#but trying to convey emotions through things other than faces which are made to display emotions has been interesting

[xxsycamore]

𝐏𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐭 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐆𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 🎃🎃

► SYNOPSIS:

The residents show off their Jack-o'-lanterns, and the competition is tough.

Meanwhile, someone is missing from the scene.

▍characters: MC, comte, leonardo, mozart, arthur, theo, isaac, vincent, dazai, jean, sebastian, napoleon

▍rating: G 

▍tags: Humor; Crack; Mentions of Blood

▍wordcount: 2,238

masterlist

▍a/n: Happy Halloween, everyone! I hope you enjoy this. Have a spooky day <3

It's almost Halloween in Saint Germain's mansion, and as per tradition, MC takes it upon herself to properly introduce the residents to the fairly new holiday for their current time period - hoping that it would bring nothing but fun times for anyone. This year she steps up her game by adding an element of competition to the pumpkin carving.

The dining room is transformed to accommodate the display of the spooky creations - chairs put aside and pumpkins lined up to be rated by the trustworthy judges, namely MC and Comte. Why them? Because they've been scouted as the most unbiased ones, in theory, because they're practically biased in everyone's favor. A loving father figure and a loving…babysitter and caretaker of the mansion. It would make do.

"Alright everyone, let's get started! We're going to be harsh. Remember, this is all just a silly little competition, don't take anything personally!" MC announces, eyes moving from one end of the long table to the other, meeting some excited and some conflicted faces.

***

She puts her attention to the first in the line, Arthur, and begins examining his creation alongside Comte.

They're both puzzled by what they see.

Arthur's pumpkin is… well, first of all, it's not horny. MC is not sure how Arthur would've been able to convey his unrestricted slutty nature into the shell of a pumpkin, but she figured he had his ways. The thing in front of them, however, gives off a different kind of emotion…something to do with deep emotional dread. The face of his pumpkin looks as if it's been tortured. More interestingly, there appears to be something written on the sides…? MC and Comte lean in and squint in order to read the tiny text, but Arthur hides it before they can make anything of it.

"It's notes. For my book. I had to write them down before I can forget."

The tone is nothing like his usual one. Looking up from the pumpkin, MC's blood freezes as the sight is more frightening than the pumpkin itself. Arthur looks sleep deprived, his hair a mess, his foot tapping aggressively against the floor at a fast pace. Right, he did mention something about going through writer's block…

"Oh. By Jove, I really need to go."

A word or two about taking care of himself is well in order, yet MC feels a little betrayed by his lack of interest in this mansion bonding experience.

"Jeez Arthur, your book is not going to go away!"

"No, I mean… I really need to go… to the toilet. I think I drank one too many coffees, Luv..."

***

Next up is Theo, who is finally finished laughing behind his, err, friend's back, and as soon as the two judges are in front of him, his expression undergoes a fast metamorphosis from smug to frightened. He has his pumpkin facing him, preparing it for a dramatic spin which would reveal the carved face on the other side.

"I'd be careful on your place. Especially you, Hondje. Try not to wet your pants."

"Just show it already…"

"Ahem." Theo coughs and tries to build up the tension again, "I made the face of one of the most dreadful creatures known to humankind."

You in the morning waiting for pancakes?, MC thinks, deadpan, while Comte is smiling emptily - he's seen everything. He is not easily amused at this point.

Finally, Theo spins the pumping, revealing…

Revealing…

A cat's…face?

"A cat's face?" MC and Comte's voices overlap - it's one part an honest guess, because it's not the most prominent cat's face they've seen - and one part surprise. And then it clicks. Theo is scared by cats, so naturally…

"HOW are you not scared. These creatures are just vile. I barely managed to carve this."

Uh-oh. The situation is laughable, and Theo is angry. He expects his efforts to be appreciated. As if by telepathy, MC and Comte both nod and smile, passing the notepad to each other to put in their impressions, just like how they did for Arthur's creation. Theo looks smug again. They move on.

***

Napoleon's pumpkin is…

"Well, that sure is a pumpkin."

Comte nods, hand on his chin. "It is, yes. It has a strong Halloween motive to it."

Napoleon blinks, his smile growing a tad more awkward, waiting to hear more.

"A classic Jack-o-Lantern. I almost see the stock photo watermarks over it."

"The what?"

"MC is trying to say that,"

"If all the pumpkins here were the characters of a mobile game, this one would be the poster boy!"

Napoleon is even more confused. But if anything, he prides himself in having good intuition. And the thing it is telling him now is…

"Are you saying that my pumpkin is boring?"

***

The stakes are high for Vincent. Not that every artist is necessarily good at all art mediums there are, much less when it comes to the complex art of pumpkin carving, but the excitement is huge nonetheless. Vincent chuckles shyly at their bubbling curiosity, and like Theo, spins his pumpkin to reveal its face.

It's not a face, however. It's a whole landscape - fields upon fields, threes in the distance, scorching sun above with its rays portrayed for effect. The most eye-catching of it all is that Vincent found a way to stay true to his unique style - the elements of the landscape are consisting of many dashed lines carved into the surface, achieving that familiar feeling of movement present in all his canvases. It's a masterpiece on a pumpkin.

After a round of applause beginning with the judges and following through all of the room, Comte and MC are ready to fill in their remarks on the notepad, but…

"That…wasn't very scary now, was it?"

Vincent rubs the back of his neck, understanding his mistake. "I couldn't bring myself to put any scary elements into this. I'm sorry. The competition's spirit filled me with one too many bright emotions!"

They don't deserve Vincent.

***

Leonardo's pumpkin is outright steampunk incarnate. It's a very intriguing thing to look at, with various types of screws forming the smile and two nuts for eyes; most likely scrap parts from his various intentions and the things he is fixing back in his room. It's the embodiment of the phrase "work smarter, not harder" since the judges notice that there is barely any carving done here. They take back a point for that, impressed or not.

***

"I don't understand this."

"I do." Comte says, eyes scanning over the few lines of sheet music carved into the pumpkin instead of a face, by Mozart. His knowledge of playing the violin comes in handy in understanding the creation of the music genius in front of him, and he analyses it to his best extent.

"It's threatening music notation.", he states, visibly feeling threatened by whatever is going on on this staff. MC doesn't get much of it, but she can tell that it is something absurd-looking, just on the verge of not making sense yet passing for actual music, ruining the lives of the ones convicted to play it.

"Thank you."

***

"On first look, it's a normal Jack-o'-lantern," Isaac explains, a slight smile on his face, gloves on, eyes protected behind goggles. Naturally, the other contestants move a few steps away from Isaac out of concern, but their eyes stay close to what is happening in front of him. The attention is a little too much on him, so he wastes no time processing the demonstration. "But when I add the hydrochloric acid…"

Isaac pours a small amount of the contents of a vial to what appears to be a hidden container inside the pumpkin - the result comes quickly as the lid of the pumpkin is put into place and tons of white fog-like smoke pours out of the Jack-o'-lantern's mouth. Isaac's smile grows just a tad wider while everyone is busy looking at his creation and wowing, and the following round of applause is welcomed by him, too. Maybe that competition wasn't much of a bad idea, after all.

***

"I was inspired by Ai-kun's invention."

Comte and MC raise a brow, mirroring each other almost perfectly, albeit Comte still manages to do it in his own refined way. Isaac is voicing out his frustration in advance and everyone is waiting to know.

"Let me demonstrate." Dazai brings his own pumpkin into view, which, by the way, has a very comical expression. Maybe it's that the eyes are too tiny, or the mouth too crocked, but there is something goofy about it for sure. What is more interesting, though, is that Dazai appears to be spinning a handle at the pumpkin's backside.

Soon its "guts" start to spill through the opening of its mouth, seed and pulp and all that, wave after wave. It's spooky for sure. A bit like a parody of Isaac's creation, but spooky nonetheless. A point for that.

"So what's the mechanism behind it?" Comte asks, notepad propped up against his chest reminiscent of a curious student in front of his professor. Dazai is amused to catch his interest like so, and probably everyone else's at that matter and hurries to explain.

"I burrowed the meat grinder from the kitchen and put it inside."

***

By the time they reach Jean, the last contestant, their hopes are high again. After Dazai nothing can manage to be as much of a headache or to potentially require a conversation on how kitchen appliances are not borrowable for Halloween decoration.

"Jean, what is this?"

A haphazardly cut-out triangle for one eye, eyepatch over the other. A vertical cut in the place of a mouth.

"It's me."

***

Alright, that's all! Comte and I will discuss the results in private and decide on a winner… though I can already tell it's gonna be a hard job."

The dining room gets rowdy with conversation.

"It's a shame that Sebas didn't get to compete as well."

"Yeah, I was thinking the same."

"Man, he would've LOVED to see everyone's demonstrations. I can imagine him, diary in hand and everything."

"He has a diary?"

"It's fine Vincent, we don't have to pretend we don't know when he's not around."

"Anyway, why isn't Sebastian here, anyway?"

"Huh? No really, why is he not here?"

"Where is Sebastian?"

"Good day, Messieurs."

The dining room's doors open with a bang, pushed by the force of a familiar figure. It's Sebastian, but his state is unrecognizable. His usually neat and clean butler's uniform is now all dirtied up with… bits of pumpkin pulp? Is this what it is?

"Forgive my rude demand, but," he puts the object he was holding, namely a pumpkin, on the center of the table. "I would like to participate as well. I hope you're accepting late entries."

It's a…

A whole pumpkin, untouched in the means of carving, not even gutted out yet.

But what it does have, is a butcher's knife stuck in it.

And an ominous red stickiness all around.

"Sebastian, calm down." Comte is the bravest to speak first, keeping his composure. "I know good lawyers. You know I'd never let you-"

"Oh but what's the need, Monsieur Le Comte? This is merely some rouge I spilled."

It's Comte who sighs in relief, but it feels like it's also everyone else in the room.

"I spilled it because I was busy making ten pumpkin pies. You generous messieurs have left me with…quite the material to work with. Copious amounts of it."

Eyes are meeting eyes across the room, some glued to the tips of their owner's shoes instead. No one dares to say anything.

"Some were left in separate bowls, which is fine. But some were left in the sink."

Sebastian grabs the handle of the butcher's knife and effortlessly retracts it from the pumpkin. He takes a cleaning cloth from his back pocket and begins to wipe it clean while talking, still keeping his eyes up. Out of respect.

"Some were in questionable kitchen utensils and other places. A large amount - on the floor."

Napoleon is brave, too.

"Sebastian, we are going to help-"

"What? What was that, Monsieur Napoleon? We're going to hold a competition for doing Sebastian's chores for the rest of the day? Oh how I'd love to be a judge in that! Do count me in."

Before Sebastian gets too scary to be around, the residents head towards the kitchen, carefully going out of forehead flicking range. Arthur is there as well, fortunately having finished his business in the toilet for the time being.

"Ah. Another thing. Since you told me to think of a way to add to this year's Halloween spirit, and I had plenty of time in my hands back in the kitchen all day to think, I've come up with an idea. I hope it will be to your liking."

"Do tell, Sebas. Your ideas never disappoint." Leonardo tries to lighten the atmosphere, almost giving Sebastian a pat on the back but deciding to refrain from doing so at the last moment. He is the head of the small group on their way to the kitchen, everyone already knowing their fate. "I thought we could cut off on fake blood expenses for decoration purposes. We will be decorating with your blood, Messieurs. It's not like it would be lethal to you if I were to borrow some. As far as I'm concerned."

a/n:

"Threatening music notation" is a reference to a twitter account with the same name for which I joked about being run by Mozart.

"But what was the first place prize in the competition?" I . dont. know. Maybe you have a suggestion? Either way, I doubt they'd get to that part anytime soon. Maybe Sebas can have it?

I wanted to draw what the pumpkins look like but I doubt i'd ever have the time for that :D If anyone happens to want to do that instead, i'd LOVE to see them!

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran @thehappycat123 @theuwuisunreal @kiyokirigiri-22 @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @animeworldsposts @randomanimatedhusbandoseeker @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @pro-cat-stination @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou @themysticalbeing @canaria-blackwell @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @fun-ghoul-neela @salty-fed-up-bitch @coornn @cilokgoang @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 @ikemenlover24 @violettduchess @mcofthemansion @tiny-wooden-robot @joy-the-reader @atelieredux Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

#Ikemen Vampire #IkeVamp #Ikemen Vampire Comte #Ikemen Vampire Leonardo #Ikemen Vampire Arthur #Ikemen Vampire Theo #ikevamp theo #ikevamp theodorus #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp dazai #ikevamp jean #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp napoleon #ikemen vampire napoleon #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp sebastian #ikeseries #ikevampire #cybird #ikevamp fanfic #ikevamp crack #ikevamp comte #ikevamp leonardo #ikemen vampire isaac #ikemen vampire dazai #ikemen vampire jean #ikemen vampire vincent #ikemen vampire mozart #ikemen vampire sebastian

[horizon-verizon]

Hürrem Sultan gave birth to Mehmed before marrying Suleiman, Alicent would call him a “bastard” and would call Hürrem a “prostitute”, and as a Catholic bigot, she would hate her for converting to Islam. And in the end, it was the blood of Hürrem/Rhaenyra who was on the throne and continued the dynasty. Every Ottoman sultans since then has been descended from Hürrem.

I need them to pick if Alicent is just a teary-eyed, depressed, guileless teenage sad fawn with no power & ambition or a cunning & strong-willed girlboss “it is not a king who sits the throne these days, it is a queen.”

A)

I think she'd think of Hürrem as a slave or like the "salt wives"/bridal slaves of the ironborn. Because that it is the closest to what she already knows. And of course, she'd also still think these were "spoiled" women, & therefore use the word "whore" if she wants to express any negative emotion. Yes she'd hate her for converting and becoming an "infidel".

However, this is a Watsonian read while the next is a Doylist criticism against the writers and they don't relate to each other as evidence to say that Alicent's writing is bad. JIC.

B)

I need them to pick if Alicent is just a teary-eyed, depressed, guileless teenage sad fawn with no power & ambition or a cunning & strong-willed girlboss

I think these don't have to be exclusive (not the crying part necessarily, that can go or just be severely reduced).

Alicent is already strong willed to a degree in the show (episodes 6-9)...she's just not very cunning nor are her motivations clearly conveyed because there was no build up to her blow up through scenes before that jump cut before episode 6...the show did not properly establish the events--apart or just more than scenes with her kids--building her frustration against Rhaenyra, slowly but surely. She doesn't have direction because she has no way to get Viserys to agree to just expose Rhaenyra and she has never tried to be subtle or manipulate him, just pushing and pushing. And this doesn't produce good court drama.

It's more like a presentation or a series of pictures of a life rather than an immersive walk through of a life. The scenes are isolated from potential progression.

It's like her sad-lip and drawn face and self victimhood makes as if she is not displaying that will when she very much is...just insidiously more righteous about it. Which would be fine, again, if only she was smart or her internal logic were more consistent [I refer to the 2nd thing in #3 below]!

My problems with show!Alicent's writing is not her anger's existence nor a lack of will (bc she does have will, it's just wrongly directed by her father's counsel, Andal traditional patriarchal principles of order, & her own jealousy) but:

how she's made even more vulnerable than she used to be, to face SA not once and not even from the same person

how the show tried to make as if she could ever see Rhaenrya as her friend and vice versa after the years they spent together AND by who they made these characters to be...bc even in the show, their relationship just never made sense and it's never going to

the stark, TOO ILLOGICAL switch from her trying to get her own friend killed out of the belief that Rhaenyra would be even willing to murder her kids to her accepting her bc...Rhaenyra apologized -> which stems from the writers trying to make their women anti-violence peacemakers on the guiding moral principle of "war is bad" unless it comes out exclusively against other women

Yes, women in patriarchal systems can & do slight or harm each other for power using using patriarchal logic or practices or principles for power in patriarchies a lot more often than out of them so that they can access privileges they can only access through men. But to:

make as if Rhaenyra did not have any positive, huge, & meaningful female friendships because "women have no agency in a patriarchy"

remove all the confirmed positive female relationship bk!Rhaenyra had and to replace them with a badly-written and unexplainable friendship [Rhaenicent] that blew apart so easily by contrast (as HotD did! and willfully chose to do!)

is inane & inherently sexist bc you'd be arguing women are incapable, totally incapable, of forming friendships or having positive relationships in such a world [from pessimisticpigeonsworld] and you'd still have to prove or provide reasons as to why you think Rhaenyra was not best friends with Laena or that Rhaenys wasn't about being one of her supporters or that her stepdaughters didn't ride for her, etc. other than the whole "F&B is propaganda", bc how does this line prove Rhaenyra didn't have these female support?!

Because why do we credit Rhaena the Black Bride her female-centered relationships but not Rhaenyra? Does the narrative of F&B also try to paint Queen Dowager Rhaena as a "shrewish", "bad" woman?!

#asoiaf asks to me #magnificent century #character comparison #Hürrem Sultan #alicent hightower #bastards #alicent's characterization #hotd characterization

[low-poly-pa]

i want to draw a bigass domed greenhouse

#listening to handmaidens tale for summer work and multitasking #im not hating it as much as i was told i would #the domed greenhouses project is ALSO summer work #im taking ap artstudio and we do a 3-piece minconcentration over the summer and then choose to continue it or change it #and im doing mine on architextural concepts and working on my composition #bc my art teacher is low key mad at me for doing nothing but portraits :( #BUT I LIKE PORTRAITS #but trying to convey emotions through things other than faces which are made to display emotions has been interesting #also been giving me ''i want to live in my minecraft house'' feels... #i want to live in the elaborate greenhouse i made up...

[gothhisoka]

𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖕 (𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖔 𝖝 𝕱𝖊𝖒𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗)

Title: Worship

Pairing: Chrollo x Femreader

Warnings: Smut, minors DNI, 18+, explicit content

Word Count: 3116 (I promise it is worth it. Oh god is it worth it)

Note: This is from my cross-published fanfic called Hunter University! It is available if you click here on Wattpad and AO3. My fanfic is x OC, but I upload x Reader versions of some chapters here on Tumblr. In short, it is a dark academia college AU with Chrollo as the main love interest.

Background: You are an artist in college and Chrollo is your fellow classmate. You just returned from a night out at a ball, drunk. Chrollo appeared at the door to your dorm room as he promised he would after you danced with one another at the ball.

Chrollo was surprised you looked so intact. He was sure you would come waddling to the door in pajamas as you did the last time he visited your room. Although it had been an hour since the ball ended, your makeup hadn't smudged a bit. Sure, it was faded, and your hair was significantly messier, but overall you looked as remarkable as you did at the start of the ball.

Your tired eyes widened with surprise at the sight of him. He was just as unimpaired as you were. Though now he was missing his suit jacket. His hair had become slightly disheveled, losing its styled waves. He still had on those signature silver rings and little cross earrings.

You attempt to soak in his sight with your intoxicated brain. He looked even more captivating in this particular state.

“Hi…” was all you could utter.

“Can I come in?”

You realized he was waiting for your permission. He didn’t need it.

You stepped aside to let him in and shut the door. Your room was the same as the last time he saw it, with your drawings hung on the walls and lights strung above the desk. Their small bulbs reflected against the night-stained window.

Upon shutting the door, the tension noticeably rose. It was dark in the small space and you were alone. Chrollo took his black dress shoes off near the door, placing them neatly side by side.

So he plans on staying. You tried to hide a smile. The hour of his visit was surely suspicious. There could be only one thing on his mind.

"So what're you doing here?" you spoke nonchalantly, acting like you didn't just fantasize about what could happen in the next few minutes.

Chrollo opened and shut his mouth, his response escaping him. He turned back to you and used his eyes to convey a craving far deeper than any words could admit.

"I said I would come to find you, didn't I?" He said lowly.

He had begun to walk around the room, absentmindedly stopping at a piece of art from time to time. You were too tired to care. The collection included nature scenes, portraits of people he didn't recognize, anatomy studies, and...

He paused, noticing a drawing on the wall behind the place where the door would otherwise be covering.

It was a full-body anatomy study of yourself. To be specific, it would fit further in the category of a glorified nude. It was on a miniature piece of parchment sketched in charcoal. It was obviously you: the woman had your (hair color) hair and distinct mouth and nose. The paper was hardly noticeable amongst the scatter of papers. You wouldn't see it unless you had a careful eye such as that of Chrollo.

You hardly noticed when he reached the particular spot on your wall. Your tiredness had waned significantly with Chrollo's entrance, but it still fogged your mind.

Additionally, you had long forgotten about your secret behind-the-door location for your drawings that were not meant to be seen by a single soul.

Chrollo attempted to hide a mysterious smile. He turned to you, “You draw wonderfully.”

“Thanks?” you reply, with more question in your tone than you hoped to show.

The heat in the room shot through the roof. You were sure if you checked the temperature it would be well above its normal chilly state. Perhaps it was the heat in your cheeks that was causing such a change.

“So…” he began.

“So,” you replied, trying to avoid eye contact. Please, just let it happen already.

You thought you had a good idea of why he had come to your room at one o'clock in the morning after a night of drinking and questionably close dancing. You couldn't be certain, though, because that was just how he was: unpredictable and exceedingly complicated.

You didn’t think him so complicated as to not be able to admit why he was at your room, though.

You waited as he thought about what to say next. This is taking too damn long.

Luckily, you prepared an excuse. You never failed to come ready for something you could expect. And this, the direction in which your encounter is headed, is inevitable. You had been rehearsing the line in your head for the duration of their conversation like reviewing terms for a test.

This was the only way to test if your assumptions are correct.

Blame it on the champagne if I am wrong. But I really hope I'm right.

You look directly at him. Time to be daring.

You took a breath and did your best to look directly at him, "Well, I actually do need some help. You see, this dress is quite difficult to take off by myself..."

Walking towards him, you place a hand at the hem of your dress. Your delicate fingers wrap around its lacy fabric.

Chrollo looked amused. He sizes you up, looking from your hand holding the hem of your dress to your unfazed expression. Unfazed, yet your cheeks were slowly turning a shade of scarlet. Nice try, Chrollo thought.

He gestured, "Turn around."

You obeyed. You desired something far more than the unzipping of your dress, but you were not presumptuous enough to say it. The expression on Chrollo's face told you that he was hoping for the same thing. He hid many emotions well, but being turned on wasn't one of them.

Chrollo brushed your hair away from the zipper, delicately placing it over your shoulder. His fingers purposefully grazed your back as he did this, causing your breath to hitch slightly.

His hands moved to the zipper, carefully pulling it down. It went past the clasp of your bra to your lower back. There was complete silence. Both of you were still. Are we still hesitating?

Chrollo was the first to move. He pulled you close to him so that your back was touching him. His left arm wrapped across your chest possessively, holding you in a tight embrace. With his other hand, he brushed your hair back from your ear. He smelt of sweet alcohol. Clearly, he was slightly drunk as well, for the next words he said couldn't be uttered by a sober man.

His whispered breath tickled your neck, husky with the threat of sleep, "I want you so bad right now."

You tensed with a sudden surge of desire. Your impression had been right. He let his strong arm remain around you, patiently waiting for a response.

You choked out your reply, "The feelings' mutual."

Under his touch, your streak of audacity from earlier dissolved into compliance. You suddenly wanted nothing more than to submit to his words.

With complete control, Chrollo took your shoulder and turned you around. Your dress was now loose on your shoulders. He placed his hands around your hips firmly. He looked at you under his thick eyelashes and slowly leaned in. The pressure was growing to an unbearable level, but he still wouldn't go all the way.

Then his lips crashed against yours with the force of weeks of pent-up desire. This kiss didn't speak of courtesy, of patience. This was raw passion. It was furious and messy. you preferred this to sensitive steps around the intensity they both craved.

"You must still be drunk," you said playfully as you both pulled away to catch your breath. You held your hand to Chrollo's chest. His heart was beating surprisingly fast.

"If I'm drunk, then what are you?" Chrollo said with a lazy smirk.

"I'm drunk as well."

Chrollo threaded his hands through your hair, pulling the long strands through his fingers. He pulled you in close again with his hand at the back of your head.

You opened your mouth to allow for Chrollo's tongue to slip in. He lessened the intensity and slowly moved his tongue against your own tongue and lips. You couldn't help but let out soft moans that made Chrollo weak at the knees.

He pushed you against the wall to deepen your kiss. Drawings fluttered down, becoming detached with the sudden movement. Including that drawing.

Chrollo pulled away, much to your shock. You were left panting with reddened cheeks. Please don't let this end now.

He displayed a shit-eating grin. Even with his ego, in the current moment, his expression made you melt. His face was inches from yours, looking down into your (eye color) eyes.

He shifted his gaze down to the floor and said, "Nice drawing you have there."

You finally noticed what he had been so smug about. Shit. Your face flushed ten different shades of scarlet.

Chrollo leaned in as he did before and murmured in your ear, "I wish I could see the real thing."

You failed to not show your excitement. The way your eyes lit up exposed you. "I can arrange that."

At that, Chrollo leaned in again, this time moving to your neck. His lips fluttered down your throat to your collarbone. You leaned your head back and tried to control your uneven breath.

His lips reached the edge of the neckline on your dress. He raised his eyes to meet yours, asking for permission to go further.

You let out a breathy, "Yes. Please."

What you wanted to say was, Please, take me now.

It could be too soon for him. But based on how this was going, you expected it was leading to something more. Whatever that was, you wished you could know right now. The growing tension between your thighs began to ache.

Chrollo slipped his hand across your skin to the hemline of your dress, moving it completely off of your shoulder and down your arms. Your black see-through bra was now in full view. Your nipples grew hard at the sudden exposure.

At least I went with my fancy bra. You suddenly grew very shy. The last time you went even this far was years ago.

