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nickfowlerrr · 4 months

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sit me on your throne.

pairing: geralt of rivia x curvy!reader

warnings: i don't know what i'm writing about but if you're here for smut, there's smut. 18+ only. probably ooc - i've only seen season one. if i'm missing something that needs to be tagged please let me know.

words: 4.3k

notes: i really truly do not know. forgive me not.

thank you in advance for reading! any thoughts, comments, and reblogs are so appreciated. let me know what you think. (unless its mean then pls don't).

"You kneel before me?"

Your question is born of nothing but pure confusion as you tilt your head in bemusement at the bulking behemoth of a man before you.

He hadn’t done as much when he first arrived, not to your displeasure, so it was odd to see him do it now - especially after the battle he has just fought.

He is at your feet, his long white hair darker and dingier now, dirty as his clothes and skin; marred with caked mud and what you can only assume is the blood and guts of the beast he has defeated.

The stench he carries with him is pungent, nothing but putrid, and yet that somehow doesn't take from his striking good looks; those paired with his brevity and bluntness have held your attention from the moment he stepped foot in your kingdom.

He is a man of little words, this Geralt of Rivia. His jester of a companion having done much of the speaking - perhaps too much - for him since they arrived.

Geralt says nothing still, only meets your gaze as he takes steady breaths. His yellow eyes, feline and harsh, cut through you in a number of ways - none of which you'd care to share aloud. You have a feeling he knows, however, just how affected you are by him no matter how well you think you hide it.

You are alone together, no guards at the ready, no advisors by your side. Most of your kingdom is now quiet and abandoned, including the halls of your once flourishing and lively home. The halls of this castle have been eerily silent since the night your men went on their mission to save their homestead. You had already sent word for The Witcher, you implored them to keep safe indoors until his arrival. They did not listen. Most of them still having seen you as the young princess you once were, the others simply following the orders of their leaders. You may have been their "Queen", but their faith in their commanders was stronger.

Those commanders who led them to their deaths... You still sigh at the loss.

Those who were not taken, slain, by the beast have long since fled for their lives. You cannot blame them. But you certainly could not join them. Your castle once held many souls, but now it is only you and a handful of others. Titles of servants, but you really never were one for titles.

"Your friend?" you wonder.

"Somewhere," he answers shortly, his voice low and deep as he speaks.

You quirk a brow, "Safe?"

"For as long as he keeps himself from trouble."

You hum, a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of your lips. Their relationship amuses you, you must admit.

"You needn't kneel, Witcher," you implore as you sit back on the throne. It is yours in name alone. It has never felt right to sit in. He seems to sense your unease, but he doesn't speak it. You continue, "You have done what you said you would, I will do the same."

Still, he doesn't stand. Not until you flick your eyes and move to stand yourself. He rises easily as he stands before you still. There is not much distance between you, and the stench of him stings your eyes and threatens to gag you. Your face scrunches in disgust as you turn it away from him, grimacing.

"I've had a bath readied for you, and new clothes set aside," you inform him, moving to pass around. He follows you, and you can feel the weight of his gaze as his eyes cling to you. "Your meals will be served as soon as you're done. I don't imagine anyone would be able to stomach a bite with that smell coming off of you."

He says nothing but lets out an amused "hm" at your words, still following as you lead him to the bathing room.

You thank Amaleah as you enter and she leaves with a nod to you, her breath catching when she smells Geralt enter behind you. It's as fast an exit as you've ever seen.

You move toward the bath and wade a hand in the water. It's a bit hot for your preferences but it should get him clean. You ensure the soap Amaleah brought in is fragrant enough and still look for some nicer oils to add to the water; when you turn around to ask your guest his want, you find yourself stunned silent as you're met with the sight of his broad, bare chest. His muscles flex under his pale and scarred skin as he moves, his solid chest is covered in dark hair, trailing down his torso. His arms are strong and big and a thought at the back of your mind wonders how comfortable he must be to lie with.

You blink, mouth parted slightly as you take a breath. You watch his clothing fall as he discards them and your gaze follows his hand as he begins to strip himself of the rest of his garments.

He is completely shameless as he watches you watch him. You feel as if you are in a trance, you cannot bring yourself to look away despite the heavy weight of his gaze assuring you he sees you staring.

It’s not an act of brazenness, truly you would look away and leave him at once…if you could.

“I’ve slain your monster,” he speaks and your eyes rise back to his chest, trying to ignore the heaviness of his thick cock as it hangs so temptingly before you. No, not temptingly…Shamelessly. He has put himself entirely on display before you, without an ounce of shame or concern, and you are still frozen to your spot. “Was there something else you required of me, Your Highness?”

The title gets your attention, the breath caught in your chest finally flows and your eyes flick up to meet his. You can't tell entirely if he meant it as an insult or if he thought you'd prefer it to Queen.

You remain quiet for a moment as you try to gather a response. Either way...

“I told you that wasn’t necessary, Witcher.”

“Geralt.”

You swallow hard as he takes a small step forward, and you will yourself to not break his intense gaze.

"Geralt. I thank you, for saving what was left of this ruined kingdom, but I consider myself not princess, nor Queen, any longer."

"Did you ever?" he asks, staring into your eyes a moment longer before he steps closer still, looking you up and down then nudging you aside, eliciting goosebumps along your skin, rising under his touch.

You glance over your shoulder as he continues past you, lowering himself into the tub.

You think.

You know your answer, but you won't say it aloud. Clearly he knows it, too.

You can hear the water sloshing with his movements as he begins to clean himself.

You take a deep breath.

"The clothes will be brought in shortly. You might tell Jaskier when you're done that the food is ready."

"Ah," he says amid his washing, "so you do know his name."

"Of course I do. I've grown quite fond of the bard in the week since you've arrived."

"I couldn't tell," he says plainly, yet still biting - his words sharp with sarcasm.

You furrow your brow at his meaning and then there's a laugh at the door and you look to see Jaskier as he leans on it. "You sound jealous, there, Geralt," he taunts, holding folded clothing in his hands as he pushes off the door to saunter in. "I wouldn't worry. I don't believe I'm the one who's caught her eye." He looks to you with a smirk, bowing before you, "Your Majesty."

"I am no longer queen," you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time.

"My Queen, none the less," he simpers before standing to his full height.

You smile tightly, eyes narrowed playfully at him before you finally move to exit, leaving them to their inevitable quarreling. And trying not to focus on the tingling still affecting you between your legs.

You eat with the women in the kitchen; the dining hall one of your least favorite places to be.

There is a calm yet solemn energy around you all. A peace in the slaying of the monster who took your kingdom, and still the grief from the loss of it all, your people, their families, friends...

