn’t be too hard of a task.

You feel the skin of your chest throb, hands starting to feel a little too clammy for your liking as you continue to leer at Jungkook’s muscular back that pulls at the stiff material of the woven shirt he wore, a staple piece it seemed as he wore them more and more often.

Nevertheless, you continue to let him pull you along, the sick, contradictory feelings picking at all corners of your mind. Jungkook had not only lied to you, but he’d put you in danger (more than once) and thrusted a blade into your heart (again, it wasn’t the first time). But he felt remorseful; if the haunting cries that echo in the back of your mind are anything to go by. The cries that picked at the cavities of your ears when your eyes closed, scared to look at the face of the man that had carelessly stabbed you for his own selfish wishes.

But maybe he lied to keep you safe, what you didn’t know could never hurt you, not if Jungkook was there to act as your shield. Hide you away from all the bad in the world, and hold your hand when things got a little tough.

He protected you. He cared about you.

When was the last time someone had cared for you as much as Jungkook did?

Your friend from childhood? He was dead.

And dead people don’t have feelings, they don’t worry about whether you ate, or if you’re sleeping well, or if the water in the bath was too hot for your delicate skin. They can’t hold onto you when your sad, or tell you stories about the world, or take you on trips to the capital, or teach you how to read and write. They can’t kill a man that had touched you inappropriately without permission.  

From the top of the hill, you could see the small cottage sat stranded in the middle of the golden field. All the curtains were closed, and no candles seemed to be burning, so you could only assume the little home had been stranded. The hay roof shone like delicate threads made of gold, and the wooden panel walls looked like fresh oak that had been seasoned to stay preserved for a long time; a lot fresher than the degraded old wood of the hanok that looked moments away from snapping.

Jungkook catches you when you stumble down the mountain, a prominent frown pulling at his pretty features as he catches sight of the red raw skin of your ankle.

Jungkook kneels down, “You’re hurt, get on” he encourages, making sure you’re comfortable on his back as he continues your descent down the hill. Not showing any signs that he was struggling in any way carrying you.

As he opens the door, you catch sight of a small table in the centre of the room. To the right of the door was a small cooking station like you had in the hanok, and to the left was a large floor mattress, big enough to fit two people.

As Jungkook helps you climb off his back, you make eye contact with yourself in the mirror that hung on the far wall; realisation tickling the back of your mind that you don’t even recognise yourself. You knew it was your own reflection, but everything felt surreal; like you were watching someone else through the windows of your eyes.

“Sit down, my love” Jungkook encourages, bringing you out of your own reverie, motioning for you to take a seat on one of the woven cushions that lay under the table.

You kneel down at the table, eyes following Jungkook as he rummages through a basket, a triumphant smile on his face as he turns to show you the clay jar of ointment, presumably for your wound that you only notice is throbbing from where you’d exerted yourself.

You eye the jar suspiciously, wondering why a small house in the middle of nowhere would stock up on medical supplies, but you suppose anything was possible in your dreams.

Jungkook is attentive as he balances your ankle on his thighs, fingers carefully dipping into the jar—a sticky clear gel clinging to his fingers before he gently lathers it over your burn, blowing gently on the tender skin when your leg jolts at the sting. The menthol aroma stinging your nose as Jungkook doesn’t shy away with how much he applies to the burn.

“Feel any better?” he asks, wiping his hands down on the woven pants he wore, making you feel entirely overdressed in the silk hanbok.

“Yeah” you squeeze a reply.

“I’m glad” he smiles, “You okay, doll? You don’t look so well”  

Your eyes flit to meet the demon’s, searching for something; something you’re not quite sure of yourself. Maybe you were hoping you’d see hatred behind his irises, or any sign that the bloodlust that must have overtaken him on the day he’d shoved a knife into your chest was still glowing somewhere in his gaze that only held love. At least then, you’d have an excuse to leave. An excuse to not feel guilty for thinking about leaving him and escaping the sticky clutch that he currently had on you. One that kept you tacked to his side with little to no way of unsticking yourself.

But other than piercing your heart, what other wrong doings had Jungkook really done? None that you can remember. Nothing that was inexcusable enough for you to slip from his grasp and wander the world alone. What if you ran into trouble and Jungkook wasn’t there to help you?

“I’m fine. Just tired” you manage a smile, shame plaguing your mind as you try to deny what Jungkook had done as wrong.

Jungkook nods, and you can see a question ready to fall past his plush lips. Instead, he clicks his tongue, pushing himself from the floor. And you choose not to ask, more than content with not knowing what he had to say.

Neither of you spoke, you just watched him, void of emotion as he prepared a tea that seemed to be lying around the small kitchen. Rolling up your sleeves slightly you noticed the lack of bandages and as you inspected the skin, all injury was gone from there too.

Jungkook carefully places the steaming tea in-front of you, “Careful, it’s hot” he tells you as he sits opposite you.

“Aren’t you going to have any?” you ask, noticing he didn’t have one for himself. He shook his head, picking up a book before flipping to a random page. Not saying a word.

You slightly nodded, lips pursed at his dismissive behaviour. You carefully picked up the teacup before taking a small sip. It was bitter, no honey in this dream to make it all a little sweeter.

You made eye contact with Jungkook, “Is there something wrong? You’re acting out of character” you ask him as he just shakes his head, eyes flitting down back to his book.

The silence felt suffocating. Something you’ve never experienced when spending time with Jungkook, it was always filled with laughter, or smiles. And even when it was quiet it was always comfortable, a time you enjoyed. But a weird feeling set over you, making your skin feel like you weren’t in your body, ready to claw its way out, the uncomfortable feeling only getting worse the longer you sat there in silence.

You weren’t sure how long you had been sitting there for, you’d almost finished your tea and your eyelids felt heavy. Your limbs felt like lead. You were in that weird headspace between trying to stay awake, but eyes slowly shutting and each time your head would tip forward too much you’d flinch awake again.