He evidently liked the lingerie for his hands immediately traveled to your breast to caress it as he continued to kiss you.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered against your neck. Your heart fluttered at his words.

Chrollo then moved his lips progressively further down as he slipped your dress off of your body. Soon your underwear came into view, then your feet. He helped your step out of the dress.

"Your turn," you said, unbuttoning his shirt. All the while he continued to distractingly leave lazy kisses upon your face, one on your forehead, your cheek, your lips.

After an agonizingly long time, you pulled off his shirt. Fuck.

You knew he would be defined. But him, this boy standing in front of you, resembled more of a greek statue than an actual human. It looked like his body had been sculpted by the finest stone on earth. He had a six-pack, defined pectoral muscles, and prominent collarbones. His biceps flexed as he leaned his hand against the wall, bracing himself. It was you who needed to brace yourself. Your breath hitched again at the sight of him.

You ran a hand up his firm body as you planted your lips upon his once again. This time Chrollo put his hands beneath your thighs, his fingers pressing into your soft skin. He picked you up easily.

You wrapped your legs around him as he brought you to the bed, kissing him all the while.

He dropped you down gently, releasing his grip off of your thighs. You took this time to look up at him and admire the beauty of his aroused state. He had a dangerous and wild look, with tousled hair and a constant smile playing at his lips. His heavy-lidded eyes were lazily focused upon you.

You continued to make out on the bed, its white silk sheets creating an angelic halo around you. Chrollo couldn't stand looking at you like this, underneath him. It was far too much power for one man to hold.

You reached to your back to undo the clasp of your bra. You threw it to the ground. Chrollo immediately began to touch your naked tits in a way that made you want to dissolve. He moved in circles around your nipples first, watching as they grew harder under his expert touch. Then he moved his mouth to the sensitive area, playing with you and biting slightly. You audibly moaned at the gesture. Damn the neighbors.

Chrollo sensed your desire to take it further. He looked up, grey eyes filled with lust, "Y/n...let me pleasure you."

It wasn't the suggestion you were expecting, but you were satisfied nonetheless. You didn't care about anything in the world besides what he could do to you at this moment, whatever it may be.

"If you say my name like that you can do anything you want to me," you said breathily. It was exactly what he needed to hear.

Chrollo smirked and moved to take off your soaking underwear. Under his pants, his dick grew visibly harder. He threw the underwear onto the floor.

Gently placing his finger at your throbbing core, he began to stroke. Upon receiving his touch your back arched involuntarily. You were beyond eager.

"Fuck... Chrollo..."

This served as encouragement for him to insert his finger deeper into you, curling it slightly. It hit your g-spot repeatedly, eliciting ungodly sounds from you.

As he was doing this, he slowly positioned himself on top of you, grabbing onto the bed frame with his spare hand. He just wanted to look at your face as you opened your mouth in delight.

He inserted one more finger which caused your arousal to heighten. God, he really knows how to do this.

Just as you felt the heat in your core escalating, he slid his finger out. You whimpered in protest.

Chrollo looked down at you with a wicked smile. "Beg for it."

Oh fuck.

You gladly would. It was more your instincts speaking than any coherent thought.

"Please... Chrollo..." you said between breaths.

You wanted to not only plead for him, you wanted to worship him.

"More."

This is what you had been missing out on all those weeks. And oh god, did you eat it up.

"FUCK please do that again," you exclaimed.

It was enough to convince him. Chrollo moved his face towards your slickened pussy.

Is he about to...

He pushed his hair back out of his face with his clean hand, his forehead tattoo revealed. For only a second, he raised his eyes to gaze into yours. You fell for him all over again at that simple glance.

Then he entered you. His tongue made you want to weep. He devoured your insides, soaking up the salty juices. You couldn't help but hold his head, pulling it closer to your body. You ran your hand through his soft black hair. There was so much heat between them that you were both perspiring.

You began to shudder." I'm going to... oh... fuck," you gasped.

You felt the sweet release of cum spread below you onto the sheets and Chrollo himself. You felt self-conscious for a moment. That is until Chrollo began to lick up your juices. He ran his tongue up your soft thighs.

"You taste so fucking good, darling."

Chrollo looked at you like he had fallen all over again as well. You grinned back at him. Your cheeks grew even redder, if possible. Your heart screamed to continue but you were too physically exhausted to move. Still, wouldn't Chrollo want his turn?

You laid there, naked and panting on the silk sheets. Chrollo flopped next to you, unaffected beside his flushed cheeks and a wide grin.

The lights were still low in the little room. Looking out the window, you saw that the sun had yet to rise. This was a positive fact because the only thing you needed to do now was to sleep. And preferably, cuddling with the boy next to you. You hoped he would stay. It was more than hope, really. Your body couldn't spend any more time away from him after that.

Damn. He was good. He was really, really fucking good.

He knew his way with words, to begin with. He said exactly what needed to be said to escalate your arousal. You wanted to worship those fingers, the way he so expertly felt around you like he had memorized a map. And his tongue was even more worthy of revere.

You flipped over to your elbows. Your breasts brushed against the bedding, noticeably making Chrollo gulp. You boldly reached to touch the front of his pants.

"You don't want a turn?" you smirked.

"This was more than enough for me."

He stared into your eyes as if he was calculating a complex math problem rather than looking at the person who just received the best head of their life.

You yawned, despite yourself. Your body ached with all the action of the night.

"Go to bed, sweetheart. I'll be here."

Those were the last words you heard before your eyes drifted shut. Exhaustion stilled your naked body. Chrollo reached over you to turn off the bedside lamp.

He wasn't nearly as tired. He could've gone for a couple more rounds, perhaps take it a step further if you so desired. But he knew you needed the sleep. Most of your makeup had rubbed off, displaying the dark circles under your eyes.

He slipped off his pants and threw them onto the floor with the rest of the clothes. He found the soft sheets and pulled them across you and himself. The bed was small but cozy. His strong chest was flush against your back.

Your (hair color) hair smelt of a summer day, like sunlight and wildflowers. He took this opportunity to feel up the rest of your glorious body. He ran his hand lightly from your shoulder to your hips, to your thighs. All of it was angelic to him.

He moved you closer with his arm, protectively wrapping it across your front. Somehow holding you like this felt far more intimate than any sexual activity. The way the moonlight graced your skin was majestic.

How had he fallen so hard, so fast? It was unlike him to act with such recklessness.

Through it all, he still had his mind. you had no way to tell the extent of his feelings. He made sure of this. His libido could act one way, that was clear from tonight. But he was an expert at controlling his outward emotions. You would never know. If you did, it would be over for him. All the planning will be for naught.

He closed his eyes before he could fall upon any more worries. He had already pondered the issue for many sleepless nights.

He fell into a dreamless slumber with you safe in his arms. You both slept soundly until the sun peeked through the window.

#hunterxhunter fanfic #hunter x hunter #hunter university #hxh university au #hxh fanfic #hxh #hxh chrollo #chrollo #chrollo smut #hxh smut #chrollo x reader #chrollo headcanons #chrollo lucilfer #hxh x you #hxh x y/n #hxh x reader #hxh scenarios #chrollo x y/n #minors dni #not safe for minors

[shoutogepi]

Midnight Masquerade

Todoroki Shouto & Shinsou Hitoshi

word count : 8.6k

[  ✘ (nsfw 18+) ] 

themes : DUBCON, YANDERE. MFM threesome, vampire!todoroki, vampire!shinsou, spanking, praise kink??... double penetration, blood play (hello they’re vampires)

bio : You attend a masquerade ball in hopes of finding a bachelor on Halloween night… only to get much more than you originally bargained for. 

author’s note : This fic was inspired by one of my fav movies when I was younger! Van Helsing with Hugh Jackman (2004), in which Dracula hosts an exquisite masquerade ball, full of masked vampires.  

side note : Happy Halloween!! I didn’t have time to edit/beta this fic, so it may be a little choppy/rough.. but I’m about to leave for my Halloween party and I wanted to get this out on time so!! please try to enjoy, and I apologize if this is not up to my usual standards. <3

 ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅈ou received an invitation to a Halloween party… and that was about all the information you had to go off of. What awaited you at this gathering, you had absolutely no idea. The envelope had simply arrived on your doorstep at the beginning of the month, no messenger in sight.

This invitation, scrawled in perfect calligraphy and sealed with the kiss of a stamp upon wax, proved to be even more puzzling when you attempted to uncover its origin. And while you had asked around to anyone you could possibly think of— your friends, family, neighbors, hell, even your mailman— you found no one who could give you any answers. It seemed that you, for some reason, had been issued this invitation, when no one in your primary social network else had.

What was even more peculiar, was that a gown and a pair of heels had arrived two weeks later, in all senses more luxurious than you had ever seen, and tailored to your exact size and measurements. Just from lifting it out of the box, you could tell it was expensive. And as if that hadn’t been enough of a gift, a necklace and earrings that dazzled nearly enough to blind you arrived just a few days following the dress. Finally a last package arrived a few days before the party, containing an intricately-painted mask that tied the whole outfit together. Each of the gifts had a card laid across the top of the tissue-enfolded contents, signed off from your inviter and now confirmed “secret admirer, S.H.”

The enigma of it all perplexed you. You liked to tell yourself that a smart girl like you would never go to such an event, considering you had no clue who had sent you the invitation, let alone such extravagant gifts. You told yourself that you had no obligation to go, that it would be ill-advised to show up without any further information than the address, date, and time.

But someone had clearly gone to great lengths to impress you, and you couldn’t just ignore that. Curiosity burned bright inside you when raked your brain for potential inviters, and as you came to more and more dead ends, your intrigue grew with every second the event stayed on your mind.

You spent every day leading up to the party thinking about it, flipping back and forth as to if you were going to attend or not. Even on the night of, you spent a ridiculous amount of time switching between deciding on going or staying home, taking short bursts of either frantically getting yourself ready, or sitting down and scrutinizing the situation.

You ended up arriving at the address scrawled at the bottom of the mysterious invitation an hour late.

Although you had planned to just hail a cab thanks to your indecision, you were surprised to find a sleek, black Rolls Royce waiting for you at the entrance to your building. The driver, donned in a crisp black and white tux, sported an elegant mask across his face, and wordlessly opened the door for you, bowing and gesturing for you to enter. After a moment of hesitance, you decided it would probably be best to just get into the car— whoever had requested your presence had already gone to such lengths as to cloth and bejewel you— it only made sense for you to arrive in a vehicle that screamed as much wealth as did your outfit.

What you had not expected was to find the location of the event to be a rather estately manor at the border of the city. The driveway twisted through an ominous wood to reach the massive home, and rather nastily-spiked wrought-iron fences guarded the border of the property, looming metal casting eerie shadows against the overcast evening sky. You found yourself wondering briefly what exact purpose the metal lattice served— both sides adorned with rough silver spikes. Traditionally gates were meant to keep things from getting in… it was peculiar to you that they were double-sided.

It was certainly curious, but your eyes were quickly torn from the gates as the car ventured closer to the maleficent abode, your heartbeat beginning to pick up as you came nearer to the grand entrance. There was a gorgeous fountain laid between two sets of curved stone staircases, both leading up to the tall, mahogany doors at the dead center of the manor. The car came to a stop just before the fountain, and you spent the small moment your driver took crossing over to your side and opening your door in breathless anticipation.

The cool, dry October air felt heavenly against your exposed shoulders, the tops of your breasts just peeking out of the neck of the beautiful, sleek gown you’d been sent. The autumn chill did wonders to calm the thumping of your nervous heart, and as you climbed the stairs, your fingers trailing along the cold balustrade, you took a deep breath. When you chanced a look back toward the car, you found it had already disappeared, and a pang of uncertainty rang through you once more. Yes, this was definitely uncharastically brash of you— you still had no idea who could possibly be the one to invite you to such a prestigious soiree— and yet, you found your nerves crackling with excitement, barely able to contain your jittery disposition.

Two more men, also hidden beneath tuxedos and blank masks, bowed as they pulled the heavy wooden doors apart, revealing the bustling affair that lay inside. You were shocked to find so many bodies within just the first glance of the interior— it was a magnificent foyer that was ten times larger than the tiny apartment you had become so accustomed to, a sea of masked party-goers that ebbed and flowed with the live, string-quartet on the stage in the far corner of the room. Countless couples waltzed and spun across the middle of the room underneath humongous crystal chandeliers, all glittering and shining with the low lighting of a thousand candles, by far more fire hazards than you’d ever seen. It was quite a culture shock to you— you had never before been invited into the fruits of such luxury, this level of wealth as mysterious to you as the cryptic sender of your invitation, S.H.

And though this was your first time indulging in the pleasures of such extravagance, you looked like you belonged. You were sure that the outfit this mystery persona had given you to wear tonight was worth far more than the rent you constantly worried about making, and so you fit in quite seamlessly with the crowd of silk-enveloped, gem-encrusted faces, perhaps even going so far as to stand out. The soft silk of your pashmina tickled against your arms as it sat snug around your lower back, curled around your elbows and seams brushing against your hips. The thick necklace— more of a collar, really— sat heavy against your chest, each diamond shining brightly, leading to a large teardrop-shaped pendant of brilliant amethyst that hung perfectly in the middle of your chest. The ornate mask you’d been given concealed the top half of your face, bright ruby gems adorning along your eyes and matching your dress’ deep rouge to an impossibly perfect degree. Initially upon receiving such gifts you were suspicious of their authenticity, but standing now before such a display of affluence, you were certain they were real. The jewels and fine linens gave you a false sense of confidence, and after a moment of absorbing your astounding surroundings, you tentatively began to make your way into the party.

For a while you wandered around by your lonesome, but you didn’t really mind the solitude. It was a refreshing change of pace, and you admired each symbol of wealth you came across. The grand room was decorated with no expenses in mind— rich velvet curtains hung across the walls, tied back with gold corded tassels to allow the cold moon’s luminescence to shine down into the hall. Massive oil portraits lined the walls, each frame depicting a different person of undoubtable esteem, each in their own respect poised yet handsome as the last.

Your eyes wandered to the last two photos on the wall, both of them shockingly attractive in their own ways. One had wild, violet locks and a sultry smirk, the others’ hair split down the middle with tousled red and white, mouth set in an indifferent line. What stood out most to you was the emotion conveyed in both their eyes— it was cold and callous, sending shivers down your spine.

As you turned away from the portraits, you were met with a server, who offered you the silver platter he was carrying as he bowed. Tiny steak tartares, garnished with a red wine sauce and a sprig of herbs; the sight made your mouth water and you thanked him as you took one with the classy little fork he handed to you. Just as you turned your attention back to the portraits before you, you jumped at the discovery of a figure standing beside you.

He was tall, your head coming just above his shoulder, even in your four inch heels. He donned a crisp tuxedo of his own, but his bowtie was left undone, strips of fabric hanging loosely around his neck. Though there was a mask covering his face as well, you instantly recognized the purple flumes of hair, your surprise evident as you let out a small gasp. He didn’t seem to notice you, his eyes set on the frames above your line of sight, but he then began to speak, his deliciously deep voice taking you again by surprise. “Rather rare,” he spoke, quiet yet clear, eyes still scrutinizing the art before the pair of you.

“E-Excuse me?” you asked for clarity, wondering when exactly this man had appeared, and why you had not noticed such a captivating presence by your side.

At the sound of your voice, he turned his gaze to you, lazy violet eyes inspecting your figure without much attempt at concealing his blatant inspection. You bristled at his audacity, but soon found yourself relaxing as your own eyes wandered the length of his lithe, cut figure. It wasn’t your fault, you reasoned— you had just been admiring this man in his photo and now he appeared before you, looking even more delectable in person.

“The hors d'oeuvres,” he explained, eyes dropping to the forgotten disc of tender meat perched at the end of your fork. He let his gaze wander across your chest before he met your stare again, that same smirk coming to rest on his supple lips. “And such beauty as yours, of course. It’s unparalleled, Miss…?” he trailed off, angling his head to the side as he awaited your response.

You thanked him and told him your name, watching as his smirk only seemed to grow, something mischievous shimmering in those enticing amethyst orbs of his. He leaned forward and ducked into a slight bow, long fingers taking your free hand hostage as he brushed his lips against your knuckles.

“Shinsou will do, for now. Delighted to be acquainted,” he murmured as he pulled back, letting your hand drop and a brief silence fall on the pair of you.

Your eyes wandered to the portrait, then back to your new acquaintance. “That’s you, right?” You inquired, looking up at him through your mask. His bored eyes pierced yours as you met his gaze, and you felt heat accumulate in your cheeks. “What incredible artwork, I don’t think I’ve met anyone that’s posed for an oil painting— was it hard to sit still while it was being made?”

“Not at all,” he replied, taking a sip of the hammered-metal chalice in his large, gloved hand. “The fruits of life sweeten with patience, anyway.”

You wondered briefly if it was his first time posing for this kind of painting. Never had you met anyone who would want— or could afford, really— to commission such a painstakingly realistic portrait of themselves. How much it cost, you could not fathom, and did not care to discover. “So this is your party, then?” You continued after he made no further attempt at conversation.

He nodded, that smirk curling the corner of his mouth again. “You’re an observant little thing, aren’t you?” He remarked, sipping again from his cup. His words were rather rude, and you frowned before you shrugged them off, dismissing them in an instant. You weren’t really surprised by his smug comment, though your displeasure must have been visible because he immediately steered the conversation in another direction. “Are you enjoying yourself? May I get you a drink, my honored guest?”

It was a little off to you how his demeanor changed just like that, a flip of the switch, really— but you were thirsty, and you were curious to see what kind of expensive refreshments were available, so you found yourself nodding with a small smile of gratitude on your lips. He mirrored your smile before he mumbled something about returning soon, his figure swallowed up in the sea of masked faces.

Finding yourself alone once again, you went back to inspecting the portraits, happily humming to yourself as you enjoyed your hors d'oeuvre. You looked around the party, searching for that same waiter, wanting to grab a few more of those delicious bites while you had the chance.

It was then that you met a distinct set of eyes across the room, a white mask with delicate swirls decorating his handsome face. However much the mask concealed his face, there was no doubting that he was the other man from the portrait behind you— his hair was a stark giveaway— half of it scarlet and hanging loosely atop his brow, the other half a shocking shade of white, pushed back to give him a devilishly intimidating aura. Your throat tightened up as he began to make his way toward you, slowly but surely closing the distance between the two of you.

You couldn’t help but wonder if either of these men were the one who sent you your invitation— if one of them was to thank for showering you with such extravagance, for allowing you to dip your toes in the enticing pool of luxury. But you were not allowed to ponder the thought, for in no time at all the man in question stepped before you.

Without even a single thought, your body automatically shifted into a curtsey, and you blinked in surprise as he bowed his greeting in return. He didn’t give you a second to question it, lithe, gloved fingers taking hold of your hand and bringing it to his mouth. His lips were cold to the touch, and your hand trembled slightly as he let go.

“Todoroki Shouto,” he introduced himself, his smooth, deep voice resonating through your body. Something about him made you feel incredibly hot, yet you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. It was strange how much he seemed to affect you— almost supernatural. At your stunned silence, he smirked ever so slightly, shifting his head to look down at your shorter figure. “Your name, love? It would be rude of me to refer to you as the most alluring woman in the room the whole night, no?”

Flustered you were caught off guard, you quickly told him your name, adding on it was a pleasure to meet him.

“Y/N, hm? A beautiful name. It suits a woman as breathtaking as you.” He continued, and you could see how satisfied he was by your bashful reaction. “I can assure you, the pleasure is all mine.”

You smiled hesitantly at the man before you, unsure how to respond to his blatant flirting. With the momentary lull in your conversation, you looked over your shoulder to eye the painting once again. Todoroki watched your curious gaze like a hawk, unbeknownst to you. When you looked back to him, you smiled as you pointed your thumb over your shoulder. “Is that—”

“Would you like to dance?” He interrupted, folding your smaller hand in his and taking a step backwards into the dancefloor.

Panic coursed through you— you didn’t know how to dance, or at least, you didn’t think your ballroom skills would be nearly as good as his and everyone else’s here. Yet somehow when you opened your mouth to politely decline, instead came out, “I would be honored.”

With wide eyes you were guided into the center of the room, his other gloved hand coming to rest at the curve of your waist. Your hands found their own way into position, one on his shoulder, and the other wrapped tight around his as he began to steer you around the room. You were shocked to find yourself matching each of his steps, your feet moving in perfect harmony with his. But when you looked into his eyes, a trickle of horror ran down your spine.

He was looking directly at you, two-toned eyes boring into yours with unbridled desire, and some other emotion mixing in to create a frightful end result that could only be described as hunger. Yes, there was no mistaking it— that was hunger in his eyes— for what, you did not know, but somehow your body was aware that whatever it was, you were in for quite the night.

“The dress looks simply appetizing on you, love,” he whispered in your ear, chilling the blood in your veins just like that. “Were you surprised to find it fit like a glove? You look so angelic when you sleep… I hated to disturb you, but it was gratifying to know how much you enjoyed my touch...” His lips brushed against your dangling earrings, and a shiver ran through your body as he inhaled across the skin of your neck.

“Y-You—” you stuttered, eyes widening with realization. Had he— had he taken your measurements? He’d snuck into your bedroom? When? Why? You didn’t even know this man— why would he have taken such an interest in you, how did he know where you lived,  and why— why was your heart beating out of your chest at the thought of him seeing you in your sluttly little pyjamas? You knew there was something off about this, but never could you imagine this would be the turn of events tonight. You were terrified, and yet ashamedly, a small part of you was pleased to know a handsome and powerful man as himself had gone to such lengths to woo you. There was no denying it… even though your stomach was tied into knots and fear sat like a stone in your belly, a white-hot, irrefutable desire had sparked to life between your legs.

“Not just me...” he murmured, the tip of his nose dragging against your temple before he dipped you down towards the tiled floor right in tune with the crescendo of the music, your back bending in his grip. Now upside-down, your heart skipped a beat as you recognized Shinsou staring the pair of you down from across the room, that same smirk on his lips as he raised his chalice in contempt. “You’ve met Hitoshi, correct?”

You were only spared a moment to piece it all together, that tight feeling in your stomach only twisting further. S.H… it wasn’t the name of one suitor, but two— Shouto and Hitoshi. Two rich and powerful men that both tricked you into coming to their home, and you had fallen for it— practically serving yourself to them on a silver platter. You were no better than a damn steak tartare! You wanted to face-palm, to smack yourself for being so naive, but you found that your body was not your own; you couldn’t control yourself, couldn’t even speak, and all you could do was continue to dance with the horribly attractive man whose trap you had strolled right into.

Had they drugged you? Was it that accursed steak tartare? But then, wouldn’t you have passed out, or your limbs stopped working? How were you not missing a single step with Todoroki right now, spinning when he led you to spin, and willingly stepping into him when he pulled you back into his embrace.

“What… What are you going to do to me?” Your voice was shaking, even though your body moved more confidently than ever as the pair of you strode across the marble floor. “How is this happening?” You added, feeling quite small as the target of not one, but two predatory gazes.

Todoroki took his time to answer you, wordlessly twirling you in his arms as the music then came to a stop, a new melody beginning just as the previous one faded out. “Whatever we want, I suppose,” he answered, his gloved fingers traveling up your back to grasp your chin, forcing you to look into his chilling gaze. “But don’t worry, love… I don’t think you’re going to hate it all that much.”

— - — - — - — - — - — - — - —

It was only an hour later that you were being led to the other side of the mansion— away from the music and festivities, and away from the false sense of protection the crowd provided. Todoroki walked in front of you, and Shinsou’s hand rested casually on your hip as he walked beside you. Your palms were lined in a thin coating of sweat, your growing fear causing your pulse to skyrocket. You knew that you were about to understand why they had fooled you into coming here, and though you had pondered what terrible fate they had chosen for you for the past hour, your mind was completely blank. You could only watch as your feet moved one in front of the other, your body once again under their spell.

Whatever it was that they were doing, they somehow had complete control over you, and they had forced your body to dance with the both of them for the entire time you’d been there so far. It had created some fake relief as whatever it was they had planned was pushed off for the time being, but you couldn’t indulge such relief, and your nerves were more heightened than ever. You reached your breaking point when you entered a dimly-lit bedroom, and the door closed behind you, lock clicking into place.

“Please,” you pleaded, your body moving to stand in the middle of the room, right before the four-poster, canopy-laden bed. “Just tell me what’s happening, I can’t move a single muscle…”

Shinsou frowned, gloved hand coming up to discard his mask. Your breath caught in your throat— God, even if he was your captor, you couldn’t deny he was handsome. He slowly approached you, fingertips tracing along your jaw before removing your mask as well. He sucked in a small breath of air, violet eyes dark with a foreign sentiment. “Relax, baby… We’re just gonna make you feel good. We’ve wanted to make you feel good for so long now…” His eyes dropped to analyze your lips, entranced by their color and plushness.

“But… Why can’t I move?” you reiterated, and your eyes widened as Todoroki’s presence noticeably pressed up against your behind. The feeling of his body against yours sent your heart hammering, and you swallowed as you considered your options here— there was really only one means of escape and that had to start with you tricking them into freeing you from their spell. Licking your dry lips, you meekly added, “What if I… wanted to make you feel good, too?”

“Fucking Christ,” said Shinsou, who took a step backward, his palm coming to run across his face momentarily. He seemed on edge, anticipation distinctly painted across his rugged features.

Meanwhile Todoroki took his time to answer, considering your choice of words thoughtfully. “We have a lot planned for you… but we need to re-energize before we can do anything, love,” he replied simply, his voice low in your ear. He pulled off his gloves, cold fingers catching on your jaw as he turned your face to meet his. You whimpered as he leaned into you, and before you could make a single word, his lips claimed yours, cutting off any chance at a rebuttal.