Calliope readies the plates for your guests as you bid them all a goodnight, kissing Amaleah's son on his head on your way out with a 'sweet dreams'. Since his father was killed, the poor thing has nightmares recurringly. You only hope with the monster's demise, they might ease for him some. He is far too young to be in such pain...

You think to pass by the dining hall on your way to bed to thank Geralt once more and wish them both a goodnight as well but think better of it.

You will see them in the morning before they set off. You still owe him his coin and you know he won't be leaving without it.

You open the heavy door of your chamber and once you are inside, begin to undress.

Slipping into your shift, you swiftly make your way into bed. You thought you'd fall asleep quickly, but as you lay there, your mind wanders to thoughts of only one.

You have one hand on your lower belly, the other resting on the soft skin right above it.

You sigh and close your eyes, but all you see when you do is his built form. His dark, firelight stare set on you. His clothes left on the ground as he stands strong in his glory.

You breathe deeply, your hand starting to slowly drift down your stomach as you tickle yourself. You're so tempted to touch where you want it most, but you can't bring yourself to do it. Not just yet.

You slip your hand between your spread thighs, softly running your fingers across the sensitive skin you find there.

It'd been a week of torment, having Geralt so close and not being able to act on your most base feelings. You know he knows what you think when you look at him, if Jaskier can see it, surely, he can too.

You might feel embarrassed but with the way he's managed to get closer and closer to you with each passing day as he awaited the beasts' return, you would wager he feels similarly.

It feels like an age that you lie awake. All the noises about the castle, not that there were many, have settled and it assures you everyone has retired for the night.

Sleep begins to nip at you but the stronger pull is to the dissatisfaction that weighs on you. The emptiness that echos through your body and soul.

Your fingers twitch, and you begin to glide closer to your uncovered core, the need to be touch too much to be ignored for much longer. Your eyes are closed and you imagine it isn't your hand running over your skin, but rather his large, rough palm feeling you, teasing you just so...

Just as you inch closer, your eyes snap open in the dark as a heartbreaking scream cuts through the night air. You sit up, pulling your hands off of yourself. You know immediately where the sound comes from and who it belongs to.

You get out of bed, intent to make sure Hartley and Amaleah both are okay.

You open your door just as the one across the wide hall does the same. You frighten at the unexpected movement but are then unsurprised to be across Geralt.

He is shirtless again, and his eyes are wide as his chest rises and falls with his heavy breaths.

"Are you alright?" he asks, voice hard.

"Yes, I'm fine. It was the boy, Hartley. He has nightmares," you explain, keeping your voice quiet as to not disturb the renewed peace of the night.

The flick of the flame that lights the hallway allows you both to see one another. You say nothing for a moment as your eyes fall to his bare torso.

"Did the clothes not fit?"

He looks down at himself briefly, then back to you. He shakes his head, "I prefer to sleep naked."

You burn at his words, swallowing hard. "Oh. Well, I- I'm going to check on them, make sure they're fine."

"I'll go with you."

It's not a question, it's a statement. You stop in your start, turning to look at him. You say nothing, just blink and quickly carry on as you were.

You make your way down the stairs and down the hall until you see the flames licking at the end of the hallway.

You follow the glow to Amaleah's room and knock gently as you look in the open door.

She turns and looks to you, her eyes tired and cheeks damp as she rocks her toddler in her arms. He is sleeping again as she rubs his back gently, more to soothe herself than anything.

She sniffles, "Your High-" she stops herself, "sorry, forgive me," she whispers.

"Don't apologize. Please," you implore her. "I know it's habit."

"Are you two alright?" Geralt asks from right at your back.

"We are, thank you. Just another nightmare," her voice gets thick at the explanation. You know it hurts her that there isn't anything she can do but be there to comfort him when they come.

You smile sadly and nod. "We'll let you be, then. Do try to get some rest. He'll be okay," you reassure her.

You pull the door nearly closed and wind up with Geralt firmly at your back.

You turn into him but he doesn't seem to mind as he just looks down at you nearly pressed against his chest. You try to budge him to turn and move back down the hall but he doesn't waver. After a second, he relents and steps to the side, allowing you to go back down the hallway first.

It isn't until you come up on the throne room that Geralt speaks again.

"Might I have a word with you?" he asks.

You stop and turn to eye him as he stands at the entryway of the door.

"Now?" you question.

He nods once, "Now."

You approach him trepidatiously, and as you near, he gestures you in the room before him, extending his arm, "Princess."

Your eyes narrow again. And you turn on him, watching as he enters the room behind you. "Why do you keep doing that?"

"What am I doing?"

"Princess? Your Highness?" you quote him.

"I assumed you preferred it to your true title," he tilts his head at you.

"True title," you scoff, rolling your eyes. "I prefer no title at all."

"And what shall I call you then?"

You remind him your name, not that he really needs to be reminded. You know he knows it full well.

He considers you, then closes in on where you stand in front of the throne.

You don't move back, no, you quite like the closeness when he doesn't reek of death and innards.

Geralt seems to appreciate your resolve, his lips twitching with the beginnings of a smile as he studies your face.

"It's a beautiful name," he speaks lowly, taking another step into your space and raising his hand to gently caress your cheek before he leans in to speak against your ear. Your hands touch his solid stomach in an attempt to keep yourself upright, you can feel the muscles as they flex under your delicate graze. "I think I might prefer princess," he husks.

He slips away from you, turning to take a seat on the throne instead. You follow his movements and turn yourself to face him. You're stunned and completely set ablaze all at once.

"Well I don't."

"No," he smirks, agreeing with you, one large hand settling on his thick thigh as he spreads his legs, "you don't."

"It's too bad," he tsks, his voice a smooth rumbling. "No title, no throne."

"I don't want any throne."

Your eyes are glued to his thighs as he brings attention to his lap by rubbing the muscle there.

"None?" he asks before his gaze shifts directly on you, his mesmerizing stare burning into you. His voice lowers deeper than you've ever heard as a desperate longing shoots through you once again, resounding deep in your core. "Not even mine?"

Your mouth goes dry and your brain fuzzy as you take in his meaning.

Unthinking, you step toward him closer.

"You mean to defile the very one you sit on?"

"You don't seem to care for it much anyway."

Another step.

You are nearly stood between his spread legs, carefully you reach out a hand, your fingers light on his thigh. You feel his muscle then, flicking your eyes up. His gaze is dark and heated.

"That's true enough," you say, your voice breathy in a near whisper.

You gasp as your suddenly pulled closer by Geralt's rough hands around your waist. You can feel him through the thin fabric of your shift and its only then you realize how much of your figure he has seen thanks to your nightwear.