Eventually you gave up the fight, leaning back to lay spread on the floor. Eyes slowly closing, the last thing you saw was the rustic ceiling of the house in your dreams.

+++

1898 (33 years after the trip to the capital)

You pull the silk comforter over your ears at the loud clacking of footsteps somewhere outside of the room. Eyes squeezing shut as the throbbing of your head amplifies with the pitter patter of people running down the halls. You don’t think to question who could be scampering around, not thinking that those footsteps meant that you weren’t the only one home. It wasn’t often Jungkook would scuttle around either, always considerate that your human body needed to sleep; and he was respectful enough to stay quiet while you rested.

You alleviate some of the pressure on your eyebrows squeezing together when deft fingers massage your scalp; throbbing headache whittling to a dull ache at the constant motion of firm fingers digging into the tense skin.

You choose to peek from behind the covers, a blurred image of Jungkook flashing into your line of vision before your eyes squeeze shut once again, sun spilling into the room through the open window. The piercing sunlight only making the pain of your headache worse, a flash of discomfort probing your eyes.

You groan, eyes hurting from how bright the room was.

You hear Jungkook chuckle, deep and silky in a way that causes goosebumps to raise on the skin of your arms; a shudder wracking down your spine.

You feel his fingers retreat from massaging your head, instead you hear him shuffle around; and you assume he leaves a kiss on your cheek through the fabric of the comforter before he leaves your side; the ghost of his lips lingering even through the soft duvet.

You hear the window click shut, and Jungkook’s heavy footsteps drown out the quicker pattering of people outside of the room as he wanders around the room.

You hear the floorboards creak, and a soft click reverberates to your side of the room, before Jungkook takes a seat by your side once more, mattress dipping under the heavy weight of his body.

“The window is shut, pretty thing. Your eyes shouldn’t hurt as much now” Jungkook whispers, aware that you must feel groggy as you just shuffle under the blanket, pulling it further over your head. This time, you curl your body around his, hoping that somehow, he’ll heal your pain.

“My head hurts” you tell him, voice hoarse and scratchy from where you clearly hadn’t been using it.

“I can’t help you if you hide from me, love”

Slowly, you pull the blanket from over your head, eyes still shutting at the light that penetrates through the paper blinds that cover the window. A pitiful whine slipping past the petals of your lips that causes an exaggerated frown to pull at Jungkook’s own. Never one to like you being in such agony, he couldn’t help the his own souring expression at your discomfort.

Jungkook pulls you up from under your arms, depositing you comfortably between his outstretched legs before he curls them around your waist; keeping you locked between his thick thighs.  

Your shoulders slump forwards when Jungkook’s finger’s carefully card through your hair, working all the knots from the delicate strands that had gathered while you’d slept, careful not to tug too hard or bring you any more pain. As he works his way up, he starts to hum a soft tune, one that releases all tension in your bones, one that helps distract you from the dull headache that continues to pound rhythmically against your skull. It’s a tune you have faint memories of, but it blocks out the shouting on the other side of the wall, so you don’t think too much about where Jungkook could know the peaceful melody from.

Your eyes blink open, fixating on a small scar on your ankle, one you have no recollection of gaining. Your finger skims over the rough skin, blemish barely noticeable if you didn’t look closely. And you feel something tickle the back of your mind, trying to push its way back into your memories. A reminder perhaps. But you forget all about it when Jungkook starts to massage your scalp, thumbs applying just enough pressure in all the right places, and you fall back into his chest; sinking further and further into his embrace.

Time seems to flow by as you sit there, body feeling boneless as your demon friend works away all the knots and kinks throughout your body. You turn to bury your face in Jungkook’s stomach when he gently tries to ease you from his lap.

“I’m just getting you something to drink” he soothes.

You flop back onto the mattress, watching intently as Jungkook crouches by a clay jug.

He pulls a cup from a woven basket, inspecting it to make sure it wasn’t grimy before he pours you a drink. You thank him when he hands you the cup, an easy smile on his face as you take large gulps.

“Slow down, you’ll choke” he eases, a breathy chuckle passing through his lips when you swat his hand away that tries to wipe the water that slips down your chin.

You hand the cup back to Jungkook, watching as he pours you more water. Silently you admire Jungkook’s face, how his tongue slightly peeks from between his lips as he concentrates on the task, how his thick eyebrows furrow, and then the pretty smile that graces his perfect features when he kindly hands the clay cup back to you. A small part of him happy he had provided a small sanctuary for you; even if it was a few cups of water.

“Oh yeah, where are we?” you ask, bringing the cup back to your lips.

“The palace”

You feel water spray from your nose, hand coming to cradle your throat as you splutter up water. Back of your nose tingling in the aftermath of your disaster.

You cough up a storm as you feel the remanence of water tickling the back of your throat. Jungkook bends over you, concerned; hand coming to gently pat your back to try and help you, but worried he would smack you too hard. Sometimes he forgot his own strength and the last thing he wanted was to hurt you. You who was so delicate in his eyes, a pretty butterfly that he had caught and caged; whose wings are thinner than paper and prettier than any painting, but ever so delicate. Too delicate in Jungkook’s opinion, worried your little wings would rip if he were to pinch them too hard. But he was selfish, and had no plans of setting you free, allowing you to wander and find a flower that was better than Jungkook was; less ragged and newly bloomed with more pollen to provide.

“Why the fuck are we in the palace?” you question, back of your hand coming to wipe a mixture of your own spit and water from your chin.

“It was the only place I could bring you, after you passed out” Jungkook explains.

“Passed out?” you question, “Jungkook don’t you remember, the king is after people like me?”

You watch Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. Mind reeling back to whatever you could be talking about. Surely you knew he would never put you in danger, nor was he stupid enough to bring you somewhere that you could be taken away from him.