You didn’t want to admit how good his mouth felt on yours, but you couldn’t ignore the butterflies that burst into your stomach as he kissed you— they were not the result of any foreign spell. Shinsou groaned as he watched Todoroki’s tongue slip into your mouth, actions getting more fervent as the dual-colored man’s fingers slipped around your head, cradling your face against his. His lips attacked yours, slotting against them and tongue wandering between the gaps. You gasped when something sharp pricked your bottom lip, automatically pulling back, your hand coming up to touch your lip.

Bright red stained your fingertip, and you looked between the evidence of your injury and the cause of the wound, eyes widening as you took in how dark Todoroki’s eyes had become, canines elongating into sharp fangs. Bewildered, you stayed frozen to the spot, unable to do anything yet again as his hand swiftly wrapped around your wrist, yanking your hand to his mouth and wrapping his lips around your finger. The feeling of his tongue swirling around the digit made heat flare in your core, even as terror began to pump through your veins. His other hand gripped your hip roughly, pulling your body flush unto his.

The desire to scream out in fear came quickly, but you found no sound came out of you when your mouth opened. Your head still turned to Todoroki, you didn’t anticipate Shinsou coming up in front of you, only noticing the other man when his tongue stroked across the tender skin on your neck. Your body stiffened as the wet muscle slid along your throat, your eyes wide and petrified.

“There you go, just relax...” Todoroki groaned, leaning in to suck on your broken lip, his tongue petting over the fresh wound gently. It stung, but at the same time it felt very intimate— something you had never done before that had that heat building in the pit of your stomach.

A set of fangs pricked your neck, Shinsou’s lips fluttering up toward your jaw. You loathed how soft they felt, a distinct contrast to the sharpened enamels that suddenly descended into your flesh. You cried out, unprepared for the searing pain that shot through your body. Your skin felt like it was throbbing, sizzling from the unwelcome heat and pain mixing together.

“Shhh, love,” Todoroki cooed, laying a gentle kiss on your open mouth. “It won’t hurt for long…” He continued to suckle on your lip, beautiful eyes staring deeply into yours as he cradled your face. The thin ring of iris around his blown pupils shone brightly in the low light of the flickering candles, brilliant aqua and stormy gray contrasting, mesmerizing you and momentarily taking you away from the pain of the fangs lodged in your throat.

Shinsou was moaning against your neck, Adam’s apple bobbing as he took his fill from your bloodstream. His hands were gripping your waist tightly, fingers wandering up your back to curl your body closer to his embrace. You were so out of it, so lost in the taller man’s gaze, that you almost didn’t register the growing hardness pressing into your inner thigh. Shinsou was gently rutting against your leg, pressing his crotch onto you as he held your limp body with surprising care.

The sharp pain of his fangs in your neck had transformed into a dull throb, your body slowly numbing to his bite. It wasn’t long before Shinsou drew back, tongue roving over the flesh puncture marks that laid on your throat. His tongue hurt at first, but the second and third swipe of the strong, wet muscle felt increasingly good, and you hated how your thighs twitched together at the feeling. Apparently the two of them knew you would be experiencing this effect, for they both started to move you backwards, wandering closer to the bed.

You could hear Todoroki get onto the mattress before the pair of them maneuvered your body to join his, lifting you up and setting you down onto the plush comforter before him. His hands slid to your front, down your stomach and perched on your hips, pushing them back so your ass met his crotch. Your eyes went wide as you felt Todoroki’s erection poke into your ass, and Shinsou chuckled darkly as he, too, crawled onto the bed.

Although you opened your mouth to speak, no words came out, and the purple-haired vampire before you winked as the smirk on his lips only grew. There was still a trickle of your blood tainting the skin on his chin, and his fangs poked out as he grinned at you.

“You missed some,” Todoroki stated, voice a bit rougher than it had been downstairs. Your head turned to look at him, but you found his gaze was not focused on you— he was looking straight at Shinsou, eyes darkening and teeth elongating into points.

“Saved it for you, have a taste,” Shinsou replied nonchalantly, scooting closer to you. The space between the two men’s mouths closed and you gasped as you watched their lips collide, a moan tumbling out of the man supporting your back. That horrible heat burst between your legs, your mouth watering as you saw Todoroki’s tongue slips into Shinsou’s mouth, their fangs clicking as they brushed together.

Shinsou chuckled as he pulled back, Todoroki’s tongue wandering down to trace the line of your blood that streaked down his chin. Shinsou looked at you as he grinned, clearly happy that their kiss had such an effect on you. “You taste so good, baby,” he complimented, and you whimpered as heat burst in your cheeks.

It was shameful how much this was turning you on— a monster straight out of a fairytale was here in front of you, feeding off of you, able to end your life he re really wanted to in probably just one swift bite— and yet your pussy was drooling all over your panties for him, an uncomfortable dampness collecting between your thighs. You couldn’t stop your hips from wiggling, but as you moved back from Shinsou, you pressed up against Todoroki, who let out a throaty groan. The swell of your backside pushed against his hard cock just right, and you gasped as his hands suddenly jumped to the hem of your dress, pulling it to rest at the tops of your thighs. Your pussy twitched as the cool air rushed across your sticky panties, and you mewled as one hand drifted up to squeeze your breast, the other slapping gently over your panty-covered clit.

Shinsou’s hands glided down your waist, large palms running over your hips before he grabbed your thighs, yanking you to the edge of the mattress as he fell to his knees. Kneeling between your legs, he chucked again as he inspected the wet patch on darkening the front of your underwear. His thumb met your slit and he traced it up and down a few times, grin splitting his smirk as you unintentionally let out a moan.

It was then that Todoroki’s fangs sliced into the unmarked flesh on the other side of your neck. You cried out, the pain just as stringing and intense as Shinsou’s bite had delivered. But you weren’t left to focus on it long— Shinsou pulled your underwear to the side and dipped a thumb into your soaking folds, rubbing up the length of your slit once again. The direct contact made your toes curl, your slick folds parting with ease as the ample evidence of your arousal allowed his finger to glide through without catch. He hummed as he rubbed his thumb against your clit a few times, violet eyes flicking up to see your eyelashes fluttering across your cheeks, Todoroki’s lips latched to your throat as he took his fill from your sweet bloodstream.

Todoroki’s fingers curled into the top of your dress, and he pulled it down to reveal your tits to the cool air, your nipples instantly perking up and standing at attention. The red and white haired man moaned as he sucked on your throat, his forefinger and thumbs capturing each nipple and twisting the sensitive buds.

“Fuck!” you whined, immediately embarrassed that you hadn’t been able to hold the expletive in. But neither of the men seemed to share your sentiment, the pair of them moaning softly in response to your noise of pleasure as if encouraging you to let out even more.

Shinsou smiled as he pinched the sides of your panties, yanking the material down your thighs and off your ankles before separating your legs and inserting himself between them. He gave you no warning as his tongue suddenly licked a flat stripe up your slit, rolling around your clit perfectly at the end of his journey. Your legs tensed as they closed around his head, a hot puff of air escaping you as Todoroki finally pulled off of your neck with a broken gasp. His breathing was ragged as his tongue lashed over the fresh marks, the repeated action having the same, dizzying sensation that Shinsou had elicited. Then Shinsou’s tongue was wiggling across your clit, alternating between sucking on the sensitive pearl and lavishing it in vicious swipes of his strong, wet tongue.

Meanwhile Todoroki was ripping off his clothes, revealing his broad, sturdy chest in all its glory before he yanked at the zipper on your spine, sliding your dress over your shoulders and tossing it onto the floor. Your bra was next, leaving you in just your sparkly heels and your glimmering gems.

You could feel both pairs of eyes inspecting your naked body, Todorki’s hands returning to tweak at your nipples while Shinsou thrusted his tongue inside your quivering hole. He moaned as his tongue probed at your insides, sending vibrations through your core and causing your legs to tighten around his head. Pleasure was coursing through you, overwhelming the urge to scream and run that had been all you could focus on just minutes ago. But your pussy was dripping for the both of them, and Shinsou was savoring every drop as he animatedly lapped at you— never before had anyone so enthusiastically eaten your cunt like this, and his zeal only made you leak onto his mouth even more.

You had been so focused on the man in between your legs that you only recognized Todoroki had fully unclothed himself when he moved backward, easing your head back so you lay flat on the mattress. Your pussy twitched violently on Shinsou’s tongue when you caught sight of Todoroki’s cock standing long and thick, tall against his carved abdomen, his expression dark as he shuffled forward.

“Open your mouth, baby,” he instructed and you obeyed immediately, as if you couldn’t follow his instruction any faster. Your eagerness made him smirk, and you made sure to keep eye contact as he rubbed the tip of his heavy cock against your sealed lips. But suddenly Shinsou started to attack your clit with new fervor, tongue flicking across the bundle of nerves repeatedly.

You couldn’t stop the moan that flew out of you, and as soon as your mouth was open, Todoroki pushed forward, shoving his cock deep into your mouth. You choked at the sudden intrusion, but he only grabbed your throat with one hand and thrust into your mouth even rougher than before. He didn’t seem to care much about your comfort, your heartbeat skyrocketing as the need for oxygen started burning in your lungs.

Todoroki pulled his cock out just in time for you to gasp in a few breaths before he rammed his cock back inside, powerful thighs pinning your head to the mattress as he leaned forward with hands on either side of your waist and head hung while he uttered a quiet moan. “That’s right, love. Go ahead and suck my cock… I want to hear you choke on me, naughty little thing.”

A wanton moan slipped out of you, his cock filling your throat to the max, and his rough, determined thrusts causing your pussy to flood even more. Shinsou was still licking at your cunt purposefully, tongue sliding around your folds and over your clit as he sucked and flicked it to your liking. You started to become more vocal as pressure began to build in your stomach, your hips writhing wildly underneath his pinning grip as Todoroki used your mouth to his liking. Your eyes rolled back as you felt your high approaching, unaware of Shinsou slowly but steadily undressing himself while he suckled at your puffy folds.

Todoroki’s thrusts became slower but deeper suddenly, and you swirled your tongue around his swollen tip when his hips receded. You were caught off guard when Shinsou’s lips left your cunt and instead his teeth sunk into the soft skin on your thigh, taking another sampling from your veins. This time, the initial pain was much duller, and it quickly faded into something concerningly pleasurable. There must have been some higher-level effect at play here— there was no way that such gleaming fangs stabbing into you and feeding from you should feel that good. Yet it undoubtedly made your toes curl, bliss spreading through your body like wildfire through dry grass. It only increased when a long finger slipped inside of you, a second entering with ease as they began rubbing inside of you gently. You could feel Shinsou moan into your pillowy thigh, the noise only making your cunt itch for his attention again.

You let out a desolate whine when both of the men suddenly pulled away from you, your pussy hotter and wetter than ever, and your cheeks dribbling with your saliva as a result of Todoroki’s face-fucking. It was then that you realized Shinsou was naked, too, your mouth watering at his visage; his cock stood thicker and shorter than Todoroki’s, but both of them were punching well above average, muc to your delight.

Todoroki slipped off the mattress and Shinsou walked around the edge of the bed, the pair switching and settling in reverse positions. Shinsou stroked your cheek sweetly, capturing your attention as he smiled down at you. You craned your neck to press a kiss to the leaking tip of him, your tongue poking out to swipe the salty bead of pre-cum that lay there. Your eyes went wide when you felt the telltale smoothness of Todoroki’s cock splitting your slick-drenched folds, his hands settling on your hips before he grabbed them, rutting his own forward and causing his cock to push halfway into your tight hole. The stretch made the both of you gasp, your wet, little hole hugging his large cock snug as he began to move his hips.

Shinsou had enjoyed the intimate moment but found himself getting impatient, slapping his thick, oozing cockhead over your lips to grab your attention once again. You looked up at him with wide, starry eyes, your mouth opening for him to glide his cock into your mouth. “Good girl,” he murmured, eyes fixating on the way your lips wrapped around his girth, the way his thick veins looked rolling against your tongue. Your cheeks hollowed in attempt to satiate him, but you instantly cried out when Todoroki’s hips slapped flush against yours, shoving his cock inside of your cunt entirely.

The impossible fullness that bloomed in your stomach was delectable, and Todoroki began to thrust into your slippery cunt at a reliable, hard pace. He let out a guttural groan as he watched his cock disappear into your slick folds, the heat of your pussy overwhelming him. He lifted both your legs over his shoulders, making sure to grab one of your ankles and pulling it upright so your leg was fully extended. Then, his fangs broke the smooth skin on your calf and you whimpered at the feeling. It felt so good to have him suck on your skin— to feel your blood flowing out of your body and into his eager mouth. It was sick, but you couldn’t think about it at the moment— couldn’t find any fault with the two monsters that were taking you to cloud nine.

“Fuck, just like that,” Shinsou mumbled, eyes flicking up to watch a rivulet of your blood strike down your outstretched leg. When he looked back down towards you, your eyes were closed and your brow scrunched, an indication of the pleasure that was ebbing through your body thanks to the cadenced swing of Todoroki’s hips. “You’re such a good fucking girl,” Shinsou praised as he threw back his head, his fingers carding through your hair and tugging gently at your roots.

Just as the three of you seemed to find a rhythm, Todoroki pulled out abruptly, making your mouth part in a whine, Shinsou’s thick member springing out of your wet cavern and into the cool, still air. The purple-haired man hissed in annoyance, gritting his teeth as he looked to the other man to scold him, but quickly his irritation melted as he watched Todoroki flip you so your stomach lay flat on the sheets. Then, he hiked your ass into the air, your body moving along with him with such cooperation that the pair of them shared a look, haughty smirks stretching on both their lips. It was their secret that they had stopped using their mind control on you, and it seemed you were the only one that continued, blissfully unaware. Perhaps you didn’t even realize… perhaps you didn’t care.

It didn’t matter, really— Todoroki lined himself up with your dripping cunt, taking no pause this time as his cock speared inside you once again. You moaned as you reeled forward, your fingers gripping into the duvet harshly as your body tightened up from the delicious intrusion. His long, thick cock felt like magic inside of you, each thrust brushing a soft spot nestled deep inside of you and stimulating you further.

Shinsou jerked himself off lazily as he watched your facial expressions, trapping his bottom lip between his sharp teeth as he registered the erotic ecstasy painted across your beautiful features. After a minute of allowing you to focus his accomplice’s hard cock, he pressed the tip of his own to your lips. You immediately opened your mouth, taking the flushed member between your lips with restless reception, tongue rolling around the swollen head. Shinsou sighed, half-lidded lavender irises watching you begin to eagerly bob up and down his length. He thumbed over a drop of blood that had rolled down your throat, catching Todoroki’s eye and offering his finger to the other man, who happily took the digit into his mouth and sucked, tongue soaking up your life essence as his hand wrapped around Shinsou’s wrist to steady himself. They both chuckled as you moaned loudly, Todoroki’s free hand clapping across your ass cheek and causing your cunt to clench down on his cock.

“You like that?” he teased, grabbing your flesh and shaking it, watching your ass jiggle before striking you again, a few smacks in succession. You could only gag and moan in reply, Shinsou’s cock thrusting into the back of your throat. The purple-eyed vampire gripped your chin with his calloused, cold hand, keeping your head in place as he began to fuck your face. Suddenly Todoroki spat onto your behind, his saliva wetting your puckered hole before he shoved his thumb inside of your ass, the unexpected stretch sending fresh bliss through your body as his cock dragged against it through your walls. Tears were beading on your lashes, the combination of the lack of oxygen, the attack of your g-spot from Todoroki’s cock, and the sharp pain of his hand across your ass all sending you hurtling towards your high.

With a shriek you came on his cock, your cunt wringing snug around the heavy member that just kept pistoning into you, angling your hips so the head pounding into that sensitive, spongy spot again and again. Todoroki groaned, taking his finger out and both his hands now squeezing at your hips as he continued to fuck you, offering a few more slaps to your ass as you trembled in ecstasy. While your head was still filled with the euphoric fog of your climax, Shinsou pulled out of your mouth, nodding to Todoroki, who wordlessly understood. The mismatched vampire hooked his arms around your knees, heaving you up against his chest and spreading your legs far apart enough for Shinsou to slide between them.

You were still catching your breath as Shinsou reached for Todoroki’s cock, slotting his thighs between the other man’s and positioning his length so that his slick-covered head rested right at your asshole. You gasped, your arm bending to dig your nails into Todoroki’s shoulder as you looked behind at him, catching his lustful gaze down at you. Shinsou then began to sloppily kiss your throat, his cock rubbing against your glazed, ravaged opening as his hands ran across the curve of your ass, landing on Todoroki’s waist behind your hips. The both of them entered you at the same time, your vision dotting with white spots as the stretch from both sides took your breath away. They both managed to slip inside, fully seating you onto their laps as you trembled, your stiff nipples brushing against Shinsou’s toned chest.

Todoroki nibbled at your ear as he began to pump his cock inside of you, filling your ass with each thrust and stimulating you as he rubbed himself against Shinsou’s cock through your walls. “So tight, love…,” he murmured in your ear, the prick of his sharp fangs on your cartilage sending shivers down your spine. His tongue wandered out and he traced the tip of it against the column of your throat, brushing over the leaking puncture wounds that laid there. “So sweet… can’t help myself,” his words turned into a savage moan as he sunk his fangs into your skin, the pain washing away abruptly as Shinsou, too, started to push his hips into yours.

Shinsou groaned, one hand coming to caress your chin as he claimed your lips with his own. His tongue entered your mouth and wrestled with yours as his tempo began to pick up, his cock stretching your cunt wide and sending waves of pleasure through your core. When he pulled back, you were both panting, your breasts heaving with the rapid rise and fall of your chest. It was then that Todoroki pulled away from your neck, gasping in a breath of air as his fangs glistened scarlet. Shinsou took one look at him and crushed his mouth to his, your holes clenching around their lengths as you watched your blood be exchanged between their ravenous tongues. The pair of them were moaning, and so were you— unable to keep the noises of pure pleasure inside as you watched them make out.

Your blood was dripping down Todoroki’s chin, and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching over and grabbing his jaw, ripping his lips away from Shinsou’s and instead placing your mouth on his. He growled in approval against your lips, his tongue battling yours as he sought to dominate you, the distinct flavor of iron filling your mouth as you tasted your own blood. Shinsou took the opportunity to sink his cuspids into the other side of your throat again, and your jaw fell in response, Todoroki’s tongue seizing control of yours immediately as he grasped the upper hand. Both of them were full-on fucking you now, your holes warm and wet, quivering around their thick cocks as the brought you closer and closer to your high yet again.

Only the sound of your heavy breathing and the slapping of your skins filled the air in the room, the music of the party drowned and far away as the three of you were otherwise occupied. Before you knew it, you were clenching on them again, your body seizing as your orgasm ripped through you, all the air in your lungs vacuumed out of you and your toes curling into the air. Your fingers fisted Shinsou’s wild violet locks, your nails digging into Todoroki’s jaw as you tumbled through the throes of your climax, euphoria rushing through your bloodstream and straight into Shinsou’s awaiting mouth.

The sweet taste of your oxytocin, your drug-like ecstasy, sent him straight into his own orgasm, his hips pushing flush against yours as he roared and his cock spurted thick white ribbons deep into your womb, his seed pouring into you and filling you to the brim. His chiseled body trembled as he emptied himself inside of you, his fingers bruising your skin while he gasped and moaned. Your holes clenched as you milked his cock, and suddenly Todoroki, too, groaned loudly behind you. His hands squeezed your flesh as his cock spurted hot cum inside of you, his abdomen flush against your ass as he crushed your body to his front.

The three of you sat there on the bed, your bodies covered in sweat and remnants of your blood, breathless and still as you came back down to earth. Shinsou’s lips trailed along your neck, Todoroki’s fingertips sliding across your skin with gentle care as they pulled out of you. Their seed dribbled down your thighs as they maneuvered your boneless body back onto the pillows, your eyes fluttering closed from the pure exhaustion and the lack of blood in your veins. Each of them laid back on either side of you, their cold hands wandering over your skin and causing goosebumps to rise, their eyes roaming your body in pure adoration.

“You did so well, baby,” Shinsou murmured into your hair, pressing his face close to yours as he sighed and inhaled the sweet scent lingering from the blood on your skin.

“So well-behaved for us,” Todoroki added, wrapping an arm around your middle as he, too, nestled closer to your limp body. “Go to sleep, love… you deserve some rest.”

You hummed at their praise, tired butterflies flapping their wings in the pit of your stomach. Your head was fuzzier than ever, bliss weighing heavy in your bones as your breathing steadied. Filled with post-orgasmic content, the idea of fleeing that seemed so wonderful just an hour ago now sounded distasteful, your body comfortable lying on the silken sheets, pressed between your two lovers. As you faded into a blissful sleep, you could hear the pair talking lowly, making plans to keep you here with them in hushed voices.

 ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

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so sorry if that was rushed at the end!! hope you enjoyed, and Happy Halloween!! be safe out there <3

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

#todoroki shouto smut #todoroki shoto smut #shinsou hitoshi smut #shinso hitoshi smut #todoroki shouto fic #todoroki shoto fic #shinsou hitoshi fic #shinso hitoshi fic #shinso x reader #shinsou x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #tw: dubcon #tw: yandere #my fics

[waithyuck]

flame

pairing: dragon!mark lee x reader (f) *halloweenie special*

genre: smut, supernatural au

word count: 3k

warnings: BIG DICK MARK LEE, but also shy mark lee, sexual content, thigh riding, unprotected sex, kinda sub mark for like a couple seconds but then those dragon instincts kick in, biting, slight alcohol consumption, light cockwarming, overall sweetness **unedited**

