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k-hotchoisan · 2 months

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the scentist

Your neighbour—Choi San—is such a gentleman on top of being a complete hunk and smelling so fuckin good. Especially so when he offers his hoodie when he sees you being drenched. Well, nothing could come out of such a simple gesture of kindness, right?

Genres/Warnings: perverted & obsessed scentist!San, Olfactophilia (sexual arousal from scent), masturbation on clothing, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex, cumming untouched, armlock (light) breeding, pussy drunk San💙

💙 @san-network 💜

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @interweab @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf @jeon-ify

A/N: WE BEEN KNEW THAT I’D LEAVE MY FAVOURITE MAN FOR THE LAST!! 😮‍💨 don’t be sad that this event is ending ok,, we got more to cum come 🥰 thank u for giving my fics so much love as always!!

🩷back to staying perverted

Lavender. Sweet pea. Azalea. Gardenia.

The scents of the florals fill his lab, something he’s so used to already. As the concoction bubbles, he walks over to the other flowers potted along the shelf, pressing the petals against his nose, taking in their smell before he pulls away. He pulls off his goggles, walking over to his desk, staring at the standing whiteboard, filled to the corners with flower names, chemical compounds, and other miscellaneous details. Even though he’s doing fine, he feels that something is missing. Choi San feels stale and stuck.

The rain is pattering down heavily against the pavement, he stares at the raindrops hitting the leaves of his plants. San often gets compliments on how beautiful his plants are, and how natural he is at gardening. San would don his signature smile and he would thank them for the compliment. Sometimes, his neighbours would come by to ask for gardening advice and San would gladly entertain them. This evening was no different. Another one of his neigbours who was growing greens had wanted to express appreciation by buying San his favorite fertilizers. Stacking them neatly in his cabinet, San then decides to head down to the reception to receive his parcel.

Fuck. The downpour was so sudden. It totally caught you off guard, and you were drenched before you realised it. You make it to the entrance of your apartment complex, shivering slightly from the air conditioning. You shake off the excess water off your arms, and when you look up, your heartbeat quickens—your apartment complex crush is standing at his letterbox, filtering through his mail while he holds a parcel in his arms. He’s in a grey hoodie, and for some reason, it makes him look big, and it’s driving you insane. Shit, shit, shit. You pray that he doesn’t turn around and see you.

“Hey. Good evening y/n”, San greets cheerily. You force a smile, “Good evening San.”

San has his eyes on you, and you swear he’s eyeing you down—probably judging you for being drenched and shit.

“Looks like you reached back just in time”, he teases, and you pout.

“I feel like a drenched dog. Is this how dogs feel after a shower?” You reply, brushing your hands through your wet locks, all in an attempt to stop yourself from staring at San laugh—his voice is hypnotic enough to make you melt into a puddle already. The cold air from the air conditioning hits you once more, and this time you’re beginning to shiver uncontrollably on top of struggling to open your damn letterbox and not looking like a circus in front of your crush.

You focus on fidgeting with your letterbox keys, your fingers reaching out to snatch the letters. When you close the latch, San has his hoodie unzipped, and he’s removing said outerwear.

“San, what are you-“

He’s about to hand you the hoodie, but he instead opts to put his parcels in your hands, and he fucking fits the hoodie around your shoulders, and when he does, his smell floods your senses. He smells like a mix of floral—with hints of spice and citrus, and although for a brief moment, you have it locked in some part of your brain. His fingers brush against yours as he takes his parcels and letters from you, and it doesn’t help that he’s in a black shirt that hugs his biceps, shoulders, and chest a little too well. You barely muster the strength to peel your eyes away, feeling your heart flutter when his fingers brush against yours as he retrieves his packages back from you.

You look up, hoping that the fluorescent lights don’t highlight the heat that’s rushing to your cheeks. You’re still shivering, but suddenly you don’t feel as cold as before.

“Thank you, San”, you smile. “I’ll wash it and return it to you ASAP.” San smiles in response and the both of you walk to the lift together, light conversations and laughter filling the spaces as your body and your heart gradually warm up.

San is exhausted—he’s been at the lab back to back, drafting report after report, and it’s been taking chunks out of him. Palm against his neck, he tilts his head, shutting his eyes as he stretches his neck, and then he sighs. His superiors finally approved his reports and now he has the god-given chance of going home and catching up on his sleep for the night.

The muffled sounds of his doorbell stir him up from his sleep. He doesn’t shift for a couple of seconds. Then his hands shift across the bedsheets to feel for his phone. The doorbell sounds a couple more times and San grunts in his groggy state, his fingers hitting against the edge of his phone, which he pulls closer to him to check the time.

It’s 2 pm. He crashed for 14 hours last night.

He slowly sits up, letting his sight adjust to the afternoon sun filtering through his windows before he walks over to the front door. He’s slightly grouchy from the amount of sleep he clocked in, but as he swings the door open, the remainder of his sleep dissipates when he sees that it’s you standing before him.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” You ask, rubbing your neck. “I wanted to return you this..”, you bring up a paper bag to San’s view. San is still registering this.

“But you weren’t home for the past couple of days, and I don’t have your phone number..”

San blinks. Then his hands reach out to take the paper bag, and his eyes glance downwards.

Ah, it’s his hoodie.

He looks up back to you. “Thank you. Don’t tell me you’ve been coming here every day to try to pass me this?”

“Yes and no..?” you answer with a smile. It spreads to San, who suddenly feels a shot of guilt for making you come to his unit when he wasn’t even there half of the time.

“I’ll treat you to dinner for the trouble I’ve put you through”, he says hastily. He thinks the way your eyes widen and how pink is flushing at the tip of your ears is so adorable, and then he cuts you off before you attempt to decline his offer, “Pass me your phone.”

The phone in your hand is in his now and he types in his phone number before he hands it back to you.

He leans in slightly closer, and there is a particular scent that slowly starts to make its way to his brain. Is it coming from you? For some reason, he hasn’t been able to get it out of his head since the day he lent you his hoodie. And there it was again, faint, but it was definitely there.

“Is there anything else I can help you with, y/n?”

He’s almost disappointed when he sees you shake your head, but at the same time, he has lab work to do, so he shuts the door after he sends you off with a smile, not knowing that you omitted that you wore his hoodie a couple more times after washing (mostly due to the cold weather).

He drops off the paper bag on his bedroom floor before he heads off to his home lab.

Unfortunately, the extra 14 hours of sleep still doesn’t spark inspiration for his chemistry, and he ends up spending barely an hour in his lab, mostly tending to his flowers, before he decides to call it a day.

San is back in his bedroom, and he decides to unpack his hoodie from the paper bag. His hands reach into the bag and retrieve the hoodie, and when he unfolds the hoodie, his mind immediately hazes at the scent coming off the garment. Fuck. It’s even more prominent. It’s the scent that he can’t get out of his fucking head, and now it’s pretty much in his hands.

You smell like fucking heaven, San thinks, placing the outerwear under his nostrils once more, inhaling, the smell completely entering the crevices of his mind. He groans and curses at the way his erection is pushing against his pants just from your fucking smell. It’s more than just the detergent you use—it’s so much more intimate and intoxicating than that, and it’s undoubtedly driving San fucking crazy. He’s so sure that this is the scent that he’s been chasing after.

San walks over to his bed, comfortable on the mattress while he pushes his pants past his thick thighs, his cockhead pushing against his underwear, forming a dark and wet spot. He inhales shakily, teasing himself, the precum thickening and staining more of his underwear. It doesn’t take him long to kick off his sweats and underwear completely, letting his cock spring out with a relieved sigh, before he slowly starts fucking his hand while his other hand has his head filled with your pheromones.

The thought of you on that rainy evening, the way the rain had drenched your white shirt through, your bra showing, cupping your tits so fucking teasingly. San wonders if you did it on purpose because he would have just ripped your shirt open right then and there. His repressed fantasies begin to bubble up—the thought of him inviting you to his unit instead, letting his hands feel you up, making sure your goosebumps are from his touches rather than the cold because he swears he can warm you up quickly. He would press himself against you, taking in your scent, before he’d slip his hands underneath your pathetic white shirt, cupping your tits, then sliding your pants off—he knows he can’t even wait till the both of you reach his bedroom—the furthest the both of you would go? The fucking couch.

Your smell floats, and it’s dragging him deeper and deeper. San bucks his hips against his hand, soft moans pouring out his lips, whining your name against the fragrant garment, his precum turning thicker by the minute. He’s liked you ever since he met you when you first moved in, and now you’re filling up every part of his olfactory senses. He’s desperate to fill you up with him, make sure you’re holding your shirt up with your teeth, your eyes filling up with tears as he slams his cock into your warm pussy, over and over, forcing yourself to stay quiet so the neighbours don’t hear.

Fucking hell. San’s thighs shake slightly at the thought of it. He takes another inhale, and it’s like a dopamine reset once more, perfect at the moment when he’s bringing himself to the edge. Your voice echoes in his head, the pretty sounds you’d make, the expressions that he would indulge in for himself.

Thick streams of cum bubble from his silt, and he almost suffocates himself from the sick pleasure of burying his face in his hoodie drenched in your scent, he catches his breath as the scent slowly fades when he pulls the hoodie from his face, panting from an orgasm that he knows will never be enough one time.

As San washes off his high in the warm showers, he decides to attempt to recreate your scent, wanting to keep it all for himself. And he knows just a hoodie isn’t gonna be enough.

You’ve been flipping your apartment upside down, looking for your panties. At first, you didn’t notice that one pair went missing—chalking it off as you misplacing your laundry. But when the second one you swore you dropped off in the fresh laundry hamper disappears, along with a third, you realise something was amiss. You retrace your steps—you did have a couple of people over recently, but the majority of them were your girl friends, if you minus off how you and San have been going over to each other’s places for meals ever since the both of you exchanged phone numbers. Undoubtedly, your feelings for him have grown exponentially, especially when the both of you spent time with each other in (almost) close proximity. San had always been polite and helped around with cleaning up the dishes, and he had a very endearing habit of leaning in closer to you—whether to just tease you or to hear you better—it would never fail to make you act flustered around him before you would roll your eyes and push him away.

Needless to say, the relationship had blossomed since that rainy evening. You just didn’t expect to grow so close with your apartment complex crush, and while there were nights where San’s face, San’s voice, San’s body would bubble up to the surface when your orgasms washed over you, leaving you squirming and shy once the post nut clarity hit, you thought to yourself that the relationship between the both of you was good enough for now.

You scratch your head, racking your brains as to where your panties might have magically disappeared to. You’re lost in thought until the ping from your phone brings you out of it. You go over to check, and it’s from San—reminding you of dinner at his place. Right, the panties can wait for now.

“I hope I’m not late”, you smile as San opens the door for you to let you in. San returns it, “No, I just placed the order. It’s gonna take awhile.”

You take a seat on his couch. No matter how many times you’ve been to his place recently, you always feel that it’s still so spacious.

Then he breaks your train of thought.

“Is there something you’d like to do while waiting?” You let your eyes wander around his apartment again, and they land on the potted plants on his window sill.

Your eyes dart away from how San is staring down—his body is facing towards you, giving you his fullest, and it’s making you slightly self-conscious.

“I’m wondering what you’re always so busy with.”, you say. You’re ready to be rejected when San doesn’t answer right away. Right, it’s probably something personal to him too. But you can’t help but overthink when he doesn’t reply immediately sometimes. It makes you feel so childlike.

He stands up, gesturing you to follow him. “It’s a little embarrassing”, San replies as he guides you to the tightly shut door. He presses his fingertip onto the keypad—it lights up green and San pushes the door knob down, and the door pushes open.

It is as if it is another world. The lights are dim and the air is a lot cooler, albeit slightly more humid thanks to the myriad amount of plants littered around the room. He has so many species—differentcolours and different flowers. The scents hit you next, the floral scent floating around your nostrils at different intensities.

“A whole nursery?” You exclaim, walking near to some of the flowers.

“Yes and no. It’s more of a lab”, San corrects you, walking over to the heavy desk just full of lab equipment. “Sorry, it’s kinda messy.”

You shake your head, still taking in the sight of his botanically busy room, amazed.

As you near more of the equipment, the scents grow stronger. The whole lab smells so fragrant, and you’re surprised that it’s not overpowering, to say the least.

“So, what do you do here exactly?” You ask, taking another whiff of the fragrance while staring at the rows of test tubes before you.

“I make scents. It’s just a side hobby of mine on top of my research”, San explains. He picks up a test tube and gestures you to take a whiff, and so you do, pleasantly surprised at how much the scent smells just like him.

“Then what’s your little project now?”

San pauses. He doesn’t look you in the eye for that split second. As he parts his mouth to answer, the doorbell rings, and it jumps him out of his thoughts. The food is here.

Seated across San, as you always do, San is plating the takeout while you prepare the utensils. The topic of his lab comes up again, but you completely forget about asking about his projects.

Midway through the conversation, the rice cake that you were trying to eat somehow slips off the utensil and drops onto your clothes, causing you to jump in surprise, somehow toppling your plate with the leftover sauce, on top of staining on your clothes, much to your dismay.

“Shit”, you curse, casting an irritated glance at the splatter on your clothes. The plate clatters on the floor. You stand there, slightly dumbfounded at the situation. You’re wondering if you should just head home to change out, considering that your unit isn’t too far from his. But before you have the chance to bring up that suggestion, San cuts you off.

“You can drop your clothes into the washing machine. In the meantime, you can borrow my hoodie. It should be on the clean laundry hamper.”

“San-“

He turns to you with a comforting smile. “It’s fine. Rice cake sauce isn’t the easiest to clean off when you leave it for too long. I’ll clean up the floor.”

You realise arguing with him isn’t work out in your favour, nor will it get the rice cake sauce off your clothes any quicker, so you decide to heed his words and head to his room.

Undressing yourself once you shut the door, you drop your soiled clothes into the washing machine. It was then you realise that you are pretty much naked, in Choi San’s fucking bedroom. Struggling to keep your head out of the gutter, you decide to focus on finding that damn grey hoodie. Your eyes scan his room, trying to search for the grey hoodie. And your eyes land on a thick-looking piece of garment on one of the laundry hampers. You walk over to pick it up.

You put his hoodie over, and there it is again—the spicy citrus smell. Choi San’s smell. Your thighs push against each other a little tighter this time. Then something in your peripherals catch your attention—a lace garment. You inch closer, and your heart drops.

It’s a pair of lace underwear.

Fuck. Is he seeing someone and he didn’t tell you? A thick lump forms in your throat.

And then it goes away when you start picking up another two more panties from the hamper, and the realisation hits you like a fucking truck—these are your fucking panties.

Things are not adding up in your brain, that’s for fucking sure.

At that moment, San bursts into the bedroom, and a panicked expression scribbled across his face. His eyes are blown wide open when they land on the three pairs of panties in your hands.

You stare back at him, almost mirroring his expression, the only difference being confusion for you instead.

The corner of San’s lips pull into a half smile. “Oops.”

“San, what’s the meaning of this?” You ask, feeling your face flush rapidly.

“Well”, San pauses. “you asked what scent I’m making next right? It’s yours.”

“My scent?” You echo back in question to him. San sighs, his shoulders relaxing as he inches closer to you, trapping you underneath him when you finally hit his bed.

“Yes, darling. Your scent”, his voice almost turning into a whisper, dropping octaves lower. “You’re so cruel—keeping something so intoxicating to yourself.”

You swallow hard. San’s eyes still reflect his usual gentle demeanor, but now it’s slowly being tinted with something else. Something more ominous. Despite that, it only draws you in, like a prey being slowly hypnotized by her predator. You should be shocked, terrified even, but the only thing streaming through the nerves of your brain is the internal begging for San to just eat you up right now.

You suddenly realise that the hoodie isn’t zipped up, the outerwear slipping down your arms. You remain still, your heartbeat slamming against your ribcage.

“You can run out of my apartment now. I’m giving you five seconds”, San tells you, and your mind is spinning at the thought of him even giving you a chance to leave.

Five seconds pass. You’re still staring up at the male above you, whose lips are curling into a satisfied smirk.

His fingers cup your jaw, and he tells you, “Open up.” Sparks splatter across your eyelids the moment his lips collide with yours. You pull him closer on instinct, the feeling of his thick erection behind the two layers of fabric sending you into an orbit on top of his tongue teasing yours. He pulls back, licking off the strings of saliva between the both of you. His gaze is locked onto yours.

“Please? Let me taste you. I promise I’ll make you feel so fucking good”, his request sounding more like a beg. Your mind is hazy. Choi San? In between your fucking legs? You swallow hard, and then you nod.

San lowers himself to your clothed cunt, his eyes shut in bliss when he presses himself against your pussy.

“Heaven”, is all he mutters, his eyes casting you a glazed expression that was definitely about to drive you fucking insane, before his fingers pull against the waistband of your panties, slipping them off you.

The moment you feel his tongue press against your pussy, your mind threatens to shut off. San is breathing heavily against your soaking pussy, taking in the sight, taste, and smell of what you’re finally giving to him. Every time your thighs jerk to shut at the sensation of his tongue licking you up, his hands push you open for him forcing you to take his tongue in your cunt, and it’s wiping out any remaining rational thoughts you didn’t even know you had.

Your fingers tug against his scalp, pushing your hips deeper onto his tongue, your back arched from how fucking good he feels. His tongue is lapping you up, teasing your clit over and over again once he hits the sweet spot, his fingers leaving imprints on your thighs when he hears you whine and moan his name.

All San can think about is how fucking amazing you taste—he knew it would be another fucking level than pressing his nose against the fabric of your panties and fucking into his hand for the past few weeks, but actually letting you fuck his face? He’s on fucking cloud nine.

His glazed-out eyes shift to look up at you, watching the way you’re squirming under him, the sounds of his wet tongue fucking you, tasting you, echoing around his room. Your cream and pussy are the only things he can register, and he wants to keep it for himself, forever.

“S-San-“, you cry out, your mind just threatening to blank out at every flick of his tongue. He’s building your orgasm at such a dangerous pace, and tears are pooling at the corners of your eyes when you feel something funny bubbling at the pit of your stomach. “I think I’m gonna fuck-“

“That’s it. Let it go for me. That’s a good fucking girl”, San encourages, before his tongue presses against your clit, giving you another lick before white washes over you, your cunt pulsing violently against his tongue from the sheer pleasure, then clear fluids splattering onto San’s pretty face—who seemed unfazed, considering he’s still lapping your cunt up, while you’re almost thrashing above him as the overstimulation starts to sink in. Your moans sound like cries when you beg him to stop. San doesn’t relent, and he only stops when he suddenly whimpers, switching over to kiss your thighs, decorating your plump flesh with love bites. He pushes a finger in, letting you stain and coat his fingers, enjoying your whines before he pulls out and towers over you.

“Fuck, if I’d known you’d taste this good, I would have stolen your panties sooner”, he mutters, cleaning his fingers with his tongue, desperate to taste you again.

You’re catching your breath from going through the most mind-blowing orgasm, watching San pulling his shirt over his head, and then slipping out of his sweats, your breath caught in your throat when his fat cock comes into view, thick and heavy, and covered in thick cum.

San’s fingers curl around your neck, and he lowers himself to litter kisses across your neck and jaw, it’s giving you goosebumps, your arms automatically wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.

He pauses right at the shell of your ear.

“I want to wear you over and over again. I want to lock you up in me—bottle you up so I can keep you for myself.”

“Then do it. I’m here for you to dip into your pretty little fantasies in, San.”

You swear you see something snap in the poor male, especially from the way he takes a deep inhale—shakily— before he parts your lips with his, leaving you breathless when your little steamy make-out session ends.

“You don’t know what you do to me, darling”, San cautions when he pulls back. His hair is tousled but fuck, he still looks so fucking good. “And I’m not stopping even if you’re screaming.”

Fuck.

He fucks his hand, soft sighs leaving his lips, as his cum dribbles down his length, before he lines up to your hole and pushes in easily.

You hear him groan above you, your eyes are fixated on the way he’s losing himself in your pussy, and your mind is finally growing blank the more his cock fills you up. He’s stretching you open so fucking good, filling you up to the hilt.

“You’re squeezing me so much, darling. Fuck. Are you fucking kidding me?” His eyebrows are scrunched, his hands holding your legs up while he lets you adjust to his cock.

But he doesn’t warn you before he starts moving, his impatience completely overriding any ounce of rationale he has left in him.

“So good. San, you feel so fucking good”, your moans sounding like cries whenever his hips snap against yours, the obscene sounds only adding to the tension.

“You take me so fucking well, darling”, San’s voice is ringing in your ears. “Look at your fucking pussy just swallowing me up like that.”

You don’t even reply to that, your eyes are rolled to the back of your head, and your head is somewhere in fucking heaven where San is definitely fucking you into.

Just when you feel that you were about fucking fall apart on his cock, he pulls out, and you barely manage to catch your breath when San instructs you to turn over. You do, your ass up for him, and he enters your cunt once more, before fucking into you from the back. You don’t fucking know how, but you swear that his cock feels even thicker from the back.

His hands press against your hips, fucking you deep before he lets his hands slide down your body and he stops at your neck, gesturing you to look up at him as he leans down to press his lips against yours—all while rearranging your guts from the back.

He lets you pull back when you feel your neck is growing sore, and then he puts his body weight onto you, his arm tucking underneath your neck.

“Such a good fucking girl for me. You feel so fucking amazing”, San whispers, tickling every crevice of your brain as he presses his nose against the curve between your neck and shoulder, his thrusts turning more like ruts. The arm lock around your neck isn’t cutting off oxygen thankfully, but the thought of him choking you out only drags you closer to your high.

“Cumming, I’m cumming San-“, you whimper, tears trickling from your eyes from how much his cock is constantly hitting in such deep fucking spots of your pussy.

“Me too, babe. Gonna fill you up so nice and good, that’s what you’d like, right?” San teases, his cock twitching in you before he groans, his warm cum filling you up so good right at the same time your orgasm hits you once more, making you squeeze even more cum from San, perfectly milking him dry in your pussy.

“So fucking perfect”, you hear San mutter, and you can’t help but flush, even though he just fucked every ounce of sanity out of you. His lips trail down the nape of your neck, his eyes are locked onto you, hazy and tinted with a hint of a growing obsession you could never tell.

He’s not letting go of you.

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hoes4hoseok · 19 days

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enhypen as the tortured poets department

pairings :: ot7 x gn!reader (if i accidentally slipped in a gender-related mistake please let me know!) genres :: angst & fluff warnings :: swearing, alcohol, mentions of food, sorta emotional cheating, reader being down bad ™️ word count :: 2.1k author’s note :: thanks to ogs @sunoosill and @fandomgirl489 for helping me hehe love you guys! also i kind of tried something new with this one, they're actual little fics this time so let's see how it's recieved 😭 that being said i lowkey hate this. i started doubting all my choices once i was like 60% done but this took an embarrassingly long time. also this is unedited because i'm sick of this draft. i hope y'all enjoy though!

ni-ki as my boy only breaks his favorite toys

“i felt more when we played pretend than with all the kens cause he took my out of my box, stole my tortured heart, left all these broken parts, told me i’m better off, but i’m not”

ni-ki swept 👏 you 👏 off 👏 your 👏 feet 👏 when you first met

because he doesn't seem like he'd necessarily approach a relationship the same way as everyone else just because everyone else is doing it

so when he asked you out he was pretty nonchalant about it (even if that wasn’t how he was feeling)

&& it all felt so romantic because you’d do things like get dessert in the middle of the night & then drive into the hills together

especially because he didn’t treat you the same way as the other people he dated — a fact his friends confirmed.

he was passive about it all before you.

there wouldn’t be any doubt that he loved you because he most certainly did

not to be cliché but he made you see the world differently! & more importantly, he made you see romantic relationships differently

but you could tell that he had a sense of uncertainty around you

not because he was uncertain about his feelings for you

but an uncertainty that told him that he needed to spend each moment like it could be taken away from him in the blink of an eye

he knew he was feeling too much — he knew you were feeling too much

because ultimately, he was unsure about whether he was right for you.

so he left you, promising that you’d be better off without him.

you weren’t.

sunoo as down bad

“for a moment i knew cosmic love, now i’m down bad, crying at the gym”

sunoo would be such a good boyfriend on paper

he'd buy you flowers & give great hugs, of course, but he'd also be supportive & reassure you when you felt insecure and unsure about your place in the world

that being said, sunoo is not one to string people along

so the moment he realized that he wasn’t 100% in, he made a plan to end things & he did.