"Truer still," he speaks, "I don't mean to defile this throne." He squeezes your plush waist, groping you through your shift as your hands latch onto his solid shoulders. "I mean to defile you."

He manages to pull you onto his lap with little effort, leaning in to crash his lips into yours.

You kiss him back hungrily, chasing his lips as you settle on his lap. Your fingers wind in his hair and you can feel his cock growing beneath you through the material of his pants.

His hands slide down your waist and over your wide hips, reaching for the hem of your shift and pulling it up. His tongue slips past your lips and you moan, shifting your hips atop him.

You pull away, reaching for your dress and pulling it over your head, discarding it behind your back.

Geralt holds you closer, letting his lips explore your heavy breasts as you allow your head to fall back in pleasure, your hands returning to his hair.

"Geralt," you breathe, pulling him off you after a moment.

"Mm," he hums, kissing the swell of your breast once more before he moves to free himself from the restraint of his pants. He knows what you’ve both been wanting for days. What you need.

One heavy hand returns to your back, holding you by your waist while his other grips his red, throbbing cock.

He moves his tip up and down your slick center, making you whimper as he teases you - his cockhead rubbing delightfully against your sensitive clit.

He watches your face scrunch in rapture and holds you tighter to stop your wiggling about as you whimper.

He smiles smugly to himself and when you're just about to open your mouth to protest his teasing, he finally pulls you down on top of him. The sound that escapes you is music to his ears as you grasp onto him, your nails digging into the muscle of his back as your walls squeeze and stretch to accommodate his thick length, the size of him almost too much for you to take.

"Fuck," he groans as your walls tighten around him. He gives you a moment before he begins to urge you to move. He guides your hips, slow and sensually. The feeling of his hands on you motivates you to try and ride him yourself. And you do try, but you cry out again at how big he is, how fully he is stuffing you. You can barely move.

Geralt kisses you as he holds you closer, taking pity on your tight cunt and instead he moves his hands to your soft hips again. He holds you on top of him securely before he begins to fuck up into you.

You mewl as he jostles you, bouncing you up and down his cock, your breasts moving in time.

You pull on his hair, forcing him to look up from where his gaze was fixed, watching his own cock as he stretched you out for him, watching as your cunt took as much of him in as she could, up to your hooded lust filled gaze. You lean into him, chest to chest as you kiss him fervently. His lips follow yours as you taste one another. You nip at his lip and he growls, his hands gripping the ample flesh of your ass, "Keep that up," he snarls.

"And you'll what?" you breathe heavily, eyes screwed shut, jaw tight as you deadbrain on the pleasure coursing through you.

Your answer is a harsh thrust of his cock inside of you, stealing your breath while he slaps your ass, your flesh stinging from the force.

"Oh, fuck," you whimper debauchedly, your velvety walls squeezing him ever tighter as you feel yourself growing closer with every bounce. The tip of him hitting exactly where you need it to. Your body is on fire and you are loving every second of it. The feeling of him inside of you, of his hands squeezing and caressing you everywhere he can, of his lips demanding yours for more.

His grunts are growing louder and his thrusts more powerful, you kiss him hard in an effort to quiet him some, but you can feel what is coming.

Geralt is near slamming you down on top of him, the sound of your ass slapping against his thick thighs mix with the salacious sounds coming from you both and of your slick wetness as you're worked up and down his shaft, your cunt taking him better and better with each thrust.

Your hands move to hold his face, your noses brush as you breathe each other's air, lips touching just slightly.

"Geralt, I'm,"

"I know," he pants harshly, concentrated before taking your lips in his. You whimper pathetically as the coil in your belly winds tighter and tighter. He keeps you moving a top him, your clit being stimulated with every brush of your hips over his, and then with another deep thrust it snaps before you can speak. Your voice is an empty high then silent squeak as your legs tremble and your eyes roll back. Are you even breathing? Your walls clench down on Geralt's cock and he finally allows himself to reach his own high as your tight walls flutter around him, squeezing him perfectly. You ride the waves of ecstasy as his come spills inside of you. You feel him shudder beneath you and it only adds to your feeling of weightlessness, stars in your eyes as you feel, think, breathe nothing but him.

You part from his lips and your bodies are slick with sweat as you both pant heavily. Geralt holds you to him as he softens inside of you, his forehead pressed to yours as your hand comes behind his neck, holding him to you in kind.

Your lips mimic a kiss but neither of you lean in close enough to actually do it. You work to catch your breath and settle for a minute before you finally break the quiet.

"Do I still owe you your coin?" you breathe, smiling when Geralt laughs in your face. You reach to move a stray strand of hair from his face, holding his cheek gently once you do.

Your stare into one another's eyes for a long moment, just breathing and being close.

"Where will you be off to in the morning?" you ask, hoping your solemn tone isn't as audible as it sounded to you.

"Don't know," he shakes his head, eyes straying to your lips.

You take a breath and pull his face closer to kiss him softly.

"I envy you, you know."

"Don't."

You huff a humorless laugh, readjusting yourself on his lap. "Not because you're a witcher. You may not have the most enviable life, but at least you have one. I've never made it past the most exterior gates," you smile sadly, playing with the hairs on his chest as you avoid his eye now.

"I suppose I'll have the chance, now, though. Thanks to you."

"And where will you go?" he asks.

Your gaze floats up to his and you repeat his previous answer. "I don't know. But I won't stay here. This kingdom is..." you shake your head. "I don't belong here. Never felt like I did. But I made a promise to my mother when I was young, and another to my father before he passed. I know I've let them down," you swallow the rise of emotion threatening to overcome you, "but alas, the fall of a kingdom is ever inevitable. Especially under such rule as my own."

"I've heard word of your rule from many. You're known to be kind. Caring. Protective, even. I don't believe you've failed. I think you were exactly the kind of ruler you should have been, who you needed to be. But perhaps it's a good thing you won't be forced any longer into holding power you don't desire. You're now free to do as you wish."

"I am," you nod lightly in agreement. "If only I knew where to start,” you muse with an uneasy laugh.

His hand runs up your back comfortingly; he's pensive, deep in thought for a long moment before he speaks.

"If you ready your things, I don't think Roach would mind a travel companion of her own. She seems to have taken to Belfast… I'm not sure she'd be ready to part with him so soon, anyway."

"Is that so?" you ask him, faux curiosity playing in your voice.

"And Jaskier is easier to take when I'm not the only one he has around to bother."

"Right," you nod, fighting your soft smile.

"And of course your coin would be useful as well."

"Of course," you exaggerate your agreement. "…Geralt, are you getting at something here?"

"Just that, if you want to join us…you might."

You lean into him again, thumb rubbing along his stubble lining his cheek, and this time he kisses you first. More gently than you expect. You can’t help your smile now.