a/n: I simp for mark lee on the daily ofc I had to write some smut ab him OFC

< previous | next >

~10/21/2020~

~~~~

“mark lee, if you don’t get your fire breathing ass back in that kitchen in two seconds, I’m cutting your tail off.” you heard your boss call out, her voice stern as she pierced her gaze through your blushing coworker. he mumbled a hushed apology before rushing past you and into the back, knocking all kinds of things over on his way.

mark was a clumsy dragon; being a dragon wasn’t an uncommon thing, considering the world was littered with creatures now, but you had never met one as shy or as clumsy as mark lee.

he was shy and always spoke quietly, and rarely ever looked anyone in the eyes. in fact, you were certain you’d never actually seen his eyes, even after working with him for two years.

you had become friends with him in that time, and currently was the reason why he just got hollered at by your manager. you probably shouldn’t have called him up from his station just to bullshit around.

you considered mark one of your closest friends now, even if he was still a shy mess around you. he opened up a little bit, to your surprise, but never fully. you couldn’t lie to yourself and say you didn’t have a small crush on him, despite him having the personality of a small, naked dog.

he seemed to trust you though, so it shouldn’t have surprised you when he came to you after work asking for a favor.

you were on your way to your car when you felt a warm hand softly grip your wrist, stopping you from walking any further. you turned around startled at first, not knowing it was him until you saw his face in front of you. you smiled at him.

“hey markie.” you greeted sweetly, moving your arm back down to your side once he let go of you. his lips quirked you slightly at the nickname, but as quickly as you saw it, it disappeared.

“hi y/n,” he let out quietly, wringing his hands together. “I have a, uh, favor to ask of you, if that’s okay.”

you quirked your eyebrow at him, your curiousity piqued. you gestured for him to continue and he let out a large warm breath as his thin tail flicked behind him.

“would you mind, um,” he scratched the back of his neck. “housesitting my grandma’s place with me this weekend? I don’t wanna be alone in there…”

you blinked in silence at him for a moment, processing his request before replying.

“mark,” you started, looking him in the eyes, “you’re telling me that you’re a fucking dragon,” you stated in disbelief, your hip cocked to one side as you stood across from him. “but you can’t stay the night at your grandma’s house alone? aren’t you supposed to be like, the most powerful creature in the world?”

he blushed and looked down at his feet, one little fang poking out over his bottom lip as he played with his fingers bashfully. when he didn’t reply a small frown made its way to your lips, and you quickly clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“sure mark, I’ll house-sit with you.” you smiled, trying to find his eyes. when he smiled back and glanced at you, your heart seemed to flutter on its own accord, and you stepped back out of his space.

you cleared your throat. “just text me the details. I’ll see you later!”

with that, you quickly ran off to your car, starting the engine and driving away. you didn’t even notice how the boy you had just left stared after you, his eyes glowing gold in the setting sunlight.

mark didn’t take long to send you the details, and before you knew it the weekend had rolled in. you met up with him at his place and he drove the both of your across town to where his grandmother’s house resided, and you can’t say you weren’t awestruck at the size of it.

it looked like a true mansion; but more like one from some bad horror movie that was haunted by 100 year old dead girls or something. you had to admit, it gave you the creeps and now you were beginning to understand why mark didn’t want to stay here alone.

“so uh, the electricity seems to be out.” he stated once the two of you made yourselves comfortable inside the home. you two looked at each other briefly, both of your eyes wide. “she didn’t mention that on the phone.”

you sucked in air through your teeth, but knew you would have to deal with being in the dark in an old and creepy mansion that was owned by a woman most likely close to death herself.

“it’ll be fine,” you reassured him, placing your backpack down on the floor in front of the sofa. upon opening it, you pulled out two wine bottles, much to mark’s surprise.

you smirked at him. “are you down to drink with me?”

he nodded almost instantly, and you grinned back.

fast forward an hour later, and you were definitely a little wine drunk. you weren’t too far gone; you still had some wits about you, but everything seemed to just feel a tad bit too good for you to be completely sober.

you and mark were giggling back and forth over stupid nonsense, and you felt your heart flutter everytime the harmonious sound of his laughter left his body.

god, you really were such a goddamn simp for this boy. “so, markie,” you blurted, smiling dumbly at him as you set your glass down on the coffee table in front of you. you curled your legs up under you as you turned to face him on the couch, your face resting on you palm. “do you have a girlfriend?”

“a g-girlfriend?” he squeaked out cutely, his eyes wide as he stared at you from across the couch. “uh, n-no. uhm, not many girls really like me like that.” he laughed it off, his hand coming up to rest behind his head shyly. you almost melted at the sight of him acting so bashful, even though you’ve seen it countless times in the time you’ve known him.

you snorted in response, “oh god mark, I beg to differ.” it may have been the small amount of wine in your system, but whatever spurred you to move closer to him was growing with every passing second, weakening your willpower. your knees rested against his leg as you now leaned against him, your chin incredibly close to resting on his shoulder.

his wide brown eyes looked down at you, and you watched his throat bob as you swallowed heavily, most likely a little nervous at your proximity. you smiled at him sensually, your eyes trying to convey as much of your emotions as possible to him.

“I think you’re very attractive,” you mumbled sweetly, not making any moves to get closer or touch him just yet, in case he wasn’t into this like you obviously were. considering you just outed that you thought he was cute, now was as good a time as any to just let it all loose.

“I think I like you, mark.”

he kissed you, which caused you to squeak in surprise. you quickly recovered however, and immediately threw yourself over him to straddle his lap, kissing him back with just as much fire.

it really shocked you; you weren't prepared for mark to have the balls to kiss you first, but you welcomed it, causing your core to grow hot at the thoughts of him doing more to you.

“I like you t-too.” he muttered out between kisses, his tongue finding your own as the two of you felt each other on the couch in the darkness of his grandmother's old house.

his hands held steady on your waist; every so often you would feel his fingers squeeze at your sides, but nothing much more than that.

you were growing insatiable at the point, your core aching to feel something against it, so you decided to take matters into your own hands.

“can I ride your thigh?” you asked breathlessly, pulling back from his lips to look into his eyes. they were tinged gold; little flecks of the color breaking up the deep natural brown of his irises. you felt his fingers squeeze your hips ever so slightly, and he nodded simply in response, his lips moving up timidly to connect with yours once again.

you situated yourself so that you were straddling one of his legs, the muscle of his thigh pressed right up against your already aching core deliciously. you sighed in content as you pressed against him, pulling your head away to throw it back in pleasure. mark didn’t hesitate to kiss your neck delicately, pressing small kisses along the column of your throat and around the sweet spots down near your collarbones.

your panties were soaked in seconds, and you were sure he could feel it even through the material of his black jeans, the two sets of fabric the only things separating you from feeling skin on skin.

you couldn’t help but begin to grind your hips back and forth, the delicious feeling of his hard muscle pressing against your clit making you almost delirious. his hands on you hips helped drag you back and forth against him, and before long you had built up a steady rhythm that had you weak and whining.

“mark,” you moaned out, catching his attention instantly. “mark I need you to fuck me,” you were panting, both hands on his shoulders as you borderline aggressively humped his leg, your eyes pleading and your lips parted in pleasure.

“fuck, okay yeah, yeah I’ll fuck you,” he stuttered out, hoisting you off of him with ease and maneuvering you onto your back below him, your core clenching at the display of his inhuman strength.

it was a battle to get as many articles of clothing off of your two bodies as possible, and in the end your clothes were thrown every which way around the room, leaving you both naked and needy in front of each other.

you almost cried when you saw his cock in the dim light, twitching in front of your very eyes.

“holy fuck, mark,” you gasped, eyes widening as you sat up on your elbows to get a good look at his raging cock. “you’re fucking huge, are you trying to kill me?”

he blushed sweetly in response but you caught the sight of his dick twitching, indicating that he liked the praise you gave him.

you sighed and laid back down flat, motioning for him to crawl forwards on top of you and he complied within seconds. you glanced down between your bodies to look at his dick once again, your brain still not comprehending his size.

you decided you didn’t want any prep. you wanted to feel every second of the burning stretch.

“you’re seriously gonna destroy me, mark.” you stated flatly, but you weren’t so opposed to the idea. in truth, you wanted him to annihilate you like the dragon stud you knew he was; no mercy, making you cry for his cock like a good little slut. you shivered at the thought.

“we can s-stop, we don’t have to—“ he began to say, but you slapped a hand across his mouth, much to his surprise. he looked confused, but didn’t try to remove your hand from where it laid on his lips.

you smiled, “that’s not a bad thing, baby,” you murmured, leaning up to trail your lips along his ear. “I want you to absolutely obliterate this pussy, you understand?”

it wasn’t like you to dirty talk in bed, but there was something about the way he reacted to your every word that had you more vocal than usual. before you could think, mark had your back pinned to the cushions once again, his eyes glowing a bright gold as they bore down into your own with an intensity you couldn’t hope to match.

bingo.

he grabbed his dick and quickly aligned it with your entrance, sliding in slowly and stretching you out at a snail's pace.

the stretch was gradual; you could feel every inch of him sinking inside you and the feeling sent a shock down your spine, causing your walls to involuntarily clench around his still moving cock.

you were grateful that he was patient and slow, not moving too quickly or harshly so that he wouldn’t cause you any pain. you let out a low moan when you felt his thumb press directly onto your clit, and the action surprised you. you didn’t expect mark to take the confident initiative like that, but you weren’t complaining as he started rubbing soft circles around the nub.

without warning, mark took your hips in both his hands and flipped you onto your side, his cock slipping out in the process as he laid behind you, effectively spooning your body. he drew in close, and you whined at the feeling of his thin tail coming up to wrap around one of your legs, helping his arm lift it up and keep in place so he had perfect access to your dripping cunt.

mark’s nose nudged against your temple as he leaned in, his lips softly placing a kiss on your cheek as you gasped for breath.

“can I have you like this?” he asked softly, still pressing gentle kisses against your skin. with a firm nod you gave him permission, and he immediately lined himself up with your more than ready entrance once again.

he slipped inside easier this time, bottoming out within seconds and making you squeak at the feeling. he waited for you to adjust, your twitching walls around him not letting up for the first minute he was inside you. once you relaxed enough, he began smoothing rocking his hips in and out of you, slowly dragging his cock against your walls as he fucked you.

you bit the throw pillow before you as you felt his tail tighten around your leg, tingles starting to become prevalent as he effectively cut off some of the blood flow.

you weren’t complaining.

“faster, please,” you whined out, your nails ripping into the pillow as he complied almost instantaneously. his hips postponed in and out of your dripping hole as best they could, his hips roughly slapping against the skin of your ass as he plowed you with all his might.

you bit back your screams as his land left your leg, his strong tail holding it in place as he reached around to play with your nipple, flicking and teasing the bud as he fucked you.

his tip ever so slightly bumped your cervix with every earth shattering thrust, and you threw your head back into his chest as he kept up his speed and rhythm.

“does it feel good, y/n?” he asked deeply, almost like a growl. the vibrations that you felt rumble his chest had your toes curling, and you could feel your stomach tightening as you grew closer and closer to your release.

when you didn’t immediately answer, you felt his teeth bite into your shoulder as punishment. you whimpered at the feeling, you pussy clenching around his still pounding cock.

“answer me.”

you could only nod your head frantically, your brain not working enough to process any words to spew back at him. he seemed content enough with your reply, and you were almost grateful that he didn’t force you to speak. you were sure you would have sounded like a pathetic mess.

if it was even possible at this point, he managed to pick up the speed of his thrusts, fucking you into oblivion until all you could do was moan out strangled versions of his name. before long, you were coming undone, your fluttering walls clamping strongly down onto his cock, causing him to seize up behind you with a roar.

you could physically feel the powerful spurts of his cum shooting inside you right up against your cervix, pairing it white with his seed. you moaned at the feeling, your body still twitching in his hold.

he gently laid your leg back down, his tail unraveling to reveal indentation marks in your skin from where it had been gripped. your thigh was especially bad, but you were definitely not complying, the sight causing your core to flutter once more around him.

you laid in silence for a while, finding comfort in each other’s breathing. he kept himself sheathed inside you, the warmth of him comforting as you laid with your back pressed up against his sweaty chest.

“...I don’t think this is what my grandmother had in mind when she asked me to house-sit.” mark suddenly mumbled into your hair, reaching around to delicately play with your fingers with his own.

you snorted weakly in response, chuckling a bit. “are you complaining?”

“no,” he hummed, clarifying. “i think this was the best night of my life.” he kissed your cheek then, causing you to smile. he nuzzled his face into the back of your neck, and you could feel the small grin on his face.

“thank you, y/n.”

you could only hum back in return, the swelling of your heart overwhelming your senses as the sweet voice of the boy you’ve been crushing on lured you into a deep relaxed state.

you wouldn’t trade this for the world.

#mark lee smut #nct-writers #neothestars #neowritingsnet #mark #mark smut #mark lee #nct #nct smut #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct u #nct 2020 #superm smut #superm #nct scenarios #mark scenarios #mark lee scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct dream scenarios #halloweenie special

[sneezefiction]

untouchable | vii

Atsumu x Reader

desc: in which an accidental run-in with pro volleyball player, Atsumu Miya, at a 7/11 leads to a strangers-to-lovers situation… but the catch is, you have no idea that he’s famous.

warnings: slight language, anxiety

wc: 3.2k

part 6 ⚬ part 7 ⚬ part 8 (coming soon)

untouchable m.list

—

“Here ya go.”

Osamu sets down a small cup of water, letting it clink against the bar’s granite surface. There’s no ice in it, but you can tell by the condensation on the glass that it’s cold. Osamu tosses a plastic straw toward you and it lands conveniently right next to your cup.

Throwing him a quick smile, you reach to take a sip but pause when you hear the click and gentle hiss of a drink can.

You’d know that sound anywhere.

It’s a reminder of street vending machines and roadside shops. Of summer walks on hot pebbled pathways and after-class escapades with old high-school friends. 

But, just to be sure, you glance over to study the object in the hands of the man next to you.

Yes, you confirm, Miya Atsumu has indeed brought a can of green tea into his brother’s restaurant. And, yes, you are quite amused.

You choke down the rising laughter in your chest, though you can’t hide the small smile creeping onto your lips. This is the dorkiest thing you think you’ve ever seen on a not-date before.

 “Where the hell were you hiding that?” You tilt your head, leaning toward him to get a closer look at the drink.

“You’ll see.” Completely unfazed, he reaches for his coat, which hangs on the back of the chair, and digs into the pocket…

And, if what you’re seeing is true, he’s just fished out a second can. The paper covering the aluminum has a pink, floral print and reads, “Matcha-” but his thumb covers the rest of the lettering.

“What? Did you want one?” Atsumu tilts his head and places the can next to your water glass.

You stare at it, curious about two things. 

The first thing being his massive fucking pockets. They must be something of a void for him to fit two whole cans in the same pouch. Well, it’s more like you assume they were contained in a single pocket. Otherwise, you would’ve noticed a sloshing, aluminum object bumping up against your side as you two walked arm-in-arm.

The second thing that struck you is that he actually thought to bring two. Did he plan on drinking both? Was it originally for his brother? Or did he intend to offer you one right from the start? 

You do happen to like this brand of tea.

Atsumu leans back into his chair, tossing an arm over the back of the seat. “My friend tells me it’s good for digestion,” he explains and takes a sip.

“My digestion is just fine, thanks. You can keep it.” 

Your eyes crease in mirth. He has some interesting friends, that’s for sure. And why does he care about digestion? He’s fit and muscular and... is he constipated or something?

Yeah, that’s not something you should ask about.

“I’m gonna try not to imagine what else you could be hiding in those pockets,” you say, twisting your face in concern and pinching your eyebrows together.

Atsumu grimaces, shifting in his seat. “Did ya have to say it like that?” 

“I think I have every right to say it like that. You could be a freak for all I know.”

“Um, I think it’s entirely possible that you’re the freak here.” He shoots right back at you through mock-judgmental eyes.

Your jaw drops in amused surprise. You shove his arm playfully, but his balance hardly wavers. He grins in response, golden eyes glimmering. Your hand lingers briefly as you mimic his smile, but you notice and drop it quickly.

“Gettin’ comfortable now aren’t we?”

A faint flush dances across your skin. Maybe you were being a little touchy… but flirting hasn’t been this fun in so long. Anyway, he was the one who had you walking arm-in-arm with him earlier.

That thought alone makes your heart jump.

You look away, grasping the straw in your glass and twirling it around. “You got all comfy first,” is all you can huff out.

“Well, yeah.” Atsumu places an elbow on the table and props his chin up with his hand, “I mean, this is a date isn’t it?” He takes another sip of his drink, acting as though what he said wasn’t headline news.

Huh?

So apparently this whole not-a-date but possibly-a-date situation had an obvious answer… to Atsumu that is. It still felt about as clear as rocket science to you though.

“Is it?” The words flow from your lips before you can stop them.

He blinks. “Hm.” 

You swallow, “Is this a date?” 

He gestures a hand at the two of you, “I mean... I thought it was.”

Well, yes. You’re both sitting across from each other. Neither of you knows the other well. Atsumu had taken you to his brother’s restaurant.

Everything that’s happened in the past hour screams, “date.”

And, yet, it’s all too strange.

Suddenly the wooden barstool is much less comfortable. You readjust, crossing your dangling legs. You can hear every uneven as it leaves your body - hopefully his ears aren’t too keen.

Did you really change the atmosphere with just a few words?

Should you have assumed that this was a date from the beginning? But you were protecting yourself… 

Thank God Osamu is in the back right now. You don’t think you could handle someone else (especially your date’s brother) hearing this conversation. The embarrassment would be way too real.

“But if you’re not okay with it bein’ a date, then that’s okay.” Atsumu is quick to speak, straightening up in his chair. “I probably forgot to clarify…” He searches your gaze for any change in reaction.

Yeah, he’s probably not adept at these sorts of situations. But neither are you.

There’s a noticeable tint to his cheeks. You’re sure it must burn because your own face has already burst into flames. Great, you’ve made him feel like he’s screwed up. 

Atsumu mumbles a quiet “shit” under his breath, which would’ve found funny if it weren’t for your own pounding heartbeat.

Dammit, how can you salvage this? You might as well be fanning a flame at this point. If you weren’t careful, you could burn this entire opportunity to the ground. 

“Ah, that’s not what I mean,” You respond, waving your hands out in front of you, “I just- I don’t know, you never said anything about it being a date over text, so I just assumed it wasn’t. Not that I would mind it being one...”

If you keep talking, the words will only get more muddled. You clamp your mouth shut so as to not say anything ridiculous.

Suddenly, the blank wall opposite the blonde is very interesting. Maybe if you survive the next 5 minutes you’ll suggest that ‘Samu add some art pieces to soften the stark white paint. It might also make avoiding eye-contact a little easier.

Despite not wanting to face him, you can’t exactly ignore the man sitting an arm’s length away from you. You glance back to him, bracing yourself for a face wrought with confusion.

But Atsumu looks… amused? Relieved? The lines of worry on his forehead have smoothed back out.

Well, whatever emotion he’s conveying, it’s better than the ones you saw earlier.

“Alright, then how about you tell me whether you want this to be a date or not?”

You bite your lip in thought. Partly because a male has just respectfully asked you if you’d like to go on a date (a date you’re already on.) That, in itself, is a rare sight indeed. 

But mostly because he actually wants to go on a date with you.

Did you really meet him only a month ago? Was he ever a stranger to you?

He’s a little too friendly for that. But friendly isn’t the right word. Atsumu is understanding. And simple… but in a good way. Things are smooth like velvet when you’re around him.

You, who’s been shit out of luck over the past few years. You, who had to frantically accept a less than ideal job after moving away from your entire support system. You, who tried to abate loneliness with blind dates and Tinder matches... but only ever ended up shoving breadsticks in a bag before escaping through the backdoor of a mediocre restaurant.

After all the tears and life changes and dating apps and heartbreak, you finally have a choice that you can make by yourself without any serious repercussions.

And it’s a simple yes or no question.

“I’m gonna say, yeah. This is a date.”

A grin that could light up the city of Tokyo spreads across his face. You don’t know why he’s so happy, but it’s making your heart do somersaults in your chest.

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” He grabs his drink, taking another sip.

Even you can feel the earnest smile on your face reaching your eyes. 

“So, can I ask ya somethin’?”

You sit up in silent anticipation. “Uh… sure.”

Atsumu clears his throat, looks away from you and runs a hand through the waves of his hair. Given Atsumu’s display of nerves, someone watching from the outside might think that this man was either about to break up with you or propose marriage.

Thank God it couldn’t be either of those things. But your hands clasp at your thighs anxiously anyway.

“Why’d you want to see me again?”

You find yourself holding your breath, letting his question sink in. 

It’s a good question. An important question. Why exactly are you here? With him?

You’re usually better about setting your intentions before you dive into something new. Plotting out big decisions has saved your ass a multitude of times.

But this opportunity fell into your lap at the most peculiar of times.

In all honesty, you didn’t give his request too much thought. Hell, you didn’t even ask him if he’d give you time to think about your decision. 

Thinking back, you really should’ve been way more careful… but you’re already here.

You lean back into your chair and meet his gaze head-on. 

“Do you want an honest answer? Or would you rather me make something up?” You ask, a glimmer in your eye.

“Oh, yeah I love bein’ lied to, go right ahead.” He throws you a look through squinted eyes.

You laugh, “I’m assuming that’s sarcasm.”

“And you’d be right.” Atsumu’s chin sinks back into his hand, awaiting your honest answer.

You give yourself a moment to breathe, leaning back into your chair and relaxing your body.

It’s best to keep things brief - you’d hate to overwhelm him with your own life. And something tells you he has his own complicated shit to deal with. 

“I’ve had a rough few years here and my social life is about as interesting as a brick right now.” You glance over to him, “Plus you seemed a little weird. But fun.”

This is all true. But there’s so much more you’d like to say.

Stuff like, 

“You’re so easy to be around.”

“Your voice is comforting.”

“I’ve felt like shit but you’ve given me something good to think about.”

“I feel a little less lonely lately and I think it’s because of you.”

But you know that would be overstepping some major boundaries. You’d play it cool and keep your thoughts to yourself for now.

“A bit blunt, but I’ll take it.” He quirks an eyebrow.

“Hey, you’re pretty blunt yourself.” You fake a frown, but can’t suppress your smile for long.

“Okay, sure, I’m not the most tactful… but you should’ve seen me in high school.” He sighs, eyes growing fuzzy with memories. 

But he’s quick to snap back to the present.

You snort. “I bet you were a hoot.”

Osamu’s voice rings from the back, “He was a lot more than that.”

So he was listening in, your cheeks burn a little at the thought. 

“Oi, shaddup, ‘Samu.” He lifts his head, calling back with a playful growl in his voice.

“I have video evidence, don’t tempt me to share it,” Osamu warns, but he gets back to business.

Your eyebrows raise. Now that’d be fun to see.

He notices your curiosity but is quick to furrow his brows. “Oh, no, no. I want you to get to know me, but not that well,” Atsumu says, slightly perturbed. 

“Not yet, at least.” He adds, after a few seconds.

Your eyes soften. 

That makes sense. 

Although, you hadn’t even expected him to show you the videos. You’d just wanted to tease him a little since that seems to be something he’s very comfortable with. You like that it’s a “not yet” instead of a “never,” though.

But instead of continuing this part of the conversation, you divert to asking his question back to him.

“Well, I think it’s your turn to tell me why you asked me out.”

And you swear you must’ve just said something ridiculous because he looks hilariously surprised. Like a deer in headlights. A jammed highway of car-headlights with the brights on full blast.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d guess that he hadn’t even thought about it. That or he didn’t want to tell you.

Either way, you deserve to know at least this much. You wait with your hands placed patiently in your lap and a trained indifference in your eyes.

—

Okay, so maybe he’s not the sharpest crayon in the box.

Atsumu knows he has a good reason for asking you out… he really does. 

But it wasn’t the kind of reason one could eloquently verbalize. I mean, shit, what does Atsumu do that is eloquent?

It was more of a gut feeling than anything else.��

But he’s sure if he told you that he wanted to date you based on “instinct” that you’d laugh and promptly flee the restaurant like a prison escapee jumping the walls holding them captive.

He pulls himself together because he’s sure you can sense his discomfort. He’s never been great at disguising his emotions - he’d only ever learned to mask them with nonchalance and angry outbursts… and that’s a no-go when it comes to the press. Atsumu had to drop those reactions like a hotcake.

“I…” he swallows but gives a wry smile, “Y’see… I live a bit of a complicated life.”

He scans your face like he’s searching for his next words within your eyes. But you’re must be a blank page because they don’t come to him.

“Okay, now, don’t go telling me you’re wanted for some sort of federal crime.” You tease him as your lips brush against your straw, lightening the atmosphere in the process.

Atsumu’s lips open to let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding in. “Ah, ya got me. That’s exactly what I was gonna say.” He responds dryly.

“That’s so sad. And I really thought this was going well, too.” You hum and take a sip of water.

He clears his throat, loosening his shoulder with a stretch. For someone who’s lived most of his adult life in the limelight, he hasn’t had to talk about it much. People either know he’s famous or they don’t.

You’re so kind. You listen well. There’s something about you that he’s magnetized by. Something that continuously draws him back in.

So if you were to learn about his life and see him differently? It would be a door slamming into his face, sealing his fate to be a really fucking lonesome bachelor. Which is a funny concept until you are the lonely bachelor.

So what exactly is he supposed to tell you?

Out of habit, his hand reaches for his hair… but he freezes before he can run his fingers through it.

Because the words are coming to him like a lone flower petal drifting to the ground. Soft and solemn.

He asked you out because his chest hasn’t ached like this in so long.

The warmth you’ve brought him in such a short time flares inside of him; why should those flames to die down anytime soon?

Because when’s the last time he spoke with somebody new and felt so normal? He’d never craved simple conversation back in high school. Even in his early 20’s, he’d just been searching for quick flings and easy getaways - those were easy to manage and feelings almost never got involved.

But being with you is like honey to hot, bitter tea. Like chowing down on a hot meal when he’s hungry.

No, it’s not easy to explain, but your presence is somehow satiating to his soul. Osamu even said that he’s been “less of a dick” since he started talking with you, so that must count for something.

You don’t need to know all of that. That’d be really weird. But if you were already being honest with him (even if you hadn’t spilled your entire life’s story) then he can be honest with you. 

But with this groundbreaking realization comes the hard part. Saying it out loud. And while he’s sometimes smooth in terms of flirting, he’s absolute shit at explaining himself.

The words come out slow and awkward. “I’ve been havin’ a hard time with… people.” 

Okay, that’s not at all what he meant to say. 

There are a million things you could’ve gleaned from that useless sentence. ‘I have a hard time with people?’ I mean, if that didn’t sound like a red flag, then what does?

“Oh, really?” Your eyes are wide and thoughtful and he swears he sees a glint of amusement flash through them. 

Shit, this would be harder than he thought. 

“Well, dating in particular, but that’s because my life is out of wack.” He presses on, but it only comes out worse.

Maybe he should’ve taken that communications class back in high school. It would’ve saved his ass in his interviews and, more importantly, here.

You nod along, folding your arms. “Mhmm.”

It’s both unfair and such a relief that you’re finding his verbal blunders funny. 

“Okay, gimme a minute, this is comin’ out all wrong.”

“Take your time,” you smile and your eyes crinkle. “I’ll be here all night.” 

But is it possible to soften what he’s about to say? To give you something to chew on rather than a bunch of information to choke on?

Being candid with you is the only fair way to do this. If he isn’t straightforward with you, you could end up getting hurt. Even being with you here at his brother’s restaurant is a risk — he should’ve thought through that decision better too. Not that he visits his brother there in person much, but it’s still not a gamble he likes to make.

Anyway, what’s done is done. He’s just got to tell you.

Atsumu sits up, resting his clenched fists on his thighs and knitting his brows together.

“Listen, I’m not sure how to tell you this…”

You shift in your seat, mouth closed and eyes fixed on his. There’s a tension in your posture, but he tries not to let it deter him.

“But I’m...”

—

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu #atsumu x reader #will tag those on the tag list soon! #sorry for any grammatical issues - i'm up late and i can't see well... rly need a beta reader tbh #but i think i weeded out most mistakes? #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #atsumu scenarios #atsumu imagines #miya twins #osamu miya #hq x reader #untouchable series

[monsoonblooms12]

What Ethan & Pooja AU is this? #OpenHeartAU

Selcouth (Ethan x f!MC)

Summary: Set in Book 2, Pooja gets the recognition she deserves for solving Naveen Banerji's case.

Selcouth: Unfamiliar, rare, strange and yet, marvelous🤎

A/N: Thank you so much @beastlyinstrument for the visual prompt❤ I had fun thinking up and writing this piece.

A/N 2: The flashback portions are indented

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 3.2K (I am sorry!)

Rating: General

Category: A bit angst, A bit fluff

Warnings: 1 Curse Word (again 😆)

Prompts: Late Submission for @choicesmonthlychallenge July challenge day 4: celebration

There was stark silence surrounding him as he scribbled out points from the morning meeting of the Diagnostics Team along with some of his own observations from the patient charts. The days have been nothing out of the blue since his return from the Cholera-ridden district of Amazons.

The steam from the warm coffee filled the entire office with its sweet aroma. With winters in their full force, there was a mystic chill all around the city and the warmth the coffee gave was extremely welcomed.

It took him 30 minutes to the tee to complete his morning paperwork. And as he arranged the white sheets in a clean stack, a slow groan escapes him. He had been so engrossed in work, that he had completely missed the fact that he had emptied his coffee cup.

Ethan looks up from his desk to the windows giving an enchanting view of the brumal grounds. Snowflakes, basking in the distant sun's glory, shining like iridescent jewels, fell slowly, silently to meet their origin.

It's too serene of a day to waste indoors.

The thought caught him somewhat by surprise, even if it was his encephalon producing it.

He had spent long years of his life away from focusing on diminutive happenings like the weather or the warmth of his favourite Vienna on a frosty day.

To appreciate the beauty of falling of the snowflakes today, was a slightly unusual change. He couldn't help but wonder as to what would have caused it.

He didn't need to wait long for an answer. Like a response to his unuttered query, the notification bell of his phone brought him out of his reverie and displayed her name with the joy of a student who had solved a difficult problem with ease on the first try. It was nothing out of the ordinary, just an email of her completed reports.

And yet, he was unable to control the breakout of butterflies in his stomach.

The feeling was orphic, and yet irenic.

As his heels tapped on the white floors, supposedly conducting an intriguing conversation with them, a faint intermix of voices reached him and stopped him in his tracks.

"You're wearing all black." It wasn't a question, but a fact that Alexandra's voice enunciated.

"Are you surprised?" A concordant voice questioned. Even if he didn't acknowledge it, it was one of his favourite euphonies.

"No. Impressed."

"I lost a bet to Bryce, and this is what I get in return." There is a pause. "It's a nice change though."

He can feel the smile that emerges out on her face at the end and feels his lips curl up, like a magnetic connection. He was caught off guard as he stood there thinking of the sweet nothings and sweet everythings of his reminiscences with her.

"Good Morning Dr Ramsey!"

It took him all his power to straighten himself, and to put on the stoic façade before responding,

"Good Morning Dr Walton."

Alexandra didn't initiate a conversation, just like he had expected. Bidding goodbye to her companion, she strode off her way.

Now, it was just him and her, standing in the middle of nowhere, eyes locked in intense focus, tied together with a string they find themselves unable to break.

She looked striking like she always did.

In every hue, every ensemble, at every hour, she knew how to induce that unnamed feeling in his heart.

All she had to do was to look at him the way she did, and his idiotic heart would skip a beat, and an ambrosial emotion would follow.

And what does one do when emotions go out of control?

Self Preservation.

Giving her a brisk nod, he dropped his gaze, hurrying away past her, not having the courage to look at the hurt caused.

Idiotic.

That's the only word he could use to describe his actions.

He could think of a trillion excuses, travel through a hundred bends on the roads of justification, but nothing would be enough to balance out the pain he was giving her. Not even his playlist of curses that he played in his mind every day to remind himself what he truly was.

An asshole.

As soon as his steps took him to the outdoors, the crisp cold winds blew through his hair, and he cherished the moment.

The apricity hugged him, and the scene that met his eyes, the world draped with a veil of phosphorescing snow, generated a euphoria he was unfamiliar with. As a minuscule flakelet fell on his outstretched hand, he realized that no one needs to spend a billion dollars to get happiness.

It is hidden amidst mundane things, and the only thing one has to do is to keep foraging for it.

Happiness can be made, it can be found. But can it be bought?

Never.

------------------

It was unusually calm at Derry's in the morning hours.

Not that he was complaining, of course.

In comfortable, long sips, he lets the caffeine overtake the tiredness and the heartache coursing through his body. The glare of the screen and ping of his cellular broke the aura of comfort that had spread out through the coffee shop. He wants to shut it off and throw it in a corner away from his sight, but decides against it.

It's a text from Naveen.

Skipping is not an option for today night!

A groan escapes him, the annoyance of another meet and greet taking away all the calm. He tried to convince him, but all efforts went futile. He plays the discussion all over again to find any loophole he can to escape the torture.

Flashback:

It's after hours and the wing of the hospital where Naveen's office was situated bore a silence. The amicable old man sat in his chair, leaning back as the younger one stood, with his back at him. It was obvious they had been arguing, but it seemed more like amusement for the old mentor and annoyance for the young protégé.

"There is no need-"

"Ethan, you have been repeating the same words for fifteen minutes now." Naveen chuckles.

"I very well know that there is no need for anything, dear friend. I just want a little bit of happiness and merriment in the hard times."

"I am not stopping you from doing that, Naveen, you know that. But what is the need of the celebration being about me?"

"Because you are a reason I am alive today." The man gives a melancholy smile, vision blurred as the near-death experience of the past year come sailing in front of him.

"This celebration is about you and Dr Sharma. Without the two of you, I would not have been here."

Ethan's features are clouded by the pain of losing his mentor, who has been like a father to him, and inspiration. His frown softens, annoyance long lost, as he comes as takes a seat and places his hand on his.

"Fine. I will do this. But only for you, okay?"

Naveen's lips curl up in a grateful, happy smile as if wordlessly conveying his thanks. As Ethan stands up and proceeds to leave, he cannot stop himself from laying out his observation,

"For her too."

And Ethan knew. He knew exactly whom this was about. And as much as he wanted to deny the assumption, he couldn't help but accept the truth in it. Of course, he was doing it for Naveen. But he was doing it for her too. She deserved it so much more than him. If she hadn't been there, the seat occupied by his mentor today would have been...

Flashback ends

As his eyes skim through the crisp pages of the medical journal absent-mindedly, he thinks of her again. The permanent occupant of his daydreams, who would still manage to come back, no matter how many resets he carried out.

He thinks of her attire from the hour before, hair in a neat long braid, dressed in a meticulously embroidered Indian attire. And then of the celebration at dusk, where she will finally receive the recognition she deserves.

All the doubts regarding her promotion to the Diagnostics Team would be washed away.

He remembers what she had told him a few days after he had heard those nasty rumours,

"I have proved myself and I know what's true. I don't need to show anyone else the testament of my abilities. As long as I am fair and just, their words can do no harm to me."

His admiration for her had increased phenomenally when she spoke those words to him.

His pride, his faith had not been misplaced when he picked her for the difficult voyage named Edenbrook.

He has never felt so proud of any other intern as much as he does of her.

His heart sings to him, his choice was correct. He doesn't let it elaborate itself, because one wrong move from his side would be more than enough to ruin this unpolished gem before she even gets a chance to shine.

Yes, he did tell her that some things are worth any risk, she is worth any risk, back in Miami. The reminiscences of the day still played on the screen of his mind in sepia, they lulled him to sleep.

But the risk to harm her fragile career before it even blossoms?

It wasn't just a risk, it was like a crime for him.

One which he refused to commit.

---------------------

As dusk falls and winter blues colour the land of snow in multichromatic hues, hiding any bit of orange from the setting sun, Pooja Sharma hums along with her favourite songs as she dresses up for the special evening.

No matter how much she wants to curl up in the folds of the soft Cashmere, she has to be in attendance. It's a strict order from her grand mentor and impossible for her to go past.

It's all black day, she reminds herself when picking the outfit. And she doesn't forget to leave a thank you note for Lekh as she finds the perfect one.

And now, as she stands, trying to complete the arduous job of creating a perfect eyeliner wing, a certain someone's reminiscences trouble her pained heart.

No matter how much she scolds it for its stupidity, trying to explain the futility of the hope of getting together, it never heeds, just continues to trouble her with the baritone of his that enchants her mind, the cologne that overpowers all her senses.

As she looks at the reflection in the speculum, she cannot help but imagine his reaction.

Will she even get a reaction?

Maybe just a nod, or a look.

No words.

She has convinced herself with it. It took some time, some stops, some pulls of an invisible harness, but she has convinced herself.

She's stopped hoping, soothing herself with whatever they shared, memories that felt like they belong to a bygone era, and a promise of treasuring them, just in case he ever decided to come back.

---------------------

In the vespertine hours, the diamond dust made the sun devoid city look like a fairytale. Any other time, he would have just worried about the sharp chill, probably cursing the snow.

Being so observant of the places he is a regular visitor at, it was a new experience for him.

Strange, even.

It's something that will take some time to get used to.

The interiors are warm. Minimally decorated, as he had requested. Not wanting to create a fuss, he bee-lines to the corner of the room, where the only occupant was emptiness. He decided to cherish the moments of solace before the bother of the vivacious crowd began, wanting to start a colloquy.

On instinct, he looks around, not being able to comprehend the reason why his heart leaps to his throat. And then a pang of disappointment overlaps that sudden nervousness.

The absence of one person, the feeling so profound.

It's magical.

Dangerous, but still, magical.

A mute scold follows. No matter how hard he tries, strives towards that unannounced aim of reset, his stupid heart and its childishness always ruin his plans.

The call of his name makes him turn around.

Naveen stands, jolly smile fixed in place, eyes sparkling with joy and...

Gratitude.

They chat, topics ranging from Diagnostic team cases to complaints of coffee. His orbs casually drift towards the entryway, in hope of seeing his dearest.

And as the astrologers say, the stars align, the universe comes into play, and the shimmer of black in the lambent atmosphere makes his heart skip a beat. He feels a smile emerging and hastily hides it with a scowl.

If he had to, he would have sworn that he looked like a clown.

Her ambers gaze around in a lucid, tender manner, in strike contrast to his a while ago.

There is a lack of haste, of worry, of unease.

Her very presence fills the air with tranquility and without his consent, his soul basks in it. After what felt like an eternity, their gazes meet.

Melt into each other like the wax of two candles.

Become inseparable.

She smiles, it's faint.

It seems more of a formality than a wish. The momentary cheer is replaced by a somber, melancholic expression. Her orbs drift away, gaze turns away as if to hide whatever was to come from him.

And he knows.

He's the reason.

Silence is suffocating, but right now, the chaos is even more constricting to him.

Everyone chatters, mingles, smiles.

Everyone except her.

She stands too still, flashing a half-hearted smile and half-hearted gaze here and there, as she is surrounded by the rest of her friends, preventing him from getting a better look.

As conflict rises in his interior, a to go or not to debate, the gulps of scotch become more frequent, the frown gets tighter and guilt gets heavier. Before he can drown down into the never-ending cascade of crippling self-hatred, there is a call of his name.

Naveen.

---------------------

Claps and whoots surround her, along with a cheer. She becomes the recipient of numerous bear hugs, and compliments as Naveen elaborates on her contribution to his recovery. It feels like a reel of situations played from her sweven. It took a pinch for her to realize that it wasn't.

A mic tap follows, it's Ethan's turn to speak. She freezes upon hearing her name getting repeated again. There is an uncanny depth to it, she notices. An indication that it conceals so much more than is visible. Not just pride, not just intoxicating happiness.

Gratitude, raw and pure gratitude.

And something else (or maybe not?)

Her focus all over the place, she missed a lot of the address. What stayed carved in golden words was a single sentence, unremarkably remarkable.

"It's not me, it's her. I lost all hope, but she was the one who fought till the very end, never giving up, even if she had thousands of storms to navigate through."

"There can be only one recipient of the applause today, and it's Dr Sharma."

Two contrasting emotions put her in a dilemma. Whether to let the water drops she held strongly to herself or to let the heartfelt joy induce the grin that would shine brighter than the stars the twinkle along with the forlorn moon?

Unable to decide, she let the cracks in her stoic mask deepen, let the faint upturn of lips become visible to the world. Every applaud fell short, in a haze, as the mere words spoken mere moments before played in a loop like a soft harmony.

The 360-degree turn of the evening gave her the most unexpected and the most precious memories.

The change of the blithe chilly eve to heartwarming dusk.

Rare, mysterious and yet, magnificent.

Selcouth.

---------------------

Ethan Ramsey, for the past decade of his extremely brilliant career, has never displayed even a minuscule amount of emotions. Never. The mask of stoicism fixed so perfectly, that no power could ever induce a crack in it.

No one could.

Until one day, an intern waltzed into his life like an unforeseen plot twist and induced changes no one ever could.

The mask has cracked, even if to a small degree, letting the minuscule details of a transformation out. Sometimes it could be as evident as a smile, or a genuine compliment to an intern. In other instances, it would be just the absence of the forehead frown (which had become a permanent resident at a point).

And now, the beloved plot twist of his novel stood before him, her eyes expertly decorated with kohl. She was quieter than usual, engaging in casual conversation, but prevented going into depths of it.

Their gazes never meet, only slide past each other.

He missed looking into the amber of hers, trying to figure out her thoughts like someone engaged with a very complex puzzle that ends up in a phenomenal picture.

He missed listening to her sweet whispers, mumbles which made him smile more than he had for the past decade.

He missed her.

The universe is always planning a conspiracy to make destiny true. And it's definitely an action of its, that his hand extends towards her, wordlessly.

She gazes at it, gazes at him, thinks for a while.

And finally, slips her hand, bejeweled with that bracelet she wore in Miami. He still remembers it placed on his heart, which beat at an erratic rhythm.

Which beats at an erratic rhythm now.

Looking at the Bostonian sky, only drapes of translucent mist could be seen all around. No twinkles, even the moonbeams were struggling to reach them. The silence is comfortable, only interrupted by the sips of steaming hot coffee.

Her eyes are fixed above, in a search for the hidden celestial elements. His focus stayed on the snowflakes resting on his jacket.

He leans back, places a hand down.

There is a lack of warmth.

Soon enough, another hand joins him.

The cold is gone.

And so is his search of moonbeams.

Her touch felt like light, his own moonbeam. So soft, so warm, so dear. Something he could keep etched on his skin forever.

She was his moon.

And for her, those summery blue orbs held depths of the ocean, the faint, soft wrinkles that languid years leave behind as a mark of their passing like map lines of some unknown lands.

He was her world.

In every universe, through trials and tribulations, through pain and smiles, they were destined to find their way to each other. No one powerful enough to keep them apart.

Not even they themselves.

It was a cosmic state of comfort they found themselves in. His hand in hers, their fingers interwoven, the reflex etched in his mind with an everlasting ink.

He has never believed in soulmates, but as he as leans back, eyes closed, hair fluttering along with the icy-cold breeze, having her by his side, he couldn't bring himself to believe this was anything less than destiny.

That even after so many trials of forgetting her, he would always come back to her, searching for the serenity he only finds in her presence.

The feeling is rare, confusing, maybe terrifying.

But right now, he basks in the warmth that it provides, all worries and all woes are hidden in a wooden box, discarded away from his sight. And unbeknownst to even him, he waits for the day he can kiss her the way he wants to, no ties, no binds holding them away.

Yes, he waits for the day.

PS: If you are reading this, I am very grateful for you. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day🤎

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[band--psycho]

Bucky Barnes x Reader-The Lost King(Royal AU)

A/n: This is my second entry for @girl-next-door-writes bingo writing challenge (this is probably one of the longest fics I’ve written) I hope you all enjoy it!!

Streams of sunlight began to flood into the room, the brightness of the light causing Y/n to stir in her sleep as her eyes fluttered open. Normally, she’d marvel at what a beautiful morning it was but today was different. Today, she couldn’t help but feel the dull ache in her heart as she turned to see Bucky sleeping peacefully beside her. Lightly she caressed his face, careful not to disturb what was bound to be the last peaceful sleep he’d have for a while. She tried to push the fear and worry that filled her head but in truth she was terrified, the war between their country and King Schmidts had grown fiercer and bloodier over the past few days. Bucky, wanted to show  a display of hope and strength to our people and was going to ride out to the battle with a large number of soldiers in just a small number of hours. Of course Y/n supported his decision, she knew it would give their people hope, hope which so desperately needed to be shown in these dark times but she knew what Kinf Schmidt and his men were like from the reports she’d read and the gossip that swam round the castle; these people were cut throat,ruthless and bloodthirtsy. She knew Bucky was a talented fighter, there was no denying that but still the fear that he may not return from this battle seemed to be permanently ingrained in her mind.   

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Bucky whispered drowsily, dragging Y/n from her thoughts. 

“Morning,” Y/n whispered before lightly pressing her lips to his. The kiss was soft but yet it seemed to convey all the emotions Y/n didn’t trust herself to say, maybe it was because Bucky knew her so well or maybe it was because he felt a familiar feeling of dread himself. He knew what he was doing was risky but it needed to be done. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know” Bucky cooed once they pulled away from the kiss, instantly seeing the sadness in her eyes. He knew that there were no words that would ease the worry from her mind so he did the only thing that he could do. He held her. He pulled her into his embrace, his hands lightly roaming over her body, not in a sexual way but in a soothing one. The pair of them stayed like that, wrapped up in each other's arms, silently comforting each other, right up until there was a dull knock at the door. Both of them wanted nothing more than to just stay in that moment but they couldn’t. It was time and they both knew it. 

“Promise me you’ll come back to me,” the pain in Y/n's voice was enough to make his heartbreak.

“I’ll always come back to you, my love,” he soothed, holding her even closer than before. 

 “Always,” he repeated like a mantra, placing a final kiss on her lips.

“I love you” 

“I love you too,” she replied back with tears in her eyes, coldness washing over her body as he pulled away from the embrace, vanishing behind the door to make his way down to the armoury.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n stood leaning against the stone railing of balcony, her gaze locked onto the horizon which she had watched the love of her life disappear into. It had been six months since she said her final farewell to the man she loved and she had been out here everyday since, no matter the weather.She remembered watching him the day he left, she had stood in this very spot, fear and anxiety plaguing her thoughts. She recalled the way the sun had glinted of his pristine armour, of the way he spoke and inspired his men, lifting their spirits from the back of his noble steed as the animal trotted along the lines.He had stopped in front, looking over the men following him as his horse pawed restlessly at the ground. His short hair was neat, every strand styled in place the way he liked, and despite the distance she remembered the spark in his eyes and the familiar smirk upon his face as the battalion of men cheered for him, ready and willing to follow their king into battle. 

He had waved to her, blew a kiss in her direction before setting off. She had stood in place for what felt like hours, watching his figure grow smaller and smaller until he vanished out of sight altogether. 

His goal and wish was for his actions to reignite hope amongst their people, and for a time it had. But it only lasted so long, they say no news is good news, but for most the disappearance of their king and his gallant men had only increased their desperation  and despair, one in particular.

“Your Majesty,” as though on que the recent bane of her existence made himself known. Sighing, Y/N turns her head towards the voice she and come to loath.

“Lord Stark, can I help you with something?” She inquired with a curt tone, already knowing what he was here to discuss with her. She had been avoiding him for this very reason, and it seems he had clicked onto her intentions. She was in no mood for this.  

She hears him sigh in response, as he, her royal advisor comes to stand a few feet behind her, “You know why I’m here your majesty. We didn’t get the chance to finish our discussion.”

“On the contrary  Lord Stark, I believe we have, on multiple occasions now. What you mean to say is that you’re unsatisfied with my answer and wish for me to reconsider my decision.” she corrected sternly, trying her hardest to maintain her composure

“I meant no disrespect my lady, I’m just saying it would be wise to-“

“To what? To marry again?”Y/N cuts him off before he can finish

“We’ve been over this Your Majesty, marrying again would protect you and it may even form a new alliance,” His words and tone felt like a dagger in her heart, how many times had they discussed this. Y/N curses herself at the feeling of tears building up, fighting to keep them in as she looks to the sky and takes a deep breath, calming herself. He was out there still, he had to be, why was it so hard for others to have faith in him.

“You’re talking as if he’s dead,”

“I cannot even begin to understand how hard this is for you-“

Pity, his tone reeked of it, if she turned to him now she knew she’d see it plain as day upon his face. He spoke to her as though she were a child, one that needed coddling and protecting. She knew the kingdom needed a king, they needed security and an heir and she had been doing her best. For him above all else. He had done so much for her, he had given her his life and his heart and in turn she had done the same and she refused to give up on him now. 

“He’s not dead, he’s out there somewhere.” Lord Stark merely sighed in response to her again, though this time there was an irritated tone to it. She could tell her stubbornness was annoying him, but she couldn’t bring herself to care, he had pushed her past that months ago.

“I understand your need for hope.” 

She couldn’t help but let a humourless laugh slip past her lips as she turned to look at her advisor. Head high and shoulders back, she knew he would see the redness in her eyes, but above all else she wanted him to see her determination and strength. Approaching him, she mutters, “Hope which you should share for your king.” Not giving him a chance to say anything else, Y/N walks towards the doors to the balcony, hope lost was as good as admitting defeat, in accepting that that which you have faith in no longer invokes to inspire you. Bucky deserves more than that.,”