&&...losing sunoo fucked you up. it would fuck anyone up, to be fair.

finding out that he was leaving you when the relationship was everything to you would catch you off guard, to say the least.

he probably left feeling proud of himself for doing everything right too LMAO 😭

&& yes, i don't think it's anything he did that made it so bad

it's just that break-ups suck & you really loved him! even if he “did everything right”

no matter how it transpired, you were still in shambles at the end

you broke down in tears at the sight of anything that made you think of him

from the smell of gardenias in a grocery store

‘he bought me those 🤧! for our first anniversary 🤧!’

to the most upbeat song you’ve ever heard coming on shuffle while you work out

‘he loved that song’ (even if you couldn’t stand it)

&& you really hoped he was feeling a shred of what you were

but it sure as hell didn’t seem that way.

jungwon as fresh out the slammer

“all those nights, you kept me going, swirled you into all of my poems”

you & jungwon had a lot of your own problems to deal with the first time you dated

likely because he had a lot on his plate at the time as an idol & you were just at different places in your lives

&& even though your brain was telling you not to, you fell in love fast

he’d taken you to a quiet spot in his hometown that he used to go to when he was overwhelmed as a kid

it was an old swingset at the park where, somehow, everything else had been renovated

the two of you sat there for hours with your hands entwined, talking about your futures

&& the possibility of them ending in the same place.

it felt childish & implausible, but you wanted to believe it

&&, as the break up proved to you, it was, in fact, childish & implausible to believe that your lives could magically become compatible

you tried to move on, you really did. you dated other people for years.

one boyfriend stuck around for four years. a coworker. your future with him felt written in stone.

he was good to you, but there was a part of your heart that yearned for more

the part that yearned for the type of connection you had on the swingset all those years ago

you didn't spend that time waiting for jungwon — you accepted that you were going to spend your life content with your boyfriend

but you sometimes thought about what it would be like if you met jungwon under different circumstances or another life where his career wasn’t so controlling and demanding of him

you would smile listening to his music (that you subconsciously hoped was about you)

&& checked how he was doing online periodically

but then you were single. it was something your boyfriend said about not seeing a future here. not seeing a future with you. when you gave him four years of your life.

you knew you should have felt more, that you should have been torn apart for months

but a week later, you picked up the phone & dialed the number that had been seared into your brain for six years

“y/n?”

his voice was almost a whisper.

“do you think you could take me to that park again tonight?”

“i’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

“thank you.”

“y/n?”

“yeah?”

“i missed you.”

heeseung as the alchemy

“where’s the trophy? he just comes running over to me”

when you started dating heeseung, you knew it would be really easy for him to put you low on his priority list being an idol

&& you wouldn’t have blamed him for that

because your careers are important, especially at this point in your lives (also your exes probably did that with much less demanding jobs)

but he didn’t! he told you it would be tough but that he’d try his best to make sure you had time together even with his insane packed schedule

&& try he did omg 🤭 that man put in the WORK

he would show up towards the end of your workday just to whisk you off on a date 🫶

which you not-so-secretly loved for two reasons:

one: it reminded you that he loved you & valued your career as much as you valued his

two: he’s really hot. so it’s fun to see everyone’s reaction to him showing up heehee

&& after your workday he’d take you wherever you wanted

but you’re indecisive at times, so he’d just guess sometimes.

it was usually your favorite restaurant or a massage parlor, but once he literally took you to the airport for a getaway? who knows what he has planned lmfao

you loved getting surprised by your boyfriend, of course, but the nights when you were at his concert to support him? those meant the world to you.

you swore that you’d never forget the look on his face when he realized you were in the crowd the first time you surprised him

but honestly? his excitement never faltered. he still wears that childish grin every time he sees you showing up for him

&& the post concert kisses are incomparable to all the others

because he kisses you like you’re the stars in a rom-com. every. damn. time — whether it’s backstage or in front of 20,000 people.

jay as chloe or sam or sophia or marcus

“if you want to break my cold, cold heart, just say ‘i loved you the way that you were’”

jay was hurting you

with every instagram post he uploaded with a woman you didn’t recognize,

at every red carpet appearance where he had someone else on his arm,

with every polite smile he greeted you with when you crossed paths.

you broke up with him. years ago, at that. you had no right to feel this way.

his mind seemed scattered in your time together & he was unsure about most everything

at first, it had seemed like you were the exception to that.

until you weren’t.

when you broke it off, you told him you loved him. & that maybe you always would.

he might have loved you.

but if that was the case, he never told you.

on occasion, you thought about how he felt seeing you date around aimlessly.

had he done the mature thing & moved on?

did his jaw clench seeing another man kiss you the same way it did before you dated?

did he care about what you were thinking as much as you did about him?

there were times that you’d stare at his contact, finger hovering above the ‘call’ button

almost hoping your finger would slip so you’d have the chance, the smallest chance to hear him say

“i loved you the way that you were.”

(i really want to write a oneshot about this actually? maybe?)

jake as so high school

“get my car door, isn’t that sweet, then pull me to the backseat, no one’s ever had me, not like you”

jake was so obsessed with you before y’all started dating HEHE probably from the first time that he had a conversation with you!

he was so enthralled by the way you think & see the world

&& he blushed and stumbled on his words every time he talked to you for months & his friends would tease him RELENTLESSLY

he got so nervous before following you on social media that he had to employ his friends to help.

“guys, just press it for me. i can’t look!”

he probably thought about asking you out on many occasions but chickened out for one reason or another every time

but then he saw you at the local convenience store while he was out getting ramen at 2 a.m. — or rather, you saw him.

"jake?" he'd know that voice anywhere. oh god oh god oh god oh god

he needed a moment to compose himself, but he pulled himself together enough to look up at you & greet you properly <3

his stress slipped away fairly fast after that & you found yourselves shopping for your respective midnight snacks together

"have you tried this one? it's probably my favorite limited edition flavor" you had said, pointing to your favorite candy

which, naturally, he responded to by pulling a handful into his basket 😚

you didn't know whether he wanted to try it because you liked it or he was buying it for you, but either way, you found it endearing

after you both paid, jake took your groceries in his other hand, declaring that he'd carry them to your car for you

which, of course, wasn't possible. you had walked.

😧...😟...😶...🤔...☝️😲 "i could give you a ride! i don't want you walking home alone at this hour. or i could call you an uber if you're not comf—"

"i'd really like that"

&& then his heart would damn near explode at the sight of your smile. because how could it not.

he fumbled with the bags before opening the passenger door for you

&& on the drive there he'd stare at you with heart eyes while you talked at every red light

you'd have to tell him it turned green because he was just so distracted hehe

oh my god not this being my second fic about jake driving you home,, 🫣 IT'S FUNNY BECAUSE I DON'T PLAN THESE I JUST GO WITH WHAT FEELS RIGHT

i'm just hilarious, this does not show anything about what i want irl, absolutely nothing.

sunghoon as i look in people’s windows

"what if your eyes looked up & met mine one more time?"

you & sunghoon had a mutual break up, but it didn't feel that way a month after it happened

especially not when you were walking alone down the street his friend lived on & noticed the light shining through the large window

contrary to what you told yourself (i don’t even care if he’s in there) you approached the warm light warily

you didn’t really know whether you were hoping to see him in there, but you did — he was laughing with a few people, glass of wine in hand

&&…you weren’t expecting a flood of memories to overcome you in the way they did.

memories from when you were invited. memories from when you called them “our” friends & not “his” friends. memories from when you were the one making him laugh.

you didn’t notice your mouth fall agape or the tears welling in your eyes until sunghoon met your gaze with a tilt of his head, his smile falling as he registered your presence

for a moment, your mind rushed to decipher the look on his face — the way his eyebrows were slightly furrowed, the way his mouth fell agape too — the same expressions you used to be able to read so well.

finally tearing your gaze from sunghoon, you noticed his friends turning back to look out for whatever it was that made their friend so unsettled

they never saw you. you ran before they could.

perhaps if you had stayed a moment longer, you would have heard the front door open.

txt version ☆ midnights version ☆ masterlist

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 1 year

Note

Imagine being Ruggie sister who somehow got in to night raven as a student and everything progress on and them as a Ramshackle perfect due to them being a kind person like Tanjiro and strong yet but of a nerd liked Deku with a unique magic of growing plants

What's more she a home maker due to them living in the slums ( like meding clothes, cooking, fixing things as she can, using home remedies when sick and help their bother with the kids at home ) with Ruggie and too working hard to get out of there as they wanted to be a doctor

Let's say due to their genuine kindness Leona, Malleus, Idia, Jamal, Carter and Riddle have a unhealthy obsession crush with Ruggie sister who doesn't share the same romantic feeling and only sees them as a friend

Ruggie's Little Sister Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Perfectly built for Ramshackle, you happily take to it despite your brother’s insistence you stay next to him in Savvannaclaw. But you’ve never been one to listen to your big brother and you can definitely handle it. You probably fare better than the original in terms of dealing with Night Raven. Because you know how to sweet up boys with mean attitudes, maybe a little too well:

Leona Kingscholar

“Look herbivore, don’t try to boss me-”

“Who’re you calling herbivore!? I’m talking to you, about this lazy cat behavior!”

“Lazy cat-”

“(Y/n) please–”

“No Ruggie, you baby him far too much! I’m stepping in!”

He at first really hates you

Like really

You do all the things Ruggie does just not for him

In fact you make him do things that make him tired

It’s a pain

But for whatever reason he’s getting especially happy when you praise him

Only for you

He’s violent with anyone who comments on the work you have him doing

Its the only reason he keeps in your good graces and thats enough for him

“I’m proud of you, Leona! Now come I’ve cooked up some fillet mignon and it has your name on it!”

“It better. I’m never doing my own laundry again.”

“Hahaha yes you will.”

Ruggie is nervous about this but appreciates you picking up the slack

It sometimes bothers him how much time his employer starts spending with you

But he’s not too worried Leona understands his desire to protect you

“Huh?! You got him to do that?! What should I expect, you are my little sister.”

“Don’t act like I’m not the cooler one of us two.”

Malleus Draconia

“Ah horn-dude, I was just looking for you.”

“Horn-dude? And you were looking for me?”

“Yeah I was thinking of adding some gardenias, and maybe some vines for decoration. I wanted your opinion since you like coming by here so often.”

“The vines would pertain to a more beautifully abandoned image…but that might just be my preference.”

“Oh thanks so much, Horns!”

His crush is so obvious

Talking about you often to his guards and mentor

And whenever anyone goes to talk to him he finds some odd way to incorporate you into the conversation

Trust me its weird for everyone when he starts talking about you during potions when their dissecting magical creatures

he can’t stop trying to talk to you

But he usually ends up just staring at you from the distance

Waiting until your instincts pick up on his presence

And your forced to invite him to join whatever your doing

“Ah! Horns didn’t see you over there! Do you want in? We’re making paper flowers for the festival want to join?”

“I would love to!”

“What?! Horns?! (Y/n) why are you lettinghimjoin giving him more paper!? I know what I’m doing!”

“Sure you do.”

Ruggie’s scared out of his mind

How did you get mixed up with this overpowered monster

He can’t do too much now without knowing he’s going to die

But if it means saving you from certain doom aka Malleus Draconia it might be worth it

Idia Shroud

“Alright that’s enough!”

“W-what?!”

“No more games before you finish cleaning your room! Ortho and I can help but–”

“Actually (Y/n)-san, I recently pulled up a study that states letting children clean their own rules helps instill better habits when their adults!”

“Ortho!?”

“Oh great idea! Well we’ll be just outside! Come on Ortho let’s plan out our cosplay!”

“Yes!”

“G-guys?!”

He hates that you mother him

But he absolutely loves it when you mother him

He cries about being in the dreaded friendzone kidzone

But boy does he love the way you pat his head or let him cuddle into your chest

He loves the food you make during marathons

Or how you’ll let yourself be distracted by the games you really like

He gets drastic if you spend too long out of his reach

So he sets up cameras+

So he takes any opportunity to speak with you

So he puts others in horrifying accidents

“Heeheh by the time I’m done you’ll be the best girl-gamer in the space. And then it’ll be a given for you to never leave the ultimate guy-gamer!”

“Ewww keep my sister out of your nerd schemes!”

“Eeep! An enemy has appeared!”

Ruggie thinks he’s a nerd with no game

But nonetheless he knows Idia’s smart but not street smart

“Hishishsishi can’t set the trap if you don’t have the button! Hardly even noticed me swiping his gadget.”

Jamil Viper

“I appreciate the help, (Y/n).”

“Of course, you’re always running yourself ragged…I wanted to do something for you.”

“...I really appreciate the lunches you’ve made for me…it’s been a while since I’ve eaten a meal by someone else.” “Well just give me a call I don’t mind cooking for you or lending a hand.”

He’s smitten nbyond comprehension

Now going out of his way to hypnotize anyone else into a corner when it comes to talking to you

Its the least he does out of retaliation

He knows all his flirting and hints go right over your head

But your still cute

Until you do get it he’s pulling the rug out from any and all competitors

“Hey (Y/n), why don’t you join me in the kitchen? Maybe, show me how you made those potato crisps?”

“Sure, Jamil I’d love to!”

“Ah ah! Not without me you’re not!”

Ruggie knows Jamil’s like him but smarter

Sly and sneaky

Powers aside Ruggie’s sure Jamil’s problematic for your safety

“Don’t think for a second, I’ll let you have them! I'm not that fond of snakes!”

Carter Diamond

“Wah~(Y/n) you’re so photogenic! Will you pose for me one more time?”

“Well alright. If it’ll make you happy.”

“It’ll make me more than happy!” He loves how oblivious you are

He absolutely hates it+

But your just so cute

He guesses he can forgive it

And hey while your learning the ropes he’s more than happy to keep you close

“Hey hey don’t forget to keep up our streak!”

“Streak?”

“Yeah we’ve been sharing our photos throughout the day of what we’re doing.”

“Yup! It’s a great way to keep track of her!”

“Ick-!”

Ruggie knows he’s slippery

When it comes to tailing him Cater’s good at giving the slip

“Not on my watch. I’m not giving you the chance, to trick my baby sister.”

Riddle Rosehearts

“That’s entirely unreasonable, I’m not doing that!”

“Grrr (Y/n) these are the rules I thought you would respect that.”

“And I thought you would know to relax!”

He thinks your sweet but totally unreasonable

So he guesses you both have something to learn from each other

You more than him obviously

While he doesn’t think highly of your brother he knows your different

And you belong to him

He’s not going to take ‘no’ for an answer

If this is a battle of wills he’d win it

Even if that means subjecting your bad influences to being beheaded

“Riddle! You can't just put that collar on my brother like that!”

“Yeah I’m not even apart of your dorm!”

“Don’t be mad at me for enforcing rules. I know you know the very least of the rules. It shouldn’t be that much of a surprise that your brother just doesn’t measure up. Which means you should leave him before he drags you down.”

Ruggie is peeved that such a prick is after his sister

But he’s not worried

He’s definitely not cool enough to keep your attention

Not to mention he’s so easy to anger

It’ll be fun to rile him up

“Hishishishi so mad oh so fast! You’ll barely survive dating them if your this easy.”

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christinebloodwrittings · 8 days

Text

Engraved on the knowledge tree.

Request by: @white-00-7

Pairing: Lucifer x Fem!Angel-Reader Summary: It is said that time turns people you know into people you don't anymore. When your prayers weren't answered, you decided to visit your dearest friend, in Hell. Warnings: Slight angst, Adam and Eve mention, fluff, NSFW.

“Dearest Sami:

I have heard of your new position in the heavens, congratulations! You must be very happy, as I am for you. The flowers of the garden are exquisite, I’ll bring you a few when I go up to visit. How are you now, are you still picking fights with Michael?

Yours truly, Y/n, principality of the south wall.”

“Dear Y/n:

Principality, oh my! I guess I’m not the only one with a big promotion. I am well, swarmed with papers of matters that yet don’t exist, if that was possible. I have a proposition for a new animal, I will show it to the council and let you know what they tell me.

And Michael is still a pain in everybody’s shoes, certainly someone’s been putting something in his oatmeal every morning, not that I have anything to do about it…or maybe I have.

How are things in the garden? I heard the big man was about to make something new.

Yours truly, Samael Morningstar”

“Dearest Sami:

My word! A new animal? I hope it is fluffy or cute, but that is perfectly capable given your gifted mind. And yes, the big boss is creating something he called “People”, we have yet to wait on his final design, he has tried many methods to create one, but they crumble down.

Don’t bother your sibling, Sami, you know you’ll get in trouble again. I hope you succeed in your presentation.

Yours truly, Y/n, principality of the south wall.”

“Dear Y/n:

I indeed succeeded! Soon you’ll see what will be called a duck floating in the lake of the garden, it has both yellow and white feathers, with a beak on their faces! Most adorable.

What is he making them with? I heard he’s going to try mud next; I do hope that works now.

Which leads me to the next question: at what full moon will you bless me with your company here? I have no one to annoy Michael with, I miss you!

Waiting for your letter, loved the little gardenia inside.

Yours truly, Samael Morningstar”

“Dearest Sami:

I am so glad you liked it! He has succeeded as well! He calls it a “Man”, he’s oddly like us, without our immortal glow and wings of course, he looks simple and fragile, but strong. Adam, the first man! Very smart as well.

I am afraid I have to stand guard, big boss’s orders, so the day I had planned going up had been postponed. I’m so sorry.

Here’s a loose feather of your latest creation! Cute as they can be, the human was the first to caress them. The feathers are the softest thing I have ever felt, even more so than petals. You are brilliant Sami!

Yours truly, Y/n, principality of the south wall.”

“Dearest Y/n:

Oh my! It’s better than I had ever imagine! Though it fills me with grief knowing that I won’t see my dearest friend in a while, but no one can fight against the big man.

I have heard that the man feels alone, so he will be making him a companion, what he calls a woman. To be his equal and support.

The first one to jump on the idea was cupid, as you can imagine, she loved it, so much that she and the big man are discussing her appearance.

Thank you for the feather, still, I would like to see you.

Yours truly, Samael Morningstar”

After Lilith was created, there was almost no letters from Samael. You, dearest reader, couldn't imagine why.

There was an exact number of twelve letters sent to Samael, but the only one that came back, when the skies were tainted red, was to join the fight against a rebellious angel and his legion of insurgents.

Armed and sadly ready to make a move as the front line, you saw Samael, your friend at the other side of the battlefield, your heart crumbled as you were hit by your comrades running off to battle.

An arrow sent you against the ground, then the fire burnt most of your wings and skin as you retreated, last thing you saw was a blinding light, then all of the rebellious team sank down on the ground, including your beloved friend, who had in his arms the first woman.

After the light, fire stars showered down from the skies, one last deed before the angels fell from the heavens, pass the grounds of earth to the new kingdom, Hell.

Your once pearly skin was tainted with burn marks, golden patches colliding with the pale hue. The pain spread across your arm, portions of your torso and multiple specks on your face, similar to freckles but in reality, those were tiny fire marks from when they collapsed on the ground.

Ever since that day, Samael turned into Lucifer.

“This is absurd! How in the- HOW was she able to redeem a sinner?” you heard Sera yell on the other side of her conference room. “Who cares?! The princess did it, there’s hope for hell after all!” Emily cheered and with reason, redemption down there seemed impossible, now it’s a reality Heaven must seize.

“Y/n! can I ask you a favor?” Emily peeked her head out from the door, “Sure miss” you replied, after there was no garden to guard, you were put as a regular soldier, just making sure everything is as perfect as it always seems to be.

“I need you to take this letter to Charlie Morningstar, okay?” why she didn’t go herself? Because as a seraphim she would have to go through Michael and the rest to be allowed to do so, and that could take another hundred years.

“Sure thing, your eminence” you walked away from the building, eyeing through the door the snake winner, internally speechless.

The portal was opened in direction to the Heaven Embassy. As you walked around the streets, sinners looked at you both in fear and repulsion, you couldn’t blame them really, “Fear not, I do not with to harm you” it work in matters that they started to ignore you, resuming they lives. Though you couldn’t stop hearing the screams and nasty comments made.

“You bitch, is your fucking angels fault!” a demon yelled before throwing a stone your way, hitting your shoulder, so a lot of other demons cue in throwing stones at your body. You dismissed the act and kept walking, knowing that if you retaliate things could escalate and become worse.

Besides, after the fire burnt your skin, you almost didn’t feel anything on your back.

The shiny building named ‘Hazbin Hotel’ had a different aura surrounding it, no wonder they were able to redeem someone.

You knocked on the door a few times, a cat like demon opened, his eyes wide as he eyed you up, “What do you want?” he bitterly asked, defensively, “Exterminators gave us a bad rep, huh?” you tried to ease the tension, “I’m here to speak with Miss Morningstar” he looked at the sword attached to your hip, “Loose the sword” he spit, his ears pinned down behind his head, “If it makes you feel safer, here, just don’t let it go into the wrong hands” when he had the weapon on his hand he stepped aside.

“Husk, is everything okay?” your previous dead like feeling melted away, she was the living image of your friend, exactly the same lovely feeling he used to irradiate, “Oh hi! Welcome to the Hazbin hotel!” she took your hand, pulling you further inside, “Oh wow, those are the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen!” she took your face in her hands, rising a golden blush on your face, seeing pass her glow to see just his image, and adoring the same reaction upon meeting you.

“Lovely to meet you, princess, my name is Y/n. I have come with a letter from the Seraphim Emily” you tried to fix your emotions by detach yourself from them, almost impossible when she looked so much like Lucifer, it hurt your insides, even more than your scars.

“Since when soldiers like yourself deliver correspondence?” you heard the red smiling demon jest from the other side of the parlor, “Since the garden of Eden faded” did he meant soldier as an insult? Or he made reference to your wounds? You fidgeted with a strand of your long silver mane.

“I didn't know angels could have freckles” an ex-exterminator made an observation, “Those are burns Maggie, I recognize my own work when I see it” the voice of the former archangel sent a shiver up your spine, thousands of years without hearing his voice made you almost forget it.

Your stomach twisted inside your body, much like Lucifer’s when you turned around and saw you. You were given the image of a lion for your strength and brave heart, he always made a mess of your hair when he wanted to pet your fluffy ears, saying that in between all the angels with your same physique, you were one of a kind, given your white fur instead of the caramel looking one.

He had always made you feel special, and just like that he turned his back on you.

“Y/n, principality of the south wall” he seemed a stranger to that name, centuries without saying it out loud, “Lucifer Morningstar, king of Hell” you curtsied, and oh how it hurt his pride. “No need for that, Y/n, I’m so glad to see you well” he extended his hand, repressing jumping to hug you, given that the last thing he saw as he fell was you under a bunch of his flames.

“Likewise” you felt his hand, rough and calloused, “Will you stay for dinner, or you have to fly back?” you couldn’t fly anymore, just to show him you expanded your backbones, allowing him to see the naked bones lacking flesh and feathers, “Even if I wanted to, I can’t, but the embassy isn’t far away”.

He remembered your wing ceremony, those were hours and hours of soaring creation by his side, enjoying your freedom, and because of him, you were stranded in the ground like a defeated bird.

The room was in a mix of awe and pity, seeing the damage created by a war made for love, then the princess interrupted with the news of her redeemed friend, it was all laughter and joy. But for some reason Lucifer couldn’t stop looking at you, all that damage, all the pain and recovery that you must’ve endured.

“Y/n, you’ll have to stay” he worded that sentence so weird, he had to make another go with it pointing the sky, clouded and dripping. “It’s just rain, I can walk just fine” the radio demon cleared his throat, calling your attention, “It’s acid rain, my dear, I’m afraid you won’t make it pass the door” upon the demon’s hand on your shoulder Lucifer’s eyes turned red for a fraction of a second.

“In that case, princess, would you mind sparing a room? I’ll leave first thing in the morning” she dismissed you calling her princess, “Call me Charlie, and yes, but the rain lasts at least a couple of weeks” you found weird that she stuttered her sentence, so much you thought she was lying.

“Charlie, if you want me to stay for some reason you can just say so” she fiddled with her suit, “I mean is true that the rain lasts a few days, but I want you to see what we can do to redeem sinners, and you could pass the message?” her way to ask for her hotel sake and her father’s was cute, you were unknowing of the latter though.

“Very well” you felt her snaping your back in the tightest hug ever, “Oh thank you, thank you!” she yelled into your chest, “Ah, Charlie I love you, but let her go please, you have yet to control your strength” Vaggie ran to your side, to take her girlfriend away from you, only then both your soul and the air came back to you.

“Like father like daughter” you muttered breathlessly, Alastor holding your arm to support you, “Really?” she lighted up even more, as if that was possible. “Exact quality hug, but he broke two ribs in the process” you let out a laugh, this time the one with the golden blush was lucifer.