“No one’s coming after you, love” Jungkook shakes his head, hand coming to gently stroke over the expanse of your back, a gesture of comfort that doesn’t seem comforting at all, as you try and pull away from him. Perplexed why Jungkook would even think to bring you to the palace.

“Have you really forgotten?” you give him an incredulous look, “Jungkook they imprisoned me because of the King’s orders” you remind him.

“Pretty” Jungkook’s first pair of hands come to cup your cheeks, his second pair of hands resting on your hips, thumbs caressing your skin over the thin fabric of your pyjamas, “Maybe you don’t remember, but a new king rose to power, remember?”

You shake your head, “When?”

“A while back, we came to the capital and you were fine, remember? No one’s after you anymore.” Jungkook explains, tone gentle as his eyes meet your own; searching for your understanding.

You shake your head once again, “I’ve never been to the capital” you tell him.

Jungkook opens his mouth, closing it once again. Was it really the right thing to remind you of your trip? If you truly didn’t remember then any pain you felt about losing that cat, or the son of a bitch who harassed you would become null. You wouldn’t remember the little seeds of doubt that Namjoon may have sown in your mind, nor would you have any idea of how much the humans now hate his kind. Or how hard he had to work so the king would let him stay in the palace for your sake.

Jungkook pulls you into a hug. All four arms locking your body with his own, his eyes closing as he leans his cheek on top of your head; a deep sigh releasing from his chest.

“Is that so?” he asks, and you hum.

“You said I passed out?” you lift your head to look up at your demon friend.

“Yes, my love” he nods, eyes closing as he rests his head atop of your own, “Our home was destroyed, and I suppose you were exhausted”

“And Taehyung?” you ask.

“He’s gone” Jungkook reminds you, heart sinking at how much you really seem to remember.

You nod, “I know that, but his grave?”

Jungkook swallows, “It’s gone”

You breathe out a long sigh, “What happened?”

“A group of humans burnt the hanok down, nothing survived. We didn’t have anywhere to stay, so I brough us here. The king is allowing us to stay until I find a new home for us”

“We can live by the sea now, right?” you wonder out loud, not thinking too much about how Jungkook’s arms seem to squeeze you a little tighter.

“If that is what my love wishes, then yes. I’ll build us a home by the sea”

You pull your head from Jungkook’s chest, smiling up at him, “Thank you”

Jungkook smiles back, but you don’t notice the small glint of sorrow that swims behind his irises.

“Anything for you” he whispers.

+++

“Darling?” Jungkook speaks up, helping tilt your head back as he rises the soapy suds from your hair, trying his hardest to not get any of it in your eyes.

“Yeah?” you whisper, sighing in content when Jungkook’s fingers continue their massaging on your scalp.

“Do you remember the trip we went on? With Namjoon?”

“Who’s that?” you ask, name not ringing any bells.  

Jungkook stays silent for a moment longer than you expected, when you turn to look at him, he just gives you a bright smile.

“No one. Maybe I was mistaken” he tells you, using his thumb to caress the wet skin of your cheek, smiling down at you when you try and munch on his finger.

Jungkook helps clean your body, kissing each inch of skin he can reach before lathering you up with floral soap, the steamy room making your mind hazy, uncaring as Jungkook gently caresses your skin. Worshiping your body like he believed you deserved.

“I’m sad” you tell Jungkook, smiling when you see his eyebrows furrow in worry, “I’m sad our house was burnt down” you tell him, watching his shoulders slump forwards.

“Me too, doll” he agrees, “You see, I built that home all alone. It’s a shame that such a precious place was destroyed by selfish humans” he sighs, “but there’s no point moping around, I’ll make us a new home, promise” he kisses your forehead.

“It must have been hard, building a house alone” you muse, wondering what Jungkook’s life must have been like before you’d met him.

You suppose you never thought to ask, preoccupied with helping Taehyung when you were first sent up the mountain and then so besotted with Jungkook that you never thought to wonder what his life must have been all those years before he knew you, or even Taehyung. You wonder if he ever felt lonely, wandering around alone. Or how hard it must have been building a home from nothing, with only the wind talking back to you when loneliness starts to creep up on you like a predator hunts its prey.

“Not at all, I never built it with the intention of others living with me. But the world gave me two precious people, and although Taehyung may be gone, he’ll live on in our home. Or what’s left of it”

“It’s a shame all of his stuff got burnt along with the buildings”

“Actually, I was able to save one” Jungkook admits, sheepish smile on his face.

You slap his arm, “Why didn’t you tell me? Is it the one of us in the courtyard?” you ask, heart feeling a little lighter that at least one of Taehyung’s pieces had been saved, the rest would have to live on in your memories. And you know that from your memories, the art that Taehyung had worked so hard on throughout his life wouldn’t be shared among the thousands of people that should have seen it, but now it would be your own little escape. An escape to those times you’d spent together, hauled up in your home with one another, unaware of what happened in the wider world.

And now that your home is gone, you suppose you can live in Taehyung’s fantasy world, and live through the memories of his art. An escape from the wretched reality you seem to wake up in every day.

“You’ll have to wait and see” Jungkook teases, “You must be hungry, I heard the palace is cooking a feast tonight”

“A feast?” you question, “What’s the occasion?”

“I’m not sure why” Jungkook admits, “But they should have something you like, if not then I’ll cook for you”

You give Jungkook a deadpan look, nose scrunching up at how silly he was acting, “Don’t be stupid. I could never turn down a meal from royalty”

“The king doesn’t care much for formalities” Jungkook waves you off, water rippling around his bare waist as his body gravitates closer to your own. Drawn to you like you were both two sides of a magnet.

“Still, it’s polite. And I want to make a good impression”

Jungkook’s eyes narrow at that, “Good impression?”