~~~~~~~~

Lord Rogers, much like Y/n refused to believe that the king was dead.. Regret and guilt tended to fill his mind when he would search him, he hated that he didn’t go with him to the battle. Ever since they were boys, the two of them would always be there for each other, protecting each other from foes. As a young boy, Steve didn’t have the best life, but Bucky was always there to defend him and no one would dare harm a prince, those that dared to try normally ended up flat on their arse. When Bucky inherited the throne he gave Steve a title, land and with that came some long overdue respect. But inheriting the throne led to Bucky having to face harsher foes than just the local bullies and of course through every battle Steve was there, protecting his friend the same way Bucky had protected him for all those years before. This time it was different though, Bucky insisted that Steve stayed at the castle to keep an eye on Y/n, to protect her if anything happened to him in the battle. It worried him but he also understood Buckys reasoning so didn’t try to fight him on the matter.Steve spent days at a time searching the surrounding forests and mountains for any sign of the king's survival, only returning to the castle to check on the Queen, knowing she, like him, was struggling. But hers was for a different reason, he knew she was being pressured by her royal advisor, Lord Stark to re-marry and it pained Steve to admit it but Lord Stark had a point, their country was vulnerable without a king, Y/n was an excellent queen, there was no denying that but men from other lands failed to show her the respect she deserved without a king next to her. Steve knew Bucky was alive, he knew in his heart that he was alive,they were like brothers and he Steve was determined to find him.