“Miss Y/n, you must be tired, how about I escort you to a room?” Alastor took the opportunity to kiss the back of your hand as he pulled you towards the stairs, only to be blocked by Lucifer, “I think is best for me to do it, she’s my friend” he made an emphasis on ‘my’ when he spoke, trying to take your hand from his, but Alastor took his feet away with his tendrils coming from the floor.

“I am the host of the hotel; it is my duty” his smile grew on his face, focusing only in getting into Lucifer’s skin, he didn’t noticed you walking away, “I’m the king of hell!” Lucifer roared annoyed. “Charlie dearest, how about you take me? You are the owner of the hotel” she giggled awkwardly seeing the scene, “This way, ignore them, they do this every day” her comment made you let out a laugh, “I can imagine”.

Lucifer watched you go away with Charlie, the sway of your hips along with your hair falling down to your middle back, made him feel a tingle going up and down his body. “She is a majestic sight to behold” the drop that made Lucifer snap from his stare, “Touch her again, and I’ll forget you are friends with my daughter, bellboy” poor Alastor saw dots of light, when the king hit exactly where his wound was.

Later that night, after Charlie had gifted you a robe and a toothbrush set to use, you stared at the city, seated in a sofa chair next to the window, a cup of tea that Husk had made for you, as a way to apologize for his bitter attitude earlier, which you smiled and told him that it was rather admirable of him, to be so invested in protecting his friends.

You heard a knock, “Y/n? Are you awake?” you thought for a minute, before getting on your feet and adjust your robe. Lucifer was outside your door, his tail wrapped around his leg for moral support, his heart on his throat as he had told himself over a hundred times to just go and talk with you, before actually running down the stairs to your room.

Your mind was plagued with thoughts as well, what might he want? Is he going to apologize for what happened? Is he just going to catch up with you? But of course your body was faster than your mind, because you had opened the door.

Your divine light illuminated his eyes, rising the blush once again when he saw you mere in a long robe, “Yes?” you softly asked, “Do you- ehem, would you like to talk? I mean with me? Not that you couldn’t with anyone else, just- I mean this situation, can we?” you laughed at his ramble, “Come in” his tail lightened around his leg as he entered your room.

“So, uhm, it has been a while” he sat in the chair opposite to yours, “It has” you took another sip of your tea, “Azrael took your place to annoy Michael, the other day he found a roach in his coffee” the ice breaker worked just fine, Lucifer discarded his hat on a side, and laughed his heart out imagining the scene, “And here I thought the angel of death had no sense of humor” he said in between laughs, “You would be surprised” you took another sip.

He swallowed a tight ball of saliva as you crossed one leg over the other, allowing your shiny skin flash him for a second, “I wrote to you nonetheless” his eyes traveled up to your piercing green eyes, “You did?” he heard a low ‘mmh’ before your answer, “I received a letter from the queen, saying that you didn’t wanted to associate with someone like me” you materialized the letter, reading it out loud.

“Estimated Y/n.

I would like you to stop sending your letters, my husband is beyond your pity and sympathy. He doesn’t with to associate with someone like you. We are pretty much done with heaven after what happened.

I suggest you start acting with more dignity and stop trying to romance a married man.

Regards, Lilith Morningstar, queen of Hell.”

You dropped it to the ground, “I kept writing though, eventually, I just tossed my quill and paper, hopeless” he went on his knees, taking the letter into his hands, before looking up from your legs to your face, “Even after…that?” another hum, “Well, it was almost for nothing, she left me seven years ago” you didn’t know whether to give up the façade and offer him some kindness or continue, “That’s unfortunate” you said out of nothing.

“I think apologizing isn’t the best way to go here” his hand was suddenly on your calf, just feeling your softness, “So, can I tempt you? So maybe the next time I see you will be sooner than ten thousand years?” his yellow hue eyes shone in the dead of night right against your leg, in which he rubbed his cheek.

“I- I can’t, what will they say?” he smiled, pushing himself up, his chest slowly rising against your knee, until his face was inches from yours, “If they throw you out of heaven, I promise to catch you” he whispered, “Don’t play with me, devil” you warned, the light white fur on your neck spiked up as a response of the amount of chills his sudden touch on your hips was given you.

“I’m not, I promise I’m not, but as a matter of facts, I had a dream about you” your leg fell from your opposite knee, giving him accidentally, the opportunity to push himself between them. He took your face in his hands, caressing strands of hair away as he settled his sight on your eyes.

“Your eyes remind me of the grasslands of Eden, of the first emeralds, they are so full of life and beauty, just like the bearer. I won't say that the dream haunted me, because I was really waiting for the light of hell to come down just to dream of you, seven consecutive years since my wife left me”

Tears burned their way down your face, “I…missed you too” his breath was so suddenly close, you shut your eyes without knowing what to expect. He smiled, you were still you, “Y/n” he called you, “Tell me you enjoy being a soldier, and I’ll walk away” subtle, lovely, a kiss to your upper cheek, right below your eyes, catching a tear that slipped.

“I don’t, but you just left, and when she comes back, you’ll leave again” “Not this time” “You promise?” “I promise” he waited a couple of seconds for you to say something else, your face was so conflicted, he didn’t knew if you didn't wanted him, or you hated him, but he had no response.

Your lack of words guided his hand to cup your face with one hand, gently at first, then he slipped pass your hair to the back of your head and pulled roughly until he could devour your mouth like he had dreamed, biting, without regard, the soft flesh of your lips.

"Kitten, you taste better than I could ever dream" he lowered his head to your collarbone and from there to your chin he licked like a snake getting a taste of his prey. The sensation of his rough forked tongue sent a shiver down your spine.

You wanted to resist, but his kisses, were so skillful, his hands suddenly grabbed your hips, lifting you up with ease, automatically you hooked your legs behind his back, then your hands flew to hang on his shoulders.

Your back hit the soft bed, in one swift motion, still having at least one hand on your hips to keep you grounded.

He wanted to have you, fast, but also take his time, the bulge in his pants wasn’t making his situation any better for him. You were damned and lost in his caresses, your hands were all over his back and hair, his own matching your movements, while his pelvis teased yours, rub after rub, both undergarments were soaking wet.

As time went by, your doubts dissipated in between his hungry kisses. He sat up, with his hands he threw his coat aside and opened his shirt for you to see, waiting to see if you wanted to escalate or maybe tone things down a notch, he was fine as long as he could still make your lips all swollen as they were.

He watched your hands travel down to the straps of the robe, undoing the knot and allowing him to see the light pink lace lingerie you were wearing. Your pale skin, the lingerie, plus the golden burn marks made such a nice color palette on you, he felt he turned harder just seeing all he could have If he had made the right choice in the garden.

“Do I look that good, seducer?” he noticed your lips moving but it was as if he was in a trance, you were just so “Divine” he let out while going down against your belly, leaving kisses on every rough burnt spot, “I’m so sorry” your hand was petting his head, making him drop moans of his own as you did every time he touched you.

“Do you always wear this under your armor? Or you were hoping to see me?” your blush and the way your eyes moved away from him proved you guilty, “My, my, if I didn’t knew better my dear, that puts you in line to be damned for the sin of lust” his tail caressed the inside of your thigh a few times as he purr those words, making you shake in anticipation.

“Will that turn me into a sexy demon?” he laughed, his tail flicking against your clothed bundle of nerves skillfully, “I’ll see to it if you allow me to” his teeth bit into your neck, not drawing blood but enough to add to your collection, “Lucifer, please” you moaned breathlessly, “May I taste you?” his horns popped out of his head as he looked on your eyes for consent, “Fuck it, yes” his disheveled look was a such a tripping hazard.

Your robe hanged on your elbows as you looked up to see what he was up to, he was kissing the inside of your thigh while he discarded your panties, having the sight of your wetness all to himself. Looking directly to you he wet his lips before licking you clit, making you shiver, then your legs were secured on his shoulders before he went in.

Lapping your folds like a starved man, drinking in your essence like it was the finest wine, he delighted himself in your beauty, “At this rate, I’ll end up corrupting you, my sweet kitten” he took your soft tail in his hand, twisting it around his arm. “Will you make yourself responsible?” he purred in response, taking in his teeth, gently, your clit, teasing a moan out of your throat, “Why of course darling, if you think I’m letting you go easy now, you’re dreamin’ baby” he winked, making his way up, with a flick of his fingers his clothes were gone, as well as your robe.

“I’m truly sorry about what happened” you pulled him up for a heated kiss, tasting yourself in his lips as you did. He then asked for permission for the main thing, in which you said yes in between kisses. His hips collided with yours with each thrust, the sound of skin slapping and the wet sounds filled the room, as did your moans and his.

Ecstasy was a word you wouldn't use for that moment it was too simple. Suddenly there was a knock on your door, “Y/n? Are you okay, we heard a noise” you looked down and your cup was smashed against the floor, you must’ve knocked it at some point.

Panic filled Lucifer’s mind at the voice of his daughter on the other side, “I’m fine Charlie, I merely knocked a cup accidentally, go back to sleep” you heard her say an ‘Okay’ accompanied with a yawn.

He then took himself out of you for a few seconds, then pulled your body towards him, rotating your hips until you were on all fours. He grabbed your hair and he continued fucking you, the thrusts getting stronger and more accurate.

"Stay here, with me, please" he breathed against your ear, to which you couldn't respond, the heat clouded your senses, a warm feeling crawled up your core to your chest, a feeling you knew the meaning of.

"You’re squeezing me so tight" he said in between panted laughs, "Stay, please" you shook your head, “Please love” he bit your shoulder, seeing the golden blood turn red as it went down your back, “There’s no turning back now, anyways, you’re stuck with me” he started thrusting with his life when he saw your eyes turn black, your iris still as green as it was.

“Mine, MINE” he growled, hands on yours as he felt you squeeze him as you came. “Yes, yours” you spoke out of breath, mind blown entirely.

His six long wings had spread out when he finished, so he took the opportunity to take your body in his arms and wrap you in the pile of soft, warm feathers, filling your face with kisses as he positioned both under the covers, “We’ll clean up tomorrow, I don’t want to let you go” you laughed as he whispered those words with kisses under your chin, “Please don’t ever” you hugged his back with one arm, the other hand scratching his head, pulling out a purring sound from him.

You were far too corrupted to go back now.

#hazbin lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #alastor #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel art #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin art #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #lucifer smut #Lucifer x reader smut

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cryptidcorners · 6 months

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Gardenia - Josh Futturman x M!Reader

Description: Being Josh's childhood friend, you never would have expected to see him appear by your doorstep after a month of radio silence. Though, in this particular visit, he's desperate to air out his true feelings before traveling through time. Unknowing if he'll ever come back to see you again.

Media: Future Man!Show

Character: Josh Futturman

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, Childhood Friends, Catching Up, Confessions, Light Angst to Fluff, Kissing, Romantic, Comfort, Sweet Stuff

Warnings: Arguing (+ about Josh ghosting reader), Foul Language, Mental Breakdown/Depression Mentions

read my TOS + Josh Futturman Masterlist

Dread twisted in your stomach like rusted wire, and your constant stirring on your mattress was robbing you of any justice of getting any variant of rest. Your eyes grew heavy, dangerously puffy from expelling your grief several dark hours ago. Though, it had only felt like seconds to you. Your thoughts raced like a wild flock of puzzled birds, breath hitching along with it as you slowly fell into decay.

Your gaze was fixed to your glowing digital screen, eyes fixed on your messages with your old friend, Josh Futturman. It had been weeks of endless radio silence, along with your desperate texts. You were more worried than upset if anything. You went to his house to drop off a game you had finished, but his parents said he wasn't there. Along with all the other days you had made excuses to stand at his doorstep.

His parents weren't liars, and they wouldn't deny you. They knew Josh and you were close. You even remembered Diane saying you were helping him in ways they had struggled to for years. Your lip quivered, so why would he leave?

You two only argued once during a blue moon, you shared so much in common and you swore every second was sincere with him. It had always been him, and it had always been you. Ever since you were kids you were inseparable, to the point others figured you were his boyfriend due to how close you were. It was ridiculous.

Yet, here you were, hunched over and dry with internal pain, thoughts still clinging onto the thought of Josh. You were starved to see him again. He understood everything about you, even with the design of your mind being incredibly complicated. Had you done something wrong? Had you offended him? Had he grown tired of you? Did he even like you?

Then, you heard your doorbell. The familiar tune caught you off guard, but it had made you fix up your wrecked expression promptly and sluggishly fix your clothes. You raced downstairs while catching your breath. You were too out of it to care who it was, but you weren't stupid enough to open it at random. You rested your forehead against the door, "Who is it?" you asked weakly.

"Josh," a familiar voice answered. Muffled, and seemingly distressed as well. You jolted up and needily worked your hands to unlock the door. Your face was brimmed with shock. It was him, but covered in bruises and sweat. His curls were lazy and messy, his eyes were wide and his chest was rising and falling rapidly. Still, his gentle tone made you weak, relieved. But also incredibly angry. "Hey." He said, "Long time no see?"

You struggled to collect your thoughts. "Yeah." Your eyes narrowed, "Do you want to come inside?"

"Please." Josh stated. You didn't say anything, and gestured for him to walk toward. As soon as you shut the door, he immediately opened his mouth and began rambling, "Look, I'm—, I'm so sorry I didn't talk to you." His eyes met yours, "Trust me, I didn't mean to leave you for so long." Josh stammered, "I was just, so wrapped up in something. And, I wanted to talk to you, but I couldn't, please, I didn't–"

You sucked your teeth, "Where were you Josh?"

"I–" his hands landed heavily at his sides, his face slightly appalled at himself. As if he were a dumbfounded audience. "I can't tell you."

"Why not?" You grew agitated, spilling out your gallons of binded frustration. "Why did you ghost me for over a month? Where . . . Where were you?" You breathed heavily, "I thought you hated me, or something terrible happened to you. God, your parents didn't even know where you were!"

Josh choked out a cry, "You don't understand. I didn't want to hurt you,"

"But you did!" You interrupted. "Josh, why did you leave? What happened?"

"I can't fucking tell you!" Josh shouted. "You wouldn't understand. It's too complicated!" You grabbed him by the shoulder before he could turn around, "No, I don't think you understand. How could you just go with no explanation? You look terrible. What are you running away from?"

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you." Josh winced, "I'm sorry, okay? Please, I had no choice. I didn't mean to leave you. I didn't do it because I hated you or anything like that, okay?" His breaths were unraveling, "Do you know how much I care about you? You know me. You're my best friend," a low whimper escaped your lips as you stated at him. The tension shifted, and you both gazed at each other longingly. "I love you."

"Josh." You released your grip. "Please, I, don't have much time. I love you, so much. I would never, ever, hurt you." His hands found your face, "I need you to know this." Something grew in your chest, and you brought your head forward. "I love you too."

You don't know who fell first, but you felt relieved once Josh kissed you. His hands scavenged across your back, and you dug your fingers into his hair. He hummed, body relaxing at the feel of you. Once his palm found its way under your shirt, you both collapsed onto your couch.

You were both crosslegged and smothered in each other, skin blazing as your love untangled. His hands found your sides and you were eagerly grabbing his collar to pull him closer. You swear you could see stars once he pulled away, trying to catch his breath. Josh held you close, face still red from the passion you had inflicted just a few seconds ago.

"Hey, I'm sorry." You whispered.

"For what?"

"For getting so angry." You frowned, "I shouldn't have gotten so pissed at something personal happening to you."

Josh cupped your face. You swore you could drown in his eyes, "Don't say that. You deserve to be mad at me, I left you. And it's okay, just . . . stay here with me." You cuddled up next to him with a sleepy exhale, smiling softly. "Stay."

Josh whispered, "I promise I'll make it up to you. In any way I can,"

#🎮 josh futturman #josh futturman #josh futturman x reader #josh futturman x male reader #josh hutcherson #future man #future man 2017 #guys im the first person to make a josh x m fic #r u proid of me???#writing #writers on tumblr

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mcverse · 8 months

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༘⋆✿ Pᴀʀɪɴɢ: Yᴜᴜᴍᴀ Mᴜᴋᴀᴍɪ x ꜱ/ᴏ! F! Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

༘⋆✿ Rᴇϙᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ: Yᴇꜱ/Nᴏ ( @arleccine )

༘⋆✿ Wᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.1ᴋ

༘⋆✿ Tʏᴘᴇ: Oɴᴇʜᴏᴛ Sᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ, Cᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ!Aᴜ

༘⋆✿ Wᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱʏ, ғɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, ᴏʀɢᴀꜱᴍ (ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠɪɴɢ), ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ʙɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴋɪɴᴋ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ(?) ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ Yᴜᴜᴍᴀ, ꜱᴏғᴛ Yᴜᴜᴍᴀ (ꜱᴏ ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴏᴏᴄ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ꜱᴜʀᴇ), ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴅᴇɢʀᴀᴅɪɴɢ

༘⋆✿ Sɪᴅᴇ Bᴀʀ: I ᴡᴀꜱɴ’ᴛ ᴘʟᴀɴɴɪɴɢ ᴏғ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ғᴀʀ ʙᴜᴛ I ᴅɪᴅ. Wᴇʟʟ, ʜᴇʀᴇ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ. Mʏ ғɪʀꜱᴛ ᴏғғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ. ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ғɪʀꜱᴛ, ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜᴏᴡ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ᴘʟꜱ!

༘⋆✿ Hᴏᴍᴇ

ᴘʟꜱ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ɪɴ ᴍɪɴᴅ: ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ʙʟᴏɢ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ 18+

ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ & ꜱʜᴀʀᴇꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ

"Damn..." you exhale in exhaustion as you place a box in the living room among the others. Yuuma follows, effortlessly juggling the last two boxes in both arms and closing the apartment door with his foot.

He positions the boxes beside yours and shakes his head, teasing, "You lifted, what, five boxes? Quit pretending like you did so much work." A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips when you shoot him a scowl.

"What's it to you? I'm exhausted. It took hours to get here. I don't have vampire-like abilities where I can skip sleep," you retort, turning away with a pout and settling beside the box you had placed earlier. "And out of all the places we could've gone, you pick this city."

If you could even call it a city. By your standards, it was far too small in comparison to the cities in America, but you didn't have the authority to dictate what qualified as one.

Yuuma clicks his tongue and approaches you, giving your hair a gentle tug to capture your attention. "We picked this place together, don't forget. A certain someone couldn't handle long-distance, so we made a compromise on Nakari University."

You groan and shut your eyes as the memory replays in your mind, causing you to cringe with secondhand embarrassment. It's the recollection of a particularly raw and emotional pillow talk with Yuuma.

It was perhaps that display of vulnerability that led to both of you deciding to attend the same college instead of going your separate ways for your bachelor's degrees.

Somehow, you had a feeling he'd never allow you to forget that.

"That's what I thought," he tease playfully in response to your silence, leaning down and catching you off guard with a quick peck on the lips. "Now, quit lounging around. The quicker we unpack, the sooner you can sneak in a nap."

You nod, smiling at him. "And a shower. I would really enjoy that."

He takes a sniff of the air, raises an eyebrow, and nods in agreement. "You've got that unmistakable scent of sweat."

You decide to dismiss his comment since nobody sought his agreement, and you're becoming tired of his teasing. Pointing out your scent isn't fair when he consistently carries the fragrance of Gardenias around him.

"Could you play some music? My phone's in my purse over there, and my mini speaker’s right next to it," you ask him, opting not to get up since he was already standing.

He complies without hesitation, effortlessly unlocking your phone because he knows the password, while simultaneously turning on the Bluetooth speaker. "Do you have a specific song, or should I shuffle?"

"Shuffle," you mumble, your mind already focused on unboxing the boxes within your reach.

He hums, starting to play your liked list and then proceeding to unbox the last two boxes he brought in. Amidst the melodies playing through the speakers, the sound of ripped tape on cardboard boxes could be heard quite loudly.

The speaker volume is evidently too low. Just as you're about to nag Yuuma to turn it up, you perk up at the instrumental of "What He Don't Know."

"Oh, this is my song! Yumi, crank up the volume!" you exclaim, pointing at your phone and snapping your fingers to prompt him. As he adjusts the volume and turns it up, your voice also rises as the lyrics begin.

"What a goofball..." he murmurs quietly as he leans against the wall, a soft smile on his face as he observes you singing your heart out at the highest volume. You sing so loudly that you forget about your task and wave your arms around, as if the lyrics resonate deeply within your soul.

“I want to make you do bad things that he can’t teach you, same places he can’t reach to!” you sing, bopping to the beat with enthusiasm.

Yuuma raises a brow at those lyrics, straightening up slightly as he shifts his attention more to the music than to you. What kind of song was this?

“We can play this dirty game, while he’s away, ain’t that why you came. You whisper in my ear soft and low, “ you pause a beat before matching the energy of the chorus, “What he don’t know won’t hurt him. Don’t know won’t hurt him, don’t know won’t hurt him.”

His eyebrows furrow now, his mind trying to piece together why you're vibing so easily to this song. It’s about cheating, and he’s wondering why you seem so into it. You're not a cheater, right? At least, not in anything but Monopoly, he thinks.

“Simple touch just enough, to tell me you like it rough. You say you want to leave him. Secrets always stay sweet and on the tip of your tongue, like a loaded—“

The song abruptly stops, making you snap your head towards the source. You find Yuuma holding your phone in a tight grip. However, his expression is inscrutable, and you can't tell how he's feeling right now. What you don't know is that Yuuma has heard enough, and he didn't like it, not one bit.

"I was listening to that!" you whine, slumping sadly as you shoot him a disapproving frown.

He ignores your complaint and instead shoots a question at you, "Since when did you start listening to songs like this?" He gives you an expectant look, his eyes piercing as he awaits your reply.

He wants to know.

"What? Recently. It's one of my new favorites," you reply, still puzzled by his reaction. Why was he so concerned about the song?

"Where did you hear it?" he fires off another question, his voice slightly strained, and his throat feeling dry.

He needs to know.

You shrug, rolling your eyes at his barrage of questions. "I don't know. I just can't stop listening to it on repeat."

Yuuma wasn't pleased with your answer. His mind raced, thinking that you must have heard the song in a social setting where he wasn't present. Why else would you be listening to a song like this?

He gazes at you for a moment before a smirk slowly creeps onto his face, and he starts walking toward you, each step filled with playful taunts. When he reaches you, you're gazing up at him with a doe-eyed expression, and he can't help but find it amusing. You look just like caught prey.

"Is there someone I should be worried about?" he teases, his hand gently tilting your chin upward as he encourages you to stand up to your full height.

You were left speechless, to say the least. Yuuma's teasing was usually light-hearted, but this time, there seemed to be an undertone to it. The only occasions he got like this were when he was upset or in a bedroom mood.

It left you even more puzzled. What had you done in such a short time to agitate his nerves? And if that wasn’t the case, why did he suddenly seem turned on?

"Don't make me repeat myself," Yuuma prods at your silence, taking a step forward. In response, you take steps back until your back hits a surface.

This leaves Yuuma closing the distance between you, effectively trapping you between him and the wall. He demands, "Answer me, sow."

Yes, he was angry and turned on. He only ever calls you that during that particular moment, understanding how belittling it would be outside of that context and how it didn't fit with someone he comes to love.

"Why are you upset?" you whisper as his eyes travel to your lips, your breath hitching when he runs a finger from your ear down to your shoulder, teasingly tracing a path with his touch.

You instinctively turn your head, baring your neck to him. He hasn't fed since you arrived. Maybe he was upset because he was hungry?

His hand slowly travels from bare your shoulder, down your collarbone, past your breast, skipping past your belly button to linger around the loose waistband of your baggy ripped jeans, playing with it. “Are you pretending to be a dumb bitch in heat right now, baring your neck to me because you know what you did wrong? Or can my baby really be this dumb?”

You shake your head, mumbling “I’m not dumb..,” but you certainly feel like it when all his words do is shoot right down to your lower region that begins to ache for some attention instead of feeling repulsed by them.

Suddenly, you’re all too aware of how far Yuuma is despite how close, and you pull him flush against your body with your arms circling around his waist.

You didn’t care what he was mad about right now. Whatever the reason may be, you can talk about it later because you knew where this attitude would lead next.

He started it, and he damn sure was gonna finish it. He’ll make you forget those damn lyrics until the only thing singing from your lungs is his name and sweet mewls just for him.

He chuckles lowly at your words, at your reaction to his. Your body betraying your defensive words, choosing him over your brain that he was going to fuck to mush on his dick later.