You part lightly and breathe,

"I hope you mean that, Witcher. Because I just might."

#geralt x curvy!reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x curvy!reader #geralt of rivia smut #geralt x you #geralt x y/n #geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia x you #geralt smut #geralt fanfic #henry cavill characters

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maplemind · 6 months

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Seriously, the way we watch Arthur's whole world change from the very first second he comes into contact with Merlin is so. damn. cute.

There's no doubt why Arthur let him get away with outright "disrespectful" and borderline treasonous comments and behaviour the first time they met.

I mean, look at the way he instantly lit up at the concept of verbal and physical sparring with this elfin looking dude with the real "couldn't give a sh*t- try me" attitude. Someone who not only took on a knight of Camelot in mid training, but didn't change his attitude one little bit when he found out he was addressing the goddamn prince of Camelot, in fact he doubled down and got worse.

And Arthur loved the challenge, loved the defiance, loved the concept of spending more time with this guy, especially time spent doing something he loves - sparring. There's nothing Arthur loves more than a physical activity - we see it throughout all five seasons. Search the whole castle on a wild goose chase? Absolutely. Train 15 new knights in a single day? Sign him up. Ride out to battle a magical beast? He's already out the door.

And even though he knows (thinks) he can beat Merlin into submission in two moves, he's finally going up against someone who doesn't give a flying f*ck who he is and will square up to him and give his absolute best. And he hopes this will be a regular occurrence.

And the dismay when Uther declares Merlin to be Arthur's new servant isn't because he doesn't want Merlin around - it's because he's afraid it will change the relationship they've already begun to establish. That Merlin won't develop into the one person he can trust to be real with him, and instead he will become reserved and "yes-sir-no-sir-three-bags-full-sir" like every. other. damn. person.

And you can't miss the way his eyes absolutely light up that first time Merlin does his servant duties and continues being defiant, honest, real.

I love these characters so damn much, and I couldn't love Colin and Bradley more for how incredible they are.

#bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin #merlin x arthur #merthur #arthur pendragon #colin morgan #bradley james #merlin emrys #emrys #Ramblings of my current hyperfixation #Not that Merlin has ever left my hyperfixation #It just shares space with new hyperfixations

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soapoet · 7 months

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A letter from your future spouse

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

Hello,

You must be up to something, because I cannot get you off my mind. Day and night you haunt me. I type away on my computer, answer phone calls, and I could swear I saw you in the corner of my eyes. At night as I begin to drift, I hear your voice and jolt up, only to be met with an empty room entirely void of you. When you're really here with me in the flesh, I look at you only when you look away. Will I be punished for these stolen glances? You and I, are we forbidden, and if so, who will be the judge?

I thought my life was stable, and in many ways it was. Though it was painted grey, dull. I lived dreary mondays every day of the week. I chased after new experiences, new achievements, new opportunities, new things. New, new, new, new. But it was not until you walked into my life that I truly felt the warmth of the sun and the rain on my skin. Was I colour blind all along? Because you show me colours I never even knew existed. You were truly new. A new light in my life that shines so brightly, but never hurts my eyes. Still I look away. It's not proper, is it? I've been caught up in the crossfire, amidst a battle between head and heart. You're in my heart, you have it in your hands, but didn't I say you are constantly on my mind too? It seems then, my dear, that this battle has a victor, and now I must prcoeed to gather up the courage to speak what I've so carefully kept hidden.

Oh, but you're so observant. You already know. You knew all along, didn't you? You so innocently sat there, knowing I'm a moth to the flame, and that come hail or shine I would find my way to you. You're a mastermind. An architect, the keeper of the blueprint to our tale. I am in awe of you. You were supposed to be a problem, a silly crush I could get over and never act upon, but now I'm thinking of things borrowed and blue. The first day that I saw you lightning struck. It marked the beginning of the end for many things in my life which I had kept around because it was fine. Not perfect, just fine. Suddenly I saw all the cracks and flaws, saw that which I would tolerate, go along with, even when I really didn't want to. You shook me to my core. In many ways, you ruined my life. For the better, I am sure. But for a moment there I wondered what horrors you had unleashed upon me. With your face so sweet and innocent I thought surely you would be unable to trigger earthquakes. And that even if you could, surely you were much too sweet and much too kind to do such thing.

Yet here I stand, amidst the rubble of what I used to call my life. Everything came crashing down because none of it was as stable as it should've been. I'm rebuilding, slowly, and could use some guidance or inspiration. What's your favourite colour? Would you like these tiles for the kitchen? I want to build my life up to look like the perfect home for you. I wish to keep you safe. You've weathered storms just as I have. Had to grow quickly, like dandelions through concrete. You're tired, and I don't want to see you quitting so I am building you a shelter. I promise to keep watch while you get some rest in my arms. When you're healed and strong enough I will provide you the space and time so you can chase your dreams in peace. You can use our home as the foundation for your castle. I know the power you hold, and I will be there to help you wield it.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

02.

Hello,

Coincidentally that is exactly when I knew. "You had me at hello" is such a cliché, but I swear that it is true. I always know trouble when I see it, and you are quite the nightmare indeed. I hope you take no offence to my words. I say what I mean and mean what I say. That typically results in problems, but to me it's another one to toss onto the existing pile. I have a lot of baggage, but if you don't mind, I won't mind yours. Maybe we could get a big storage locker and shove all our baggage in there, lock the door and toss the keys, skip town and never return. It'll all be auctioned off one day for somebody else to deal with. Wouldn't that be nice?

Where was I? Right. Hello. That's when I knew. I always do. I fall very quickly and passionately. Really I leap off into free fall all by my own judgement, sometimes perhaps lack thereof. I know a pretty thing when I see it, though pretty isn't enough, is it? I've learned that the hard way. As I've learned most things. Behind me lays a trail of burnt bridges and broken hearts, though most of those pieces are my own. Most people are unable to tell. I have a reputation, but I think the judgement is unjust. Wholly unfair. I have developed trust issues. Betrayal cuts deep. You know that, don't you? I keep people at bay, and guard my territory fiercly. I am very loyal and I am known for my equal bark and bite. I want to be your guard dog. I swear I will lunge for the jugular if anybody dares cross you. I am protective, albeit a little reckless. I have a lot of scars to prove it.

Little birdies may warn you of me. Tell twisted tales of my exploits. I've been called toxic. Perhaps there is truth to some of it. My love burns bright and hot, but it never wavers. I crave closeness, and wish to crawl into the heart and mind of my target of affections like a spider trespassing into your home to weave its webs in the darkest corners. I want to know you better than anybody else. Know your body, mind, heart, and your soul like it is my own. You will never be left wanting reassurance, because I have known doubt, and doubt is my enemy and I will fight it on sight. You will always know that I am yours. With me you have nothing to fear. Least of all me or my commitment to you and us.