Steve was riding through the woods on the border of the land, it was an area he hadn’t been to since the king first went missing. In the distance Steve saw another man on horseback, instantly his guard was up, prepared for the possibility of an attack. A few seconds passed and the figure started to become clearer but the man fell off his horse before Steve could make out any detail or features of the man. Steve dismounted his horse almost instantly and made his way over cautiously toward the man. As he got closer to the figure he noticed the all time familiar features of his best friend; his hair looked long and matter, his clothes were torn and he was covered in blood. Worry flooded over Steve’s face as he knelt down next to Bucky, letting out a small sigh of relief when he realised the blood wasn’t Buckys. Carefully he picked up the king's unconscious body and placed it on his own horse before bolting back to the castle.

~~~~~~~

A frustrated sigh left Y/ns lips as she entered her bedroom. She’d spent most of the day trying to calm the Lords who were getting more agitated by the day as well as dealing with the constant hints Lord Stark was making about finding a new suitor. She hated this. She hated being like this, passed around like she was a piece of meat to any king that would help the country. She knew in both her head and her heart that she would never remarry, if Bucky wasn’t found then she would rule the country alone like she had been doing with the hope that sooner or later the Lords would respect her the way they did Bucky. She all but collapsed on the bed she once shared with Bucky, her eyes slowly drifted shut as she got lost in the memories of her and Bucky. 

Y/n nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard someone burst through the door, to her relief though it was only Steve. However his boldness was something that caught her attention, normally Steve was such a gentleman and would always wait to be summoned into the room. 

“Steve? Are you okay?” She asked, confusion racing through her brain as her eyes scanned over Steve, searching for answers. 

“I found him,” those words were enough to have Y/n darting out of her bed and grabbing her robe before following Steve to the infirmary, a mixture of anxiety and relief filling her her thoughts. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When she first saw him in his bloodstained clothes, she instantly thought the worst. She thought he was dead. But when she saw his chest slowly rising and falling she felt relief wash over her. He was alive. All of those months of waiting for him and he was here. He was really here, back with her. Hours passed and Y/n was still sat by Bucky's side, not wanting to leave his side ever again, she never wanted to let him go ever again. A few more hours passed before Bucky's blue eyes slowly fluttered open. Shock and terror filled his eyes when he first opened them, until he saw Y/n's face, as soon as he saw her face he felt all of the pain and terror fade away. He slowly raised his hand to her face, trying to work out if he’d wandered into a dream, but this felt more real than any dream he’d had in the months that’d passed. 

“You’re safe, you’re home,” Y/n cooed, stroking some of the stray strands of hair away from his face. Her voice was  soft and sweet just like he remembered it and at her touch he felt like he was being brought back to life, like all the terrors of the past six months hadn’t happened. 

“You came back to me,” she soothed, caressing his face as she lightly placed her forehead against his. 

“Of course I did,” Bucky whispered, moving his head slightly to press a kiss onto her palm, “I had a promise to keep.”

(Credit to the gif owners)

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[konietzko-sylvoran]

“In memory of so many whom we've lost, this next one is a personal message to every elf of every creed. A roué cyr act which follows meant to inspire elvish solidarity. Written and performed by the Heart of Tenacity's Konietzko Lumenstone, we give you One more Dorei.”

(Written/Timed Music Here)  

The lights are dim so all that is seen is the silhouette of Kon’s figure sitting with his back to the audience. Above him higher up than he could reach even while standing is his LED cyr wheel. As the LEDs start to illuminate, they emit a soft glow making the wheel look like a giant moon in the sky above Kon’s figure. Dangling from the bottom of the wheel is a large banner on display. Two more lights on the right and left of the stage give spotlight to the banner on display so one can see every detail of it. The Shaldorien Silk banner, embroidered with Thalassian gold threads dons the traditional colors of each elvish nation, woven together in an elegant arrangement that's certain to inspire unity in their kinship! To anyone who had ever visited the Ashes of Alar booth at any event, it was clear this was the Banner of Accord made by Tenacious Tapestries meant to represent elvish solidarity. The stage wall behind the wheel and Kon both illuminate with starlight across a vast night sky of blue and violet. Kon’s dark skin glistens from the subtle light catching hints of the sparkling paint he’s coated in giving him the desired astral effect.

With his back still to the audience as he sits there, he raises his head up to stare at the night sky and the moonlit banner above as his dreadlocks kiss the small of his back tied back in a formal knot. His deep chocolate voice speaks aloud as the music begins to play. “We elves were once all Children of the Stars. All the same Dorei, children of the same light in the sky. No matter how old or young, we are all descendants of the starborne. Today, we are a race so divided and thinned that the few remaining lights among us have become dim with hatred, sorrow, and arrogance. Many of us know and understand the reasons why. Some, like me, have lived through most of them. And yet with all I’ve experienced, all I’ve endured, I keep looking among us all no matter our creed and asking the same thing. Is it so wrong of us to call one another brothers and sisters? In a time where unity is so needed in our world, where lights go out around us at an alarming rate, I ask that all dorei take a moment in to hear me out.” 

Raising one hand up towards the sky backdrop, he arcs his hand one side to the other tracking a shooting star across the sky. “The kaldorei were once founders of Azeroth’s most magical and advanced civilization till forces out of our control came and divided us all. No matter our current race, we’ve all suffered great and tragic losses repeatedly over time and even currently. We’re no longer immortal.” He turns his head to the side to look to a single wisp as it approaches him from above and hovers at his side. Kon’s amber eyes were masked with subtle feathers and glitter along the cheekbones and eye ridges to look like that of an owl. “And yet in all the brilliance this world has to offer us, we have learned that none of it is meant to be kept. Not even our own souls. As time ticks on we each become mere flickers of light, mere moments in time.”

“I was but a boy when devastation wrought us all into several isolated groups and history continues to repeat itself as more and more dorei are created.” He holds his hand out to the wisp as it starts to slowly circle around him. “Separation, isolation, banishment, betrayals, fractured societies and exile have repeated themselves among the dorei time and time again. Each time our skin changes color, our hair and our eyes take on a new tone and the magic that we wield finds a new source changing us forever.”

“Time and history has taught us all how to fear, how to hate and how to change. But even with all our differences, rather we worship the moon, the sun, the void or whatever deity we choose, are we not still one dorei?” Slowly he rises to his feet wearing nothing but a uniquely designed legging with enchanted thread that hugs tight at his hips. “We’ve all derived from the magical in nature no matter how old our bloodlines are currently or how very new and altered they’ve become. Do we not all still have glowing eyes no matter their color? Though some have gotten shorter or longer, do our ears not all point at the end?” He reaches up and the cyr wheel lowers down towards him as he removes the Banner of Accord from the wheel. The wisp flew around the wheel and Kon both a few times before disappearing.

The magical thread along his leggings shimmer from hip to ankle as the threads change color to each elvish nation’s colors as he speaks of them. “Kaldorei, Quel’dorei, Ren’dorei, Sin’dorei, Shal’dorei and even Shen’dralar. We are all one people.” He turns to walk to the side of the stage and places the banner on a golden standard waiting there, letting it hang and display itself magnificently. “I believe in unity among us, that we need to show kindness to all and make sure no more fall. Respecting others is what we should do, who knows it might even spread more happiness too. At the end of the day even those who have strayed we are all the same. Noone is better than another, it’s not in a name.” He turns and walks back center stage as the sky illuminates in more and more stars behind him and his wheel starts to twinkle as if stars are slowly twinkling behind him. Kon faces the audience with amber eyes full of emotion and determination through his owl mask. “You never know when your life will be changed so don’t look down on others who face troubles of their own. We are all dorei, all children of the stars whose lights are just as important as all the others.” He slowly flourishes his hands out right and left. “My brothers, my sisters, a moment may be all we have left in the sky of a million stars. Care and respect are things we can all freely give. And for that last light you touch, it may even make this world a better place to live.”

In a slow, fluid motion he lowers himself down to bend one knee back through the wheel and the other forward as he bows his head. The wheel and stage go dark as spotlights go out all but the light on the Banner of Accord.

(Music for the second half here)

The cyr wheel lights back up, LEDs twinkling timed with the music. With practiced finesse, he rolls the heavy wheel on its edge, causing it to trace a slow path around him as he slowly rises up. The LEDs transition via soft fades from gold to soft blues to turquoise, reflecting the colors of the High elves, even his leggings and their magical thread match the colors. Hands both reach out then slowly curl into fists as he hugs them to his chest as if in pain. Turning his body to the side in a fluid movement, he reaches for the circling wheel then starts to slowly walk it around the stage in a wide slow circle with perfect timing to the music. His other hand rises and falls in time with the music to express a gentle magical  emotion through movement. Everything is perfectly timed as if walking through memory.

The stage wall behind him starts to reflect colors that strongly suggest the feel and warmth of the sunwell’s magic. The Cyr wheel starts to lose the blues and greens, fading into more golden with droplets of red as did his leggings. Shadows crept through the backdrop as the colors became corrupt, flickering. With athletic precision he steps into the wheel with both feet and grabs the edges with both hands. Revolving in a continuous wide pattern resembling a waltz, he spins and turns synched with the music, conveying a delicate balance and grace as colors still flicker about him. One hand releasing the wheel, he reaches it up and out as if trying to chase after or grasp at some unseen force.

The moment the base hits the wheel LEDS become a flurry of red and golden patterns with occasional green trying to sneak in then fade or flicker out. With both hands now gripping the top of the wheel in a wide outstretched grip, he raises both feet off the wheel, extending his body out while facing down. As if flying midair for two spins, one foot comes back down and then flares back out making the wheel spin faster and faster all in sync with the patterns of the LEDS conveying the flurry of intense magic and emotion at the pinnacle of Blood elven society. He suddenly locks his shoulders and forces the wheel to make tighter spins as it starts to fall with his back to the ground! Resembling a coin losing speed as it becomes flatter it seems he might fall on his back with the wheel at any moment. The LEDs a flurry of confusing flashing colors trapping him inside the chaos showing just how difficult this move and the emotions he’s portraying are. His body remains locked, keeping him from falling and at the last second he throws himself into a handspring then brings the wheel and himself erect once more.

The stage backdrop became a giant violet dome with the night sky above it. The LEDs of his wheel and leggings are now variations of blues, violets, silvers and pinks, reflecting the colors of the Nightborne. Slipping out of the wheel, he keeps it spinning as both hands push it on a course with just enough force to keep the wheel freely orbiting around him. Kon stands at the center as his head turns down and eyes close as he brings his arms up across his chest as if holding himself. His right palm presses over his heart as he quivers, eyes opening slowly as he turns his head skyward, right hand raising up reaching to the stars. The LEDs suddenly become shrouded in a dark deep violet and the dome in the backdrop becomes swaying tendrils of the same color. Konietzko grasps at his head and mimics a blood-curdling scream without sound as his wheel takes on golden elements around the deep violet LEDS strongly reflective of the Void Elves.

Spinning on his toes he comes around to grab the wheel and with one more spin he steps back into it. His ankles together on one side of the wheel, syncing with the beat and a slight bend in his knees before pushing off still in the corner of the wheel. His body comes up perfectly parallel to the stage as the wheel quickly whips up and around bringing him back down. He bends his knees while it rotates and repeats his actions as the corner thrusts and momentum increases the speed of the wheel once more while displaying his total control of where the wheel spins and lands with each rotation. The LEDs swap between the prior color groups back and forth with every thrust.

As the beat picks back up the LED’s become a flurry of every elven nation’s colors in various patterns. Each time he spins the wheel a trail of color follows as starlight starts to fall around him. Placing his feet and arms both spread wide with a slight bend in the knees he brings the wheel to a fast rotation. However the wheel starts moving in a wide full revolution around the full circumference of the stage. Faster and faster he brings the rotation as his dreads spin about with him. At the peak of his speed around the stage, the LEDs and backdrop all burst into the kaleidoscope of a full night sky with stars of varying colors. Kon brings the fast spinning wheel center stage once more, back onto its own axis. 

Using his built-up momentum he rises up suddenly, bringing himself up over the top of the wheel as one leg wraps over the top of it and the other bent and pointing in the opposite direction. He raises his hand up high as he spins among the stars truly living in the moment. The LEDs of the wheel start to take on more purple, golden and silver hues all together, the colors of the Night Elves. After a few more rotations, he unwraps his leg and lowers himself back down as he shows his athletic precision, suspending himself from the top mid-spin. Feet tucked up, he points one toe down till it softly touches the bottom of the wheel. His hand comes out while the wheel continues to spin and flourishes out towards the audience at the lyrics of who cares if one more light goes out. He then stops the wheel in a slow and graceful spin as he steps out of it and then motions to himself as his free hand places itself on his chest before he takes a deep bow before them all and the LEDs fade away into nothing but that night sky of all dorei.

((A huge shout out to @lunethdawnseeker and the Ashes of Alar vendors who have always been so wonderful and kind to Kon and Talthorn every event we meet them at! The moment the thought occurred to write this performance to inspire elvish solidarity which Talthorn and Kon are both so passionate about, I instantly knew that the Banner of Accord had to be used within it so a big thank you to Luneth and their Tenacious Tapestries for giving me permission to use it in Kon’s performance. It has a very special place on their wall at home where they proudly display it as a sign to all who enter. All credit for the banner goes to them and their original design! The following performance was written for the @succulent-tart In Memoriam show 9.18.2021  - in honor of Chester Bennington’s One More Light and every fallen elf of every race we’ve lost over the years.)) 

#One More Dorei #Performance #konietzko #konietzko lumenstone #Heart of Tenacity #The Waltzing Owl #The Blue Owl #Night Elf #Kaldorei #Shal'dorei #Ren'dorei #Quel'dorei #Sin'dorei #Elvish Solidarity #Banner of Accord #succulent tart #succulent tarts #in memoriam #Children of the Stars #Chester Bennington #Cyr Wheel #roue cyr

[x0401x]

Violet Evergarden Movie Summary

The initial plan was to make this a short bullet-point thing, but I felt like there was too much to clarify and I had no choice but use novel references to explain certain parts, so I decided to just write a normal summary. Many thanks before-hand to my friend Yuuki, who gave me all this info.

Apologies for taking relatively long with this thing. Not even I expected that I would end up writing this much. Buckle up for the ride, ‘cause it won’t be fun.

Nope, not kidding. It really won’t.

First thing I need to make clear is: this movie is one and a half hour long and divided into three parts and two different timelines: the times when Violet existed and the times after she dies. Already in the beginning of the movie, Violet is dead.

Yes, you read this right. She’s dead.

Now, I don’t mean that she’s dead in the literal sense. This is 60 years in the future. She might be alive or not, but it’s never said. However, the timeline of 60 years later is considered an era without Violet, apparently because she has retired and her “legend” is over, so to say. It’s also a time where Auto-Memories Dolls don’t exist. That’s one good punch in the face. Let’s keep counting.

The movie is sort of like a tale being read by someone else, which at some point goes into Violet’s first-person POV. The whole thing is kind of a look back on Violet’s life tragectory and how it took a new turn when she decided to continue looking for Gil despite all the mess of the TV series.

The era where Violet exists is an era where telephones are being introduced to the people, so Auto-Memories Dolls are starting to become unnecessary. I would argue that the creation of the telephone isn’t enough for an entire occupation to start disappearing so quickly, since new inventions are normally extremely expensive and not everyone has access to them (or even knows about their existence) so immediately after their conception. Realistically speaking, ghostwriters would still be important as long as there were still so many people unable to buy phones. Not to mention that this is a steampunk world where compulsory education doesn’t seem to be a thing yet, so even in the off chance that everybody can buy a phone, there would still be a lot of people who can’t read or write on their own. But all of this clearly went over the animators’ heads, so not only ghostwriters but also the mail business in general are nearing their doom in the movie.

The one looking back on Violet’s life was Ann, who was telling it all to her granddaughter, Daisy (who, by the way, is voiced by Morohoshi Sumire, the same girl who voiced the seven-year-old Ann). Ann had kept all the letters that Violet ghostwrote for her mother, as well as the newspapers about the CH Postal Company. Looks like the article was printed after Violet left CH, since she isn’t in the picture with everyone else.

In this era, CH’s main office has been turned into a museum. Nerine is shown working in it. Of course, she’s a grandma by then. Speaking of the CH personnel, Erica also quit being an Auto-Memories Doll and became a playwright like Oscar. She appears in the newspaper, though, so she probably a while left after Violet did. Taylor also appears there.

Back to Daisy, she was writing a letter to her parents, in order to learn how to properly convey feelings with written word. The message of this scene seems to be that, no matter the tools, what’s important is that we convey our feelings to the people we love.

As we see in the trailer, Gil’s mom has passed and Violet runs into Dietfried when visiting her grave on the anniversary of her death. To anyone who is wondering: yeah, Gil never went to see his mother and she died thinking that he was dead.

Nobody knew that Gil was alive. Not his mother, not Dietfried, not the Evergardens and not even Hodgins. No one.

Here’s what happened to Gil in the anime: he survived the incident at Intense, of course, but got separated from Violet in that explosion. His tag miraculously stayed on the same spot, though, as we saw in the TV series. Now, since this isn’t explained in the anime at all, I have to make it clear: the tag is that necklace the soldiers wear. It contains their names and ranks, so that their bodies can be identified even when they’re irrecognizable. Without the tag, the people who rescued Gil had no idea who he was, so he was sent to a different place to get treated. He ended up at a monastery hospital instead of the one in Enchaîné. I would debate that his uniform alone is enough to identify him as someone from the Leidenschaftlich Army, or maybe they could’ve just asked him which troop he belonged to after he woke up and relocated him to where his fellow men were, but who even cares about all these plot holes anymore? Definitely not me.

Anyway. After Gil was discharged, he ran the fuck away. Like, literally.

If anyone out there was hoping that Gil would finally have his moment to shine as the self-sacrificing, thoughtful and ridiculously kindhearted character that he is in the novel, I have bad news for you. What we had here was even worse than it being Gil’s excuse movie. It’s like the whole thing was made to drag his character so deep through the mud that he’ll never be able to get up again. There’s pretty much nothing in this one and a half hour that actually justifies what he did to Violet. I’ll elaborate on this as we go on.

Anime!Gil became a nomad and went traveling. He offed his ass to the island where that lighthouse displayed in the most recent official art is located (that’s why Gil and Violet were at the beach on the movie poster). He doesn’t have a prosthetic in the anime because, apparently, he was more worried about disappearing as fast as possible to somewhere he would never be found, and never attempted to contact anybody. So nobody knew that he was alive, hence the grave, which, as we feared, was not a fake one. His family really did think he had died.

This is a point that I have already addressed before, but that also means Gil really did abandon Violet to luck. If anything dangerous ever happened to her (as it did, and it was always very obviously likely to happen, since she was the southern army’s most outstanding soldier and quite literally fled from the military), he wouldn’t even know. If word ever got to him, it would probably be too late. And even if it weren’t, he wouldn’t be able to do anything to help her. More than allowing her to live freely, it felt like he was running away from his responsibilities regarding Violet.

Punch on the face count is currently at six.

By sheer coincidence, Violet learns that Gil is living in that island. She goes to see him and Hodgins goes with her after trying to stop her at first. When Gil finds out that they came to see him, he outright refuses to meet them. It pretty much takes the near entirety of the goddamn movie for them to see each other face-to-face. I say face-to-face because all of the following shit happens:

Hodgins goes to talk to Gil. It lasts about 20 minutes.

Gil talks to Violet from behind a door. This one is about 10 minutes.

Dietfried also comes to the island to talk to him. Also about 10 minutes.

At long fucking last, Gil goes to see Violet. But that, too, is only for about 10 minutes.

Hodgins gives him a speech very similar to what happens in chapter 8. Now get ready to fall back from your seats: Dietfried basically goes there to tell Gil that he won’t run away from taking over the family anymore, so Gil can live freely. Yes, Dietfried is officially a better Gilbert than Gilbert himself. I crave death.

So, after much ado, they come to a conclusion: Gil will stay in the island. In order to completely free himself of the shackles of his bloodline, he stays behind, living the way he wants to. ‘Cause all anime!Gil wants is to rot away alone by the sea, apparently. Now prepare yourselves, for it gets worse. Ready?

Violet stays with him in the motherfucking island.

That’s right, ladies and gents. Another fear became true. She quits her job at the CH Postal Company and goes to live with him. Well, at least, not as a housewife. She starts working with mail services in the island, and Gil helps her with it. Her life goes on like this and she dies in the island as well.

This is where the timeline after Violet passes away comes into light, parallel to the era when Violet was alive. Daisy talks about what happened after Violet left CH, as if it were a tale from the distant past.

That’s it.

The movie paints this as a happy ending. I can hardly see it as one. I know it almost looks like everything was solved, but it just got swept under the rug.

The main point that makes me sad in this ending is that Violet’s character development did a 360 degree flip. In the end, she threw everything to the air and went to live in someone who she always put before everyone else, even herself, but who didn’t do the same for her (in the anime). She’s gone to a crammed little island, where she led an uneventful life away from everyone and everything that’s ever had a positive impact on her. All she has is Gil.

Of course, he’s all she needs, but he isn’t all she should have, and that was the entire point of pushing her to go live on her own. Which is exactly what she earns in the novel: two loving parents, a father figure, a brother figure, a best friend and several other friends and acquaintances whom she formed a bond with. She has all she needs, so she doesn’t have to cling to Gil for any reason. There’s no emotional dependance on him anymore. She doesn’t need him to be whole. She just wants him because he happens to be the best person she’s ever met.

Anime!Violet is most definitely not whole. She almost got there, but then she backtracked completely. And anime!Gil... in my friend’s words, is a weakling. There’s nothing in him actually worth all this undying blind love. Sure, he’s full of regret and shit, but it’s too easy to only act upon it now, by vanishing into thin air like a coward.

The deal with novel!Gil is that he looks around at everything he has, everything that had been burdening him and killing him on the inside all his life, and decides to make use of it for Violet’s sake. He continues being family head and working in the army, amassing money and connections in order to have every means possible to protect Violet should anything happen to her. And as it turns out, he does end up having to use those means, more than once, but he will keep this up for as long as he needs to, because he lives for her now. That’s what makes him worth all the blood, sweat, tears, mental sanity and even body parts that she gave away for his sake: he pays it back. Every cent.

Punch in the face count ends at twelve. Thirteen if I include the fact that the movie ends with a last shot of Violet after she and Gilbert do a pinky swear. Looks like they were really trying to buy everyone with tears.

Oh, well.

I hope this has been a good enough summary. Sorry if I rained on anyone’s parade. I’m pretty sure we won’t get a remake ever, so I really wish we all can get over this soon.

#violet evergarden #fyeahvioletevergarden #kyoani #kyoto animation #violet evergarden movie #summary #gilbert bougainvillea #claudia hodgins #dietfried bougainvillea

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 1-16: 命运的拐点 Destiny’s Turning Point Translation

“Destiny is like a gust of wind… Red leaves flutter, flying away in the face of it.  And it is when the winds pick up ― That you meet once more…”

“Rather than daydreaming all day, thinking about how you can soar higher, perhaps you’d be better off first learning how to walk.”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

I failed. And right when I was just a step away from becoming the champion too.

I felt an odd sense of heaviness overwhelm me during the long time it took for the curtain call to end, something that I’d never felt before. It was sort of a mixture of both an inexplicable sense of dissatisfaction and suspicion.

I don’t know how or when I got myself off the stage.

Sariel’s words echoed in my mind. He said that I’d completely disregarded the essence of what it means to be a Fashion Designer… But what exactly does he mean by that?

All the contestants walking in front of me were relieved beyond measure that it was all over now, but the more I thought about it, the more confused I got. I walked towards a quieter place alone.

The courtyard garden at the foot of the corridor appeared serene and mysterious at night. The bright moonlight filtered down, shining upon the flowers and leaves alike. The night breeze carried along with it the faint fragrance of flowers.

❖☆———————————★❖

I lowered my head and glanced at the potted plant by my feet. It was a flower yet to fully bloom, with many smaller flower buds hidden beneath its wide leaves, which were gently rubbing against my ankle.

It was akin to a small pet that was showing affection to its owner in a bid to comfort them.

Despite knowing that the notion of comfort was merely an illusion caused by the night breeze, I still couldn’t help but feel my heart warm.

MC: Thanks…

It was then that I heard the squeak of the glass doors opening to admit another.

Illuminated under the moonlight, the lanky figure gradually walked closer

❖☆———————————★❖

A crisp white suit and a pair of icy eyes.

MC: Sariel…

He looked a little appalled to see me here, but that flicker of emotion was soon concealed.

Sariel didn’t speak. He directed his gaze past me, staring at the plants within the garden. His eyes reflected the faint moonlight, appearing as beautiful as coloured glass.

He looked surprisingly serene here, compared to the frostiness he’d displayed back up on stage earlier.

However, the cold comment he’d given me immediately flashed back in my mind just as I was musing about this.

❖☆———————————★❖

Sariel: You absolutely do not understand the meaning of your given theme at all.

❖☆———————————★❖

My head had been in a mess back then, so I totally missed the chance to enquire further about it.

Perhaps his being here right now was fate’s way of giving me another chance to do so.

MC: M-Mr. Sariel…!

Sariel silently turned his gaze over. His eyes were as calm as ever, the only difference was his slightly furrowed eyebrows.

MC: I’m (Y/n), one of the participating Fashion Designers of the contest today.

Sariel: I know.

MC: I really like your works, and I’ve always seen you as my role model.

Sariel: So?

MC: So…

★Night Choice: Read his body language and remain silent. 

I lapsed into silence the moment I met his gaze.

That look on his face spoke volumes. He didn't even bother hiding the fact that anything I said would fall upon deaf ears.

Sariel: Are you presuming that I'll understand just what it is you're trying to express in your work if I give you a chance to explain yourself?

I looked at him in surprise, nodding.

The sides of his lips immediately curled up into a sneer.

Sariel: The organizer prepared hundreds upon hundreds of material choices. You clearly had the choice of choosing a more suitable material, yet you still used the most unfitting material: 80 twist Black Chiffon.

MC: That's because I wanted to express the tenacity of "Fashion Designers".

Sariel: You're only creating this to realize your idea.

Sariel: Be it high twist Black Chiffon, or those blasphemous roses that clash so terribly bad that it leaves people speechless...

Sariel: Everything merely falls under your own "Design Ideas", with no consideration whatsoever about whether this is the right way to go about making it into an actual product.

☆Light Choice: Explain your design choice

MC: So, I want to know why you think I don’t understand the theme. I hope I can explain just what the ideas that went into my design are.

I originally thought that he’d outright refuse me, but he never interrupted me, and neither did he leave. He’d only watched me calmly as I rattled off. Does this mean that he acquiescences with me?

I mustered up my courage and started rattling off my explanation.

MC: I chose to use Black Chiffon with the highest twist available, 80 twists high, not just because it can attain and support the design I wanted to go for.

MC: It was also because I felt that it was a good representation of the tenacity of Fashion Designers.

MC: And as for the rose ornaments… I chose it because it represents why I initially wanted to become a Fashion Designer.

MC: I don’t know others will go about interpreting what the term “Fashion Designer” means, but to me, I feel that…

MC: There is no one answer to this, and there’s also no way one can take it too far in any whichever direction.