"No, you're not dumb?," he falsely coos, rubbing his nose against your cheek before planting ghostly kisses on your jawline that lead to your ear. He teasingly bites your earlobe and whispers, "That’s not what I wanted to hear…I’ll just have to finger you till you are."

In just seconds, you find yourself clutching his shirt tightly, your back arching away from the wall as Yuuma effortlessly slips his hand beneath your waistband, cupping your sex as his middle finger applies pressure to your clit.

“You have to be dumb, sow,” he sensually hisses, increasing the pressure, keeping a firm grip on your hips just as they threaten to move, “Listening to songs like that ain’t fair to me. Haven’t I been good to you?”

"W-What?" you wearily reply, too busy focusing on the meager pleasure he's giving you and trying to wriggle free for more when he refuses to move on his own. You huff in annoyance at his strong grip on your hip. "Yuuma," you whine, leaning your head against his chest.

You feel his lips pressing gently against the side of your head, and it makes the feeling between your leg throb just as much as the muscle in your chest. How can he embody both tenderness and playfulness at the same time? He physically holds you in his hand, weaving a tapestry of serious and teasing words, yet he hasn't fulfilled your most profound desires.

"Yes?" he replies, and though you can't see his face, the sound in his voice hints at his smirk transforming into a wicked grin.

You gulp heavily, your mind racing to keep up, but the overwhelming heat coursing through your body makes it difficult to concentrate. All you desire is for him to move his wrist in a specific manner, back and forth repeatedly, at a speed that threatens to make your eyes cross.

What did you need him to do again, oh yeah, “Stop playing with me.” you grumble, “I wanna cum, I want you to make me cum.”

"Who said I was playing?" he responds with all seriousness, sliding his hand up an inch to slip into your underwear, reclaiming the same position. However, this time, he applies the same pressure and starts moving in a circular motion at a speed that leaves you gasping for air in surprise, “Who said I play when it comes to you?”

"F-Fuck!" you whimper shakily, your eyes tightly shut in response to his astonishing pace, one that no human man could ever hope to match. The sensation is so overwhelming that your legs instinctively begin to close, but Yuuma halts them with a leg of his own, pushing you further open.

“Do you think I came all this way with you, just to hear you sing a song about leaving me just as we got here?!” he growls deeply, forcefully tearing your tank top apart and splitting your bra in two before settling back on your hip.

The sight sends a shiver down his spine, and he licks his lips as he hears your pulse quicken and sees your veins dance, “You look so good…you taste so good.”

You moan in response to his words, unable to articulate a single coherent syllable, even though this is only the appetizer; it happens every time.

Your anticipation intensifies as his touch momentarily retreats from your throbbing clit, only to descend to your core, where he circles, gathering slickness before resuming his attention to your sensitive bud.

A mixture of desire and a subtle tinge of shame colors your thoughts as you imagine him doing this with the intention of withdrawing his hand to sensually suck on his fingers while repeating those alluring words.

“You’re so wet,” he groans, his grip on your hip tightening, “I bet you'd feel incredible wrapped around me—so tight, so warm. Do you think you can handle me right now?” he asks thrusting his hips forward suddenly and forcefully, causing you to jump with a gasp. It may not have directly touched you, but the impact against his hand was enough to make the knot in your stomach to grow tighter.

His hand abandons your hip, choosing instead to wrap his arm around your waist, securing you as your knees start to tremble under the approaching wave of pleasure. Your mouth hangs open, emitting short, ragged breaths. He observes it for a moment before deciding that he wants a taste.

You moan into the kiss, your tongues dancing together as you clutch his shoulders. In your passionate embrace, he unconsciously blocks your access to air, leaving you breathless and growing dizzy.

Yuuma thoroughly explores every corner of your mouth with his, greedily eats up all the noise you make before he eventually pulls away. A glistening strand of saliva briefly connects you both before it breaks and rejoins the pool of drool in the corner of your mouth.

“I’m gonna cum!” you warn him, pulse picking up to the point of numbness, your body hot and drenched in sweat, causing your torn clothes to stick uncomfortably to your skin. But all of that fades in importance when Yuuma abruptly halts his movements altogether.

Your eyes snap open, and you shoot him a displeased glare, your brow furrowing as you tug at his shirt in irritation. "No! Yuuma, I was so close!" you complain, arching your hips to seek the lost friction. It feels like you were ascending the highest peak, only to suddenly tumble down without any apparent reason.

His gaze remains locked onto yours, and he delivers the most frustrating statement since his irritation began, "I didn't give you permission to come.”

"Okay! Enough with the attitude, Yuu—ah!" you're cut off by a drawn-out moan that blends both pain and pleasure as he simultaneously bites down on your neck and slips a finger inside you. He groans against your skin, whether from the taste of your iron on his tongue or your tight grip on his finger, you're not entirely certain.

He wastes no time, thrusting into you with precision, his wrist flicking sharply while his thumb rubs your clit simultaneously. The pressure in your stomach builds up once more, and you reach down to keep his hand in place, silently praying that he doesn't stop again because it feels fucking delicious.

The throbbing in your pussy matches the pulse in your neck, and you can't help but wonder if he can sense how perfectly in sync they both are. The thought makes your eyes roll back, revealing more white than iris. He adds a second finger, curling them expertly as they press against the sensitive spot within clamped walls, causing your toes to curl and making you even tighter.

Yuuma breaks away from your neck, muttering a curse as he reaches his long arm further behind your back. He seizes your baggy jean leg, pulling your leg off the floor toward your body where he can grip the back of your knee. The stretch is deliciously painful in the best way, encouraging him to delve knuckle deep inside you.

The sounds of smacks resonate loudly, a clear indicator of how aroused he's made you. He breathes heavily while studying your body, declaring, "I’m the only one who can make you feel like this," he says, moving back towards your neck to plant kisses near your sensitive spot.

You whimper and shiver, the area tingling with slight soreness, “Only I could see you like this… legs spread open like a slut, taking what I give you in your messy pussy.”

Floating. It's as if you're weightless, carried higher by his words, each one pushing your climax to new heights. The sensation is almost achingly tight, and the promise of sweet release is tantalizingly close. Just one more push, and...

"Cumming, cumming!" you cry out, holding onto him tightly. Tears actually well up in your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure that courses through you, completely shattering your mind.

All that escapes your lips are chants of his name, nothing else. Your stomach tightens, and your muscles spasm as you gush onto his hand, even as he continues to abuse your pussy at the same tempo. It's so intense that you feel dizzy within the throes of your climax.

Your body becomes pliant as the euphoria settles in, soft sighs and mewls escaping your lips. "Yuuma," you pant, "Yuuma?" you call out again, but he continues to ignore you.

Instead, he withdraws his hand from your jeans, moving away slightly to lift you up into his arms. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as his hands find purchase on your hips, drawing you close. So close that you can feel the bulge in his pants brushing against your covered sex.

Without a chance to ask a question, he kisses you with insatiable hunger, tilting his head to intensify the passionate connection, his lips devouring yours.

One of his hands reaches back, squeezing your ass, eliciting a wanton moan from you. When he finally pulls away, you're left feeling thoroughly turned on again, especially as you see the desire burning in his dark, lust-filled eyes.

"We're going to fuck, and after that, you're going to delete that stupid song, got it?" he orders, his jaw tense as he waits for your confirmation. He smirks when he receives a nod, accompanied by a shaky sigh.

"Good girl."

#✰ 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐮— 𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐭¡𝐜𝐚 #✮⋆˙ 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 — 𝐲𝐮𝐮𝐦𝐚 #yuma mukami x reader #mukami yuma #diabolik lovers yuma #yuma mukami #yuuma mukami #yuma mukami imagine #diabolik boys #diabolik lovers mukami #diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers x reader #diabolik lovers smut #Yuma mukami smut #yuuma muakami smut

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thearchvillain · 1 year

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gardenias. | nikolai

part I

nikolai lantsov x reader

summary: the setting is a grand event hosted at os alta with the intention of finding a future queen for crown prince vasily. the reader is a merchant's daughter trying to keep a low profile after her parents had dragged her there (against her will) with the hopes that she might catch the prince's attention. she, on the other hand, has different plans. plans that get entirely upheaved by none other than the younger prince nikolai who interrupts her illicit late-night meeting in the winter garden. now she's caught attention of one of the two people whose scrutiny she'd been trying so hard to avoid for the last few days of the event and she's not entirely sure she actually minds it.

preview: Irritated, she spun around and came up so close she could feel the wool of his uniform brush against her bodice as she glared up at him. "What now?" "Now I'm thinking I should escort you to your room, just to make sure you don't accidentally commit some act of treason on your way to it." "Is that what you think? That I'm planning some grand act of treason with Zaitsev?" "You do have that look about you. A bit insolent, a bit treasonous." She twisted her wrist in his hand as if to draw attention to it, jutting her chin out defiantly as she looked up at him. When she spoke she did her best to sound as smug and irritating as he did. "You like that, don't you?" He made a soft tutting sound, looking deeply amused. "I do like you. That doesn't mean I trust you." "That's--" she stuttered, torn between irritation and being caught off-guard by the matter-of-factness colouring his voice, "That's not what I meant." "You're blushing again."

word count: 5k (i know. don't @ me)

tropes/warnings: not cannon, vasily's still alive, nikolai's kinda suspicious that y/n is about to commit some kind of treason and it's reflected in the way he acts, there is tension and innuendos though sljdf, y/n does get a bit upset/frustrated at one point, nikolai does apologise but does not back down from his plan to uncover her secrets bc where would the fun be in that, there is physical touch

a/n: i'm not going to lie to you, this is absolutely going to be a multi-part. i'm enjoying writing nikolai being a teasing menace far too much not to explore it further, and i think nikolai would be far too curious and fascinated by y/n to just let it go (and a bit worried about what she's up to). note that while this is their first time meeting there's still a lot of tension that will only continue to grow, so i hope you enjoy it!

The air inside the palace winter garden was laden with the scent of jasmine. There was an oppressiveness to it that stood in stark contrast with the fresh night air she'd come in from, leaving her heady and wondering if she might suffocate from it by the time the lieutenant arrived. That would be quite the sight - a page ripped out of a book of fairytales and brought to life, a pretty young thing laid peacefully amongst the blossoming flowers, caught in the last moment before the colour had drained out of her cheeks. She would lay out her arm like so, blue petals spilling out of her still fingers and... Ghezen. This place had a way of bringing out the morbid in her. Must be something about all the death imagery she'd sifted through earlier that day in the royal library - Ravkan stories certainly had a proclivity for martyred girls and their lovely, tragic endings. It did nothing but fortify her belief that breaking into the winter garden and hiding out had been a good idea. Y/N had no interest in actually experiencing martyrdom or tragic endings, thank you very much.

That is if one ignored the fact she was tempting fate by agreeing to an illicit meeting with a man her parents had most definitely not had in mind when they'd dragged her all the way to Ravka with them. A man who was distinctly late to said meeting. Y/N twisted the leaf she'd plucked from one of the bushes, her fingers sticky from where she'd crushed it and unsteady with the nervous sort of energy that accompanied late nights and ill-advised impulses. She'd already stood up and sat back down several times when the sound of a door opening interrupted her mid-movement and she slipped behind one of the stone columns that obscured her from view. The silence stretched for a long moment before the door clicked closed once more. The stone roses of the column were biting into the skin between Y/N's shoulderblades where she pressed herself against it as if she might blend into it by the sheer force of will. Another stretch of silence before the sound of a key turning in the lock made her start, her chest tightening. Silence. Whoever was there must've just noticed the door was left unlocked and decided to close it. Good. Y/N fingered the silver hairpin she'd used to break into the garden before pushing herself away from the column and slipping towards the glass door that led onto the palace grounds. She didn't want to risk anyone seeing her going back through the door that had just been locked.

"What's the rush?" A voice came from somewhere behind her. "You're missing all the flowers. Or is the collection not exotic enough for the refined tastes of a merchling princess?"

Y/N halted mid-step, her shoulders drawn taut as she went very, very still. This was not the lieutenant's voice - it was just a bit too silvery, too playful, too... refined in its accent. Not a native speaker, but a very well-educated one.

"I... the smell - it's overpowering."

A soft chuckle. "Perhaps the lady would find it less offensive if she came to visit the gardens during the day." There was a slight pause. She swore she could almost hear him smirk in the way his voice trailed off. "As most people do."

She still had her back turned to him, her head tipped slightly back to look up towards the glass ceiling as if she expected to find a solution or at least strength to deal with this up there. "You are here too, are you not?"

"Touche." He moved then, his steps loud against the marble floor but slow and languid, as if he were a predator stalking a fear-frozen doe in some rather exotic forest. He was much closer when he spoke this time. "But I like the smell. It's jasmine. Night-blooming jasmine to be specific. My mother's favourite."

Y/N did not see what was the relevance of his confession but she assumed he might be slightly more compliant with the whole keeping quiet about this business if she played along. "Does she garden?"

This made him laugh. It was a nice sort of laugh - the kind that belonged to someone intimately familiar with the sound, whose mouth had been made for laughing and who found her question infinitely amusing. "Saints, no. That would be quite the sight though - my mother with dirt-stained hands, taking care of a living thing."

Y/N did not respond. This sounded like a confession too, one she was not privy to. She felt like she was missing a puzzle piece. He waited in silence for a moment, and when she didn't answer she heard the rustle of fabric as he must have leaned against the column behind her. "Are you not going to turn around?"

"I was escaping, remember? It would be silly to show my face now when I still have a chance of getting away."

He made a noncommittal sound. "I didn't realise you were fleeing. Women don't tend to run away from me very often. How... thrilling."

Y/N almost snorted at this display of ego. She resigned herself to a sort of small, vague sound that could be left up to interpretation. "Are you going to stop me?"

"Would you like me to?" His voice had gone low and goading, but he never moved from his spot. It had occurred to her that it might be advisable to be more nervous about this strange man standing behind her, but this felt more like a game than a threat and Y/N couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips.

"A thrilling proposition, but one I will have to refuse. Allegedly I'm a sensible creature, and none of this sounds very sensible."

"Neither does meeting Lieutenant Zaitsev in a winter garden at three in the morning, but here we are. Minus Zaitsev, unfortunately." He said unfortunately in a way people did when they found nothing unfortunate about a situation at all.

Y/N spun around, suddenly very aware of the sound of rushing blood and her own quickened heartbeat that rang in her ears. Prince Nikolai looked as pleased by this reaction as she imagined a cat would as it dug its claws into some poor, unsuspecting thing or got a big plate of full-fat cream. At least now the gardening thing made complete sense.

He was in his full regalia, as polished as he'd been when she'd seen him earlier this evening, all shiny medals and sharp lines and the sort of lazy indifference that came with inherited importance and disarming good looks. She'd half expected the illusion of grandeur to disappear once she saw him up close, but the prince remained as impeccable as he'd been from afar, almost to an irritating degree. Y/N lowered her eyes.

"My apologies, your Highness. I didn't recognise your voice."

"How could you? We've never had the pleasure of speaking to each other." Y/N thought she might have been imagining the subtle note of accusation in his voice. He tipped his head to the side, eyes fixed on Y/N with the sort of intense curiosity that she could feel burning against her skin. "Don't apologise. I've had enough of performative politeness to last me a year."

Y/N raised an eyebrow at that, her eyes flitting up to his face for a brief moment of offence. "Are you implying my apology is performative?"

Nikolai caught her eyes and smiled at that. She had been right - he had the sort of mouth that lent itself to charming, easy smiles and was hard to look away from. "You don't seem the type to be sorry about any of this. Except maybe getting caught."

Y/N didn't deign answer that, there was no point in pretending when he hardly appeared open to changing his mind if the knowing smirk on his lips was anything to go by. She took a slight step backwards when he pushed himself away from the column and moved towards her. He side-stepped her, though there was still an undue amount of proximity between them as he passed by her side, eyes trailing along her features before he focused on something behind her.

"You know who I am, don't you?" she asked. He'd called her a merchling princess, he'd known exactly why she was here and who she'd intended to meet. Something was unsettling about the casual way in which he considered her question as if he were toying with her the same way he was toying with the leaves of some unnamed bush he'd stopped to observe.

He was quiet for a while, the only sound a low chuckle that rumbled in his chest as he plucked a pretty, pink flower from its stem. "It's in my job description," he said simply as if that might explain the overabundance of information on her.

"Is it? I've heard princes have people for that. To whisper over your shoulder whenever they see someone coming your way."

A laugh this time. "You're not wrong, but I find those quite overbearing and tough to get rid of when one wishes to slip away unnoticed. I'm sure you can relate."

She hummed in response, eyes narrowed. "Where's the lieutenant?"

"Am I boring you that much? You wound me, Miss Braam."

Y/N barely held back a frustrated sound that she felt building in her chest. He was infuriating on purpose, she was sure. She'd seen him interact with people tonight and he went about it with such elegance and ease that there was no doubt Nikolai Lantsov had a way with both words and people.

"I would do no such thing. You're a delight," she said dryly. And it wasn't a lie - Nikolai did seem delightful in a precarious sort of way, but Y/N felt far too on edge to appreciate it. "He promised..."

Nikolai interrupted her, one gloved hand raised as if he were placating a startled wild animal. "I sent him away," he said, turning to face her, "I must say, if I were in his place and meeting you in such a lovely place at a such late hour I would've personally put up much more of a fight. Alas, he obeyed - so you're stuck with me instead."

Y/N felt the frustration rising, choking out the words in her throat even as she pushed it down to try and appear forlorn rather than annoyed. "Oh," was all she said, turning her face away so that the shadowy darkness offered some cover.

She saw him shift in the periphery of her vision and then there were fingers on the edges of her jaw, the material soft and runny against her skin. Not cotton, silk. Of course it would be silk. She didn't fight him as he guided her chin so that she was looking at him once again, determined to appear deeply hurt by Zaitsev's abandonment rather than irritated by the fact she would now have to come up with another plan to get the materials from him. Nikolai's eyes trailed along her face as if he were drinking her in, so gentle and sympathetic she almost believed it. Almost.

"As lovely as you look in all your teary-eyed, heartbroken glory," Nikolai said, sounding amused, "I sincerely doubt you are anything of the sort. It's that Ketterdam blood in your veins. Pragmatism above all else, no?"

She tried to free her chin from his fingers, but as she did the grip suddenly became less gentle, holding her firmly in place. He smiled when he saw the flash of irritation cross her features.

"That's more like it." He sounded almost satisfied to see the facade crack, amused by her reaction. What in Ghezen's name was his problem?

She jerked her chin against his grip in a display of defiance before staring him down. "And is pragmatism an unfamiliar concept here in Ravka? Quit playing, your Highness. We could've been done with this much quicker if you'd just asked your questions at the start."

He only hummed in response, still looking at her as if he were observing a particularly riveting piece of art, one that might reveal some secret symbolism hiding beneath the surface. "Maybe I didn't want it to be quick?"

"I also sincerely doubt that."

He chuckled and Y/N felt his warm breath brush against her flushed cheeks. His grip had loosened, but she still felt the warmth of his fingers seeping into her skin. "Why? You're a curious thing. Brought here to be paraded about for the Court in hopes of securing a fruitful marriage, no? But then you very adamantly avoid both my brother and me. It's a bit strange... I suppose I wanted to take my time with you."

"Maybe that was the ploy all along, the whole avoidance thing. It got you curious, didn't it?" She leaned into his touch very intentionally then, overly aware of the way he shifted them to accommodate her, her eyebrow raised in an attempt at mirroring his playfulness.

"I admire your talent for improvisation, Miss Braam. Really, it's quite charming..."

"But...?" She'd sensed he was going in that direction and interrupted him before he could say it. Nikolai chuckled.

"But, I'm not buying it. It would've been far too risky of a plan. And unless you are more arrogant than I am - which I doubt - I don't think you expected or wanted anyone to come looking. Aside from Zaitsev, of course."

Y/N sneered at him then, finally irritated enough that she reached up to grab his wrist and pull his hand away from her jaw. The wool of his uniform was rough beneath her fingers, golden buttons digging into her palm where she gripped it. She hated how aware of him she was as she let go. Nikolai let her, grinning delightedly at this sudden display of insolence.

"Not particularly gentle. I like that."

"Stop pretending to flirt with me, your Highness." Because that's what it was - make-believe. She thought she could see something more sinister lurking beneath it. If he didn't believe her she was meeting Zaitsev for a moonlight tryst between two lovers - which in all fairness was an entirely correct assumption - then he must've thought she had more insidious intentions. So why wasn't he dragging her back to the party, demanding answers? Perhaps making a spectacle of it was his way of intimidation, it certainly fit the aura of aloof confidence he was displaying.

"Who says I'm pretending?"

She shot him a dry look in lieu of an answer. "If you're not going to ask what my real reason was for meeting Zaistev then I'm going to ask how in Ghezen's name did you know we were meeting in the first place?"

He watched her for a moment, head bent to look down at her and a smirk playing on his lips, then he turned and went around her to stroll between the lush flowers. She watched the moonlight glint off the golden details of his uniform, his hands clasped behind his back, something languorous and insolent about the way he moved. "Now, that would be telling," he said, "And I like to keep an air of mystery about me. It adds to the charm I think."

"Fine. Why care to find out about it at all?"

He halted for a second as if considering his answer. "I told you. You never bothered to introduce yourself, and the whole charade has been going on for three nights and days now. I was already suspicious on the second day as to what exactly you were doing here."

Realising they weren't going anywhere any time soon Y/N made her way over to the fountain, the soft rush of water behind her back soothing her nerves as she sat down. "So your explanation is that your ego made you do it?"

"My ego makes me do a lot of things, Miss Braam. A character fault, I know, but no one's perfect." He didn't sound sorry about it at all.

"I have a perfectly sensible explanation for that, if you'd like to hear it?"

He was picking apart another flower, like a gardener's worst nightmare when he looked back towards her and smirked. "Another one? Are we dropping the playing hard-to-get ploy?"

Y/N ignored the jab, leaning back on her hands and tilting her head as she watched him lean in to smell some unremarkable bush. "My parents are tentatively hopeful, but I know better..."

"Of course you do."

"Would you stop that, you menace."

Nikolai started laughing and Y/N realised that all the other times he'd laughed or chuckled at her words it had been only a good mimicry of amusement. This was the real thing. She snorted and looked up towards the glass ceiling in faux exasperation, hiding her smile.

"Anyway. It's the crown prince's hand in marriage that's on the table, right? You said it yourself - us merchling princesses are a pragmatic bunch. As nice as it sounds, I'm no royalty, so why waste my breath? Your kingdom needs political alliances, not money. Nothing's going to come of it." She shrugged. "And if I'm debasing myself like I'm a dairy cow on a cattle fair, I'd prefer not to do it in vain. I too have an ego, you know."

When she dropped her head back down she realised Nikolai was watching her from where he stood, head tipped to the side, his fingers absentmindedly plucking the petals off a rose he was holding. He seemed to be considering saying something but decided against it.

"From what I've been told, your father is a very rich man," he said eventually, "And I find that sort of thing makes a woman rather attractive. Political alliances can be bought, you know."

"Is that why you keep not-pretending to flirt? Does my father's money make me so irresistible?"

"Well that, and the insolence." He smirked. "But mostly insolence. Us Ravkans, we're just not as pragmatic."

Y/N rolled her eyes, though without malice. "I can tell." She sighed, watching her fingers where they dipped into the cold water. "And besides, I'm not too keen on being shipped off to a foreign kingdom. Much to my mother's dismay."

"Not even for a crown?"

Her gaze shifted back to Nikolai who was now strolling over to her, appearing genuinely curious this time. He looked like something out of a children's book, like he might be the one to discover the fair, dead girl she'd imagined in a field of flowers and mourn over her body, impressive even in tragedy. She supposed she understood why all the girls when they were done with Vasily swarmed to try and get Nikolai's attention instead.

"I have no interest in crowns. They seem heavy."

He stopped a few paces away, watching her for a moment before a small, knowing smile bloomed across his lips. "What is it that interests you then?"

Y/N was glad he'd asked if only so she could grin insolently at him and repeat what he'd said to her before, "Now, that would be telling, your Highness. And I like to keep an air of mystery about myself too."

He was standing over her now, looking down at where she was sprawled back on the cold stone of the fountain, a playful glint in his eyes. "Fair. I suppose I should've seen that one coming from a mile away."

"You really should have." She agreed with amusement, head tipped back to look up at him. For a moment they stared at each other, him standing so close she could feel the fabric of his pants brush against her knee, and her leaning back on her hands, aware that she could but didn't want to shift away. She'd almost forgotten she was supposed to be rather annoyed about her failed meeting and when the thought appeared uninvited at the forefront of her mind she couldn't help breaking eye contact and looking at the dark corners of the winter garden behind Nikolai.