You think you can see jealousy roll off Jungkook’s body in waves, his eyes staring you down as you just tip your head back, exasperated that something so simple has seemed to have gotten him so riled up. In all the time you’d know Jungkook, it had never been easy to get that dark look in his eyes, or his blood boiling.

“Of course, I don’t come from here so it’s best to be on the better side of the King’s judgement” you explain, palm lying flat on Jungkook’s chest as he wanders forwards, “Are you jealous?” you dare to ask, sly smile pulling at your lips when Jungkook scoffs, bottom pair of arms pulling you closer to his body by your waist.

“I have no reason to be jealous, doll” Jungkook bends down, warm breath fanning your ear, hairs on the back of your neck standing on end at his tone. Smooth like the finest silken clothes and as deep as the ocean.

“And why’s that?” you challenge, uncaring as Jungkook lifts you from beneath your thighs, water ruffling as the demon saunters towards the ledge of the stone bath, the warm stone helping heat your skin as the bath water had cooled down since the two of you started bathing. Too preoccupied with one another that it seemed not much bathing had been done; the both of you soaking in the water and basking in one another’s company.

Jungkook situates himself standing between your spread legs, wide hips pushing your thighs apart, and Jungkook thinks you look pretty like this, so vulnerable for him. So perfect in only a way you could be.

He admires the slope of your breasts, little droplets of water caressing your supple skin, a blank canvas that Jungkook is tempted to cover in his own art; and not the inky tattoos that adorn his own skin, something a little redder, maybe purple, art that could pull sweet little moans from that pretty mouth of yours that he’d muffle with a few fingers in your mouth. He couldn’t have the serving staff outside the room hearing how pretty you must sound when you moan his name, breathless begging for him to do the filthiest things to you, defile your very being until everyone knew that you were his, and equally, he was yours.

Jungkook is shameless in the way his gaze wanders down to between your spread thighs, pink petals of your cunt glistening in your steadily growing arousal. And Jungkook thinks you’d taste the sweetest, better than any fruit Taehyung had learnt to grow in the courtyard, and maybe it would become Jungkook’s favourite taste, hopefully lingering on the tip of his tongue as a reminder of the way he snagged away that last piece of innocence that you help.

You stare up at Jungkook, wondering if you’d ever seen such a dark look in his eyes, but a small part of you liked the idea that you’d been able to rile him up, even if only a little bit. He had always been so level-headed around you.

“Because I know you’ll always come back to me”

The almost smirk that pulls at Jungkook’s pretty lips does anything but worry you, and before you can taunt him anymore, you feel his hand trail slowly up your thighs.

Confident in his touch, Jungkook’s hands inch closer and closer towards where you can feel your tacky arousal start to gather at your entrance. Pulsating in a way that you knew only he would be able to alleviate.

“This, okay?” Jungkook murmurs as his face swoops down to look at your own. Smiling when you nod, a breathy ‘yes’ slipping off the tip of your tongue.

Your eyes flutter shut when Jungkook presses a firm kiss to your lips. A soft rumble vibrating from his chest as he groans into your mouth. Suddenly not feeling close enough to you, even if he was practically laying on top of you.

You feel his tongue tease the seam of your lips, a silent question for entry. You oblige, breathy moan being swallowed by Jungkook who only tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

You have to push at Jungkook’s chest to part, your own chest heaving while Jungkook just watches the bare skin of your breasts. He’s brazen in the way he ogles at your body, lips kiss swollen and perspiration trickling down his toned body; firm chest and toned abdomen making your mind spiral into a few, less than pure, things you wanted to do to his body.

“Please don’t tease me kookie” you whine, hips bucking forwards to try and get his fingers closer to where you needed them the most.

“Never, doll” he hums, his index finger running through your slit. Your mouth falls open in a lewd moan when his finger brushes over your clit, a jolt of pleasure wracking through your body. Something so foreign yet welcome, nothing you’d ever experienced before but enough for you to want more.

Jungkook hums, neck arching down to kiss at the damp skin of your neck, not shying away from nipping at the skin with his teeth, careful to not leave a dark enough mark as he knew you’d be meeting the king in what could only be a few hours.

Your demon friend uses his thumb to toy with your clit in tight circles that cause your hips to buck up in pleasure, as the fingers of his other hand circle the ring of muscle at your entrance. Your arms wrap around Jungkook’s neck, hoping to keep yourself sat upright as he plays with you.

Your teeth sink into the skin of his shoulder when Jungkook slides his index finger into your eager hole, muscles rhythmically clenching around him. He’s slow in his thrusts, careful as he fingers you open. His constant flicking of your clit helps alleviate some of the pain that came with Jungkook stretching you out, and you think you hear him apologize when he pushes a second finger into your entrance. Wondering how many it would take before you could take his hefty cock.

He uses one of his spare hands to wrap around his cock, trying his best to mimic how you cunt clenches around his fingers as he starts to stroke down his length. When he sees you squirm, he’s relentless in the way he starts to finger your wet cunt, his own hand speeding up around his cock to match the pace.

“Good girl” Jungkook groans, head falling back as your arms tighten around his neck, hips rolling in time with his thrusting.

You have no shame in the way you moan, your own breathy whines echoing back into the cavity of your ears as it bounces off the stone walls. A small part of you realises that everyone stood outside the stone chamber could probably hear you; the wet squelch of your cunt being opened and the low groans of Jungkook who was fisting his own cock in time with his fingers thrusting into you.

Your thighs tighten around Jungkook’s waist, legs starting to shake as Jungkook continues flicking your sensitive clit.

You mouth drops open in a silent moan when Jungkook’s deft fingers prod at that spongy patch of tissue, your hips bucking against Jungkook’s fingers in time with his thrusts.

Jungkook buries his face in the crook of your neck, his ragged breath tickling the damp skin, causing goosebumps to travel down the expanse of your back.