After hearing me out, the sides of Sariel’s lips curled into a blatant sneer.

Sariel: So, you think that the problem here lies with the way you think, and hence, your idea. That’s why you’re trying so hard to explain and make it clear to me, am I right?

MC: …Is it not?

Sariel: Your sheer lack of understanding is astounding.

Sariel: 80 twist Black Chiffon might be able to support and display the design you wish for it to. But for something that’s being made into a top hat, this high twist amount is the most unsuitable for the task.

Sariel: You’ve chucked the elegance aside, completely disregarded the volume it is supposed to have, and most importantly, it is utterly uncomfortable to wear.

Sariel: There are better ways you could represent “Roses” if you so wished. You shouldn’t have forcibly added this artefact that clashes with the whole outlook of the piece to your work.

Sariel: Only mediocre people will wish to attain recognition through their explanations.

Sariel: Everyone out there will only be able to grasp what it is you’re trying to convey through your work.

Sariel: In your work… That’s if we can even call that a piece of work…

Sariel: I don’t know why you have placed so much sentiment into it. So much, that it has totally lost its purpose as a hat.

He was surprisingly serious when it came to talking about design itself, much unlike the arrogance and iciness he’d displayed back on stage.

Sariel: Designers ought to know just what the product is being created for.

Sariel: You do not yet hold the qualities of what it takes to be a good Designer.

Sariel: Rather than daydreaming all day, thinking about how you can soar higher, perhaps you’d be better off first learning how to walk.

His words were like a bullet, piercing me right through the heart. I stared at him, stunned and unable to form a single word.

He was absolutely right. I’d always gone straight for the concept. Whilst my heart wanted to explore new concepts within the given theme, it’d also ignored the most important thing.

I bowed to him in utter seriousness.

MC: I understand. I will do my best to correct that. Thank you.

Sariel: … What you intend to do from now on is none of my concern.

It was as if he’d reverted back into the judge, atop a pedestal and far out of reach. A completely different person from the one who’d been seriously discussing my design with me just moments earlier.

Watching his retreating figure, I felt nothing short of conflicted.

It was almost as if I’d gotten the answer to the question that had been nagging at the back of my mind for some time now in this unpleasant exchange of ours.

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 1-14) | Next Part: (Chapter 1-19 Light) / (Chapter 1-19 Night)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #萧逸 #Osborn #齐司礼 #Sariel #陆沉 #Evan #查理苏 #Charlie #夏鸣星 #Jesse #For Light and Night

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

previously on...

Witchy stuff! Disclaimer: I am not a witch so please do not take my theory of theory seriously. This has been taken off first page of Google, which is where I did my research. First ironstrange x reader interaction & tony being sweet and stephen radiating wife energy.

fun fact: the moodboards are just chapter spoilers without context.

Whatever protection spell the book had, it was nuclear. Burn cream didn't do much in terms of numbing the pain; I had to wear gloves throughout my shift at the café, self-conscious about the skin peeling off my palms and the light, sensitive fingertips. Saying that the day was hellish would have been too kind.

My spirits were briefly lifted when one of my favourite mad scientists walked in, nose buried in a StarkPad - his chattier, more confident friend nowhere to be seen. Doctor Bruce Banner lifted his eyes from his work only to give a brief, polite smile and mumble his order, immediately resuming the poking of the screen.

"You forgot something last time," I couldn't suppress the grin. Sometimes routine was nice, comfortable. The napkin with unintelligible scribbles and formulas in my hand was transferred to Banner's pocket with a shy smile and a reddish tint to his cheeks, as if he didn't find himself in this very situation more often than not. "Is Mr. Stark okay?" I voiced my concerns, having noticed the recent, acute absence of the rowdy man in the café. Dr. Banner rarely came here alone and it was more of a telling exception than anything.

"Oh, Tony? Yes, he's fine," the scientist nodded absentmindedly. "He's on a small vacation with his boyfriend," the last part was said with puzzlement and incredulity and I had to remind myself that a forty-something scientist was unlikely to possess at least a halfway decent gaydar. I mean, I would have eaten my shoe if Tony Stark was 100% straight.

The fact that Tony having a boyfriend surprised Dr. Banner, who appeared to be one of Mr. Stark's best friends, was quite funny to me. "Good for him, he deserves it after saving the world, like, a bajillion times," I replied honestly, attempting to hide my good-natured snicker at Banner's obliviousness. Scientists, they just are a different breed, man.

The perplexion melted off Banner's face, leaving only supportive contentment. "That is correct," he nodded confidently, exchanging a bill for his matcha. "Thank you. And, uh, congrats on your new job," he added with another one of his not-quite shy smiles.

My cheerfulness vacated the premises shortly afterwards as I struggled to keep up with the endless stream of customers all the while my hands throbbed and burned under the nitrile gloves. I was ready to call it a day and just tell Jeremy I had an accident, but my pride wouldn't let me. I arrived at Odette's feeling less than stellar, running purely on spite and several cups of espresso.

It went about as good as expected, select few customers growing clouds over their heads at the slow pace I was assembling their orders: the fact that even witches had Karens of their kind was a fact that I found both amusing and alarming. It wasn't particular comfortable, knowing that I, or any other wait staff, was always at risk of being cursed for bringing them the wrong kind of cake or messing up their white suburban mom coffee.

"You could have asked, you know," Odette's slow drawl startled me out of the trance I'd put myself in to avoid focusing on the discomfort. "Come here, girl, I'll take care of it."

My face heated up immediately as I realized the tender skin of my grubby little hands was on full display. Odette must've put two and two together, seeing my sins written all over my scarred hands and my guilty face. Not wanting to invoke a negative reaction and get on her scary bad side, I let myself obediently trot into her office.

"I, uh," the eloquence of my speech - spectacular. I was ready to fall through the floor out of of shame.

"It happens sometimes," a round jar of what looked like buckwheat honey landed on the table. Odette massaged the thick gel into my palms with gentle circular motions, shushing my hums of pain in-between. "The book called for me in the same way it called to you. The only difference, it was my grandmother's at the time so the protection wards did not go off because I was family." My eyebrows rose at the calm in Odette's voice. Composed as ever, the witch looked more amused than upset by my little snooping stint.

The pain in my hands disappeared completely, a cool sensation I could only describe as minty enveloping them and spreading throughout my body. The chill was pleasant - I hadn't even realized my body had been running on higher-than-usual temperatures ever since I touched the book. Those protection wards Odette spoke of, they really packed a punch!

"I will teach you," she must've interpreted my stunned silence as curiosity, having made up her own mind in the seconds I was basking in my newfound relief. "We'll start slow. The transition from the material world into the spiritual isn't easy," Odette warned, locking her fingers, her magnetic eyes commandeering mine for utmost attention. "But it is incredibly rewarding. If you follow the rules, you will prosper. Our kind isn't plentiful these days, with people praying to gods that condone greed and selfishness," her lip curled in distaste. "Each one of us can make a large difference in this world. The opportunities you have been given need to be taken seriously."

My lip caught between my teeth as I mulled over the words my boss spoke with so my concern and conviction. Nothing in her speech sounded amiss; sure as she was, I was still mercifully given a choice. Odette's aura, that used to seem suffocating and dense, grew around me into a non-physical hug, a comfort akin to a mother supporting her child taking their first steps.

I eyed the sixty-something year-old, tall, imposing woman, scanning her for any deceitfulness, exhilaration and wariness sitting on my shoulders and whispering into my ears. True to myself, I gave into the side that craved and lived for adventure. "I would love to learn," hoping my voice conveyed the excitement and hopefulness of being a part of something special.

Odette smiled kindly. "I knew that," with a chuckle to herself, she reached into a set of drawers and extracted a few worn, plain notebooks. "Homework," the wink she threw at me instantly took ten years off her face. I couldn't even bring myself to sigh, only the sludge still covering my palms preventing me from making grabby hands in the direction of new information.

The bell rang before I could make another comment and I was let go with the instructions to wash my hands - and that's exactly what I did, having noted the short Asian man impatiently tapping his foot next to the front desk.

The man's name was Wong and he was the sole reason for my uncontrollable flares of temper during my work hours at the bodega. Odette herself avoided him like the plague, and for a good reason: his attitude was nothing short of conceited, as if the weird robes that he wore were some kind of a hall-pass to be a demanding asshole when it came to the store's wares.

Wong could spend up to forty minutes inspecting the baggies containing herbs and other knick-knacks, meticulously picking out what he considered best and curtly insulting the items he found to be lacking in quality. I was made aware he belonged to some sort of a sect or a cult of honest-to-god wizards; as if him looking like a worker of the Ministry of Magic didn't make that fact obvious. I was unpleasantly surprised at the fact that even witches, much like doctors, had elitist pricks among their kind - and Odette had the audacity to simply vanish whenever one of those robed people set foot in the shop, leaving me to use all my mental strength to try and not strangle the wannabe Karens.

I was willing to bet my favourite star-patterned scarf that Wong hexed the waiters who made him wait longer that he considered appropriate. I just knew it.

The anger, the frustration and at times, blind, total rage came in useful - and that was a surprise to me. According to Odette's notebooks, everyone had the potential to master magick - to an extent, each individual's threshold was, well, individual - but the more a witch was in tune with her emotions, her feelings, the higher the success rate of her spells grew.

The notebooks contained enough information for me to understand that Odette was considered a High Priestess (not to be confused with Head of the Coven - not all witches wanted to be a part of those) and the amount of power she held was quite impressive. No, she couldn't turn back time, she couldn't raise the dead; the people she helped and healed were, oftentimes, made well at the expense of her own life energy. It was an endless cycle of emptying a glass and refilling it back up. The deities lended a hand with that.

Some time after I'd gone through the theory, Odette encouraged me to choose a direction I was to study in depth; much like her, I was interested in the defensive rather than the offensive. Healing spells, protection wards and the occasional light hex to deter enemies from reoffending: I was disappointed but not surprised to learn the fact that curses and serious harm done to other people quite often backfired, harming the caster themselves as well as their victim.

I had always believed in karma, to a healthy extent, but these days I was that much more aware of how I treated those around me. That's not to say I became a pushover - I simply chose to smile rather than frown at the world and replaced my longing and envy with a sense of gratitude towards the things I already possessed. Just like Odette had said, layering the spiritual values over my material, earthly ones wasn't easy - it was hard work, and what prevented me from stopping when I felt exhausted was that it actually paid off.

As I got ready to cast my first serious spell, I ran through a mental checklist of things I developed - of sorts. Positive vibes only. Having vengeful intentions when warding off potential harm-doers was not only dangerous, it was counterproductive. Intentions mattered the most when casting a spell and I could end up killing all the innocent, stray cats in the area instead of making a burglar choose the neighbouring building some five months down the line.

The spell, I considered to be a success. The atmosphere in my home lightened, the dingy walls of my rental started radiating comfort and safety I hadn't felt since moving out of my parents' home. A slight tiredness persisted for a few days after the last candle burned out; Odette reassured that it was perfectly normal as I was a baby witch and my energy channels were adapting, growing to accommodate my newfound awareness and flow of cosmic energies that I was training to harness.

Next on my list was a personal protection charm, an antique silver locket adorned with stars I had scavenged in a local pawn shop. Odette had given me instructions on how to cleanse potential magical conductors: the amount of rings and jewelry she wore directly correlated to the power of a singular spell she could cast. There was a fine hairline between charging your accessories and letting them drain you and I learned to walk South of it the hard way, but as all learning processes go, eventually I found my middle ground and was successful.

My daily routine grew small rituals like the forest trees grew moss. Slow and steady, I was transitioning from a curious baby witch into a self-sufficient practitioner of magic. Sounds crazy, I know, coming from someone who could barely believe into aliens until Thor himself had walked into the coffee shop and ordered a latte, but as all things do in life - I changed.

Working the morning shift allowed me to discreetly place a few of the good-luck charms I had made during my most recent creative stint. While they didn't have a direct effect on the customers or their tipping habits, the atmosphere on the cafe's premises had lightened enough that even Jeremy's usually sour face tipped more towards neutral these days.

The smile blossomed on my face without effort as I caught the tell-tale bespoke suit and sunglasses of the man waltzing through the doors of the café as if he owned the place. "Nice to see you, Mr. Stark. Enjoy your vacation?" I asked the smirking man, giving a respectful once-over to the tall, lithe man holding onto his shoulder.

"It's Tony," the happiness was radiating off him in waves. "Missed my favourite coffee shop and the world's nicest barista," he winked at me, causing the man behind him snort, steely blue eyes studying me in turn. "Had to introduce my two favourite people," the engineer took a step back, parting his arms with a flourish gesture. "Stephen, Starlight. Starlight, Stephen," he spoke before rattling off his usual order. And a cake on top.

I gave an amused grin to the man obviously humoring his significant other, as Stephen mock-bowed in my direction. "You're right, how could we be together without the approval of your favourite barista?" Stephen had his wits. I decided I definitely liked him. "Starlight? Is that a nickname or were your parents hippies?" Okay, witty bordering on rude. Was Stephen a lawyer?

"Now, now, honey," the crinkles around Tony's eyes deepened as he barked out a laugh. "No need to be jealous. We're all adults here, we can share. There's enough of me for everyone."

I rolled my eyes, easily slipping into the familiar banter. "Speak for yourself, Mr. Stark. I'm very selfish," I cocked an eyebrow, tilting my head to the side and pretending to size up Stephen. "You've outdone yourself this time," Stephen's eyebrows rose. The line between 'sizing up' and 'checking out' was so very fine and I walked it well, a quiet sort of confidence that had bloomed within me at the recent events in my life letting me be slightly bolder that allowed myself to be before. "I'd have to be the Devil myself to break up such a blessed union. My congratulations," my smirk grew into a warm smile as Tony beamed at me in return, content on showing off his most recent acquisition.

Who, by the way, looked a little bit lost. Evidently, Stephen did not expect such a degree of familiarity between me and Tony; which was, to be honest, most likely what had him returning to the establishment over and over. Come for the coffee, stay for the company. Or how was it?

The energy between Tony and Stephen was electric. There was something undoubtedly attractive, magnetic even, about the tall, steely-eyed man, something similar to Odette's charismatic pull but without the overwhelming ossification of the air around her. Even putting aside the fact that Stephen was a visually stunning person with his sculpted phisique and high, sharp cheekbones, he commandeered the attention to himself without even uttering a word. Definitely a lawyer, with how the type could hold the whole courtroom together with a single look.

The early birds on a Friday were few and in-between; the three of us chatted as the two men sipped their coffees with muted noises of joy. According to Tony, Fiji was delightful this time of the year. Oblivious to everything around him, the engineer rambled about his ventures without a care in the world as his partner looked up to him with earnest happiness and I- well, I wished I could go to Fiji, hot boyfriend optional. The weather in NYC was slowly becoming dreary: I did not look forward to winter sludge and the traffic congestions that it created.

"And I love what you've done with the interior. Those cat statues? Charming," Tony rambled, pointing out the good-luck charms I'd placed all over the café. Small knick-knacks I carefully selected to match the overall vibe of the room. "Tell Jeremy I send my regards. Appreciate the lack of paps, too," he winked at me, looking visibly relieved.

"Huh?" The rag in my hands froze. "I haven't seen a single paparazzi around here, since, like, ever," I admitted, puzzled.

"And I appreciate it. Ever since our thing became public knowledge, they've been hounding me wherever I go," the eyeroll Tony made was truly powerful. "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it," and again, the engineer winked at me, apparently having made some assumptions of his own. "I won't tell if you won't."

The puzzlement persisted within me all throughout my shift. I lived in NYC, for fuck's sake, I wasn't unfamiliar with how things ran around here.

Every establishment I worked in had been swarmed with the annoying, persistent celebrity hunters at some point - and yellow press and paparazzi were, by far, the worst. Some of the greedier ones could go as far as to shove simple folk out of the way or order a cup of coffee with their camera hiding under the tablecloth to sneak in a juicy picture of a celebrity just trying to have their brunch in peace. I hated those vultures with a passion; their negative energy, their lack of morals when it came to hunting for a new scandal that would make them a few hundred bucks.

The only way to even slightly deter them was to repeatedly call the cops on them for public disturbance. I'd done it once or twice, egged on by Jerry and his worry of losing profit - after all, there were establishments known specifically for high rates of celebrity sightings and if any of the superheroes wanted to make an appearance, they would just go there for their cup of overpriced coffee and defrosted sponge cake. Our café was strictly for comfort and leisure - a rare thing me and my boss actually agreed upon.

As I said warm goodbyes to my favourite engineer and his newfound, dashing boyfriend, the cat statues stared at me in mute satisfaction, their hollow eyes radiating smugness and their immobile mouths stretched in what looked like pure, mocking mischief.

Taglist is open until the story is finished. Spare comment? 🥺

@couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

#bun writes #practical alchemy #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #stephen strange x reader x tony stark #tony stark x reader #Stephen Strange x reader #Tony Stark x you #Stephen Strange x you

[skarsgard-daydreams]

I really like the snippets of the SVMs that you post, but I can’t help but think about how by the end of the series Charlaine Harris just decided to destroy the character of Eric. I read those last few novels and just fumed with anger. Were you happy with how they turned out?

You are absolutely correct, anon. Was I happy with how they turned out? Absolutely not. I have a lot of bones to pick with Charlaine Harris about what she did to Eric Northman, but more importantly, I have a lot of bones to pick with Sookie.

Initially, I thought that the problem in the latter books was that Harris got lazy with everyone's characterization when she was contracted to write three more novels and started writing these characters in ways that were inconsistent. Certainly, there are a few instances where Eric is portrayed in a manner inconsistent with earlier books. (He loses a lot of his humor and charm and suddenly has a very different perspective on the possibility of turning Sookie, which I attribute to bad writing.) But as I went back in the series to compile these quotes, I noticed that the problems I had with Sookie's character in the latter books manifested much earlier. I have been trying so desperately to wrap my head around her behavior, and I have come to the following conclusions about Book Sookie, which are not necessarily applicable to TV Sookie...

(major spoilers and an unedited 4,000 word essay ahead)

Sookie's mind-reading abilities have stunted her ability to read and empathize with others without the use of her powers.

The magical bond that is formed when she and Eric exchange blood circumvents this while it is active, enabling Sookie to feel Eric’s emotions rolling off him at the time. She knows he is terrified when his maker arrives in book 10, and she is even able to identify precisely why he is frightened: he doesn’t want to be under someone else’s control. But after she severs their bond in book 11, her ability to read him fails her. She has spent her entire life reading people’s minds, which has served as a crutch. Rather than developing the intuitive ability to read a person’s body language and read between the lines of what they are saying that most of us learn, Sookie relies on her abilities, which don’t work on vampires. As a result, their motives are often mysteries to her. She notes how stony-faced they are, how carefully controlled they are in expression, but she misses a lot of cues that convey their repressed feelings. This is particularly bad for Eric, who, like many men, shields himself with anger when he is feeling hurt. His anger is not excessive or violent—in fact it is often very well controlled—but it masks the tender feelings that hide under the surface. It is telling that Sookie never acknowledges the incredible pain and betrayal that Eric must feel when she severs their blood bond, or when she ultimately refuses to save him from being taken away from her. The only time she feels sympathy toward him in that respect is in one line at the very end of the series where she considers how lonely he will be—and then she purposefully smothers that thought, refusing to dwell on it further.

Sookie's trauma from her formative relationship with Bill renders her suspicious of the motives of others and unable to trust her future partners.

Bill is the first man she ever dated, fell in love with, or had sex with, and it is revealed to her through Eric’s intervention that their entire relationship was premised on a lie. This plot point is the same in the book as it is in the TV show. Once Sookie and Eric are together, there are numerous instances where she suspects his motives. She maintains the firm belief that Eric never does anything unless it would be beneficial to himself, which is probably true up to a point, but even after he has shown that he is deeply in love with her and that he has borne the personal cost of this love, she still doubts him. In fact, Sookie believes that the love they seemingly share is only the result of the magical blood bond between them, which renders it false. Eric repeatedly states that he does not care why he loves her, only that he does, but this is a problem that Sookie cannot get past. It results in her severing their bond without warning. Once the bond is severed, she insists that she does still love him “all on her own” but her love quickly begins to erode without the understanding that the bond created as they are besieged by numerous calamities. When the final obstacle to their love presents itself—a contract negotiated by Eric’s maker that would force him to marry the vampire Queen of Oklahoma against his will—Sookie is so blinded by her inability to trust him that she doubts every word he says about wanting to stay with her. He never expresses a desire to leave her for the queen, but remains stalwart in his insistence that he cannot escape the contract despite seeking every possible loophole. Yet Sookie believes he is attracted to the queen and the power that she possesses and attributes his insistence that he is trapped in the contract to a clever lie designed to dupe her. In the final days of their relationship, Eric reveals that he knows Sookie could save him with a magical object that grants her one wish, and repeatedly insists that she could stop him from being taken from her if she wanted to. He does not ask her to do it, nor does he mention the object explicitly, or ask where it is. His statements read like a man who is wounded by his lover’s unwillingness to save him, but one who perhaps has too much dignity to resort to begging her to intervene. Presumably he believes that he should not have to beg the woman who says she loves him to save him from “cushy slavery,” as Sookie calls it. Once Sookie realizes that Eric knows about her magical deus ex machina, she starts to wonder if he really just wants to take it from her, or use it for himself. She even entertains the possibility that maybe he orchestrated the entire dilemma in order to get his hands on it. When the thought enters her head, she admits that she never would have considered such a thing if it weren’t for Bill’s betrayal of her.

Sookie's affection for Eric is conditional upon his usefulness to her (including as a sexual object), and she never develops an appreciation or understanding for who he is as a person.

Perhaps this is the fatal flaw in their relationship from the very beginning. Sookie does not express an interest in Eric other than the fact that he is physically attractive until his numerous favors to her and the many instances where he has saved her life or protected her begin to add up. The blood bond between them is formed when he prevents a vampire who has authority over him from forcing blood on an unwilling Sookie, instead offering his own blood as a substitute. Their marriage was orchestrated by Eric when another vampire wanted to take Sookie away from her own against her will, and it allows Eric to serve as a barrier to any other vampire who would try to harm her. Once their romantic relationship is formed in earnest, it quickly becomes evident that it is lopsided. Eric praises Sookie for her beauty, but also for how brave she is and how hard she works and countless other virtues that are not physical in nature. In return, Sookie feels obligated to pay him a compliment, and all she can manage is that he has a nice body and is good in bed. She often deflects from serious conversations with him to have sex instead. Sookie clearly doesn’t believe Eric is a good person, expressing her own doubts about his moral code when he doesn’t display enough outward moral repugnance for her liking. When Eric tells her how his boss tortured and killed a human woman to punish a vampire, she asks him how the story made him feel. His answer—that it made him fearful it could happen to Sookie—is not good enough for her because he does not also express remorse for the woman in question. (It should be noted that he doesn’t revel in her pain either; he is merely concerned with applying the moral of the story to his own circumstances and the woman that he loves.) Sookie does not seem to acknowledge the good that other people attribute to Eric, such as when his new bartender tells her she requested to come work for him. Sookie cannot imagine why anyone would want to work for Eric, but the vampire explains that he is a good master to serve because he treats his people well, specifically pointing out that he doesn’t ask for sexual favors from his female subordinates like other sheriffs do. Sookie is not interested in his life, his business, or his world. When he attempts to explain the elaborate hierarchy of vampire politics to her in an effort to include her more in his affairs, she outwardly expresses so much disinterest that Eric takes offense. Their relationship treads water for a while, until Sookie is kidnapped and tortured by fairies and Eric is prevented from rescuing her. While she is being tortured, Sookie is certain that Eric will show up at any moment, but she doesn’t know that he has been forbidden from intervening by his boss. The other vampires bind Eric in silver chains to keep him from going to save her. He later tells her how anguished he was that he could feel her pain and do nothing to protect her, shedding tears as he talks about it, but she doesn’t want to hear it. That moment marks a turning point in their relationship. Sookie repeatedly affirms that she believes Eric is so big and strong and capable of handling anything, and any time he is not able to deliver on her expectations, she loses even more love for him.

Sookie's prejudice against vampires leads to her treating them as though they are not people.

Although Sookie does not express her prejudice explicitly as some characters do, she still exhibits a bias against vampires throughout the books and expresses a clear preference for humans or shapeshifters. She is disgusted, for example, by Eric’s suggestion that she should come work at Fangtasia, saying that she would hate to watch the fangbangers seek the attention of the undead among them. She believes that they do not feel emotions or possess empathy in any comparable measure to humans. (The thought that not all humans share the same depth of emotion or empathy does not seem to occur to her.) She also discounts their physical pain or suffering because they possess the ability to heal themselves. This happens numerous times when Eric is wounded, often while trying to protect her. In one case, Eric shoves himself in front of a car window and takes a bullet intended for her point blank. While he is injured, he fights off the werewolf who was trying to kill Sookie. Then he gets back in the car and drives her home with the bullet still lodged inside his chest. When they arrive back at her house, he asks her for blood, saying explicitly that he is in pain as his body pushes the bullet out of his chest. She tells him he’ll be fine and if he really needs it, he should stop at Merlotte’s and get some True Blood on his way home. Another time, Sookie comes upon Eric after he has been badly beaten and bound with silver. His arm is broken and his hands, she notes, look gruesome, because the silver was wrapped around them. As soon as she frees him, he springs into action and decapitates the vampire who had attacked him before said vampire can go for Sookie, who gets faint at the sight. (She is not injured.) Eric picks her up even though his arm is broken, and she takes the opportunity to internally romanticize the moment, imagining that she is Scarlet O’Hara. But a short while later, she asks Sam to drive her home without thinking about offering Eric a bottle of True Blood even though they’re right in front of the bar. The most egregious example of this phenomenon occurs when Eric’s vampire brother has massacred all of the staff at his home. Sookie arrives to find several vampires and humans slaughtered on the premises while Eric is desolate and in excruciating pain with his ribs ripped through his chest. He tells her that he needs her to push his ribs back into place and that Pam was there as well, and Sookie proceeds to chastise him for not springing into action to go after his brother. When tears form in his eyes, she grows impatient and questions why he hasn’t called someone to come clean up yet. It isn’t until midway through the conversation that she tells Jason to push Eric’s ribs in so he can heal, and it is only on accident that Jason happens to find Pam, who is thankfully not dead.

Sookie's system of morals is so rigid that, when she participates in violence, she suppresses her own personal responsibility and projects blame on the people around her in order to continue believing that she is a good person.