"Why were you meeting him?" he asked then, his voice more serious than it had ever been since they started talking. Y/N didn't look at him right away, worrying at her lip as she thought about what she would say. Playful avoidance didn't seem like a good choice here, but neither did the truth, at least not the whole truth.

She sighed. "He has something I want."

When she pulled herself up to stand Nikolai shifted slightly to the side so that he was right by her side, not really blocking her path but close enough to stop her if he decided to. He was close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his body.

Y/N looked up at him, a determined look in her eyes. "I'm not telling."

Nikolai raised an eyebrow. "I assume you can see how that might seem rather worrisome to me."

Y/N dipped her chin in a small nod of acknowledgement.

"And I also assume you know I won't just let it go."

"You? Unrelenting? I never would've guessed."

He smiled at that, though it was a bit strained. "I could drag you back to your parents now. Demand an explanation."

Y/N appeared to consider his words for a moment. "Yes. I suppose you could." She dropped her eyes down to his hands where he had them shoved into the pockets of his uniform. Her skin remembered the grip he'd had on her chin earlier that evening, prickling at the thought of those silk gloves wrapped around her arm. Was this fear she felt in the pit of her stomach?

Nikolai must have noticed because he followed her gaze down and let out a soft chuckle when he saw the prickled skin on her bare arms and the uncertain look on her face. "I didn't mean it literally. Though I could, if that's your preference?"

Y/N felt the blood rush to her face, hot and burning, certain the blush was already spreading from her chest up to her neck. She closed her eyes and let out a frustrated breath. Collect yourself, you frivolous fool. "You just can't help yourself, can you?" she said, voice biting.

Nikolai chuckled. She couldn't see him with her eyes shut, but she could imagine he was looking at her, thoroughly amused. "I can, I just don't want to. I was wondering how much it would take to make you blush."

She opened her eyes to glare at him. "Satisfied?"

"Very much so."

"Great, now that we've pleased you, let's get this over with. -- I am warning you though, my mother is prone to fainting when startled."

She tried to side-step him to head for the door, assuming he'd follow her, but Nikolai deftly held out his hand to catch her wrist and pull her back to where she had been standing. There was no harshness to it, he was careful not to grip too hard or pull too strongly, but Y/N still gasped when she felt stopped in her path.

Irritated, she spun around and came up so close she could feel the wool of his uniform brush against her bodice as she glared up at him. "What now?"

"Now I'm thinking I should escort you to your room, just to make sure you don't accidentally commit some act of treason on your way to it."

"Is that what you think? That I'm planning some grand act of treason with Zaitsev?"

"You do have that look about you. A bit insolent, a bit treasonous."

She twisted her wrist in his hand as if to draw attention to it, jutting her chin out defiantly as she looked up at him. When she spoke she did her best to sound as smug and irritating as he did. "You like that, don't you?"

He made a soft tutting sound, looking deeply amused. "I do like you. That doesn't mean I trust you."

"That's--" she stuttered, torn between irritation and being caught off-guard by the matter-of-factness colouring his voice, "That's not what I meant."

"You're blushing again."

She reached up to smack him on his arm with her free hand. For a moment he looked genuinely caught off guard and Y/N couldn't help the smug self-satisfaction that swelled in her chest at the startled look he gave her. She just hit a prince. A real, very gilded, very irritating prince.

"You are the most infuriating man I have ever had the displeasure of meeting." Her chest rose and fell on quickened breath and she could hear her pulse thrumming against her ribcage like some caged bird startled by the way her voice rose in irritation.

Then Nikolai started laughing and it was Y/N's turn to look alarmed by the display. She stared at him as he tried to collect himself several times, running his hand through his hair and leaving it charmingly tousled as he tipped his head back and took a deep breath to calm himself.

"Like I said. You do have a tendency for treason - like hitting a prince."

"I barely touched you, and you had it coming," she said, then shook her head and looked up above his head, "Sorry. I lost my temper."

"No, no - it's fine. I did have it coming."

She felt his thumb brush against the inner side of her wrist, suddenly aware that he'd never let go of it. His fingers stilled for a moment before he spoke, "Breathe. Your heart's beating like you just outran a bear. I'm not going to tell anyone about tonight."

She did not think anything good would come of admitting the current state of her pulse had very little to do with the fear of her parents and everything to do with the way every sense in her body was heightened by his proximity. She hardly wanted to admit that silly reaction of her body to herself, much less him. She let out a shaky breath. "Okay."

"Okay?" He was watching her when she opened her eyes again. "Do you want to go back to your parents or your room?"

She stared at him for a moment, uncertain. Had she really appeared distressed enough for him to so suddenly switch gears? She searched his face for anything suspicious as if she half-expected this sudden calmness in his voice to be a trap.

"I'm suspicious. Not cruel," he said when she failed to answer. She felt him release her wrist as if finally satisfied enough with her pulse going down to let go. "I crossed the line and upset you. It wasn't my intention."

"Wasn't it?" There was an accusation in her voice, one she didn't realise was there until it slipped out without her permission. When had they switched roles of the accuser and the accused?

Nikolai looked away, looking almost repentant. "I don't know. I got carried away - I guess I didn't expect you to be... like that."

She wasn't sure what like that meant and was half-afraid of asking. Maybe he'd say something ridiculous and then she'd be blushing again. No, that was a ridiculous thought. This entire exchange was ridiculous. She almost expected to wake up tomorrow and fully believe it was a fever dream.

"So what I just... leave now? No consequences?" she said, sounding deeply doubtful.

"Yes and no. I said I wouldn't tell." He finally looked back at her, his gaze scouring her face. "I didn't say I wouldn't keep trying to find out what you're hiding."

"It's nothing bad if that's what you're worried about."

"You've tried to lie to me several times tonight. Do you expect me to just believe you?"

He did have a point there. Y/N pursed her lips. "What then?"

Nikolai seemed to consider her then. Under scrutiny, Y/N suddenly became very aware of their proximity, which in all fairness had been entirely her fault. She stepped away uneasily, worrying at her lip. Ghezen, he really was deeply infuriating, for more than one reason.

"You'll see tomorrow."

Y/N's head shot up. "Tomorrow?"

"Save me a dance."

She was certain she looked like there were rusted cogs inside her head grinding against each other as she tried to process his words. There was clearly a double meaning in there, there always seemed to be with him, but it wasn't immediately obvious to her.

Nikolai smirked as he watched her work it out. "Don't overheat that pretty little head of yours. I like the way it works."

She made a face at him. "Why would you... oh."

"Oh," he repeated, smug.

Save me a dance. It was a threat, not a request. He would approach her tomorrow in the middle of the after-dinner ball, in front of everyone. She would know it was for show, but to everyone else, it would appear as if he'd singled her out and shown her his favour. Out of the blue at that.

She shot him a dirty look. "That's low."

"I don't consider myself a particularly immoral person, but I will do what I have to."

She would find herself dragged out of her carefully-crafted obscurity and thrust under scrutiny. Her parents would be delighted, no doubt, a welcome reprieve from the frustration her disobedience was causing them currently. She couldn't think of a worse thing.

"Unless, of course, you decide to tell me about it beforehand." At some point, he'd strolled away from her and plucked another one of those poor flowers. "I'll still ask, of course, but more subtly."

She stared at him, disbelieving. Did he just threaten her and then proceed to imply he'd still ask her to dance with him?

She let out a frustrated sigh. "Very well, we can play that game. I will warn you though, I tend to bite when cornered."

"I was hoping you would."

"You... you are just the worst," she said, irritation colouring her voice higher than normal, before turning around to head for the door. In the smallest, most meagre act of defiance, she decided not to tell him goodnight and instead storm out without a word.

He was not having it. "Y/N?"

She produced some indeterminate sound of frustration. "What now, your Highness?"

"Call me Nikolai."

"I will not."

A chuckle. Then the sound of his steps as he approached her from the back. "I do wish we'd met on some less... dramatic terms. Honestly."

She couldn't ignore him when he went around her to stand in her field of vision, but she did shoot him a dirty look. There was a flower in his hands now, so delicate and white that it almost blended into the whiteness of his gloves, only the leaves visible in the darkness. He hadn't yet dismembered this one.

"Since you don't like the smell of jasmine," he said, as if that explained everything, and held it out to her.

Y/N considered not taking it, but curiosity got the better of her and she reached out her hand tentatively to pluck the flower from his fingers. "What is it?"

"Gardenia. A personal favourite, at least scent-wise." He stared at the flower in her hand for a moment, then smiled. "Goodnight, Miss Braam."

She watched him stroll back towards the door that led into the palace, unhurried, languid and infuriatingly prepossessing. For a moment she stood there, reeling, before she headed for the other door, the one that led out into the gardens, desperate for a breath of fresh air. It was only once she was outside that she realised he hadn't lied about the flower, its fragrance a sweet, charming thing. Later that night, when she returned to her room she would put it in a small crystal glass and place it next to her bed so that when she fell asleep her mind was still full of that fragrance and the memory of Nikolai's thumb pressed against her pulse point.

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov x reader #grishaverse x reader #nikolai lantsov imagines #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov x y/n #nikolai x you #nikolai x reader #nikolai x y/n #shadow and bone #sob #shadow and bone imagine #nikolai lantsov my beloved #tbh nikolai drives me insane every time i write him #this is a monstrosity of a fic and i have zero regrets #gardenias

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guess-my-next-obsession · 6 months

Text

Starlight, Chapter One:

pairing: fae!ezra prospect x princess!oc (Marigold)

rating: M (series is 18+ only, arranged marriage, fantasy elements, talks of potential violence, vague and brief mentions of su!c!de, Ezra is a charmer and definitely written OOC to suit my fantasy needs but there are canon elements incorporated)

wc: 7k

series masterlist

I arrived in Nox, the land of eternal midnight, one week after climbing into my father’s gold-plated carriage.

The ride was long and grueling, my back and rear feeling the brunt of the effects of such a rough journey. But even in my soreness and desperation for my plush mattress back home and the smell of gardenia wafting in through my open windows, I refused to complain to my father’s guards for a break. In fact, I refused to utter a single word as we rolled through the snowy forest just north of Heims and just south of Nox. The darkness had already begun to creep upon us, so slowly I hadn’t even noticed until it was pitch black outside.

“Welcome to Nox, Princess,” one my father’s guards announced with a sly smirk, his eyes fixed on my profile as I pressed my face to the window of the carriage, my eyes wide and jaw slack as I watched the forest around us clear little by little until there was nothing but open, dark sky over top. “Amazing isn’t it?”

Whatever I had imagined stars to look like before that moment seemed insulting in comparison to its reality. Tiny little white, blue, and yellow dots of light shone like diamonds and crystals against the blue-black void around them, my heart aching in my chest at the simple beauty of it all.

“To your left is the moon,” the guard offered, drawing my attention to him for a split second before I was sliding across the carriage bench to peer out the other side. As soon as I looked up, I saw it.

It hung in the sky like a cosmic ornament, it’s gray so bland it should have bored me, but there was something about that round beacon of light that called to me. I couldn’t help the gasp that slipped past my lips as I looked to the tiny flecks of light beside it for only a split second before returning my attention to the main attraction. It seemed to calm my nerves the same way the sun did, just without the warmth.

Perhaps different didn’t always mean worse. Perhaps this new world around me—one of darkness and covered in a soft blanket of snow—would surprise me and kick dirt in the face of all of my fears.

I could only hope.

I couldn’t be certain of what time of day it was given the constant state of darkness around me, but as we rolled up to the front of the giant castle—it’s black stone and gothic design such a stark contrast from my home in Solis—I reasoned it must have been around dawn judging by the soldiers training in the east courtyard.

I watched the man supervising, his midnight blue tunic beneath a plate of black armor making him look like an imposing sight in contrast to the blanket of stark white beneath his feet. As I climbed out of the carriage with the help of one of my father’s guards, I locked eyes with the assumed-General across the hundred yards that separated us. He seemed to remember something, abruptly shouting a command at his soldiers to finish their training without him before turning on his heels to head towards the side of the castle.

I shivered at the authority in his voice, in the quickness in which he strode across the field. As if it were mere feet instead of hundreds of them.

“Welcome, Princess Marigold,” a sentry standing in front of the dark stone doors called down the brick stairs separating us, drawing my attention away from the soldiers who carried on as though the General’s eyes were still upon them.

What cruel punishments had they experienced at his hand for refusing to follow his commands?

“The King is eagerly awaiting your presence,” the sentry carried on, his eyes glancing at the guards behind me. “I’m afraid your men will have to bid you farewell here.”

I turned to the men who I’d known since I was a child, but whose names I hadn’t the slightest idea of. Still, they were people of Solis. The last I’d see for…ever, possibly.

I gave the men a bow of my head, not trusting my voice to remain strong as I wished them farewell, in turn wishing my old life farewell, too. All I could manage was, “Thank you.”

“Come, Princess,” the sentry called, growing impatient with my goodbyes, or perhaps he was just anxious over what might happen to both of us if I were to keep the King waiting too long.

The thought alone was enough to set my feet in motion.

After being led through the large entrance hall, the walls a bleak pewter stone that matched the ceiling and floor, I was led into the large throne room where the King sat waiting on his black, imposing throne upon an equally imposing dais. I took him in, his black hair perfectly quaffed, his stone gray eyes piercing me from yards away. His bone structure was impossibly sharp and symmetrical, and I couldn't help but wonder how someone so beautiful could possibly exist without the help of magic.

How stunning must his parents have been to create such a handsome, broad, masculine looking man?

I tore my eyes from him to save myself golden skin from turning pink, my focus fixing on his left.

There was a smaller, more feminine looking throne beside him that sat empty except for a midnight blue velvet pillow and a diamond crown that looked as if it was made from some of those tiny flecks in the sky.

This was to be my future seat, my crown. My stomach turned at the thought until my eyes focused on the person standing to the right of the King.

There, beside my soon-to-be husband, stood the General. With light brown skin, dark chocolate eyes, and a blonde streak in his dark, wavy head of hair, he was alarmingly handsome, even in comparison to the impossible beauty of King Kaius. But there was something other about him, something unlike myself or any person I’d ever met. I couldn’t quite tell what his position was amongst the ranks here, General or advisor, but judging by his armor and the blade he wore at his side, I decided I didn’t want to risk pissing him off to find out.

As if he could sense my curiosity, his brown eyes glowed amber and a bouquet of Marigolds appeared in his hand only to be given over to the King. Magic? He…

Fae.

My father liked to tell me frightening stories when I was a girl about a time in his own youth where the Fae ruled over the mortal lands. He told me of their cunning, their silver tongues, and most importantly, their wicked magic that had the power to wipe out entire kingdoms.

But after the revolution, a bloody war waged against the Fae in which Kaius’ bloodline and my own defeated them and ascended to their respective thrones, the fae were largely driven elsewhere. They fled overseas, in an unnamed land no mortal dared to even think about, let alone attempt to visit. And as far as my father was concerned, that was the end of their story.

But now…now I could see just how little he knew about anything.

Suddenly, I felt whatever hope I carried that perhaps my fate—my new life—wouldn’t be as awful as I imagined dying out like the last ember in a pile of ash.

A new world. A stranger as my husband. A faerie as his….

“Princess Marigold,” the sentry bellowed into the chamber, his voice echoing against the walls. “You have the honor of standing in the presence of King of Nox, and the King’s Hand.”

The King’s Hand. My new King—my future husband—had enlisted the council of a faerie? The species that attempted to enslave my own?

The ember fighting to stay alive inside of me died completely.

“I do hope your journey was smooth,” Kaius said, throwing the flowers at the sentry standing beside me, the petals half-crushed by the time the bouquet was in my shaking hands. His voice was velvet smooth, as if it were made of the same darkness and night outside of these walls. He cracked a smile at my quietness. “For what it’s worth, you look wonderful. Far lovelier than your father let on.”

I forced myself to reply. “Thank you, my King.”

He seemed to approve of the use of the title, his head nodding subtly.

“I will have my Hand show you to your quarters,” he announced, snapping his finger before waving it in my direction.

His arrogance was odorous. I couldn’t bear to be in his presence for another moment, and yet…

“Surely you have a handmaid—“

“There are no women on the grounds,” he announced, indifference bordering on agitation in his tone. “Until now, that is.”

No women, no…

Who was to help me bathe? If I were to fall pregnant, who would help me give birth?

I could have fainted there in the center of that too-large throne room if it hadn’t been for a sudden calm that washed over me when the King’s Hand stepped closer, his eyes glowing again.

“Please, allow me, Princess,” he bowed, holding out his bent arm to me. I accepted it only to repay him for whatever magic he worked on me to save myself from the embarrassment of passing out.

“There will be a ball this evening to welcome you to your new home,” Kaius called after us. “Please see to it that she bathes. I can smell her from here.”

Well, I suppose he said I looked wonderful—not that I smelled that way.

“You smell fine,” the Hand assured quietly as we exited the chamber. I didn’t miss the glare he shot over his shoulder at the King or the icy warning in it. Bold, even for a Fae.

His eyes caught mine as he turned forward again, witnessing the way my eyes narrowed at the sight of him. Of what I remembered from my father’s stories.

“I am not a monster and I am not out to kill you, Princess,” he assured with a slight smirk. I couldn’t explain why, but I could feel the centuries it must have taken for him to master such a look. Dangerous and not, all at the same time.

“Can you read my thoughts?” I snapped, suddenly conscious of his power.

“No,” he said, calm and amused. “Only your feelings, Your Highness. ”

“Well, stop,” I said, turning my eyes away from his as he led me up a grand, winding staircase made of the same dark brick the rest of the castle was built from.

“It isn’t something within my control,” he said. “But I’ll stop intruding.”

I nodded and tried to will a cold, hard exterior to mask my softness. I couldn’t begin to imagine what these people, cruel and calculated, would do with it.

After a beat of silence, I found myself speaking again.

“Why—“ I started, but quickly gained control of myself. I had no idea what this fae was capable of, let alone his motives. He quirked an eyebrow at me, his eyes scanning my face as he silently assessed me.

“I told you,” he spoke cautiously, as if he were talking to a wild beast he feared but desperately needed to tame. “You needn’t be afraid of me, Princess. Ask your question. I can feel the way it’s eating you up inside.”

I ignored the way his voice fell into something lower, something far too intimate for my taste.

“Why would the King appoint a fae as his Hand?” I asked against better judgment. He smiled slightly at me as we paused at the top of the stairs, his hand raising to halt the guards that I wasn’t even aware were trailing us. The men obeyed, stopping at the bottom of the stairs while he led me down another long, dark hallway.

“The King does many things I do not understand,” he said, his voice a trained whisper. “My existence is bound to his. He saved my life—“ The Hand held up his right hand, or more accurately, the ornate, solid gold prosthetic in its place. I wondered if he could feel my shock, but if he had, it didn’t show. “So, here I am.”

I ignored the urge to question him further on that specific subject. Perhaps another time.

“Do you enjoy it? Being here?” He must’ve been able to sense me feeling him out, that flicker of a smile vanishing into thin air.

“Not often,” he replied. At least he told the truth. “I find Court in all its pomp and frill to be incredibly isolating. But, on the other hand, it provides. I am free—to an extent. Just as you’ll be.”

“To an extent,” I repeated with a scoff. “Why are there no women around?”

“There are, just not in the castle. The rest of our court prefers their own manors to living on the grounds,” he said, turning another sharp corner. “And as for your personal servants, I’m meeting with potential handmaids this afternoon. If you’d like, you can come along and select them for yourself.”

“Yes, that would be…fine,” I said. “You’re awfully…friendly. For a Hand. I expect you’re taking note of every single thing I say to report back to the King.”

“I’m not taking any more note of you than you are of me,” he winked, unlocking a chamber that felt cold even with the two large, stone doors closed. “If you expect that I am a spy sent to observe and report, I must disappoint you.”

“What are you then? An ally?” I asked, quirking a brow at him.

I couldn’t help but feel torn between the image of a faerie that my father had painted for me—the very same father that cruelly sent me to this dark, awful, cold place—and the picture in front of me of an honest, warm man.

“I could be a friend,” he said. “But at the very least, I am here to make your life easier. Whatever you need, send for me and I will do everything in my power to make it happen.”

“I always thought it would be my husband doting on me like that,” I joked, shaking my head at the childish imagining. “Speaking of. What is he like? What might I expect? Is he a romantic? A brute?”

The Hand seemed to think hard for a moment. I could see him retreating into his own mind, as if it were a real place and not just something inside of him. When he came back to the moment, I suspected he’d have masterfully worded his response to avoid any missteps.

How long had it taken to learn such a skill?

“The King is what he is. He can be a very good man, and he can be…a very good King. I have a feeling you understand the need for the distinction,” he said, his eyes scanning my face again. “I wouldn’t pry. He’s generally better left to himself and his own doings.”

“I’m perfectly fine with keeping my distance,” I returned, rolling my eyes at the reality of my new life before gesturing at the door. “Well, if this is to be the start of my prison sentence, don’t let me delay you any longer.”

“Your Highness,” he sighed, leveling his eyes with mine in a way that no one ever had, as if he were talking to an equal. “This place is only a prison if you let it be. There’s plenty to see, to do, to busy yourself with. Don’t lock yourself away and let this grief eat you whole.” His eyes softened as they combed over my face. I wondered how pitiful I must’ve looked to earn such a stare. “Friend or ally, it is my pleasure to serve you, Princess.”

I didn’t say anything, only giving him a single nod before entering my chamber and closing the door.

In between quick, panicked breaths, I surveyed the suite around me. It looked nothing like my chamber back at home.

It was an absurdly large, two-story suite fit for a Queen—though, I remembered it made sense given that I would be one soon enough. On the first floor, there was the foyer I stood in, its dark stone walls, matching charcoal curtains, and velvet black furnishing reminding me of a very posh dungeon. Beyond a set of black, paneled ,double-doors was a less intimidating sitting room with a black-brick hearth that reached up to the high ceiling. On either side of the sitting room sat a dining room and a study that matched the current gothic aesthetic. I only briefly scanned the wall-to-wall bookshelves in my new study before venturing upstairs to my main chamber, a large dressing and bathing suite attached on either side.

I couldn’t stop my throat from swelling as I took in my new surroundings. This was nothing like home to me.

Instead of the sheer yellow curtains that flowed in the open breeze in my old bedroom, there were dark blue velvet curtains drawn over the large floor-to-ceiling windows to keep out the cold. Instead of my white linen comforter and canopy bed, there only sat a large, gothic style four-poster bed with a velvet, onyx-colored blanket tucked in neatly.

There was no lightness in this castle, but I foolishly expected that perhaps my room would, at least, be an inviting space for me to lock myself away in, as the Hand said.

Perhaps he could remedy the decor and furnishings for me if I asked nicely.

I ignored the idea and headed into the large bathing room on the right side of my bedroom, its giant windows overlooking the snowy grounds of the castle. At least this room seemed to hold some beauty.

Between the large windows showcasing the dark winter wonderland outside, the stars I was only just becoming familiar with shining so brightly overhead, and the giant pool in place of a normal bathtub, I couldn’t find myself to hate this space. This, for now, would be my haven.

Shedding my overcoat, I suddenly realized that no bath had been drawn for me, and seeing as how I had never drawn my own or watched it be done—what a clueless and pampered girl—I started to panic.

What would the punishment be if I showed up to the ball still smelling of my travels?

I didn’t have a minute to consider it before the pool started to fill with steaming water, the room scented with ylang ylang and gardenia.

The Hand’s doing, no doubt.

I sighed away the rest of the shiver I still had from being outside, and stripped down to nothing before stepping into the perfectly hot water, every ache in my body fading instantly.

So, this was to be my life. I’d tend to my husband’s urges, attend gatherings, and sit here in this bathtub trying to convince myself not to throw myself through the window.

A fitting punishment for the least loved daughter of five.

After a long struggle of trying and failing to fashion my corset by myself—I wasn’t going to ask The King’s Hand to help me into my dress, even if I was entirely certain he’d agree—I opted for a looser gown that buttoned at the front of the bodice.

Though I wasn’t used to this darker, cooler color palette, I couldn’t help but admire the fine fabrics filling my armoire. The one I’d chosen for this afternoon—if you could call it that—was made of the smoothest silk I’d ever touched, even smoother than the luxurious fabrics my sister came back from Florere with during her last visit. Its color was just as dark as the night sky around me. On the shoulders, there were beaded black rosettes that sparkled even in the dull light coming in through the window. Covering my arms was a sheer black mesh that glittered as if it was made of starlight. I couldn’t find a reason to fault it.