“I’m close, pretty” Jungkook moans, water rippling around his waist as he thrusts erratically into his hand; lewd imagines of how warm and wet your small cunt would be wrapped around his length enough for him to feel his own high slowly creeping up on him.

You imagine it’s Jungkook’s cock splitting you open; you were no stranger to it after all. You’d been bathing together for a while and maybe you’d sneaked a peak. And by no means was he lacking in any way, his monster of a cock pretty in a way that only Jungkook had, curved a little to hit all the good places within you.

“Be a good girl and cum for me” Jungkook moans, lips leaving sloppy kisses on your shoulder.

“Okay” you squeeze out, heels of your feet digging into his lower back.

You cum with a lewd moan, unabashed as you ride out your high.

Jungkook stokes his cock, cumming at the serene look on your face as you come down from your high.

Your hips jolt forwards at the overstimulation Jungkook brings when he continues to flick at your clit, fingers still buried but stagnant in your cunt.

“No more” you try to wiggle away from the demon, thighs twitching.

Jungkook smiles, easing his fingers from you. He helps you lean against his chest, hand coming to gently stroke over your back as your breathing starts to even out.

“Well done” he murmurs into the crown of your head, “You did so well for me. Looking so pretty while I made you feel good”

You close your eyes, content with listening to the steady beating of Jungkook’s heart.

“Thank you” you whisper, “But now I need to bathe again”

Jungkook laughs at that, helping you slip back into the water, “I’ll wash you, doll. I suppose it is my fault anyways”

You smile at that, legs wrapping around Jungkook’s thin waist, his second pair of arms holding you up from underneath your thighs while he got to helping you wash up. The cool bath water feeling nice against your sticky skin.

“I love you” Jungkook smiled as he brushed a strand of hair from your face.

You stare at him, “Love?”

“Yes. I love you more than life itself” he admits.

You bite your lip, head falling to rest on Jungkook’s shoulder as he carries you out of the bath, helping you into a fine silk robe.

“I think I love you too” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

But Jungkook heard it.

+++

You peer down at the hanbok Jungkook helped you put on, fabric feeling expensive under your fingertips as they run over the heavy skirt. You felt out-of-place, undeserving even, being dressed in material that you only assume would fit that of royalty; and the last thing you wanted was to offend the king. You planned to live a long life and it would be a shame if you were to be beheaded before you could live out a few more of your dreams.

Jungkook kneels behind you as he brushes out your hair, careful not to tug too hard on the knots that formed during your bath. Your cheeks flush at the thought, thighs clenching underneath the layers upon layers of fabric. You bite your lip, willing yourself to not let your mind drift back to what happened hours earlier. The phantom of Jungkook’s touch making the skin of your thighs tingle.

“Everything good, darling?” Jungkook asks, “You’re fidgeting a lot”

“Just a little warm” you tell him, throwing a smile over your shoulder to placate Jungkook’s worries.

He hums in understanding, mouth turning up in a pitiful smile. Sympathetic as you wiggle from the sunlight that leaks into the room from the open window, even with the light breeze Jungkook worries you’ll overheat.

“Just wait a little longer” he eases, fingers carding through the ends of your hair.

You close your eyes as he starts to braid it, gentle in his actions. You think you must have drifted to sleep, as when you open your eyes, Jungkook had changed into his own hanbok, colours matching your own. And your heart beats a little faster at the fact the both of you would be matching.

With bleary eyes, you skim down his form, smiling when he gives you a little twirl; all four arms stretched out to give you the full image of his body.

“Very pretty” you supply, lips curling into a smile when Jungkook bows, ever the dramatic.

“Not as pretty as you, my flower” Jungkook bends down, fingers gently intertwining with your own.

You head shoots towards the door when a soft knock echoes off the walls; your heartrate picking up at the unexpected visitor.

Since you’d woken up you hadn’t met anyone else that resided in the palace, halls empty when you’d walked to and from the bathhouse and all pattering footsteps had quietened down soon after you’d woken up.

You turn to look at Jungkook, whose smile had slowly melted into a soft frown. Upset that your alone time was slowly coming to its end, and he doubted he would get you alone again until the evening.

“I suppose we better get going, the king doesn’t seem to be a patient man” Jungkook mutters, helping you stand.

Your demon friend slides the bedroom door open, nose turned up at the servant girl that bows at the both of you.

From what you could see she was very pretty, thin wrists and perfectly braided black hair that looked soft to touch. You don’t miss the slight disgust in her eyes as she turns her nose up at you; body veering towards Jungkook who ignores her, instead choosing to take a gentle hold of your hand and tell you all about the food he hopes is being served that evening.  

You fingers tighten between Jungkook’s, nervous as each of the serving staff stop and bow at you and Jungkook as you wander past them. A small part of your mind reminding you of the scrutiny you’d experienced around large groups of people that were avid followers of the king.

Your body gravitates towards Jungkook, subconsciously aware that if anything were to happen at least Jungkook would be here to help you. He wouldn’t let them take you away, right?

“His highness requests your presence” your escort informs, turning to smile at Jungkook while completely ignoring you.

Your tongue comes to wet your lips, eyes slightly narrowed at the way she brushes a hand over Jungkook’s arms. Said demon pulls back, lips pulling into almost a sneer as she bats her eyelashes his way.

You ignore the ugly green feeling that starts to bubble within as you wander through the gardens, flowers of every colour you can think of blanketing the vibrant green grass. A small river slithers through part of the garden, sandy orange cats lazing under large, lush trees as serving staff scuttling from building to building like busy ants.

You can’t help but be in awe of the vibrant red flowers that neighbour the sunflowers, yellow rivalling that of the sun that shines proudly in the sky, warming up your cheeks.

When you arrive at the main building of the palace, you swallow thickly. Nerves finally sinking in as you realise the ruler of the country was only a door away, and he essentially had control of your fate.