Perhaps we both had to scrape our knees as we crawled through painful loves before we found each other. Together we'll be powerful. A dynamic duo, partners in crime. Those closest to me would come forward as witnesses to my ride or die nature, and you as my life partner will be my biggest testament to this part of my character. You're not too different, are you? You would die for your people, fight with your bare hands if you had to. Together we will face the world. I'll have your back and you'll have mine, a 360° of the battlefield. We can tear down and build up whatever we want. We can build an empire, or bring them down. With you by my side, everything is possible. I would move mountains and part seas for you. Your love is an enchanted rose and I am a beast, and I will wait for you. Come to me quickly.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

03.

Hello,

I hope my words don't bore you with their simplicity. I also hope that you've been well. I have so many questions, but let us not rush. There is no finish line in love, correct? I've been alright. Y'know, ups and downs. I've kept to myself a lot. Self improvement has become akin to an occupation. I always strive to do and be better. I may not seem the kind, but I have a soft heart which I guard closely. I like old timey romance and watch sappy things when I am down. Please don't tell anybody! I am a rock, but for a long time I was but a pebble, kicked around and misplaced. I have moved around a lot and all I want is to grow roots. Would you mind sparing a little spot in your garden? I just need a little sunlight and a fall of rain to grow. I promise I won't waste your time and do my all to never disappoint you.

My affections build slowly. Too slow for many, but I hate accidents and mistakes, at least my own. I strive for perfection, though people tell me it does not exist. I see it in you, though, so they must be wrong. Sure, you have your flaws, but the glue between your cracks glisten in the light and are still beautiful to me. I really do enjoy the simple things. Do you stop to smell the roses too? I have a gentle love to offer. A kitchen bathed in morning sunlight and the smell of pancakes in the air. I'll eat the first pancakes, because the ones I bring to you in bed should be perfect, and the first one never is. You deserve so much good, and I really hope I can provide a lot of that good to you by my own hands.

I am shy, and don't always have a way with words. I will tell you through music how I feel, or paint you on a canvas in all your favourite colours. I'll help you sculpt your dreams and wishes. I'd make a great assistant. I would love to follow you on your way up ladders and mountains. I believe in you like some believe in a higher power. You can put your faith in me too. Love is a choice, and I will make the choice to love you every morning when I rise. You are the kind of fun that doesn't make me ill. The adventure I am unafraid to embark on. We can play our own roles and support each other. I'll be of service to you at every step if you need me. In return I only ask that you hold me close and never let me go.

I fear abandonment, and have known a life without guidance. I've become rigid, and hope that you'll help me bend without snapping and show me the wonders of the unknown. With you by my side I won't be afraid. My skepticism will not be a hindrance because you lead me into uncharted territory as though you have a map, and I trust that you know where we're going. And should uncertainty rise, well, I have dealt with that beast plenty, and I can tame it and send it on its way should it bother you. I will always stand by you so that never again will you need to face challenges alone. You are a promise I will keep forever if you let me.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

04.

Hello,

Have you eaten? Taken your meds? Keep yourself hydrated. Take even just a sip. I apologise if I'm fussing, but I've always been a caregiver. People depend on me. At home, at work, even my friends. I get taken advantage of pretty easily, and I try my best to keep my boundaries. Though I am admittededly prone to a bit of a saviour complex. It's not so much that I don't think others cannot get up on their own, I just think they shouldn't have to. A helping hand is often rare these days. For many, even just the day to day grind is unbearable, so any chance to take the load off another's shoulders and let them rest and catch their breath I'll happily take.

I try my best to be fair, but often lose sight of what's best for me. I want to help and support everyone who needs it, but in my quest to save everyone, I have often abandoned myself. My care is often expected and thus taken for granted. Nobody seems to understand how much it hurts. Well, until I met you anyway. You're a little fire cracker. You have a great presence despite your size. You're honest and so very clever. I was instantly in awe by your radiance, your willpower, your resilience and your strength. You taught me important lessons. I'm older than you but sometimes I feel like a student listening to my teacher preach. You're opinionated and steadfast, and have such a strong sense of justice. You call it like it is, and have called me out aplenty. Always well-intentioned. You get worked up easily, and I find it rather cute. You scold me like a parent their child when I don't take up enough space, don't hold my head high, or when I give away too much for free. You are objective and fair, never tell me I'm right or wrong unless I really am. It's refreshing. You're like a breath of fresh air.

It pains me to hear of your past. How you've been to hell and back. You face struggles even when you really can't or feel like giving up. You always get back up again, always try to find another way around when an obstacle sits in the way of where you're going. You've lived life on hardmode, and now I yearn to make things easier for you. You if anyone deserves my devotion. I know you are much too just to take advantage of my kindness and return my love in earnest. I trust you, and that says a lot as I've only ever been able to trust myself.

Would you let me be your safe space? We can build you a nest and make sure you have the nicest, softest things and plenty of snacks. I wish to provide you the space and time to really relax and let your guard down. You can safely get in touch with your inner child and heal them from all their past wounds. I will guard your sanctuary and let you be free and able to go wherever your heart desires. Let your curiosity guide you, and I will follow and keep bandaids in my pocket should you stumble and fall. You don't need to be strong all the time, and you need not be ready for battle at all hours of the day. I will take the wheel and take us in the direction of your choice whilst you rest safe and sound for as long and as much as you want and need.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

05.

Hello,

Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear, ay? Am I late, or were you just early? It seems as though you've been waiting a long time. Wasted your time kissing a whole lot of frogs, huh? Settled for good enough? Jumped from ship to ship like a pirate looking for the best loot? Well, congratulations! You made it. I'm here now! I'm just kidding, but I am, in fact, very happy now that you found me. Lots of hurdles to get over, had to crumple up many plans and ideas and kick yourself into gear on the career front. I'm far from your finish line, I am merely a little prize for a job well done. And now you'll have me by your side for the next chapters. Oh, the adventures we will have! How exciting, I can hardly wait.

Something important you had to learn before you got here is beating the status quo to the curb. You always did struggle with fitting into a neat little box and following orders, didn't you? Yet so many fools tried to bend your will and make you follow a nice little step by step pre-determined program. Hah, as if you'd ever be happy giving up your freedom like that. And I adore that about you. To hell with the status quo. I never do what is expected of me unless I myself set or agreed to those expectations. This is my life, and your life is yours. Wanna dance? Because I'll choose to court you on sight, and I hope you don't make me look like yet another fool because truly, I tell you, our dance will be an exhilarating one. We can both lead, because screw the rules!