A knock at the stone door on the lower level of my suite tore me away from the full length mirror in my dressing room. I slowly made my way down the stone staircase to the foyer, my heart racing with fear at the thought of Kaius waiting behind the door instead of a sentry or The Hand.

I wasn’t sure what that told me about my future marriage, but I could only assume it wasn’t a promising start.

Thankfully, I was only met with the sight of The Hand, his smile turning into something more indulgent as he took in the sight of me in my new gown.

“A lovely choice for this afternoon, Princess,” he said, finally meeting my eyes. “The violet brings out the brown in your eyes.”

I didn’t know what to say or if I wanted to accept the compliment. Still, it was smart to be polite.

“Thank you,” I managed. “Shall we go?”

He let out a breath of a chuckle and nodded, holding his arm out for me.

“Is that necessary?” I asked, staring at him and his arm that remained held out for me.

“Does my chivalry bother you?” he teased, lifting an eyebrow as I continued staring blankly at him until he finally let his arm fall to his side. “I was under the impression Princesses enjoyed good manners.”

It took everything in me not to scoff in his face.

“I enjoy good manners that don’t involve me hanging on the arm of a man I do not know, all to be seen as a trophy—a prize that you’d do well to remember is not yours,” I snapped, some of that Solis heat boiling in my veins. He only looked pleased by my response.

“You are certainly not what I imagined,” he said, shaking his head at me with that stupid smile on his face. “That’s not to say I’m disappointed.”

“I don’t suppose it matters whether or not I am what you imagined, does it?” I returned.

“I suppose,” he agreed before waving his hand down the hallway. “Shall we?”

“I suppose,” I echoed, my voice sharp with irritation.

We made our way from the east wing of the castle to the main reception room on the first floor in mutually agreed upon silence. I didn’t want to hear any more of his quips nor did I imagine he wanted to hear any more of my snide retorts. And instead of conversation, I busied myself with mapping out the castle.

If I were going to spend the rest of my days here, I thought it best to get well acquainted with my surroundings, but it seemed the castle was built purposefully to confuse its residents. With all the dark stone and torchlight, I couldn’t tell which way was where. The only markers were the staircases, each one fashioned with a slightly different shade of charcoal to distinguish their location.

I quickly made a mental note to establish my bearings based on this knowledge later.

As we entered the reception room, I took note of the guards posted along the walls and at every entrance and exit. It must have looked terrifying to the sixteen women who stood in a neat line in front of a smaller dais than the one in the throne room. It looked terrifying to me, and I was here as the future Queen Consort.

“Introducing The King’s Hand and the future Queen, Princess Marigold!”

I hoped there would be a way to convince Kaius to cut this bellowing out of my entrances. It seemed ridiculous to have a sentry squawk out my name every time I entered a room, especially once I became Queen and everyone knew who I was.

“Your choice, Princess,” he said, gesturing at the two chairs on the dais. I wondered if there was any significance in him offering me to choose my seat, but decided that if there was, I wouldn’t bother searching for it. I sat down in the seat on the right and nearly gasped at the plushness of the throne.

Was everything here made this well?

“Thank you all for coming,” he began, his voice more commanding than it had been just a second ago when he was speaking to me. “I do ask that in the future, you bow in the presence of your new Queen.”

I wanted to slap him for speaking for me. I didn’t think these women should have to bow before anyone considering half of them were old enough to be my grandmother.

“Your new Queen asks that you do not bow to me unless you feel called to do so,” I cut in, surprising The Hand as he opened his mouth to speak again. “Bowing only means anything if it’s done with the right heart.”

He seemed to find my outburst intriguing, or perhaps infuriating given the way his jaw tightened as he turned from me back to the women.

“As the Princess wishes,” he managed. Pointing at the first woman in the line up, he spoke again. “Come.”

“Must you be so demanding,” I whispered to him, earning only a glance in my direction.

A young looking girl approached the dais, her pale skin and tangled white-blonde hair bringing a soft frown to my face.

“What is your name?”

“Drusilla, Your Highness,” she said, bowing low enough to sweep the floor.

“Age?”

“Sixteen.”

Gods. She was hardly more than a child. Even I still felt like one and I was a decade older.

“She’s a child,” I whispered, appalled that his people would even bring her before me.

She’s an orphan.

I heard his voice in my head as clear as if he had spoken right in my ear. I contained my gasp as he turned to me for a moment, his eyes still glowing.

It was either offering servitude or leaving her to starve.

I swallowed the lump in my throat at his show of power and nodded, turning to the girl.

“Have you any training? Any expertise?” I asked, hoping that the softness in my voice could quell some of her trembling fear as she fought not to look me in the eye.

“No, Your Highness,” she said, her voice weak and frail as her frame. She looked near death, as if it was a miracle she was still standing.

“Drusilla,” I called, forcing her eyes to meet mine. “Have you eaten today?”

She shook her head. I didn’t think she’d eaten in a week judging by her frailness.

I turned to The Hand and nodded, hoping he understood me even if I couldn’t get in his head like he did mine.

“Take her to eat then show her to her quarters,” he commanded. I watched as not a second passed before the sentries were doing as they were told. “If any one of you attempts to lay a hand on her…”. His power surged around us enough to darken the already dreary room. “You lose that hand. And that is only a taste of what else might be lost if anyone disobeys my command.”

The men bowed, silently pledging their honor, before leaving the room with a still trembling Drusilla. I made a mental note to visit her as soon as I could to try and calm some of her fears the way my elder sister did with me during my departure.

“Are all Hands this powerful?” I asked, lacing my voice with mockery to disguise my intimidation.

The Hand didn’t answer.

“Next,” he demanded, waving at the second woman in line.

She was older than the rest of the candidates by far, though I had no clue of how old she was exactly. I took in her raven black hair, the lines etched on her sickly pale, almost gray skin, and finally met the endless black void of her eyes. I knew at the first glance that something was off about her. Something I didn’t want near me.

“Your name,” he inquired. The older woman grinned widely enough to bare her rotted teeth, forcing my stomach to flip with both fear and disgust.

“I have no name,” she replied, her voice shrill and scratchy like claws raking over stone.

I’d only ever met one of the Cursed—a wicked group of witches that dabbled only in the dark side of magic--before, after she was brought before my father to be tried. That witch looked slightly younger and more refreshed than the one in front of me, but there was no mistaking their identical set of onyx eyes.

“You’re one of the Cursed,” I accused, shocking myself along with the rest of the room. The Hand whipped his attention towards me for a moment before turning back to the woman at my feet.

He took a few moments to inspect her using some sort of magic, at least judging by the way his eyes seemed to glow that shade of gilded bronze again. Whatever he must have discovered, it was enough to force his face into a stern scowl as his eyes faded back to their normal dark brown.

“Do you deny practicing the dark arts?” he asked through clenched teeth, his hand moving to rest on the hilt of his dagger. “High Priestess?”

The wicked old woman grinned at the use of her title.

“Do you?” she purred, her wicked tongue laced with venom. “You’ve got more darkness in you than me and all my sisters combined.”

“Take her away,” he ordered. Six guards surrounded the witch and seized her, though she certainly didn’t make it easy with all her hissing and thrashing about. “Lock her in the Dark Cell. Since she loves the darkness so much.”

“Hypocrite!” she screamed, shrieking like a witch. “What a foul hypocrite of a Faerie! The darkness will come for you too!”

“What is she—“

“Have the witch taken to the dungeon before I cut her head off and have it mounted in the throne room,” he ordered, leaving no room for questioning in the harshness of his voice. As the guards carried the still-shrieking witch away, I stared at him with wide eyes, fearing the glimpse of darkness—the same darkness the witch accused him of harboring inside—I just saw in his eyes. Sensing my frightened stare, he softened himself with a sigh and turned to me. “I apologize, Princess. Clearly my men are not as trained to spot evil as you seem to be.”

I couldn’t stop looking at him. I wanted to tear his mind apart and lay its contents out on a table to carefully study one by one. He seemed entirely unreadable.

“I’d like to go back to my chamber,” I whispered, voice small with fear. “Please.”

Studying me for a moment with what looked to be concern mixed with guilt, he nodded, turning back to the guards waiting behind the remaining women who stood trembling with fear.

“Take the rest away,” he ordered with a wave of his hand. He waited until there was not a single soul in the room before turning back to me. “I apologize if the witch’s outburst frightened you. I can assure you, it is rare that one of the Cursed gathers the courage to make an appearance, and even rarer that they cause any harm. They’re simply old Crones who like to waste away worshiping at the feet of Death.”

“She said that you…have darkness in you, too,” I replied, my voice hardly above a whisper as I tracked his every move. Hesighed, lifting a hand to rub over the coarse hair covering his chin.

“Yes,” he admitted, though it looked as though it pained him to do so. “All Fae carry both light and dark inside of them. We are made of it. Not equal parts, necessarily.”

“So you’re made up of…more darkness than light?”

“She seems to think so,” he said, dropping his eyes to my lips before bringing them back to mine. “What do you think? Do you see any resemblance between me and that old witch?”

“Not physically, no,” I let out a huff of amusement.

“And how about the way I make you feel?” he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he was fighting off a smirk. “You knew the moment you saw her for what she was. Yet, you have yet to hurl an accusation like that at me.”

“Would you like me to?” I asked, finally earning a laugh from him. I found myself smiling, too. It seemed The Hand had a knack for putting me at ease.

“Would you still like to return to your chambers?” he asked, standing up and walking over to where I remained sitting.

“Yes, I think some rest will do me well,” I said, standing up with the help of his hand. “It’s been an exciting morning.”

“I believe this evening will be just as eventful given that this court hasn’t seen a new member in years,” he said, walking with me down the steps of the dais before leading us out into the corridor. “A word of caution, if I may.”

“You may,” I said, glancing over at him just to admire the way the torchlight lit up his face. A face I had no business admiring.

“Don’t let yourself be alone with anyone at the ball, Marigold,” he said, meeting my eyes as we walked. “They’ll either try to seduce you, exploit you, or kill you.”

“Gods,” I choked, shaking my head. “Court in Solis was so boring compared to this. The only torture to be found there was having to listen to my father’s speeches.”

The Hand chuckled. “Kaius isn’t much of a public speaker, so at least you’re clear on that front.”

“When am I to officially marry him?” I asked, that fearsome pit in my stomach growing at the mere thought of marrying a man I didn’t know.

“Tonight,” he said, sympathy filling his eyes as he watched me shudder. “If…if you’re comfortable, I can ease some of your fear.”

“No amount of kind words—“

“I meant with my magic,” he smiled. “I can take it away for a while. Help with the nausea.”

I sighed. I shouldn’t have to need magic in order to not be sickened by my fate.

“What if I were to accidentally trip down a staircase? Fall from a ledge?” I joked. Mostly.

He clearly found no amusement in it as he stopped us abruptly, his eyes boring into mine.

“Please try not to make those kinds of jokes,” he said, his tone both stern and gentle. “Kaius’s mother…she—“

“Oh, Gods,” I gasped, covering my mouth as my heart dropped into my gut. “I am—Gods, I had no idea.”

“Kaius would be very quick to…react if you said anything like that around him,” he warned, making my skin pimple as I thought about the ways Kaius could possibly react. I didn’t want to find out. “So, please try to save your dark humor just for me.”

I ignored the idea of saving anything “just for him” and continued walking, feeling his presence looming behind me in thick but not unwelcome silence.

“How are you liking your suite?” he asked as we neared my chamber.

“It’s…dark,” I replied, unsure of whether or not he’d take offense given that he, apparently, was dark, too. “But I do love the bathing room and its windows.”

“I thought you might,” he said, a content sound to his voice.

“How?” I wondered if perhaps he’d done some spying on me before I came, either with or without my father’s knowledge. Though, it made sense that the King’s Hand would want to know what kind of person they were getting for their new Queen Consort.

“Not you, specifically,” he assured, turning to me as we stood in front of the giant stone door to my suite. “I just figured that whoever ended up here would enjoy a good view of their new environment without having to…interact with anyone. Though, there are certainly better views of the stars elsewhere on the grounds.”

“Like where?” I asked, more out of politeness than anything else.

“There’s a conservatory in the East Wing with a library,” he said, his voice soft with reverence. “The roof is made of glass, so there are no obstructions. Just the stars.”

“You sound quite fond of it, I wouldn’t want to steal your hiding place,” I joked, finding it oddly easy to do with him even with all my distrust.

“I’ve been too busy to spend any time there in a while, so feel free to borrow it. Or steal it. Whichever pleases Your Highness,” he smiled, something hinting and playful in it that made my chest buzz the way it did with my first childhood crush.

“I’ll consider it,” I said, biting back a smile before gesturing at my door. “I should rest.”

He nodded, reaching for the steel handle and pressing the door open. “Would you like me to ensure you get a peaceful rest?”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Is that a threat?”

“With magic, I mean,” he chuckled.

“How does it work?” I tilted my head, studying his irises. How was it possible for them to look so ordinary most of the time only to…

His irises turned golden again, his stare unwavering and focused. “I essentially convince your mind that you are at peace, content. Your body reacts to the signals, and it washes away the effects of all of those nasty worries and fears.”

A wave of calm washed over me, just like it had earlier in the throne room when I nearly vomited out of sheer nerves.

“Do most people here know that you…can do this? Can read their emotions?”

“No,” he said, those glowing eyes fading into something far less supernatural. “Just Kaius, my generals, a few trusted members at court, and…you.”

“Can all Fae do this?”

“Magic, yes. Sensing emotions, no.”

I nodded, suddenly feeling so content that I considered curling up right there on the cold stone floor of my doorway.

“Rest,” he ordered softly, his voice a whisper. “I’ll send your new handmaid to you an hour before the ball.”

“You’re only giving me an hour to get ready for my wedding?” I asked, giving him a half-smile as I crossed my arms around my body, already trying to get cozy.

“Can I tell you a secret?” I nodded and he smiled. “You could show up in a burlap sack with your hair in tangles and still be the most beautiful person in the room.”

“I doubt that,” I chuckled, fighting a blush from appearing on my olive cheeks.

“I mean it,” he insisted with an amused grin. “Our court is a dark, dreary gray, and you are…a golden ray of light. They won’t know what to do with themselves when they get a look at you.”

“Is it custom for the Hand to spoil their guest with so many kind words?” I teased.

“Not a guest, no. But for my future Queen?” His eyes danced across my features, the sight clearly pleasing him as his smile spread even wider. “My Queen might do well with getting used to being spoiled.”

“Are you going to refer to me as that after tonight?” I asked, the heaviness of my eyelids causing them to bat in a way that likely sent the wrong message. Or perhaps it sent the right one given the way my chest still buzzed with excitement. “My Queen?”

“It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” His voice had lowered in a way that made me feel dizzy and drunk, my feet stepping closer by sheer instinct. His head bowed from our height difference as he kept his eyes locked on mine. “But it is quite boring. I’ll have to think up something more fitting.”

“And what do I call you, Your Highness?” I purred, suddenly finding it hard to stop myself from closing the foot of distance between us.

“Ezra,” he replied, low and warm and much too intimate.

My breathing halted as he lifted his hand up as though he were about to cup the side of my face with it, but he stopped himself, letting it fall back to his side.

“Sleep well, Your Highness,” he murmured, bowing just enough for me to realize it before he vanished into thin air, leaving a waft of his scent--smoke, moss, cedar, and some spice I couldn’t name--in his wake. I kept myself from fainting by dragging my feet into my chamber and slamming the door shut.

Was I truly allowing myself to develop a crush on not only my soon-to-be husband’s second in command, but a Fae? The scary monster from all my father’s bedtime stories?

But he didn’t feel like a monster. He felt like a friend, or at the very least, someone from back home. I couldn’t help but gauge people based on what my mother would have thought of them. When she didn’t like someone, she never let it show. Instead, she’d give me knowing glances during conversation, each widening or narrowing of her caramel eyes telling me exactly what she refrained from saying.

How dull.

What a narcissist.

He’s so stuffy he makes your father look humble.

I couldn’t imagine her speaking to Ezra and finding him boring, or vain, or snobbish. The only glances I’d receive would be ones that told a different story.

Look at those eyes.

He’s annoyingly considerate.

Now this, Mari, is a man.

But it didn’t matter what my dead mother thought of him, or even what I think. Kaius could have both of our heads on spikes if he found out and became jealous. I’d learn exactly how he’d react when provoked, and I had no interest in that sort of pain. I wanted peace, even in my prison sentence. I’d keep Ezra as a friend, and nothing more.

For as long as I could bare it.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #ezra prospect #ezra prospect x oc #ezra x oc #starlight

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sunshineyuuji · 2 years

Text

Surprising Facts (pt.2)

IkeVamp suitors with an s/o who randomly says interesting facts (pt.2)

Characters: Vlad, Theodorus Van Gogh, Vincent Van Gogh

Warnings: first grade English (lol), ooc suitors?, gn!reader/fem!reader

Notes: Guys, I got another request OMG! I'm jumping like a child who sees something they like (／⩾ ω＼). So @vanadeyeira asked me if I could make this prompt with Vlad, Theo, and Vicent and who am I to deny? So here I am writing this at 5:30 am (Nov 16) and God knows when I'll finish lol. Anyhow, hope you enjoy! (Update: I finished this today at 10:00 am lol)

Vlad

Vlad has been alive for centuries, darling, so he knows quite a lot.

But like Le Comte, he's not fully aware of things from the modern era so you might as well surprise him with "modern" facts.

"The Vatican City is the smallest country in the world."

"Vatican City?"

"You'll know in... a few years, hehe."

He's not surprised you know so much. Actually, he's happy!

Just... try to keep the creepy facts for yourself.

"There are around 150 bodies of dead hikers on Mount Everest and they're used as landmarks."

"Interesting way to use a body..."

Could gladly hear you all day telling him random facts and also explaining. He just loves listening to you.

Especially when talking about flowers.

"Is this... a gardenia?" You asked, looking at the flowers Vlad gifted you.

"It sure is." Vlad smiled at you.

You looked at the flowers with a smile and carefully picked them up.

"Did you know that gardenias mean love, purity, and refinement?"

Vlad chuckled softly and kissed your hand.

"I do, that's why I chose to gift you them."

Theodorus Van Gogh

"Did you know women can lactate without being pregnant?"

"You're getting on my last nerve, hondje."

Now what's with the random information?

Why are you telling him that? He didn't ask, so why are you telling him?

He doesn't get annoyed over the fact you know stuff, he's annoyed because you say it out of nowhere and he can't expect what you'll say.

“Did you know that buttermilk doesn’t contain any butter?”

“Ok, that’s it. Get out.”

There was a period of time where you stopped telling him the random information you know.

He got genuinely worried and rushed into your room.

You explained it was because you knew it annoyed him so you decided to stop.

“...You’re way too silly, hondje.”

It may catch him off guard, but it’s you who’s telling him. How can he say no to you?

Even if he says it annoys him, he secretly hears and tries to remember everything you say.

Vincent Van Gogh

"You know, neuroscientists say that love is as strong as illegal drugs."

"Oh? Well then, guess I'm always high for you."

He either chuckles or asks more about what you're talking about.

Loves hearing you talk. That little sparkle in your eyes and the excitement you have when explaining is adorable to him.

Though he's always interested in what you say, he shows way more interest when you talk to him about art facts.

"Apparently, studying and pursuing art is closely linked to improved reading and math skills."

"Huh, really? That sure is interesting... I wonder how people associate reading and math with art."

Getting a little more romantic, he sits you on his lap while you continue to tell him about random things you know about art and other stuff.

"I could listen to you all day, sunshine. I can never get bored when I'm around you."

#headcanons #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #ikemen series #otome game #ikemen vampire #ikemen vampire headcanons #ikevamp #ikemen games #ikemen vampire x reader #ikevamp hcs #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp theo #ikevamp vlad #ikevamp vincent #my wiritng #ikemen vincent #ikemen theo #ikemen vlad

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flowerwrites06 · 11 months

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lion and the fox finale — jjk

Plot: In a turbulent world of crime and intrigue, a fiery journalist makes an unlikely alliance with one of the country’s most notorious bosses. Pairing(s): Mafia Boss!Jungkook x Journalist!OC (Name: Belle) Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+ Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series Word Count: 4.6k Genre: Mafia AU | Vintage (1940′s vibes) AU Tags & Warnings: crime, violence, sexual content, forced prostitution, mentions of racist/xenophobic implications and culture, mild scenes of harassment, some misogynistic behaviour, mentions of war, heavy mentions of drug use, infidelity. Authors Note: the finale is here, folks! thank you for the support on this series! Disclaimer: Please note that while some historical research has been done for this story, the MAJORITY of it has been altered in some way with creative liberties to match the themes and motifs of the plot.

Belle wore her own clothes to the meeting as they travelled to Namjoon’s personal teahouse, Gardenia Bloom. Jungkook knew he had no room to protest anything but at this point, Namjoon liked Belle’s presence more than his own. To be fair, Belle probably preferred her own solitude to his own presence. Since the morning Belle only spoke to him in professional terms, losing all of her softness, even that twinkle in her eyes when she looked at him.

It ached in his chest at how quickly things slipped away from him. Every time Jungkook looked at her, it was jumping into a pool, not knowing how deep or shallow it was going to be. But he kept diving anyway.

Gardenia Bloom was small and quaint but the men and women wearing their silks had sharp eyes, piercing into them without letting anyone catch a glance. Cherry blossoms were sparse during this time of year but there were momentary blooms, plucking off the branches and flowing into the breeze.

Namjoon already had a room occupied with a long dark wood table and paper walls with painted scenes of maidens serving tea to the nobility. His expression was neutral as they walked in but Jungkook knew he walked on thin ice. These two children and their questionable safety ran a dangerous line and no one trusted him to see to the end. Even Yoongi looked like he had reservations.

Jungkook and Yoongi sat next to Namjoon while Belle stood at the corner of the room. Her face still calm and stoic.

“Where are they?” Belle asked.

“They’re in the next room,” Namjoon answered. “You can go see them if you want.”

Jungkook’s stomach dropped. He needed Belle to be here, as his strength. Even if she looked like she never wanted to see him again, he wanted her here. Much to his selfish relief, Belle shook her head.

“It’s alright.” Belle intertwined her fingers together.

Jungkook waited a long while, taking careful sips of his makgeolli as Seokjin took his sweet time arriving. He wondered whether he’d just abandon both his sons just to continue with this mission of becoming the leader. All this would be for nothing. Nothing but his own quest of power. His thirst of power that Belle believed he didn’t have, but perhaps he did. Perhaps he was no different from the predecessors he pretends to be better than.

Just as that dangerous thought entered his mind, the door slid open to Seokjin and his wife Akira. “Sorry for the wait,” Seokjin said, unfazed by their meeting. “Your guards do a thorough job in searching us.”

Seokjin sat on the floor table and waved for Belle to get him a drink.

Anger flooded through Jungkook but he didn’t say anything as Belle quietly poured the makgeolli as asked before standing back into the room like a trained maiden.

Akira, on the other hand, looked like a real mother. Distressed, eyes a little red but her poise calm and collected to ensure nothing was said unseemly to risk her son’s safety. It was only when looking at her that Jungkook felt a twinge of guilt.

“I have to say, I thought Yeou Pa had a slight moral ground,” Seokjin said. “But I suppose we’ve been rather frazzled.”

“The conditions here are simple,” Jungkook said, trying his best to get to the point before his urge to punch Seokjin face back into his skull sunk in too deep. “If you wish to continue on with this charade of being the sole Korean leader than you may take your Korean son and be on your way. Or you can choose your son with Akira and quit all this nonsense.”

Seokjin laughed, taking a generous sip of his makgeolli and waving his hand. Belle, again, poured the next cup of makgeolli for him. “And if I refuse?”

“Then you’ll never see either of them again.”

The room turned sour, curdled like milk.

Even Seokjin’s punchable smile flickered away as his movements paused. “You wouldn’t kill a child.”

Jungkook paused purposefully, allowing Seokjin to grow reluctant before glancing at Belle. “No, I wouldn’t. But that’s not the point, is it?” He asked and looked over at Akira. “I lost my marriage over a spy break-in. But you can kill a spy, hide it and hope no one finds out. A child. Knowing that your spouse went out of their way to make a new family for themselves. Because they were too ashamed to commit even if it meant their entire cause depended on it. That is quite the betrayal.”

Akira raised her chin, staying silent. “I want my son back.”

Seokjin took a breath. “Akira—”

“—in return, the Zaher family will break its alliance with Holangi Pa.” Akira didn’t spare a slight glance to Seokjin. Despite her run-down expression, her words cut like a poisoned knife through the room. And Seokjin couldn’t say a word.