You tilt your head to look up at Jungkook, who turns to give you a reassuring smile.

“Nothing to worry about, I’m here” he whispers, leaning down to run his nose along your jaw. And you feel some of the tension leave your muscles as Jungkook nudges your shoulder with his arm, easy smile on his face.

When your escort slides the door open, you think you hold our breath. Everything felt a little surreal as you and Jungkook took a few steps into the room. Your eyes stay trained on the wooden floor, grains suddenly more interesting than the man that sat proud on his golden throne on the adjacent side of the room.

The gold of the king’s throne twinkles in the sunlight that tumbles into the room from the open door behind you; shining like little stars in your peripherals. The shining gold remind you of something, a little itch in your brain that you can’t quite locate. But before you could let your mind reel, the daunting cough of the king catches your attention.

One of Jungkook’s hands run along your back, encouraging you to bow down at the same time as him.

“Raise your heads” the gruff voice of the king rings throughout the room. “You may leave” he addresses the escort that had brought you to his throne room. Her smile dropping for a split second at the dismissal she received.

Your heart sinks as the door clicks shut, warm sunlight being shielded by the paper blinds. And suddenly the room felt a little too cold, prickly goosebumps raising on the skin of your arms under the thick sleeves of your hanbok.

“So, this is the one?”

Your gaze flits up to the king as his eyes trail down your body and Jungkook hums, proud smile on his face as he encourages you to step forwards. More than happy to show you off to the royal that sits with his legs spread, sat comfortably on his golden throne.

Your eyes flit across the king’s face, long, blonde hair falling like threads of gold down his back, cat-like eyes unwavering as they drink in your stiff form; rigid in the way you stood.

“You kind of remind me of my cat” you blurt, hand coming to slap over your mouth as your brain finally catches up to what your mouth had let slip from your tongue.

You hear Jungkook’s laughter bubble from his chest behind you, hot, red flush colouring your cheeks as you avert your eyes to ogle at the astonishing throne the king sat on.

Your eyes widen when the gravely laugh of the emperor rumbles into the room, you dare to take a peek, lips valiant as they curl up into a smile. Although such thoughts were probably inappropriate, the pretty smile of the king was enough to warm your heart, happy that you had seemed to have gotten such a positive reaction from him even if you had spoken a little out of line.

“How amusing, and what was your cat’s name then?”

Your mouth falls open before closing once again. You turn to look at Jungkook over your shoulder, who nods his head in encouragement; soft smile on his face as you fidget.

“Little meow, your highness” you admit, cheeks painted in a red darker than the flowers that scattered the palace gardens.

“Please, call me Yoongi”

“Huh?” you blink, “I mustn’t”

“Are you daring defy the orders of a royal?” Yoongi raises his chin, piercing eyes turning to slits as he looks at you down his nose.

Erratically, you shake your head, “Of course not, your highness”

“Hey!” he points at you, “That’s not my name” he drawls, teasing smile on his face as he watches your cheeks flush.

“Sorry” you sigh, “Yoongi”

Said man has a triumphant smile on his face, “Good”

You quickly look over your shoulder at Jungkook who gives you a thumbs up, nose scrunching at the adorable smile that graces your face when you see his approval.

“Where are my manners?” Yoongi tuts, “What is the beautiful lady’s name?”

“Y/n” you tell him, thumping heart slowing back to its usual languid beating as you realise the royal sat before you had no intentions of adding a head to what you can only assume is a plethora of people who dared defy the royals.

“Your Korean is good” Yoongi muses, “Come a little closer”

You take a few steps forwards, head tilting a little more as you gaze up at Yoongi whose legs spread a little wider so he can lean down and get a better look at you.

“Closer” his fingers motion for you to take a step up towards the platform his throne sat on.

His hands take a hold of your face, tilting it to inspect each aspect of your facial anatomy closer.

You think you can feel two small holes being burnt into the back of your head, and Yoongi seems to notice the ignited glare that Jungkook has as he watches the both of you interact. Yoongi uncaring as he admires your face, something he had never come across in all his years of living, but ever so pretty.

A sly smile pulls at the King’s lips before he leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to the warm skin of your cheek. You blink, eyes widening a little in shock as the ghost of Yoongi’s lips linger; your fingers come to touch the soft skin of your cheek. Utterly confused as to why the king would kiss such an insignificant person like yourself.

Something akin to a squeak bubbles up your throat as a firm hand lands on your shoulder. Jungkook pulls down the sleeve of his hanbok over his hand, uncaring as he wipes down the cheek Yoongi had daringly kissed.

He sneers at the king, “I said you could meet her, not kiss her” he points an accusing finger at Yoongi who leans back into the throne, smug smile on his face.

“Kookie, it hurts” you pull your face away from his unrelenting wiping.

Jungkook turns to look at you, a frown on his face, “Oh, my love” he leans down press a wet kiss over the reddened skin.

“Still hurts” you push Jungkook’s face from your own with your pointer finger.

Unfazed, Jungkook just coos at you, first pair of hands coming to squeeze your cheeks until your lips puckered and he leans down to give you a soft kiss. He shakes your head lightly, soft apologies slipping off his tongue like raindrops on a petal. And you wonder if he actually meant it, the cheeky smile that wanted to form on his face said no.

Yoongi only laughs at the both of you, intrigued by the more open side Jungkook was showing; a sight so unfamiliar for the demon that hadn’t shown such a side around the king, face always stoic and voice never changing octave; always one to dismiss others unless he benefitted from them.  

When the door slides open your eyes travel towards the other side of the room, heart dropping to your stomach at the tall, lanky figure that wanders into the room. Time feels like it stops, the man who wanders into the throne room walking in what look like slow motion as you just watch him, your eyebrows furrowing in a blend of confusion and sadness.