Do not mistake my arrogance and my eleutheromania as purely egoic and a sign of wavering commitment. Though I have my admirers and my comrades, I am fiercly loyal. I do intend to flaunt you, because you are a dream come true worthy of the spotlight. I hope you're not shy, and if you are, then well, it'll be that much more entertaining for me to see you flustered by all the attention and applause. So learn to take a compliment, kiddo, because you just hit the jackpot and the prize includes a lifetime supply of praise. Along with a steadfast support system, as not only will I be at your beck and call, I fully intend to introduce you to my network of friends in higher places. Fret not, because your wildest dreams will soon appear mundane as together with some found family we will get where you are going so much faster than you've been going before.

Speaking of family, I'm not very close with mine. Perhaps neither are you, so you will understand the feeling of always having to do everything yourself and not having the kind of safety net that a family can provide. This is why I have collected friends over the years to whom I serve as family and they the same for me in return. In my anxieties of abandonment and neglect, I do everything in my power to help and support my loved ones because I know what it feels like to be without as much as encouragement on this journey of life. If you ever need some kind words, I'll be sure to whisper them in your ear and shout your name from the rooftops. You deserve the world, so pack your bags. We have tickets to explore it all.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

06.

Hello,

I pray you did not hear me talking to myself. I cry out into the void often. My mind, always abuzz with what ifs and wonder, has its way of driving me mad. Often I feel like a mad scientist, fixated on something so long I fail to take care of all my human needs. Before I know it, the sun has set and made way for the night. I recognise the passing of time only when I notice it is dark and the only source of light is the screen right on front of me. I have so many tabs open in my head I don't always notice what goes on around me. But you startled me. Admittededly I did not notice right away, but when I did I was shocked. It must've been weeks before I zoned out, watching your face as I thought of absolutely nothing. I waited for you to finish whatever it was that you were occupied with, and then it hit me. You're beautiful and I like you.

It feels easy to be around you. I can't say the same for many people, if any. I have had plenty of offers, but competing against my solitude is difficult. A race few finish, and none truly come out of as the victor. I get bored easily, and I must be honest and admit that though I may be quickly intrigued and glue myself to my newest interest, my attention is hard to keep. I enjoy the rush of newness, and yearn for a love that stays fresh and full of intrigue. And I found that in you. For you lead your own life, explore your own paths, then report back to me your newest finds. We pick apart things and situations like mechanics figuring out all the parts of a new machine. Then we go and find new things to inevitably share, and sometimes we journey together too. There is always something. I no longer feel like I am the only one keeping the conversation going. No longer the one in charge of every who and what and how and why and when and where. You pull your own weight. For once I, too, feel fascinating. And not only do I feel interesting, I find you equally interesting. It didn't drop for either of us.

Some may look at us strangely, but good heavens, are some people so easily lulled into a boring and mundane routine. Every time I would cry out my woes, I was called childish. Told that love will and should settle into a comfortable and steady routine. That it is normal for the excitement of newness to fade as you get to know someone. I refused to believe every relationship was doomed to become such a snooze. And I am glad you did too, because you keep growing as I grow and our vines they intertwine and part ways and cross again in this intricate web of possibilities. To know you is to be a student of law or medicine. Doctors and lawyers practice their craft, they're not fixed by a mere degree because neither law or medicine is fixed. It is ever-changing and developing. I pinch myself because I can hardly believe I found another student like me.

Never fear I will leave you feeling stupid. I am aware of my own merit, but never wield it against anyone, unless needed. You are very clever and you have strengths and skills that I do not. I promise to be there to listen, especially in times when nobody else will. I have known loneliness and neglect. My curiosity is a form of escapism as I run away from the eldritch horrors of my past. Please be direct with me. Within me lives a tired old hopeless romantic, whom I locked away in shame as I was told it never plays out like in the movies. But you've proved to me that it actually does. And for you I'll do anything. Though you sometimes leave me tongue tied and flustered, you stabilize me. As thanks you'll have my loyalty and devotion. I'm used to taking care of others, and I know my care won't be misplaced on you. I read people easily already, but please allow me to study your face and note down every micro-expression so that I will always be able to tell how you are feeling even when you feel unable to put it into words.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

#pac reading #tarot reading #energy reading #intuitive reading #pick a card reading #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a picture #love reading #love pac #tarotblr #soapy.post

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scaranation · 1 year

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HII I SAW UR REQUESTS WERE OPEN!!! your writing is so amazing i couldn’t resist sending one in after i had binged everything…

may i request headcanons for a totally whipped al-haitham with the childhood friends to lovers trope throughout the years? as in how he was to reader in elementary, middle school, etc. but if not that’s fine!!! your fic with him liking reader since middle school was so 😭😭😭❤️ reader teasing him was so funny and i can’t scream about it hard enough 🥹

i hope you have an amazing day!!! keep up the good work!

thank you smm that rlly means a lot! im so glad you enjoyed my writing ❤️❤️ i love the friends to lovers trope sm writing this involved a lot of giggling and kicking my feet, whipped Alhaitham is just so cute. Anyway I hope you like this I had so much fun with it too 😋😋

༊*·˚ 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

Pairing: Alhaitham x F!reader

Content: fluff, modern AU, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, (very) whipped Alhaitham

ELEMENTARY SCHOOL

You’d first met Alhaitham when you were in elementary. He, being slightly younger, was in preschool. Unlike the other kids, he kept to himself, mainly studying a picture book in a secluded corner. Your play areas were separated by a low fence, one which you often loved to climb over.

“Haitham!” You almost fell onto the grass after scaling this fence once again in the break time, peeking over the smaller boy’s shoulder.

“Is that a kangaroo?” You pointed at the picture book enthusiastically. Alhaitham only looked up at you, blinking a few times with his wide green-orange eyes.

“No, it’s a pademelon.” He spoke surprisingly eloquently, tongue only slightly lisping over the syllables.

“You’re no fun.” You sighed, plopping down next to your self-proclaimed friend and beginning to draw flowers on paper with your new crayons. Upon seeing the curious look on Alhaitham’s face, you handed him the green crayon.

“You can draw flowers with me if you want.” You shifted closer. The boy said nothing, only holding the crayon tightly as he watched you happily scribbling.

Once you’d befriended Alhaitham, there was no turning back. He was shy and quiet, but utterly attached to you. You nodded excitedly whenever he babbled on about a new topic, although you never really understood what he was talking about, and played imaginary games with him in the playhouses. He never really understood the imaginative concept, but you would lead the way as he followed along with whatever you said.

“I am the princess, and I am going to become the queen! Bow before me!” You manoeuvred a figurine across the miniature castle.

“No, the crown prince’s wife will become queen when he ascends to the throne.”