The Zaher family had every power and right to protect Akira’s son. Seokjin offered her family nothing of value and Akira made her choice clear. Her son over her husband.

“Of course.” Jungkook nodded, trying to hide the feeling of triumph in his chest blooming like fresh flowers. “Show her the way, please.” He spoke to Belle.

Belle bowed to them. “This way, Ms. Zaher.”

Seokjin kept his expression hardened as he drunk another sip of the makgeolli. “It seems I’ve been given a taste of what you’re capable of.”

“I wish you didn’t have to,” Jungkook said.

“Namjoon, do you say you’re comfortable working with Jungkook?” Seokjin’s gaze flickered to Namjoon but unlike Jungkook, he took Seokjin’s comments with a cool expression. “After what his grandfather did to those soldiers.”

“What I decide to do is none of your business, Seokjin.” Namjoon tilted his head. “You’re not anyone’s don.”

“This isn’t finished. I still have Hebi Pa.” Seokjin stood to his feet and tried to make way to the door but Jungkook and Namjoon’s men blocked the path. “You kill me now, Hebi Pa will just strike right back at you. This time they probably won’t be so kind to offer you another marriage.”

If Jungkook had ended it here, all his troubles would float away. Even his bargain with Namjoon would dissipate. But it was Namjoon who spoke first.

“Let him go.”

Seokjin smiled as one of Namjoon’s guards slid the paper door open and he walked away.

“I could’ve given you my part of the deal,” Jungkook said, confused.

“But I don’t want a gang war,” Namjoon replied. “This has been on the low for a while, we can’t let it burst.”

Namjoon was right. Especially after that scuffle to get Taehyung and Angel, they really had to keep things as discreet as possible. But if risking a gang war meant seeing that smile disappear, Jungkook may have considered it.

Instead he sighed. “Another time.”

Jimin snuck into Don Takahashi’s bedroom in the dark of night. One of his younger mistresses slept next to him but he knew how to sneak into places without being noticed. Gaia knew that. Perhaps more than Jimin would’ve liked it.

A small knife through the neck was all it took. Takahashi only had a few minutes of staying awake, round eyes opened as he realized the incision but the choking of blood had him still and guzzling.

Jimin didn’t look back as he snuck out of the room.

The mistress’ scream led to chaos and chaos led to a quiet funeral. Gaia wore an elegant black dress and her short curls ended just at her jawline. She kept a neutral expression but a white handkerchief hung at her gloved hand.

Everyone gave their grievances with a hint of congratulations as the title of Don was now hers.

They returned to Gaia’s household as the afternoon sun was high in the sky. White handkerchief thrown on the couch and gloves strewn away as Gaia moved to the bar and poured herself a glass of whiskey with a squeeze of lemon.

“Do you not feel remorse for losing your father?” Jimin asked.

“I was a name on an alliance sheet for my father,” she said. “I had many siblings who were shipped off to another gang, unknown and unheard of. I will not do the same and be someone else’s pawn. Not anymore.” She took her first sip and looked out the window, her expression still unchanged. “You can leave now.”

Jimin hesitated. Force of habit had him leaving but he pressed his feet to the floor. Woods stuck on his tongue. He turned quietly and stared at her for a moment. Remembered how he used to admire the way she looked out into the view, like she wished for anything but this yet relished in what she had. “Everything I did and said wasn’t scripted, Gaia.”

“Does it help you sleep at night when you look at it that way?” Gaia asked. The sun made her eyes look bright green and venomous but her voice was sweet.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Jimin said. “I don’t have anything to survive with if I wasn’t with Seokjin.”

Her eyes then flickered to him, the venomous look turned hurt and angry. “You don’t think I don’t know what this world is like? I’d have given you anything if you’d just. . .noticed.” Her voice cracked slightly. With a scoff, Gaia looked back at the window with a defeated sigh. “Get out of my sight.”

Jimin took a breath to speak but stopped. Guilt choked any defense that tried to push through because she was right. Jimin had gotten so close to Gaia that there could’ve been a better place for him. More than, Jimin knew that his feelings were becoming true. Yet he was frightened. A coward who needed to run back to the wings that found him. With that thought, he bowed and walked away.

Belle and Jungkook returned to the estate deep into the night. The meeting took out more of her energy than she wanted to and it didn’t help that she was made to go back to Jungkook’s household. She immediately made her way into the guestroom and settled on top of the soft bed. She heard footsteps behind her come closer.

Jungkook stood in front of her and knelt to the floor. He reached out and gently pulled off her shoes, releasing the aching feeling of her feet.

“Stop,” she whispered.

“You caused me a big victory today.” Jungkook caressed the pads of her feet, massaging them to feel better and Belle had to resist the urge to hum in pleasure.

“You did the talking.”

“Still, thank you.” Jungkook’s voice kept to the soft movements of his hands. “And I’m sorry. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met and it often scares me.”

Belle blinked slowly, trying to hide how much her heart fluttered.

Jungkook got up to his feet. “Good night.” He walked out of the room.

Belle took a shower and dressed into her white cotton nightgown. She looked at her empty bed. Silent treatments were for couples who wanted to last. There was no point in being angry at someone Belle never expected to be better. So with a sigh, she walked over to Jungkook’s bedroom.

Jungkook was sleeping, shirtless and rested on his stomach. His back lifted and dipped from each deep breath.

Belle climbed on the other side of the bed and snuck under the blankets. She snuggled into the pillows, closed her eyes and rested quietly.

Jungkook shifted and turned around. He pulled Belle closer to his chest, kissing her cheeks and her forehead then her lips. His arm snuck underneath her, wrapping around her completely until she felt safe and warm.

Belle climbed on top of him, straddling him. Palms pressed against his chest, the comfortable patterns of his heartbeat bringing her a sense of calm. She leaned in and kissed him. Soft and tender.

Jungkook’s hands rode up her dress, gripping at her thighs as Belle deepened the kiss. He sat up and placed Belle on her back, her head near the end of the bed. Jungkook pressed wet kisses down her neck and chest, pulling down her sleeves and suckling on her breasts. Pleasure bloomed through her body in a way that felt like leaning over the edge of a cliff. But it was enticing and lovely.

Belle turned them over again, pushing down his soft pants. She caressed her wet core against his length, making him groan.

Jungkook pressed his nails into her skin as Belle smiled.

Belle lifted herself and sunk onto his length. Wet and snug but it sent her to madness. Being full of him left her breathless. Belle gyrated her hips, pressing her palms on his lower belly. The luxurious bed began to squeak under the pressure. Belle trembled as she slowed down her pace, making Jungkook moan.

Jungkook intertwined his fingers to hers as Belle began to bounce on him. He cupped her cheeks before wrapped his arms around her hips, latching his hands, fucking into her. Belle let out a pleased whimper, shaking along the rhythm as the bed screeched violently.

Jungkook ran along the edge of his orgasm, pushing into her as he came to his climax, filling her to the brim.

Belle let out a pleased sigh.

Jungkook snuck his hand between her legs as he made them sit up. He rubbed her clit, driving her to an orgasm until her legs began to shake. Jungkook held her close while she was breathless, flushed and pleased.

Belle hid her face in his chest, following her breath with the sounds of his heartbeat. She lifted herself and kissed him.

Jungkook brushed his fingers through her hair, his gaze so deep and loving that Belle felt the weight of it, pushing her down.

Belle cupped his cheek before he kissed her forehead, making her melt into his embrace. It was so soft and intimate.

And so so dangerous.

Akira kept Kaito incredibly close to her for the next few hours. He slept on her lap, unharmed but drained by all the events. She would be angered by Jungkook’s brashness but she knew better than to blatantly blame people with stupidity. She was raised smarter than that. All this happened because of Seokjin’s brashness. He flew too close to the sun and targeted the wrong people. People who could easily tear them apart if they wanted.

They arrived back home, quiet and distant.

Akira cupped Kaito’s cheeks and kissed him on the forehead. “Take him to the next room for a moment, please. I’ll be with you as soon as possible, I promise.” She spoke that with her heart. She was never keeping him in a separate place again.

Kaito nodded with a smile as a guard gently guided him away.

“Give him anything he needs,” she said.

Seokjin smiled as Kaito walked out of the room as he left but as always it was never genuine. It was never anything.

As the door closed, Akira began to speak. “I’ve believed that I have done most things a good wife would do. Perhaps I’m too formal and not cheery enough to keep one’s interest piqued but I’ve done my best with the situation we’re in.”

Seokjin’s expression softened. “Akira, what I did had nothing to do with my lack of feelings for you.”

“That doesn’t resolve our dilemma.” Akira’s voice cut through Seokjin’s relaxed demeanour. “What I said to Jungkook was a proper promise.”

“You want to break this alliance.” His tone turned serious. “After all these years.”

“It may seem surprising to you but I don’t prefer having an unfaithful husband. Regardless of what his intentions were. And it honestly surprises me that you’d think I’d stay with you after what’s happened. I accepted your proposal for marriage out of my own interests, it was no trophy or benefit on my part.” Akira explained as best as she could. “But people like you always forget that. This is why you burn out first.”

Seokjin’s throat bobbed up and down before coughing. “What about Kaito?”

“He will understand what needs to be done,” Akira said.

Seokjin coughed again, pouring himself a glass of water. “He needs a father.”

“And he will have one. I will find one. It just won’t be you.”

Seokjin scoffed, shoulders shaking.

“Goodbye, Seokjin. I wish you would’ve just appreciated the family you had. The family that loved you.” Akira turned away and walked out of the room.

Seokjin tried to speak out her name but he coughed again, body lurching until he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. Blood spurted out of him and stained the dark wood floor.

He saw footsteps coming closer to him. “Akira.”

But they were dark boots, large boots yet unusually quiet.

Seokjin stared up at the figure and saw Taehyung.

“You should watch who pours drinks for you,” Taehyung said.

Seokjin choked out a sound but more blood spurted out. He wanted to yell out for the guards but Taehyung’s hand moved quickly with the knife. Within seconds, Seokjin was gone and any trace of Taehyung dissipated. Tigers were good at what they did.

“It’s a popular venom Cho No Su uses to get rid of bad customers,” Angel said as she sat with Belle in their new room. The rain pattered outside and Taehyung returned, immediately rushing to clean the blood off him and change into new clothes. “I only used it once but some older workers had to use it every month.”

Belle hugged her knees to her chest, looking at the pack suitcases next to them. “You’ll never have to do that again. Go somewhere far away and forget what happened here.”

Angel nodded. “Thank you for this. You didn’t have to.”

“Don’t thank me, there were still conditions to the deal.”

“Still, anyone else would’ve taken information and left it alone.” Angel smiled. “Thank you.”

Belle didn’t know how much she deserved to be thanked for anything. Everything she did up until now was low and underhanded. Investigating was one thing but poisoning and turning over an entire gang with a succession crisis was another thing entirely. Not only that but her time in Yeou Pa was coming to an end. She had to pull away now or she’d never leave.

The deed was done. Jungkook won. All with the help of Belle. He clinked glasses with Yoongi and Rosyne, drank with them and celebrated but Belle was nowhere to be seen. It was only when Yoongi and Rosyne opted to leave for their houses that she appeared, a little drenched by the rain.

Belle straightened her position and intertwined her fingers together. “Our job here is done,” she said.

Jungkook’s heart squeezed within itself, panging in pain. “What’re you talking about?”

“My job was to help you take down Seokjin. That is what I did and now we can part ways,” Belle said, still keeping that neutral tone.

“You and I both know this was more than job.” Jungkook spoke through gritted teeth. “If this is still about what I said to you.”

“Your words shouldn’t have any impact on me,” Belle said. “That was never part of the plan and I will not intend to encourage it for a future that cannot happen under any circumstances.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I cannot be yours if you are here. Your family broke my family, Jungkook and for nothing else but profit. That can never be forgiven or reversed.” Belle shook her head.

“What if I help your mother and grandmother?” Jungkook was soft and almost desperate. “Bring them back to their feet.”

“They’re not your charity cases and I will not have my mother be indebted to you after what she’s been through.” Belle stepped back. “This needs to end.”

“You can’t leave.” Jungkook pursed his lips together. I don’t want you to leave. I need you here. “You know too much about the gang.”

Belle raised her chin. “So you’re going to kill me?”

Jungkook gulped. How easy it was to assume so. It wasn’t as if he’d proven himself not to throw threats in people’s way.

“Do it.”

Jungkook’s stomach dropped.

Belle held onto the knife in her boot and wrapped it in Jungkook’s hand, pressing the tip against her chest. “All the information dies with me. You can preserve your precious power and legacy when I’m done. But if I live, I won’t stop. No matter what.”

Jungkook was scared. Scared because he considered it. He thought about it just for his own survival. Then it slipped out of him. “I love you.”

It was worse than a stab. It was probably worse than death. The words lingered in the air, curdling it like spoiled milk yet still felt so sweet.

Jungkook took the knife away and placed it on the table.

“Take it back.”

“I’ve never lied to you, Belle. I won’t start now.”

“You have no idea what love is,” Belle seethed. “If you knew even for a moment, things would be different but they aren’t. So take it back.”

“No.”

Belle grabbed the knife and pointed the tip of his neck. “You don’t feel that way, you’re lying. People like you manipulate people like me all the time.”

“Then pretend it’s a lie. But I’m not taking it back.”

Belle pressed the knife further into his skin but pulled away. “You’re a coward just like your father.” Her voice cracked as she walked out of the room.

All Jungkook could do was smile. It was a lowly insult, below Belle. It was both a soft brush against his cheek and crack in his heart realizing what she wanted to say.

I love you too.

Gaia watched Seokjin’s body get taken away in his coffin while Akira stood quietly, touching Kaito’s shoulder. She couldn’t hug him quite yet since he was more than just her son now. He was the leader for Holangi Pa.

Jimin stood next to her, frozen in place. “We know who did this.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Gaia said. “Akira won’t look for vengeance and niether should you. Don’t be stupid.”

“We can’t just let them get away with it.”

“And what’re you going to do? Kill Jungkook, then get killed and rinse and repeat? Seokjin started this and his death finishes it. Calm yourself.” Gaia narrowed her gaze.

Jimin’s chest rose and fell.

As they returned to Gaia’s house again, Jimin stayed with his pout throughout the trip.

Gaia let out an annoyed sigh. “I think I preferred when you were faking your feelings for me. You were so much more alive and leading.”

Jimin sighed. “You had your father killed. I never had one, Seokjin was the closest to family I was given.”

Gaia pressed her lips together. “Well, you can grieve in your new freedom now.”

Jimin stared at her curiously. “What?

“Seokjin’s death means you’re of no threat to me. I’ll give you some funds and land. So you can be a free man and grieve your family that you love so much.” Gaia waved her hand as she sat herself on the couch.

Jimin hesitated, thinking for a moment to step away and be free. “You’re setting me free? Why?”

Gaia stared at him, scoffing while shaking her head. “You are a bumbling fool sometimes.”

Seokjin would provide many things for him. Anything he ever needed but freedom was never in question. Jimin wasn’t stupid. He knew he wasn’t free but not being free meant he got a meal and a house at the end of the day. Yet Gaia was giving him freedom. Not just freedom but money to start a life of his own. Jimin wanted to feel thrilled and grateful but he just felt more guilty than usual.

Despite all the things he had done to express his loyalty to Seokjin, Gaia still showed her love for him.

Jimin turned away from the door and walked to the bar, filled a small glass of whiskey and squeezed a lemon. He walked over and handed it to her. “I can still visit if you’d like me to.”

Gaia had a small smile on her face. “If you keep bringing me drinks, sure.”

Belle kept replaying the words over and over again in her head. The tips of her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She already had articles ready for publishing, piling up in the attempt to distract herself but there was no denying the voice in her head.

Shaking her head, Belle picked up the articles and walked into Hoseok’s office. She placed the papers on the table.

“All of these for Yeou Pa?” Hoseok asked.

Belle nodded. “It’s now or never.”

Hoseok sighed as he read through the words. “You know I can’t publish all of this. Yeou Pa is connected to other organizations that aren’t criminal. We’d be accusing them of association.”

Anger flooded through her.

“Maybe it’s good to take a break and come back. I know it’s been difficult.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m telling you as a friend. The situation has changed.”

Belle sat down with a deep breath. “What about the underground newsletters?” She asked. “It’ll warn the organizations to lay low and I’ll use my own name.”

Hoseok’s expression softened. “It could work.”

“She didn’t miss a single thing,” Yoongi said, a sense of amazement behind his words as they were given the newsletters under Belle’s name. “She’s making us go silent.”

Not burning the empire but quietly corroding it. Jungkook would be forced to look back on his records as journalists and undercover police start linking business to him. It’s chaos without the fireworks.

Jungkook rested back on his chair. “Rosyne, how long will this take to ensure no tracking?”

“Months. Our profits will lower significantly,” Rosyne said.

“We could take care of Belle to send a message.” Yoongi raised his shoulders.

Jungkook narrowed his gaze but Yoongi only smiled. “Get started. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Rosyne bowed and walked out of the room. Yet Yoongi stayed, staring at Jungkook for a moment before sighing.

“You’ll get used to it,” Yoongi said. “Knowing you can never have something normal and comfortable like that.” His tone turned unusually serious before he left the room too.

Jungkook was left with a sinking feeling. He should’ve known nothing would come of it and if something did happen, it wouldn’t be good. But he sank anyway, so deep into the ocean that he just wanted to drown to make it easy.

In the end, Belle won and he lost.

Belle came back to her mother and grandmother’s home after her day at work. It was a small, quaint place but her grandmother kept the garden alive with yellow and red blossoms.

When she walked in, there was a warm scent of spiced meat and fresh rice.

Her mother sat at the television, turning her head slightly towards Belle before smiling softly. “You’re home.” She smiled though vacantly.

Belle leaned in and kissed the top of her head.

Her grandmother appeared from the kitchen, her skin glistening from the steam. “Good, you’re here. Food is just finished.”

Belle’s stomach already rumbled for some lovingly cooked food. She sat at the counter as her grandmother handed her a bowl of warm soup, rice and spiced meat.

“So. . .did you do it?” her grandmother asked.

Belle looked up at her, before sipping on her soup and feeling her belly warm. The familiar airs of her home loosened her body. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. But there was no denying that she had a victory. And she would hold onto it with her life. “I did it.”

Her grandmother hummed. “Well done.”

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#jungkook #jungkook imagines #mafia jungkook #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfiction #bts x oc #bts mafia au #bts au #bts au fic #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bts angst

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tadpolesonalgae · 1 year

Text

Viviane x f!reader: Ice Frosted Gardenias[*]

A/N: because it’s been way too hot recently

Summary: you escort the Lady of Winter—also your dear friend, Viviane—on her trip to the Day Court. She notices the heat getting to you, and decides to help you cool down with her frost-kissed fingers.

Warnings: smut, pussy eating, use of a dildo?, mentions of fff threesome

-Part 2-

“Heat bothering you?”

You lower the hand that had been tugging at the collar of your cloak. “Not at all, my Lady.” You keep your eyes ahead, even as you can feel her lips lifting into a mischievous smile.

The Lady of Winter is out of her usual furs, instead loosely clothed in a wash of light blue fabric, breathable and soft, that hangs by two thread-like straps over the elegant slope of her shoulders. Her shock of white hair spills down her back, hiding the snowlike skin from the sun. Her indicolite eyes watch you keenly beneath near-silver lashes. “Come here, general.”

Reluctantly, you enter the garden, where the sun beats heavier until you’re just beneath her gazebo. “My Lady?” You ask, eyes still scanning the surrounding area. “Come now, relax with me. You must be boiling alive beneath those wretched clothes,” she smiles, raising herself from the deckchair. “These are the robes of your court, and I wear them with honour and pride, my Lady.” You reply smoothly, eyes a little less focused as she draws near.

You still as she raises her hand, her frost-tipped fingers dancing across your hot skin. “Don’t think I don’t know that you’re not even supposed to be on guard duty today, General.” The pads of her fingers brush beneath the curve of your mouth and you stiffen. “I simply wish for you to be safe, my Lady,” you reply. Her eyes narrow at you in quiet reprimand. You sigh. She’s caught you. “I simply wish for you to be safe, Viviane.” She beams, “that’s better. And now you know that I know, disrobe and relax. You can still keep an eye out if that helps, but you are to spend the day with me, enjoying this heat.”

She guides you by the arm to beside her chair, turning to untie the strings of your cloak. “My La— Viviane. You are the Lady of Winter, I can untie myself.” She rolls her eyes, but settles down on the grass. On any other occasion, you would chastise her about getting her robes dirty, but she was telling the truth about the day being for relaxing. She isn’t scheduled to meet with another soul today.

“Really, I don’t know how you managed to wear those clothes for so long. You’re the only one who insisted today, despite the obvious heat.”

“I need to set a good example. If I am lax in my actions, the soldiers will believe that’s acceptable and—” Your brows narrow when Viviane holds up her hands and makes jabbering gestures with her fingers. “That? That’s you. Talking about rules as if they’re unbreakable laws.”

You sigh, knowing better than to push back against your Lady’s sardonic sense of humour. You seat yourself beside her, a healthy distance away, trying to at least maintain an air of professionalism. “You can some closer, I’m not going to freeze you to a block of ice,” she teases, scooting closer. The idea sounds rather pleasant as you gingerly loosen your collar—only slightly.

The Lady of Winter rolls her eyes, then watches you quietly, as if she’s considering something. Your hairs rise at the back of your neck, and you just know she’s planning something. You open your mouth to speak, propose plans that will hopefully dissuade her from whatever promiscuous ideas she’s spinning together. But when you turn, she’s leaning toward you, shifting her hands to place them atop your shoulders. You stiffen as the pale silky fabric of her dress slides up over her thigh, light sparking off the tiny gems sprinkled about her to resemble diamond like icicles.

She swings her leg over your own, settling on your lap, looking down at you. “You’re going to boil alive if you don’t loosen your clothes a little, General.” She grins mischievously, cool hands cupping your heated cheeks. “My Lady?” You swallow as she grinds down on top of you. Her slim fingers find the clasp of your outer robe, the thinner one that lies beneath the cloak. She slides it over your shoulders, already moving to the toggles of your royal-blue jacket, loosening the wooden knots from their silver slats. One by one, her fingers slot them away, peeling off your layers.

The Lady of Winter stares down at your dilating pupils, pushing the material from your arms, until she reaches the the crisp white linen of your shirt, embossed with more silver thread. The Winter Court crest accents the collar and cuffs, and again, she begins sliding the pearly buttons from their placements. “How you manage to survive with this many layers on is beyond me,” she murmurs, untucking the shirt from the matching royal-blue skirt, that sweeps to your ankles.

Your mouth is parched, fingers trembling slightly as you attempt to keep your wits about you while she begins disrobing your final layer. The silky straps of the camisole slide from your shoulders, barely hiding your nipples from her hungry eyes. She shifts, raising to her knees as she reaches back to slide her hand beneath your skirts. You suck in a soft breath as she traces her cold fingers up your inner thigh.

She moves, settling between your legs to allow her cold fingers to brush over your heat, cupping you possessively. “You know, I had a chance to see Mor again a few moons back…” she begins, fingers dancing teasingly between your thighs. You dig your nails into your palm as you nod, attempting to keep still.

The Lady of Winter leans forward, mouth close to yours. “She told me of some…fun, she’d had. With another female.” You swallow, apprehensive of where she’s leading you. She pulls away, moving further down your body as she pushes your skirts up over your hips. “Are you not going to ask your Lady of her finds?” She drawls, grinning.

“What did she tell you, Lady?” You manage, her cool hands spreading your thighs, bare save for the cream socks that come to your mid shin. She smiles, fingers hooking beneath the white lace of your underwear, pulling it down, over your thighs, past your knees—off. Viviane traces her thumb over your clit, and you hiss at the temperature change. Her fingers are so cold against the heat between your legs.

It seems the sun reaches it’s peak in the sky, hot air filling the garden that gets to you even as you’re disrobed. She leans down, her lips brushing over your cunt, pressing a cold kiss to the apex of your thighs. “Viviane,” you hiss, stiffening, “we’re in public!” She waves her hand dismissively, “we’re in a large back garden, surrounded by hedges, beneath a gazebo. Unless you’re concerned about the insects getting a free show, there’s nothing to be worried about.”

Heat flushes your cheeks at her sound reasoning. “You’re the Lady of Winter…You shouldn’t—”

“You didn’t protest this much three days ago.” You purse your lips as she gives you a cheshire smile, her tongue flattening over your entrance as it drags upward, pressing over your clit. “That’s different,” you grit, holding back from threading your fingers through her shock of snowy, white hair.