He bows at the King, plump lips opening to let a greeting echo into the room, and you suppose he had always been respectful.

You pull your head from Jungkook’s hold, stumbling backwards from your demon friend’s body, eyes raking over the face of the man that had just wandered into the room. He looked the same, black hair falling prettily over his eyebrows, a little curled at the ends, piercing black eyes less soft but still just as warm, passionate, and his plump lips still had that pretty smile, although this time, it wasn’t directed at you. His voice was the same as well, a little nasally but it had always been darling when he would sing for you as children. Those scary nights you couldn’t sleep, and the shadows would creep in a little too close for comfort.

Said man tilts his head at your staring, uneasy smile on his face as he politely greets you, clearly confused as to why you had taken such an immediate interest in him.

“Seokjin?” you ask, small part of you not believing he could be stood before you, alive.

“I’m sorry?” Seokjin asks, confused lilt in his tone, “Do I know you?”

#bts #jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #reincarnation #bts jungkook #bts fic #bts jungguk #jungguk x reader #bts angst #bts fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook jeon #jungkook imagine #jungkook x you #taehyung #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #taehyung fluff #ot7 imagine #namjoon fanfic #seokjin #seokjin fic #yoongi fanfic #hoseok imagine #yandere jungkook

[darkparablesthorst]

Earl Grey

Paring: Henryk/Fiancee!Reader

Content: SFW. Fix-it, Henryk never wages war against Solwood, slight angst, Henryk is socially awkward

Word Count: 919 words

Notes: Why do they always eat or have tea in my drabbles lmfao. 

✿ 

Henryk returned the teacup to the saucer with a barely audible clink. He rolled his tongue against the back of his teeth, noting the citrusy, bittersweet taste of Earl Grey that coated every crevice of his mouth. 

"Did you like the tea, Your Majesty?"

"Yes, it's delightful," Henryk replied shortly before lapsing into a long silence that soaked through his layers and clung to his skin. 

His tongue lashed against the back of his teeth again. 

The subtle clink of porcelain brought him back to focus.

"Wonderful. It's my favorite. It was an auspicious day when the diplomat from the Western Empire brought such a gift. Being on the other side of the world, it was a rare commodity in my country that I rarely found the opportunity to indulge in," you said. Henryk couldn’t tear his eyes away from the slight pout of your lips.

 "Is it? Your favorite, I mean," he replied, clearing his throat. 

"Indeed, Your Majesty."

"I see."

Another moment of silence passed. The longer he grasped for a thread of conversation to weave, the more he frayed at the seams. Despite the hours, the years, he poured into books on etiquette and decorum, the art of social grace had always eluded him. Being duty-bound and devoted to one’s responsibilities fell short when one lacked the wit to forge connections, both personal and political. He made the mistake of presuming that material exchanges were enough to compensate for his silence, and he had to endure a harsh lesson at the dissolution of his first engagement.

Under the look you cast at him from across the table, one that pulled at those fraying threads to quicken his unraveling, he felt the sting of Wanda’s rejection all over again. 

“Your Majesty,” you began as if coming upon a sagely conclusion but not without an indiscernible smile on your face, “I thank you for making time for my invitation to tea. However, it would be a shame if I were forcing you away from more important matters at this moment.” 

Henryk clenched his hands on his lap under the table. It seemed like he had fumbled once again. 

However, your smile widened a smidge as you continued. “Which is why it is pertinent that we are comfortable during our short time together.”

Henryk stiffened. “You do not mind my silence?”

“Not at all.” Your expression softened as you continued. “I’d forego the torture of forced pleasantries in any given situation if I could. Alas, I am only human,” you ended with a laugh. “Besides, we are to be married in a few days’ time. We have the entirety of our marriage to become better acquainted with each other.”

Marriage. He felt the tips of his ears burn, and a flare of hope bloomed in his chest. 

“Very well.” He nodded stiffly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my dear.”

The endearment flustered him so much that he reached for his cup and gulped down a mouthful of lukewarm tea, barely stopping himself from choking. You spared him further embarrassment by stifling your giggles, though amusement lit your eyes as you raised your tea cup in silent cheers. 

–

A week after your wedding, Henryk awoke with you in the Queen’s Palace and led you to an orchard of trees and flowering bushes. Arm-in-arm, you took a stroll about as you enjoyed the early morning breeze. 

“An entire orchard! How auspicious!” You examined the blooming flowers and the fruits hanging overhead. “But I must say that bergamot and tea plants are a strange choice for a garden.”

Henryk offered you a smile. “Most unusual indeed. But we are fortunate to have the best tea makers employed by the castle. They have acquired the means to produce Earl Grey, and these happen to be its fundamental ingredients.”

You halted in your tracks, causing Henryk to stop himself, and stare at your husband with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

“You… planted an entire orchard just to make Earl Grey?”

“Yes. You did mention that it was your favorite tea.”

You fell silent, and Henryk felt the first twinges of worry begin to take their hold since the day you kissed on the altar.

Until you burst out laughing, clinging onto his sleeve for dear life as both breath and composure left you.

“Oh, I should remember to be careful of what I say around you,” you say, wiping a tear from your eye. “Let’s hope that I never wish for the destruction of a country or anyone for that matter.”

“Is it… too much?” He asked with a crestfallen face.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course it is!” He flinched and made to pull away from your grasp before you tightened your hold.. “Not so fast, love. I’m not done.” A smile drew across your face. “I am flabbergasted, but also very flattered. I am quite the lucky woman to be married to you,” you teased as you leaned on his arm. “Now, you must make sure that we are the first to taste the first and best yield of this orchard. As for the pastries to partner it with…”

The rest of your words faded into a pleasant tune in his ears. You were happy to be his wife, to be the recipient of his affection, to be his queen. The joy he felt almost ached, transcending to euphoria at the feeling of your arm entwined in his, chatting away about afternoon tea, while the ripe bergamots and tea flowers in full bloom swayed in the sweet breeze. 