After the massacre referenced in the paragraph above, Eric and Sookie must fight his crazed brother and several fairies at her house, slaying his maker in the process. When they are victorious, Sookie is immediately revolted by the bloodshed. Eric, meanwhile, is flooded with relief that he is free of his maker, who subjected him to hundreds of years of rape and slavery when he was first turned into a vampire. Sookie knows this, and in fact can feel the emotions radiating from him, but she seems to despise Eric for feeling anything but repugnance in that moment. This appears to be her coping strategy any time she participates in violence—she negates her own culpability and creates moral distance between herself and Eric by judging his reaction to be grotesque. The same thing happens when they are able to kill the brutally cruel vampire regent who was actively trying to ruin Eric and was responsible for attempts on Sookie’s life and who refused permission for Pam to turn her human lover into a vampire before she died. Eric and Pam are joyous that they have won and that the regent cannot torment them any longer. Sookie, who helped plan the attack and in fact dealt part of the killing blow to the regent, is abruptly disgusted when Eric embraces her and kisses her. It does not occur to her that he might be relieved that she was unharmed in the battle and that the constant threat to them all has been eliminated. Instead, she assumes that he’s trying to have sex with her and tells him she’s not interested in a manner that clearly conveys her revulsion. Eric does not handle the conflict gracefully, and bites her harshly to drink from her after he tells her she’s being a hypocrite, which only gives her more reason to push her guilt away and project it onto him.

Sookie’s youth and inexperience serves as a barrier to navigating the turbulent waters of a real relationship.

Sookie had never been in a relationship before Bill, and she only has one other relationship between breaking up with Bill and getting together with Eric. While she enjoys the ‘honeymoon’ phase of her relationships, she flounders when it comes time to address communication issues or outside pressures. Neither Sookie nor Eric find it easy to establish an open channel of communication, but Sookie actively seeks to end serious conversations early or avoid them altogether, while being stunned that Eric initiates conversations about their relationship, something that she thinks all men avoid. At one point, she tells Eric that they need to talk and then starts discussing what she refers to as their “irreconcilable differences.” The conversation seems to be veering into breakup territory, and they’re deeply involved in it when someone knocks on her door. She immediately invites her unexpected guests in and is relieved by the excuse to terminate the conversation abruptly even though Eric is still trying to figure out what’s going on. At other times, she observes that she loves Eric, but she’s not feeling the same lust or excitement when she thinks about him anymore. Anyone who has ever been in a long-term relationship knows that passions often wax and wane, and that it also takes work to sustain and strengthen a relationship over time. Sookie is unwilling to put in the work or even have an honest discussion about the things they need to work on. She talks about romance novels a lot, and it seems to me that she has an idealized concept of love where she believes that they should be effortless and that passions should always be as hot as they were at the beginning. There are also times when she behaves in an extremely childish manner in the midst of conflict. After she severs the magical bond between her and Eric, he comes to her house and her main concern is whether or not he’s mad, while he asks her if she still loves him. She stubbornly insists he has to answer her question first even though she’s the one who broke the bond. On another occasion, Eric’s king comes into town and he is required to be at the monarch’s beck and call. Sookie gets mad at him and tells him she doesn’t want to see him one day, then is even more irritated that he isn’t calling her the next. Soon after, Eric is dealing with an endless litany of personal disasters that he can’t control, and he is short with her. Sookie listens to him confide in her about his problems and then responds with sharp-edged, sarcastic contempt, telling him that she has information that might have helped him with his problems and she might have told him if he wasn’t neglecting her.

Sookie’s limited understand of cultures that are unlike her own leads to misguided assumptions and fatal misunderstandings.

As the books progress, Sookie’s knowledge about vampire culture and governance grows incrementally, but she never approaches their customs with the same open-mindedness that she uses when it comes to werewolves or shapeshifters and their customs. This proves to be a major problem in her relationship with Eric, where there are two unfamiliar cultures at play—the modern culture of vampires, and the ancient culture of Eric’s human life. Sookie often refers to Eric as her “big Viking,” but she never gleans any insight about the culture in which he was raised. She seems to believe that he does not have much respect for women and projects American pre-Women's liberation attitudes on him even though he does not express those beliefs. When he offers to have her come live with him, she assumes that he wants her to be a housewife who cooks and cleans for him. She takes offense, and Eric is confused by her response. As Sookie’s situation becomes more perilous and she is injured multiple times in attacks at Merlotte’s, Eric asks her repeatedly to come live with him and/or work at Fangtasia so that he can protect her. She rebuffs these proposals, believing that they are rooted in misogyny. Sookie is also disinterested in understanding vampire culture, tuning Eric out when he explains things to her and refusing to accept that their rules and customs are different from her own when they inconvenience her. In particular, she never seems to understand the feudal system of governance under which the vampires live. When Eric is obliged to obey his maker or wait on his king or queen, Sookie is consistently irritated that he is not paying enough attention to her. She either does not understand or will not accept that vampires are not free to do whatever they want. This becomes a huge problem in the latter three books after a king from another state annexes Louisiana and kills every sheriff except Eric, putting him in a precarious position. Backed into a corner, he must maneuver very carefully to protect himself and everyone who is loyal to him. At the same time, he learns that his maker entered into a contract to marry him to the vampire Queen of Oklahoma against his will. Sookie refuses to believe Eric when he tells her that there is no way out of the contract, repeatedly insisting that if he loved her enough, he would just refuse to honor it. She holds him to the standards of her own culture, remaining willfully ignorant of the horrible consequences that could befall them both if Eric were to disobey. When she learns she can intervene and save Eric from his fate, she refuses, adamant in her belief that he will find his own escape clause if he truly wants to. The end result of her refusal is that Eric is forced into 200 years of “cushy slavery,” as Sookie calls it, a fate that does not inspire any guilt or pity in her, presumably because she still sees herself as a jilted lover.

At the end of the day, Eric deserved a lot better than Sookie.

He also deserved a lot better from the author, and a lot of people were justifiably outraged with the ending that Charlaine Harris gave to him. Harris, by way of Sookie, repeatedly reminds the reader that the Queen of Oklahoma is a very attractive woman, and it seems that this is intended to excuse the fact that Eric would be contractually obligated to have sex with her whether he wanted to or not. Eric expresses no desire for the queen, constantly asserting his commitment to and love for Sookie. When he admits that he would be required to consummate the relationship with the queen, he seems discomforted and ashamed at the idea. (Harris specifically uses the word “abashed.”) It is revealed to Sookie that the queen conspired to put Eric in this predicament specifically because she knew he valued his independence too much to ever agree to it willingly. Sookie knows that Eric was forced to service his maker sexually against his will, and that what he hates above all else is to be subjugated. She also knows that he will not be a monarch if he marries the queen; he will be her consort, a position that carries with it no inherent power or authority unless the queen gives it to him, and he will not be able to ever succeed her. Even despite all of this, Sookie is completely unsympathetic toward Eric. The author never acknowledges that this ending for Eric essentially means that he will be raped. What astounds me is that I don’t think she would have made his choice for a female character, or if she did, she would not have framed it in the same way. Sookie’s casual dismissal of Eric being sold into “cushy slavery” implies that male rape is no big deal, which is incredibly harmful. It is astounding that she would subject the primary love interest of the entire series to such a fate, and it’s the final nail in the coffin for Sookie Stackhouse for me, at least in her book incarnation. If any of her other love interests had been put in similar circumstances, I can’t imagine what she would not do to try to save them. But because it was Eric—her big, strong Viking who she believes is incapable of feeling emotions or pain and must be invincible in order to be valued by her—Sookie thinks nothing of it. Nothing at all.

@grimeundglow @stevesharrlngtons @scxrsgxrd @grandpa-sweaters

#I have been waiting to say all of this for weeks #thank you for putting up with my quote spam #TV Sookie is fine #TV Sookie can be with Eric if she wants #Eric Northman #Southern Vampire Mysteries #Southern Vampire Mysteries Spoilers #English Major Rants #The Longest Rant She Ever Ranted

[honeytae]

Do I even matter to you?

okay this is the first fight i’ve ever written so i’m a little nervous and don’t know how good it is. i hope you all like it, please let me know your thoughts on it!

tags: @ahgasearmyfan

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 2.4k

You sighed as your stomach gurgled, trying to sort through the last of your mail as you made your way to the kitchen.

“I know, I’m getting to you.” You reprimanded the loud noises, setting the stack of envelopes down on the counter along with your phone so that you could focus on making something to eat before you completely starved.

You had just arrived home from another day of work, grateful to be home although you were by yourself again. Taehyung had been working for months on his first mixtape, wanting to perfect each track as much as he could for his fans.

He’d already spent countless hours in the studio, recording and producing until he physically had to go home and get some sleep. He was so grateful for your support, never complaining once about his time being so consumed by his work ethic. 

You truly didn’t mind him being so focused. Taehyung’s dedication to the things he loved was something that first attracted you to him, and you were ecstatic when he first told you that he was working on a project of his own. You’d now gotten into the habit of bringing him meals to break up his day, drawing him away from work for an hour to rest his mind and ease his stress with your presence.

Your phone vibrated on the counter top, making you set the pot you’d filled with water down onto the burner quickly in an attempt to get back to your phone and answer the call. You smiled as you saw Taehyung’s contact displayed, swiping your thumb across the screen and lifting the phone up to your ear.

“Hey, baby.” The gentle croon of his voice sent immediate comfort throughout your body, the sweet tone in his voice lifting your lips into a smile and the slight rasp from recording all day making your heart thrum a little harder against your chest.

“Hi, Tae.” You responded, leaning your elbows against your kitchen counter as your eyes watched for the water to bubble so you could put the noodles for your dinner into the pot.

You heard a clicking in the background, the definitive sound of his finger pressing on his computer mouse meeting your ear.

“Still working, honey?” You asked, getting a hum in reply from your boyfriend. 

“Yeah,” he sighed, obviously stressed as he leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know when I’ll be home tonight, sweetheart. We had a mandatory meeting about the comeback, scheduled a few things. It took a lot of time from my day and I still need to finish this track,” He trailed off, making you shake your head in a firm rejection of his words despite him not being able to see you.

“Baby, you don’t need to explain yourself. It’s okay.” You assured, putting the phone on speaker as you set it down to pour the ramen noodles into the hot water.

He sighed in relief, whispering a soft “thank you” in response to your understanding. 

“Can I hear anything about the comeback?” You raised your brows, Taehyung giggling at your childlike tone before humming teasingly.

“Well, they booked the comeback show for September third. We figured we’d give both Kook and Namjoon their birthdays off, you know?”

You furrowed your brows, confusion setting in as you comprehended the date he’d just said.

“September third? As in the third day of September?” You asked, hoping that he had just said the wrong date out of exhaustion the first time.

“Yeah,” He trailed off, confused about your reaction as he retreated his hand from the computer mouse and into his lap.

“Taehyung, that’s the day of my cousin’s wedding. Remember? I told you months ago.” You said, tone angry as you felt aggravation build up inside of you.

Taehyung’s face dropped in realization, bringing his hand up to push the hair off his forehead as he sighed, muttering a soft “fuck” before addressing the situation.

“I’m so sorry, baby, I forgot-“

You cut him off with a scoff, blinking away tears as you shook your head. 

“It’s so reassuring that you can just forget about me so easily. Do I even matter to you?” 

His eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowing in a frustrated expression. He had no idea where this was coming from, your anger radiating off of you in waves that traveled through the weight of his phone in his hand.

“What the fuck does that mean? You’re insinuating I don’t care about you right now?” He spoke angrily, but the hurt underlying in his tone at your doubt caused your chest to tighten.

You brushed it off, feeling bad for hurting him but fuck, he had hurt you too. 

“Whatever, Tae. I’ll just have to go alone. Again.” You internally cursed as your voice broke, conveying your true hurt emotions despite trying to cover them up with a strong angry tone.

Taehyung felt his heart wrench in his chest at your upset tone, realizing just how much his forgetfulness had pained you. 

“Baby,” He began to plead before you cut him off.

“I gotta go. Bye, Tae.”

You managed to pull the phone away from your ear and hang up before you erupted into sobs, hating more than anything when you fought with Taehyung but not being able to disguise your true emotions about the situation.

Taehyung sat in his chair for a while, staring at the black screen of his phone. His fingers plucked at the skin of his lip, an anxious habit of his that he’d had since he was a boy. 

He felt terrible; he was in the wrong here, no doubt about it. You had taken the initiative to ask him in advance if his schedule was clear that day, he’d given you a solid yes as an answer, then turned around and made plans that coincided. You had every right to be upset with him.

He lifted his phone up from his lap, pulling his manager’s contact up and pressing on the number, raising the phone to his ear. He was going to fix this.

You sniffled into the couch cushion, burying your face in an attempt to muffle your crying. Could he really forget about you that easily? You knew he had a lot going on lately, but this hurt. Maybe you were overreacting, but you felt more than uneasy that you could slip from his mind so easily.

Taehyung wanted to give you time, but he also wanted to fix this immediately. Taehyung had a massive heart, and even if he upset his worst enemy, he’d still feel upset about it. However, this was you. His favorite person on the planet. The love of his life. And you were hurt by something he’d done, which absolutely shattered his heart.

You’d been crying for nearly a half hour when you heard a light knocking on the door, causing you to sit up and look toward the area that the sound had come from. 

You pushed yourself off the sofa, wiping your tears and walking to the door slowly. You twisted the knob, opening the door to reveal your distressed boyfriend. You were shocked to see him, removed from the studio and on your doorstep.

You could see the frown on his face, looking like a kicked puppy as his pout intensified when he noticed your swollen red eyes. 

He’d made you cry. He wanted to reach out to you, he wanted to hold you and comfort you. But he held himself back, not knowing if you wanted his touch at the moment.

“It wasn’t locked.” You said softly, avoiding contact with his eyes as you glued yours to his t-shirt clad chest.

“I know,” he exhaled, reaching a hand up to his head to run his fingers through his hair, “I just didn’t know if you wanted me here.” 

Your heart dropped at his confession, lower lip trembling out of your control making Taehyung’s eyes burn with tears.

You pushed yourself forward into his chest, Taehyung wrapping his arms around you reflexively and sniffling as he buried his face into your neck.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He rushed, hugging you tighter as he felt your frame shake in his hold.

You stood in each other’s embrace for a few moments, comforting each other while simultaneously reassuring each other of the love you shared.

Taehyung unwrapped his arms from you, hand holding your wrist as he led you to the couch. He sat down on the edge of the cushion, patting the space beside him for you to sit as well. 

“I’m going with you. And I know that’s not necessarily what this is about, but it’s where it started. I’ll be there with you.” He said, eyes sincere as they searched your own for a response.

“What do you mean?” You asked, trying to register how he could possibly be going with you to the wedding when he had to be at a comeback show the same day.

“I told them I can’t attend that day. They pushed it back a week, said they’ll blame it on family matters. Which is what this is. Because you matter, you matter more than anything to me.” His voice broke at the end of his sentence, causing you to shuffle toward him until he was pulling you onto his lap.

“Tae, I didn’t mean that. I know I matter to you, I just,” you struggled to process the words to describe your thoughts, because you knew you were wrong. Taehyung showed you each and every day that you were his everything, and you had no right to question that. Taehyung looked at you intently to listen to your explanation. 

“I was upset when you said you forgot. I took that as you forgot about me, and that hurt.”

Taehyung nodded his head, placing his hand on your jaw as he held eye contact with you. There was a seriousness in his voice, emotions swirling in his red rimmed eyes.

“I understand that. I could never forget about you, though. All day, guess who I’m writing songs about? You never leave my mind.” He said softly, his words making you tear up for an entirely different reason than before.

“I am so, so in love with you and I’m sorry I can be an asshole sometimes.” He chuckled humorlessly, swiping his thumb against your cheek to collect a stray tear from the skin.

You shook your head, arguing “You’re not an asshole-“

“Today I was. I’m sorry I forgot about the wedding. There’s no excuse. No matter how busy I am, I will always make time for you and I know lately I haven’t been doing so well in that category. I’ll be home more, I promise.” He cut you off, his apology genuine without the earlier humor.

“Baby, I’m not upset about you not being home, I understand. I love that you’re working so hard. Do I miss you sometimes? Yes. But it’s worth it when I see you so excited about creating music of your own.” You assured him, cradling his jaw in your hands as you stroked his hair back from his face.

He sniffled, eyes glistening with new tears and you pressed your lips to the skin under his eyes. You could tell he was beating himself up for his mistakes, and that was the last thing you wanted him to do. 

“I’m sorry I let it work me up so much and I’m sorry I took it out on you. Everyone makes mistakes but not everyone fixes them like you do. You never fail to make an effort and I appreciate that so much. I love you.” you pouted, swiping at the tears falling over his lash line with your thumbs.

“I love you so much.” He said firmly, smiling for the first time that evening as you nodded before meeting his lips in a soft kiss. 

“I know. Now come on, I made dinner earlier and your stomach sounds like you’re growing a monster inside of it.” 

He laughed, following you as you lifted yourself from his lap to walk into the kitchen.

He felt himself relax for the first time today as you finished making the noodles you’d started to cook earlier, helping you pour the soup into two bowls and bringing them to the dining room table as you followed behind him with chopsticks.

“Hey, did you finish that track?” You asked curiously as he placed the bowls down onto the surface of the wooden table.

He shook his head, turning to face you and cupping your jaw as he squeezed your cheeks affectionately.

“The track will still be there tomorrow.” He said, making you cock your head to the side in slight confusion.

“So will I.” You pointed out, Taehyung nodding as he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“I needed to make sure of that.” He responded, smiling sadly before you crashed your lips onto his. 

His breath hitched in his throat as you leaned forward to kiss him deeply, eagerly reciprocating as you slipped your tongue into his mouth.

You broke apart from him, breathless as you soothed the red skin under his eyes with your thumb.

“Always. I’ll always be here.” You affirmed, making Taehyung squeeze you to his chest tighter.

“Thank you.” He said genuinely, kissing the side of your head before nestling his face into your hair.

It was then that Taehyung’s stomach growled angrily again, causing you to chuckle and step back from him, gesturing to the bowl sitting in front of the chair on the table.

“Come on, let’s eat.” You said, pulling out your chair and moving to sit down as your boyfriend did the same beside you.

You sat there for a while, stuffing your faces with noodles and filling each other in on the things you hadn’t been able to talk about considering the recent sparse amount of quality time you’d had together.

Taehyung told you about all the new things he was trying in the studio, and you reminded him how proud you were of him. He listened intently to your stories about your coworkers dilemmas, giggling at the funny details and jaw dropping comedically at the shocking parts.

Eventually you both grew tired, trudging to the kitchen to put your bowls in the sink before heading to bed.

And with a soft exchange of “I love you”s, a sweet kiss, and the promise of him being by your side, you happily fell asleep in his arms.

#bts #bts writing #bts fanfiction #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts angst #bts x reader #taehyung #taehyung writing #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung imagine #taehyung imagines #taehyung angst #taehyung x reader #imagine #imagines #fanfiction #writing #angst

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Wrath and Rage

Wrath x reader

Word Count: 1762

Summary: Wrath already had a queen when he was summoned to Emilia’s side. Needless to say she wasn’t happy about his absence. 

Note: He’s hot, and I had a plot bunny. don’t worry about it

You didn’t bother to hide the laugh that bubbled up from your throat at what your husband just told you. “So you got spooked and dropped your knife, is that it?”

Those golden eyes of his seemed to glow with irritation as he looked over at you. “Well, I don’t exactly want humans to know I’m around, now do I?”

This time you scoffed. “If some little witch managed to figure out that she’d just laid eyes on Prince Wrath himself based on that teensy little interaction, I’d want to meet her and shake her hand.”

“But the knife--”

“Is no indication of who you are on its own, and you damn well know it.” You slid your hands down the front of his shirt, fingers deftly opening it button by button. “Relax, my darling. You’ve been running around like a chicken with your head cut off about this whole Pride thing for so long. I’ve hardly seen you in weeks.”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s a lie, and you know it.”

You did. The trips never took very long at all, after all, but you still missed him. Before this it’d been centuries since he’d been away from you in the human world for any real length of time. “Be that as it may . . .” You slid the shirt off of him and allowed your fingers to trail down the golden snake on his left arm, a mark that had an exact twin on your own skin. “All you have to do,” you kissed that shoulder, “in order to keep Pride’s whole search,” this kiss was to his neck, “a secret,” jaw, “is get it back before the little witch does anything stupid.” That last bit was whispered next to his ear.

Then his lips were suddenly on yours, as demanding as ever as he shoved you against the wall. He tugged at the laces to your pants while his lips moved to your neck.

“See what you miss when you’re--” your teasing voice cut off when the heat of his body suddenly disappeared, “gone.” You opened your eyes. Sure enough, Wrath was nowhere to be found. Anger flared through you, its presence making the shadows writhe around you.

The only reason he would leave like that would be a summoning, something out of his control. And the only person dumb enough to summon a prince of Hell would be that. Fucking. Witch. Rage, the emotion your power stemmed from, swelled throughout your body.

She will pay for this.

~

Little did you know that in the human realm, your husband was thinking something similar. 

The combination of Emilia’s staring and the searing mark that’d appeared on his normally-clear arm set his teeth on edge. It shouldn’t be possible, a second betrothal spell in addition to the already fulfilled one he had with you--willingly, he might add--; yet there it was. Moon-shaped and clashing with his color scheme.

Still, he didn’t let on to what it truly meant. Odds were good that it wouldn’t amount to anything anyway, especially if he had a say. And if it did . . . Heaven help the woman that had to face the ire of the Queen of House Wrath.

~

In your time spent forcefully separated from each other, you and Wrath found yourselves weaving a complicated web to end this stupid endeavor in your favor, not the way Emilia wanted. And as soon as she agreed to marry Pride, your victory was sealed. Hours before that, when he’d died in the human realm, Wrath explained fully what had been going on since the messengers that’d been frantically flitting between you two could only convey so much, and you’d spent the time planning the final pieces of this battle of wits.

And enjoying each other’s company, but that was neither here nor there.

When it came time for Wrath to retrieve her, you lounged on the bed as he dressed, crown and all. “You can’t kill her when we return,” Wrath was saying while you watched him.

Your eyes moved to stare hatefully where their mark of betrothal used to reside. “I am aware,” you bit out.

“Are you?” There was an evil little smirk on his face when he turned to look at you. “Because your shadow seems to have other ideas.”

Sure enough, when you glanced down you saw that your shadow seemed to be holding a knife. Always the cause of your bad poker face, that thing. With a flare of gold in your eyes, you brought the shadow back under control, and it resumed being a silhouetted version of you, nothing more. The frown that’d been on your face since this mess started though, that stayed stubbornly in place.

Wrath took that as his cue to sweep closer elegantly, fingers trailing lightly down the golden body of the snake on your arm. “I swore to you the day we married that no one would ever come between us, did I not?”

“You did.” And Hell if your voice didn’t sound sullen despite yourself. You wanted to be unbothered by this. Truly, you did. But it was just so . . . unsettling to hear that someone had (however ignorantly) tried to steal him from you.

His free hand drifted over to grab the crown that still rested on the duvet. Your crown. The match to his own with spikes sharp enough to kill a man if you so chose. “Have I ever given reason for you to doubt that vow?”

“You haven’t.” That was true. A demon like Lust might have warranted such a fear, but Wrath was another kind of beast, an honest one. At least when it mattered. Mattered to you, that is. A warmth settled in your chest as your fingers moved to lightly hold his.

“Then why are you doubting me now?” his lips were pressed to your temple and he placed the crown on your head as he murmured the question.

Moments like this you remembered why you married him with perfect clarity. For the first time since he was stolen weeks ago a heat other than rage burned through you like a flashfire. “It’s not that I doubt you,” you said, turning so you could see his fierce, golden eyes. “It’s that I hate her.”

“Soon enough she will be Pride’s problem,” he soothed, “not ours.”

“Good,” you snarled before sealing your lips against his.

~

If Wrath’s lips were swollen suspiciously when he stepped out of the shadows to bring her to Pride, Emilia couldn’t work up the courage to comment on it. She was already in this mess with these demons so much deeper than she ever expected; she didn’t think her heart could take the stress of picking that particular fight on top of everything else. Besides, they weren’t bonded anymore; it wasn’t any of her business who he did or didn’t kiss.

Still, for some reason her heart stung at the thought of him with someone else after all they’d been through together.

But then they were bantering like it was all normal.

And then she was trying to scream in agony as it felt like someone lit her soul ablaze.

And then they were standing in a throne room steeped in black and gold and red.

This wasn’t House Pride, she realized abruptly. These were Wrath’s colors through and through.

“You’ll have to forgive the brief stop here,” a woman’s voice called Emilia’s attention to the front of the room. She was beautiful. Leather pants, a billowing shirt, boots that looked artfully worn-in, all steeped in nothing but black. The only spot of color in her wardrobe was the golden crown atop her head. A flash of gold on the back of her hand drew Emilia’s attention. “A prince of Hell like my husband can only travel directly from the human realm to his home. An envoy from Pride awaits outside to escort you to your Betrothed.”

Emilia’s ears started and were still ringing at the word ‘husband’ by the time she finished talking. The gold she’d noticed on her hand. It was an exact copy of the snake she’d seen on Wrath’s body the night she summoned him. Confusion lanced through her. “What--”

You laughed, cutting her off. This was rich. “You never stopped to wonder what the mark on his other arm was?” You rose from your seat, shadows coiling around your feet menacingly. “You’re dumber than I thought.”

Emilia could only stare at the approaching figure, alarmed by the casual display of power as well as the pitch black veil surrounding her that was every bit as threatening as the black and gold one around Wrath. She had to fight to retain any form of dignity and stay carefully neutral-faced when Wrath’s hand settled on the woman’s lower back in a display so casual it couldn’t have been faked.

“How terrible to meet you,” you scoffed. “You can call me Rage.”

A fitting emotion for such a terrifying queen, Emilia supposed.

“I think it goes without saying that if I ever see you lurking around my husband again, not even your betrothal to my brother-in-law will save you.”

Said husband had a look of evil smugness on his handsome face that made Emilia recoil a little. Then a thought occurred to her. “If you already have a queen, then why--”

“Was everyone pushing me to make it official with you?” Wrath cut her off, one eyebrow arching. “That answer is quite simple if you think about it.”

“Which is exactly why she hasn’t figured it out,” you smirked. “They don’t like me because I’m not intimidated by them just existing as princes of Hell.” You turned to face Wrath, loving the automatic way his eyes trailed over your form heatedly. He’d been worked up since the two of you dressed; there hadn’t been time to burn off some of the aggression that danced within both of you. “ Now,” you addressed her even as your hand moved to cup his face, thumb skimming along his cheekbone appreciatively, “you’ve robbed me of Wrath here for quite long enough on top of forcing me to singlehandedly deal with the idiocy of lower demons. You’re lucky I don’t kill you for the former, and I hate you even more for the latter, so kindly get the hell out of House Wrath.”

You didn’t spare the girl a glance as a guard moved to escort her out. No, you only had eyes for your husband . . . at least until your eyes closed when you dragged him down for a bruising kiss.

#wrath x reader #wrath imagine #prince wrath x reader #prince wrath imagine #kingdom of the wicked imagine #reader insert