She hums onto your pussy, and you involuntarily tighten. “How so?” You suck in a breath as she nips at your sensitive clit, thighs gently squeezing her. You divert away from her question, “you are my Lady,” you try to reason. “Yes I am.” Heat rushes your body at the carnal tone, the desire and yearning contained in those three monosyllabic words.

“Open wider.”

She’s set on you, and you know there’s no point trying to convince her to stop now that she’s started. You’re definitely going to have a talk with Mor for putting her filthy ideas in your Lady’s pristine mind. Your thighs open and she gives you a panty-dropping smile, “very good.” Her hand raises and your breath catches as she conjures a phallic object in the air. You swallow.

The muscles in your thighs contract as you attempt to shut your legs but she simply spreads them again. “I thought you wanted to know what dear Mor told me about?” She croons softly, and you watch as a frost feathers over the surface of the toy. “To know, yes. Not to be shown.” She shushes you, pressing the tip of the object over your clit, sending a pleasantly cool rush through your abdomen.

“Well, I think you’ll end up wanting to thank dear Mor for letting me in on this little adventure.” You grit your teeth as she runs the slightly wetted tip over your nipples. “Must you continue chanting that female’s name while you’re between my thighs?” She smiles, satisfaction skating across her icy blue irises, “jealous?” You try to bite back the snarl, but a growl sounds at the back of your throat “I thought you said you were my Lady?”

“I am. But I am also Kallias’, and my Court’s, and my people’s.”

“But not Mor’s.”

She grins quietly to herself, “and here I was thinking of inviting her to share you with me.”

She trails the object down over your stomach, until it’s between your thighs again. The tip presses against your entrance and you bite your lip. “I would not be the one to be shared, Viviane.” Your eyes pierce into hers, removing your boots with a fraction of a thought, raising one leg over her delicate shoulder. Her own pupils dilate at your words, as she pushes in the frosted toy.

A quiet breath is pushed from your chest at how easily it slides inside of you, how pleasant the coolness is. “Enjoying that, general?” She smiles, gently pushing in and out, burying deeper each time until it’s fully submerged in your pussy, concealed from sight; swallowed whole. You manage a nod, not wanting her to stop.

But then she pulls away, her mouth latching over your heat, her cold tongue lapping over your hot cunt, suckling at your clit, before pressing a kiss to your sensitive bud. You watch as she slides your underwear back on, pulling the lace tight over your hips, pushing the toy deeper, nestling in your cunt. “My Lady?” You manage, slightly breathlessly.

She sends you a wicked smile, cool fingers tapping your clit through your underwear. “I’m sure Mor will be delighted to see you,” she grins, and you clamp down on the toy. “Viviane…” Her mouth curves into an innocent line, “if you had stuck around for the meeting this morning, instead of coming straight to me when you weren’t even supposed to be on guard duty, you would have known.” Your breath hitches. She’s serious.

Arousal blossoms in your lower tummy as her middle and forefinger add a slight pressure over your entrance. “Now, general, I want you to go up to my chambers, and wait patiently for your Ladies to find you.” She stands, dusting herself off, pleasure flushing her cheeks at your blown out pupils, the scent in the air of your enjoyment. “And don’t even think about disobeying me. I am the Lady of Winter, after all.”

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020

#x f!reader #June #Viviane #Viviane Winter Court #smut #The Lady of winter #Viviane x f!reader #acotar smut #Viviane x f!reader smut

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kaigarax · 7 months

Text

Gardenia

Loke x Reader

Quote: "Fall in love with someone bringing you back." & "Fall in love with someone unexpected."

Someone You Loved Featuring: The Dancer

Loke had been rather nervous his first time attending an art exhibit and not that he ever would’ve admitted that to you but in his defence he did have a rather excellent explanation as to why he was nervous if you were to ask. It had, afterall, been an exhibit filled with photos of him not to mention his first major debut into high society. Attending this art exhibit, on the other hand, was the least of Loke’s worries. Not just was this exhibit one featuring someone else but this particular art exhibit would total to the fifth art exhibit he’s had the privilege of attending.

A long line of curious onlookers had already formed around the entrance que by the time that Loke had arrived.

He had, of course, arrived precisely half an hour after the time written on the cute invitation you sent to him in the mail. It is preferred, if not mandatory, in high society for someone to arrive fashionably late when making an appearance at the event of a close friend. Not just to help relieve that friend but to show that the event was so important that they pushed everything else they had going on to the side just to make such a scene.

And, well, Loke never wanted to see over too eager. Lest it give the wrong intentions away.

Of course that whole argument could also be thrown away with one glance at the white bouquet he clutched tightly in his hand. A dozen gardenias freshly picked and pruned just for you. One of Loke’s close friends ran a flower shop which was what had given him the idea to present you with such a gift when one of his managers suggested he bring something.

The cool night air nipped at the tip of his nose. He’d never been a fan of using his fame and connections to get special benefits but decided tonight would have to be an exception as he made his way to the front of the line. The flowers in his hand looked to be shivering from the cold. Perhaps next time he’d have to bring something more hardy. Perhaps a picture frame? Perhaps a little tacky but you’d definitely get a good kick or two out of it.

A single flash of the coffee coloured card and mention of his name was enough to have the security guards open up the door and let him in. Loke keeps his eyes towards the room and away from the envious gazes of those forced to wait outside.

The room is packed full to the brim. Perhaps not as packed as sardines but there are more people than would make for a comfortable exploration of the exhibit.

White frames hang up against dark brown coloured walls with golden plates at the bottom of each frame. It’s an interesting colour scheme you’ve picked to go alongside the muse you’ve decided to name The Poet. Makes him feel as though he’s entered into a coffee shop of some sort, similar to those of which he visited back when he was first starting college. A cute little corner of the world carved out just for him. A glimpse into the months you must’ve shared with your latest Muse.

The first picture that greets Loke is one containing a white wall mattered with bright and colourful post-it-notes or was it sticky notes? Loke never could remember which was the name of a brand and which was the name of the actual product. Not that it ever really mattered to him. Except perhaps for the fact that you would always tease him for it. But secretly, he’s always quite liked teasing, but only when it comes from you.

There seems to be no method to the madness that is this first photo that Loke’s chosen to view. It seems more haphazard and random than something well thought out. He can imagine it now; you enter into the house of the Poet for the first time only to be both baffled and impressed at how beautiful this controlled chaos seems to be.

Single words like ‘FLIGHT’, ‘BRILLIANCE’, and ‘WONDER’ are sprawled over the entirety of the patches of yellows, blues and pinks. While trios of words like, ‘HOPES’, ‘WISHES’, and ‘DREAMS’ can be depicted on splashes of green and purple. Loke finds it both thought provoking and sophisticated - especially from something so chaotic. And he’d expect nothing less from you.

The second thing that catches Loke’s attention is a man with dark hair. He’s a little shorter than Loke but not by much. Upon first glance, there’s nothing about the man that screams eye catching. Upon second glance though, one can see how easily he seems to command crowds. Without a word people’s attention is drawn towards him. It’s a skill Loke is envious of. He, himself, can not command the attention of crowds with simply his presence. The top of his head is covered with his dark bangs, a scowl on his face that says ‘he’s been forced to stay here longer than he’d like’ brings a bout of amusement to Loke’s chest.

“Bookkeeper!” Loke shouts, making his way towards the man.

The Bookkeeper’s frown seems to deepen as Loke nears him which only goes to fuel Loke’s own amusement.

The Bookkeeper sighs deeply, “Dancer.”

“What’re you doing in a place like this? I thought Soccer players were kept in jail cells during the off season.” Teased Loke.

“Football.”

“Hm?”

“Football, Dancer,” the Bookkeeper scoffs, “not soccer.”

Loke shrugs, “football. Soccer. Same difference.”

The Bookkeeper's hands tighten into fist but the action is brief and only ever so slightly. Loke, of course, knows he shouldn’t provoke the Bookkeeper but just can’t seem to help himself. All of their meetings are like this, afterall. One could even say it’s the nature of their relationship. Almost brother like if you considered Loke the older the older annoying brother and the Bookkeeper the younger overachieving one. Of course, the Bookkeeper had been named a Muse long before Loke (which should have made him the older brother) but Loke was older than him - so he’d obviously be the older brother in this strange relationship. Though, Loke doubts the Bookkeeper would ever want to be referred to as Loke’s brother.

“What do you want, Dancer?” Sighed the Bookkeeper.

“Why, Bookkeeper!” Loke feigns an expression of hurt, his spare hand going over his heart, “I’m hurt! And here I was thinking we were actually friends.”

The Bookkeeper smirks ever so slightly, “I definitely wouldn’t have come here if I’d have known you were coming.��

Loke mirrors the Bookkeeper’s expression, “Just imagine our little photographer’s expression if she heard that!” Loke may be playing dirty but he’s never considered himself above that. If anything he’d use every little thing to his advantage if he could, including you. It was obvious to anyone, including Loke, that you cared very much for each of your Muses. Why else would you have given them such titles? And, from what Loke had observed, much of those affections were mirrored by most of your Muses.

Not him, of course. Never him.

No.

Nada.

His expressions could never be pinned down on a single woman like yourself.

Not a-

“I’m certain she’d understand.” Says the Bookkeeper.

Loke shrugs in response, “always did let you get away with things like that.”

“That’s because I’m actually nice to her.”

“Hey!” Loke smiles, though his chest pangs in a weird sorta way, “I’m nice to her.”

“If you say so.”

Loke wants to spit something back in response but a third thing finally seems to catch his attention. And when something catches Loke’s attention it isn’t very long he allows that thing to go by without his interference.

The flowers in his hand seem to sing as his eyes land on you from across the room.

Boy do you ever look like a vision.

So pretty across the room in your fancy dress. It feels like ages since he’s last had the chance to see you. You’ve been so busy these last few days. Probably the most sought after photographer this year. You look to be laughing at something someone else said and Loke’s certain it must sound beautiful. Something he’d like to choreograph a dance to if you’d allow him.

You wouldn’t of course, but it is a nice thought.

His treacherous heart flutters in his chest.

Loke has to force his gaze away, turning back to the Bookkeeper, “so what’s your consensus on the Poet?”

The Bookkeeper’s eyes, which are now only slightly covered by his bangs, meet with Loke’s own, “haven’t met him. You?”

“Haven’t met him either. His name’s listed in the agenda and credits but there’s no photo of his face.”

“So he’s camera shy.”

Loke chuckles, “he’s not the only one.”

The Bookkeeper turns his head as he scans the room’s occupants, “any guess on who he might be?”

Loke follows the Bookkeeper's actions, scanning the room before his eyes land on a man in the back of the room with blonde hair, “what about him?”

“No,” the Bookkeeper shakes his head, “his features are plain.”

“Perhaps that’s why his face isn’t in any of the photos.” Jokes Loke.

“There’s nothing about him that screams ‘sparking’.”

“Ah yes. ‘Sparking.’”

“How about him?” The Bookkeeper points to a man with gray eyes.

“Him?” Loke narrows his gaze on the grey eyed man, looking for a spark of some sort, “no chance.”

The Bookkeeper nods in response.

The fourth thing to catch Loke’s attention this night is a man whose brown hair has been dipped in green. It isn’t the most pleasing colour, especially on the man’s face, but it does go with the colour scheme of the room.

Loke and the Bookkeeper share a look.

The brown haired man, the Poet, is tall. Perhaps not much above average but tall nonetheless. He seems to have a certain charm to him that has Loke certain he’s had his way with a woman or two before. It’s a cute kinda charm.

Without another word Loke makes his way over.

There’s a certain look on the Poet’s face that Loke identifies as ‘love struck’. It’s a look he’s seen too often. One he’s had too often. The Poet’s eyes seem stuck on you from across the room and Loke’s almost surprised.

He’s not, of course, but only because that look is for you.

“She’s pretty, ain’t she.” Teased Loke.

The Poet jumps, but is quick to recompose himself, “yes. I guess so.”

Loke smirks, and asks “do you know her?” despite already knowing the answer. The Poet’s eyes rarely leave your form, only darting away to look at Loke in an attempt to be polite.

“One would hope so,” laughs the Poet, “considering all those photos she’s taken are of my works.”

“So you’re the poet.” Exclaims Loke, smiling at how cringey his own acting seems to be.

The Poet takes a step towards Loke, a raised brow at the ready, “what of it?”

“Nothing,” Loke shrugs, “you’re just now what I was expecting.”

“And just what exactly were you expecting?”

Loke smirks, “some love sick camera shy girl.”

“Huh?” And the brow is raised, “and you consensus on me?”

“Not a girl, but still camera shy and definitely love sick~”

The Poet’s expression is a mix between confused and annoyed, “and what’s that supposed to mean?”

Loke laughs, “you can just call me The Dancer.”

“So what’re you doing here?”

“I was invited here. She always invites me to her showings.”

“Oh,” the Poet glances quickly around the room, his eyes landing on you before finally turning back to look at Loke, “how long have you known her for?”

“Quite a few years now, actually. I was one of her first Muses, you know.” Her sixth to be precise.

“Muse.” Chuckles the Poet.

Loke raises a brow “hm?”

“It’s such a funny word, you know.”

“How so?”

“Originally they were the daughters of Zuse and Mnemosyne. Eventually the word came to be defined as a person who has become a source of inspiration for a creative artist.”

“And how is that strange?”

“Now we use it to define the relationship between us and her. A form of endearment used to keep a barrier between herself and the rest.”

The idea gives Loke a weird feeling in his stomach but he doesn't linger too long on it. Figures a poet would be the kind of person to think too deeply into something. Loke, personally, has never liked thinking too deeply into things. Thinking deeply, feeling deeply and even worse, acting on those thoughts and feelings, can only cause harm.

Eventually, Loke sighs, “she always was quite an elusive person, wasn’t she?”

The Poet nods, “likes to stay just out of reach.”

Now that makes Loke laugh, “ain’t that the truth.”

And the conversation stops there. The one moment of connection quickly turns awkward and cold the longer Loke continues to linger there so he decides to make his way elsewhere.

The fifth thing to catch his attention tonight is another picture hung up on the wall. A man’s hand, the Poet’s hand, holds a pen writing something upon a blank sheet of paper. The words are blurred out and the white of the paper melts into the black table beneath it. Of all the photos tonight Loke thinks that this one must have been staged. All the photos in your first album were taken in the midst of a moment. A time when someone least expected it. The second album consists completely of staged photographs. Loke’s own photos were all taken in the midst of a moment while all of the Bookkeepers were staged. These ones, the Poet’s photos, seem to be a mix.

Loke hears your voice and immediately turns to look. You seem to be in the midst of a conversation with the Poet, a sweet smile on your face. All your smiles are sweet but this one is particularly reserved for your Muse.

You really are such a vision. A work of art yourself. Loke’s almost surprised that you yourself haven’t caught the attention of someone like yourself. That you have yet to become the Muse of another but perhaps your brilliance isn’t something he sees the same way as others.

His heart aches.

Loke pulls one of the staff carrying trays aside, “would you be able to give these to the artist after the show?”

“You don’t want to give them to her yourself, Sir?”

He holds the heavy guardians out, “not today. I’m expected elsewhere and don’t have time to wait for her conversation to end. And I wouldn’t want to interrupt anything.”

“And who shall I credit these lovely flowers from?”

Loke smiles, “The Dancer.”

You’d be able to see him next time.

Fall in love with someone bringing you back.

---

Gardenia

“Try not to fall in love with me,” Loke gives you a playful wink, “yeah?”

You laugh, “oh don’t you worry about me. Even if I did fall in love with you I’d doubt you’d even know.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because,” you bring a hand to your heart, “the best love is the unrequited kind.”

And Loke had laughed at that response of yours. He, in a thousand years, never would have expected you to say something like that! Though, perhaps that was why he chose you for such a proposition in the first place.

Loke’s parents had never been pushy or overly commanding of him but they did, like all good parents did, worry for him. Worried about his promiscuous lifestyle and livelihood. Constantly pushing him to settle down and marry a nice girl. Heck, it didn’t even have to be a girl, just someone that would care for him in his old age.

And Loke, for the most part, did agree with them. Settling down with someone did sound nice, in theory, but was so much harder than anyone else realised. His last serious relationship had been in highschool (if you can even count that) and lasted all of three years before reality hit and his career took off.

Anything stable was most certainly the antithesis of whatever he had going on.

Loke’s cousin, on the other hand, was an absolute menace. Always taunting and mocking him for his lack of a stable relationship. And, to throw it further in his face it just so happened to be that cousin’s wedding. A wedding where Loke would need to find a date and quickly.

Someone respectable but not too likeable (lest he have to make up some crazy excuse as to why they broke up). Someone that could have the possibility of being in a long-term relationship but not someone that’ll be too attached to him. Someone that isn’t a nobody but neither too popular that a scandal would be attached to their names.

Someone like you.

A newcomer in the upper eshalms of society. Well known and well liked enough but not so much that Loke would be teased when the two of you ended up going your separate ways. Someone sane and most importantly, someone that he wouldn’t have to worry would fall for him.

Little did he know that would end up being the least of his worries.

Loke, most definitely wouldn’t have even considered you in the first place if he knew just how crazy the course of his life would have changed. If he knew just how big a mistake meeting you for the first time would really be.

---

“Can you dance?” Loke asked.

You smiled apologetically, “not very well.”

He held a hand out to you, a warm smile playing on the corners of his lips, “well lucky for you, I happen to be an excellent one. If I do say so myself.”

You laugh, seemingly moved by his chivalrous attitude, “lead the way, my good sir,” taking his hand in your own.

Your hand is warm and a little sweaty in Loke’s own and your eyes are pointed down at your feet. Lethargic and slow movements follow Loke’s own smooth and refined ones. To him, it’s as though he’s just begun the long strenuous process of teaching someone how to walk. Slowly and certainly. One step at a time.

For the most part, you aren’t too bad.

Though you do definitely step on his toes once or twice.

Or ten times.

But he doesn't mind all too much.

Not when you look so cute with your eyes scrunched up in concentration. A crease between your brows that he so desperately wishes to wipe away.

You step forward, a brief second before he can step back which causes another collision between your toes.

“Sorry.” You mumbled.

Loke laughs, “you’re thinking too hard about your movements.”

You raise a brow, “thinking too hard. Really?”

“Yeah,” Loke leans in close to your ear, “close your eyes and just follow my movements.”

“I can barely dance with my eyes open and now you want me to close them? Are you crazy?”

“I mean you never know.”

“I don’t know Loke.”

“Come on, (Y/n)! Just give it a chance.”

You swallowed, “oh alright. I suppose I can’t get much worse can I?”

“That’s the spirit, Love!”

You raise a brow, “love?”

“Sweetheart?”

Your eyebrow stays raised.

“(Y/n)?”

Your expression flips, giving him an innocent smile, “yes?”

Loke makes a show of rolling his eyes but his mouth smiles in a manner that would express amusement.

You smile cheekily in response, closing your eyes.

From this distance, Loke thinks he could perhaps just maybe (real emphasis on maybe) lean down and steal a kiss. Had this been in the middle of a club rather than the midst of a wedding reception Loke very well may have leaned down and stolen a kiss from you. He may have even leaned down and stolen a kiss if it wasn’t you. Of course, it was you dancing with him in the middle of someone else’s wedding reception so he held himself back.

Stayed a respectable distance.

But he did wonder.

Leaned in and pulled you closer and led you along in the movements of a dance.

The two of you are pretending to be a couple. Might as well act the part, right? Who was he kidding, of course he was right. He was always right when it came to matters of the heart. When it comes to matters of love.

But… then again, he is only human.

And humans are bound to make mistakes once in a while, right?

“Ah, Loke!” You exclaim.

The boy blinks, as if suddenly finding himself back in reality.

It looks as though he’s accidentally let you fall… into the bowl of punch.

“Ah, sorry (Y/n)!” But he grins, “guess ya shouldn’t have trusted me…”

---

There’s a distant sound of chatter in the background as Loke closes the heavy glass door behind him. The door does well to muffle the sound and the distinctiveness of chatter has turned into a cacophony of murmurs and jumbled phrases. Perhaps, Loke thinks, that if all crowds were as quiet as this he’d never have a want or need to escape large gatherings.

But alas, the world is not as everyone hopes and crowds are most certainly not a distant chatter in the wind.

The music from the party is louder than the chatter, but not obnoxiously so.

It’s a happy sorta beat. Something meant to encourage pleasant conversations and induce happiness in all the party goers there. Nothing Loke would turn on when wanting to listen to music but something pleasant to the ear.

Frogs croaking and crickets chirping are the loudest sounds of the night outside. They bring Loke back to earth. To a place where everything can just be okay. It reminds him of when he was young and escaping the ever watchful eye of his father in hopes for a moment of reprieve. It wasn’t that Loke did badly in large groups but even he needed a moment to himself.

The breeze is cool against his skin. Almost uncomfortable when paired with the chill of night. Loke, of course, is used to such a breeze. It’s pleasant.

The inky black sky is beautiful. So vast and endless. Feels more like a hope for the future rather than the fear of the unknown that others so oftenly speak of. Perhaps Loke only feels that way because of the stars. Him and his family had always been very attuned with the stars. Something to do with ancestors.

Not that Loke really believed that kind of thing.

But sometimes, on nights like this, he really did think himself more connected than others. Almost as if that was where he was really meant to be.

Up in the sky, almost the stars.

A cough coming from the side of the building has Loke jerking his head to the side faster than a child running downstairs on Christmas day.

When his eyes land on you he visibly relaxes.

You give him a half smile, your own gaze kept on the night sky above.

You, yourself, could have been a star. A star fallen from the heavens above meant to grace the world if but for a moment. Perhaps that’s why Loke has always been so drawn to you in the first place.

The two of you are connected, like stars in the night sky.

“What’re you doing out here?” Loke asked, moving to take a seat beside you against the cool brick wall.

You shrug, “I suppose I’m out here doing the same thing as you.”

He smiles, “well ain’t that a nice coincidence.”

“It most certainly is, afterall you owe me big time, Sir.” You say, pointing accusingly at the man.

Loke shrugs, “and what is it you’d like, Miss?”

You smile, “be a Muse for me.”

“Muse?”

“My most popular collection.”

“Oh,” Loke smirks, “all those photos you take of hot guys.”

“What!” You flush, “it’s way more than that!”

“And what’s that?”

“A series of photos of people that spark inspiration. But, mostly, they were people that were important to me.” You huff, “if they were merely attractive men I’ve taken photos of then I most certainly would have sold them out and posted photos of them shirtless in one of those cheesy calendars.”

“Maybe you should consider doing that.”

You jab Loke on the side.

He laughs and leans his head on your shoulder.

It’s cold and he finds a strange sort of comfort in your warmth. It’s not a perfect fit like he always imagined. It’s not this exact thing that he expected when he was young. Not the kind of thing people told stories about and he dreamed of but it was warm. So warm against the coolness of night. He wonders if you’ve ever been this close to anyone else. If there was ever someone to make you laugh and smile this way. If there was ever someone that made your heart race the same way he was racing right now. If anyone could, Loke thinks, then it must have been one of your Muses.

Your eyes light up when you speak of them.

And you want him to be one of them.

“Muses.”

You turn, a smile playing on your lips, “do you have a muse when you dance?”

“No.” Loke turns to look at you, “though you and I don’t have the exact same meaning.”

“Hm.”

“Why do you take photos of others?”

“Well,” you begin, “it’s more about the expression of it than anything.”

“Expression?”

“The state of wanting.”

“And what is it you think everyone should be wanting?”

You pull away from him, and take a deep breath, looking out into the rest of the world around you, “I think we all hope, deep in our hearts, to be chosen by someone else. To be wanted.” And, Loke can’t help but think that you’re absolutely beautiful. That from here on out there will never be anything more beautiful than you as you are right now. That humanity must have certainly peaked with you here and now. That there will never be anything else he will ever want for.

Loke swallows, “and is that a bad thing?”

And you smiled, “it’s certainly a human thing.”

---

“Try not to fall in love with me,” Loke gives you a playful wink, “yeah?”

You laugh, “oh don’t you worry about me. Even if I did fall in love with you I’d doubt you’d even know.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because,” you bring a hand to your heart, “the best love is the unrequited kind.”

“Really? What good can come from unrequited love?”

Loke watches you from a distance as you laugh and smile with who appeared to have been your latest muse. His heart pounds sporadically in his chest as if he’s a lad with a school boy crush.

Imagine what you’d say now?

Fall in love with someone unexpected.

#fairy tail #fairy tail x reader #loke x reader #100 ways to fall in love #someone you loved

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