“Oh, okay. You’re so cool, Haitham.”

Alhaitham only smiled at you. The truth was, he thought you were the coolest person in the world. He might know all the logistical facts, but he could never weave a story as you did.

“Huh? Haitham, you’re the knight. You need to go to battle!”

Alhaitham was shaken out of his daze when he realised he’d only been staring at you in awe, quickly grabbing the knight figure to move it. Beneath his long lashes, he’d constantly sneak glances at you - looking for your approval that he was doing the right thing.

Whenever you were absent, Alhaitham would ask everyone else where you’d gone. After verifying that - unfortunately - you really weren’t coming to school and shocking his peers with his sudden friendliness, he’d retreat to the outskirts of the play area. He would collect flowers and rocks, gathering them in his small arms - still a little chubby with baby fat - determined to find the best things to gift to you.

When you came back the next day, Alhaitham would shyly press the gifts he’d collected into your hands, eagerly watching your expression. If you smiled, he would too. Truly, although he was too young to know, you were his first love and the centre of his universe.

MIDDLE SCHOOL

During middle school, you and Alhaitham were in the same class. Due to his intellect, he’d been bumped up by a grade - much to his joy. The truth was, he’d been offered to move higher by two grades, but opted to only move one so he could be with you. Not that he’d ever admit that to you, of course.

Middle school Alhaitham would be better at hiding his feelings. He’d no longer be the the eager boy who openly chased your attention, although he still wanted it just as much. Rather, he’d deploy more subtle tactics, despite them rarely ever working.

It was undeniable that you were quite popular. Given your outgoing, virtuosic personality, you were constantly surrounded by friends. It hurt Alhaitham slightly, knowing that you were his favourite but he wasn’t yours. Despite this, he never changed his aloof demeanour - acting coldly to others, and less coldly to you. It was clear through his gestures that he had a soft spot for you, whether it consisted of paying for your lunch or bringing you snacks.

“Oh, we were supposed to bring a protractor to the test?” You hissed in the silence of the classroom, broken only by the whisper of pencils on paper. The teacher shot you a glare, motioning for you to be quiet.

“Here, I have a spare.” You felt a light tap on your shoulder, and spun around to see Alhaitham holding his hand out. His eyes hesitated before locking into contact with yours, the glasses making them look larger than they were.

“Thank you. You’re so cute, Haitham.” You whispered, shooting him a wry smile before resuming your position hunched over the test paper. You didn’t lie - he really did look adorable, those large eyes and small frame lending him to having a rather endearing disposition.

Alhaitham flushed red, his hands fumbling to close the zipper on his pencil case. He pushed his completed test paper to the side and placed his head on the desk, the hard surface cold on his burning skin. He mentally praised himself for always bringing a spare of every stationery item, just in case you needed it.

Whilst Alhaitham swatted away anyone else who dared ask him for academic help, he’d be almost eager to give you any form of assistance. If you were paying attention, you’d see the way his cheeks flushed when you leaned in to copy his homework, or the slight tremor in his voice when he explained a concept to you. Middle school Alhaitham - now hyper aware of his feelings for you - would be a stuttering mess at times, although that would soon change in his high school years.

“So, after completing the square… this equation can translate to- hey, why are you staring at me?” Alhaitham stopped upon noticing your gaze.

“Haitham, you can be so pretty if you tried a little more. I’m so jealous, you have such nice eyes.” You commented, running your fingers through his soft hair.

“… Why would I seek the superficial approval of others?” Alhaitham huffed, crossing his arms. Secretly however, your words spiralled in his head. Perhaps, if he did as you said, you’d like him too…?

He realised your hand was still on his head, and moved back. You whined in exasperation, flopping onto the desk.

“Your hair’s so soft though…” You mumbled, reaching out again.

“We’re here to study.” Alhaitham snapped, busying himself in flipping through the textbook to hide his red face. He found the content mundane, but teaching it to you made his heart flutter in knowing that he could be of use to you.

HIGH SCHOOL

Alhaitham in high school was drastically different from his middle school self, to say the least. He’d risen greatly in popularity for being the mysteriously smart and handsome student that barely paid anyone any mind. Much to your surprise, he’d grown even taller than you - making it a lot harder to ruffle his hair. It was rumoured that he’d brutally rejected confessions from many others, and had even made a teacher cry - but the shy boy you knew would never do that, right?

“Where are you headed?” You felt a large hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

“I’m… going to study!” You stammered, finally looking behind you to meet a piercing amber gaze.

“Studying? On your way to the bus stop that leads only to the mall?” Alhaitham raised an eyebrow.

“Um, yes, a new cafe opened there and I wanted to study in it.”

“Hey, what’s taking you so long? We’re going to miss the movie at this rate!” You internally cursed as the loud voice of your friends interrupted your conversation.

“Studying, huh… Well, have fun. Don’t expect me to help you this time.” Alhaitham scoffed, releasing his grip on your shoulder.

He sent you his notes later that night regardless.

It was well known around your school that you were friends with Alhaitham, although you vehemently denied any romantic feelings between the two of you - much to his dismay. Because of this, you often had students approaching you and asking to be set up with Alhaitham. Of course, being the epitome of moral excellency, you only agreed if they paid you.

"You know, this girl in my class is pretty cute..." You showed Alhaitham a picture on your phone.

"You like her?" Alhaitham asked, not even sparing a glance to the picture.

"No, I..."

"How much did they pay you this time?"

"What! I would do no such thing-"

"You know, if you just asked me, I could give you way more than whatever they're giving you. Stop trying to auction me off, I have no interest in such things." Alhaitham snapped his book shut. You frowned, tugging on his arm.

"Please? Just one date with her, I'll do anything."

"Anything?"

"Kiss me."

"Why?"

"Wouldn't it be awkward if I were on a date with this girl, and I didn't even know how to kiss her?"

"Oh, true." Alhaitham internally winced at how you didn't give it a second thought, only leaning in to seal your lips together. Although he'd mastered the art of maintaining a cool facade, if you'd opened your eyes in that moment, you'd see the flush in his face. He reminded himself to close his eyes, recalling the countless books he'd read about the topic. It definitely wasn't how he'd imagined his first kiss with you to be, but he'd take anything you gave him.

"Now, you're going on that date right? Here's her number." You winked, pulling away. Alhaitham furiously tugged his headphones onto his ears to hide how red they were, shooing you away.

"I'll text you her number then, Haitham!"

You ignored the confusing twist in your chest, attributing it to the kiss. After all, sharing a kiss with anyone would make you flustered - surely, it was nothing special.