#dark parables 14 #blue tea games #dark parables #my writing #henryk #henryk x reader #dark parables x reader

[understandingbimbos]

General Traits of Bimbofication - Pt. 1

The Bimbo Body

What follows is the geography of the body of a bimbo and you will typically see these physical traits and items worn that can be found emphasized in memes, media, and fashion, and celebrity writeups. Many of these features are culturally dependent and individual preferences differ even between twins so don’t be afraid to talk about what you like. There will be differences between male and female form and this list below will focus primarily on the female with some contrasting male features.

Slightly suntanned smooth skin and there is a preference for white skin. This preference of skin tone is culturally dependent but tends to be prevalent for reasons good and bad across the globe.

Narrower facial shape

Fuller lips for women and thinner but full lips for men

Darker, defined or sculpted eyebrows

Longer and darker lashes

Higher cheekbones for both women and men

Narrower nose for both women and men

Medium to larger breasts

Medium-sized or toned butt for both women and men

Styled hair for both women and men

Blonde hair for women and darker hair for men. (I tend to prefer dark hair in women.)

Heavy makeup for women and lighter makeup for men unless they are being trained to be a woman. (I often prefer no to minimum makeup as I like features highlighted but not painted.)

Slutty and charismatic clothes are items that many like to dress their bimbo or himbo up like a doll. Preferences here depend largely on the relationship dynamic shared and the activities everyone enjoys having managed for them.

No panties and playing with underwear chosen by companies to be the opposite gender are popular themes. For women, underwear may be a monthly convenience for their period, a garment chosen for one night or long-term scene play, or an association trigger like latex panties or bodysuit to transition in and out of their role.

Surrounding oneself with pink is a link to transitioning to a hyperfeminine role and association with the emotions that could inspire confidence, pride, comfort, arousal, and much more! The color associated with femininity in the United States is pink, but in many other countries yellow is the most feminine color so have her chose her bimbo uniform with attention to which one you like best.

Tattoos can be more than a tramp stamp and an MC, HD, and can also be a permeant tattoo ban so that image of purity is preserved. Tattoos can be a sign of beauty, but they are also a mark of stigma to some. The use of tattoos has been identified as a means to tell stories and to ‘speak’ to others about the values and identity of the bearer. Tattoos are kind of like sex. The first time, you want it to be meaningful but once you’re in the double digits, you’ll settle for what makes you laugh. Do what you feel most comfortable with here as there are no expectations that a bimbo must have one or more tattoos. You will see them on many bimbos you meet, because our ideas can work as an identity. Some are more motivated than others to leave a mark.

Piercings are not a given for every bimbo but they are utilized as a mark of hypersexuality, slavish adornment, and objectification by some. Piercings are a way to enhance beauty and visual appeal, but also may serve an important social function as markers of wealth, class, race, and gender around the globe. Eyebrow, ear, ala of the nose, tongue, cheek, lip, tongue, nipple, navel, and genitals are the areas of piercing and are decorated with an ornament for fashion’s sake or chosen expression. Tattoos and piercings have now become just another kind of accessorizing for many. What was once a statement about being wild, (sub)cultural identification, and alternative has been commercialized into just another fashion trend for many in the US. Many people still make negative value judgments about people with piercings — especially girls and women. Do what you feel most comfortable with here as there are no expectations that a bimbo must be pierced.

Is there something that you think should be here that isn’t? Okay, a question to think about. Can bimbos be heroes too? Isn’t Bruce Wayne playing a Himbo? And Clark Kent so innocent and making up stories where he is the strongest unbeatable man there is. Harley Quinn is as much a bimbo but just embraced the reverse of these last two heroes. Harley is a Ph.D. who was originally envisioned as the “smart girl” with a bad boyfriend trope for a hangup. Harley can shift into bimbo mode to live impulsively and has the superpower of turning the characters who interact with her into idiots. It is an implicit superpower, like the Joker’s odd immortality within the Batman universe. Many men and women enjoy trying to put Harley and those like her in her place. There is a phrase female chauvinist pigs (FCP) which you should know. FCP has been used to describe women who publicly disdain “bimbos” yet use them for their entertainment and profit. There just may be a sweet sadist subtlety enjoying the fruits of shaping these thirty tarts into bimbos to humiliate by putting them in their place, tease, and enjoy more liberally behind closed doors.

The seventeenth-century philosopher Nicolas Malebranche described women as 'feeble-minded', 'stupid', and ‘weak’ (he attributes these problems to women's soggy brain fibers). The philosopher Kant argued that women should be beautiful, not sublime. There is more than enough of this drivel to establish confirmation bias on practically any sentiment as any flat earther can tell you. Still, there is something about whispering in a woman’s ear and observing the blush starting near the tips of her toes and sliding up. Seeing her forgot what we were talking about, and everything just falling out of her brain – It’s like her mind recognizes me, opens up wide, to show me she’s there wide open for me. Her brain comes to accept that it had nothing to do with this desire that is buoying her in a seductive tide. I want you to underline this next sentence as significant and having the potential to change the path a person believes they are standing on. As every single word is accepted by her mind as a fact, and now her mind is working to make that picture a reality, because it’s such a vivid descriptive image, the mind has an easier job of it. Let’s touch on the general characteristics of the bimbo mindset.

(Copied from taoofthecrown.com)

Thinking of copy/pasting articles and sources directly from now on instead of just sharing screenshots, it seems to make more sense. Source can be found below.

#understandingbimbos #bimb0fication #bimboization #bimb0 #bimboism #bimbohood #bimboification #clark kent #himbo #bruce wayne #harley quinn #kant #batman #joker #tattoos #bimbo advice #bimbo tips #bimbo look #bimbo body #bimbo resource