Regardless of your efforts to make whatever dates you sent Alhaitham on successful, it never seemed to work. In truth, you had no idea how Alhaitham knew you'd been spying on those dates - after all, you were so inconspicuous, posing as a mere passerby. But he'd grown used to your exact demeanour, and no matter how hard you tried to be nondescript, his eyes were inevitably drawn to you. Unbeknownst to you, your eyes were drawn to him too - perhaps that was why you felt a slight twinge in your heart.

"Which popcorn do you like?" The girl next to Alhaitham giggled nervously.

"Salted caramel." Alhaitham responded cooly. Your jaw hung open from where you sat hidden behind a poster wall. Whenever you got salted caramel popcorn - your absolute favourite - he'd raise an eyebrow and inform you of your poor decision making, muttering something about the awful taste. You closed your mouth to smile to yourself. Perhaps he was trying to impress his date with his (superior) choice of popcorn. Your smile faltered when you realised how close they were standing to each other, before you mentally cursed yourself. What were you thinking? Surely you didn’t… have feelings for the very guy you were setting up with another girl…?

You followed the pair into the cinema, sitting a row behind them. They'd chosen a horror movie, which you absolutely hated, but you bore with it.

A few minutes into the film, you felt a tap on your knee. Alhaitham held out a fistful of popcorn to you from where he sat in front, his arm outstretched behind him. You scowled. He'd shown no prior indication that he'd noticed you - did he have eyes in the back of his head? You took the popcorn anyway, frowning at how Alhaitham played it off by lowering his arm around the girl's shoulders.

As the movie continued, Alhaitham wished it was you seated next to him. He hated the popcorn, but he'd gotten it just for you, anyway. His heart beat a little louder every time you reluctantly accepted his offering, although he had to glare at the girl who'd stolen your spot every few minutes to make sure she didn't think he was blushing for her. How troublesome this ordeal was. From an objective perspective however, this was fair exchange. If it made you happy, then he was happy too.

Alhaitham wasn't particularly athletically inclined, although his scholarship demanded participation in extracurricular sports. Hence, he found himself in the odorous male changing rooms for the second time that week. It would've been a mundane practice session (with him showing off a little if you happened to be watching), until he overheard a teammate's plans to ask you out.

"You should do it, I'm pretty sure she's single." Another teammate encouraged the first, the echo of a slap on the back reverberating through the room.

Alhaitham frowned. He'd planned to play the long game, although this was an unexpected interruption to his plans. Of course, there were other people to factor in. How could he have been so foolish as to exclude that from the equation?

"Yeah, I've had my eye on her for a while." The first guy spoke again.

"She's taken." Alhaitham blurted. Blurted, as in - his mind didn't fully weigh the decision before it left his mouth in a measured tone.

"Oh, sorry man. Are you two...?"

"Yes, we are." Alhaitham lied smoothly. He'd figure out how to deal with the repercussions later, but for now, he had to prevent anyone else from asking you out.

"That's great. Wish the best for you two." With a friendly (although slightly forceful) pat on the shoulder, the teammate left Alhaitham to head outside.

Alhaitham’s confession to you was ultimately very enigmatic and confusing, just as he was. Although he’d more or less practiced what he would say, when it came to you, he was always at a loss. You were a contradiction, a threat - both to his plans and his sanity. Somehow, that was what made him love you so much.

“I’ve heard a rumour that you and I were dating, Haitham. How come I never knew about this?” You tutted.

“Ah, they’re just saying mindless things. We’re just friends, after all.” That was what Alhaitham meant to say. Instead, what came out was;

“So what if we are?”

“We’re dating?” You cocked an eyebrow, failing to hide your flushed cheeks. Alhaitham noted this detail, trying his best to control the situation. What on earth had he just said?

“Yes, we are. Since we both like each other.” Alhaitham explained, internally cursing himself for his straightforward delivery. The situation was so outlandish - he’d just made an assertion, then supported it to somehow (very obviously) gaslight you into being his lover.

“You like me?” You spluttered. Alhaitham smiled. You hadn’t denied that you yourself liked him.

“Yes, because we’re dating.”

“No we’re not.”

“We are now.”

You stared at him in stunned silence, shocked by his audacity. But you couldn’t exactly deny his claims.

“Okay, I guess we are then.” Your mind still spun. Had he just… declared your relationship status?

“… Thank you.” Alhaitham murmured. You fidgeted on the spot uncertainly, before finally mustering the courage to peck his lips. Before you could scurry off however, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back.

“What are you-”

“I’ve waited years for this. God, you’re so stupid for not realising this earlier.” Alhaitham brought your lips to his, fiercely bringing you in to a passionate kiss.

You closed your eyes, melting into his touch as his hands deftly pulled you flush against him by your waist. Unsure of where to put your hands, you placed them on his chest - feeling it heave with every breath he took. His heartbeat thudded under your touch.

It was strange. Most people thought of him as being cold, almost robotic. And yet, he was so human now, from the light sheen of sweat on the column of his neck, to the flex of his jaw as it worked against yours. The slight tremble of his hand as it rose to rest on your nape, almost as though he too couldn’t believe what was happening.

The two of you pulled away after a while, panting heavily.

“I’ve… got to go.” Alhaitham muttered, walking off hurriedly before he could embarrass himself further. Nevertheless, it was alright for him to be selfish for once, right? It had seemed to work out in his favour.

Despite however much he tried to soothe himself, Alhaitham’s face was red, and a giddiness bloomed in his heart. Any other student would’ve been shocked to see the tender smile spread across his face, breaking that infuriatingly stoic expression. His childhood friend - and his first love - was now finally his.

#genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin oneshots #genshin fluff #genshin angst #fluff #alhaitham #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham oneshot #alhaitham imagines #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham angst #genshin headcannons #genshin impact x reader

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moeyynorris · 5 months

Text

Streaming and Daydreaming

Lando Norris x F!Streamer!Reader

Warnings: Just super cute fluff, some fans teasing the two of you, maybe a hint of angst, and mention of being shot at in a video game.

A/N: I’m flirting with the idea of a part 2. Let me know what you think!

Moeyy’s Master List

“Hello everyone, and thank you for joining the stream. Sorry it’s been a little while since I’ve been on, but my day job has been a bit busy lately.” Lando winked at the camera as he addressed his fans. “But, I do have a treat for you lot. One of my dear friends, the ever so beautiful Y/N, will be joining us. You can follow her stream at @ynusername and you will be able to hear her and see her camera on my own.” He grinned, waiting for you to chime in.

“Hello everyone,” you greeted, the smile obvious in your voice. You could feel your cheeks heating up as you stared at Lando through your second screen. You knew you didn’t have stage-fright, so you were hoping the fans tuning in wouldn’t notice.

“Ready to get your ass handed to you at some Fortnite, girlie?” Lando chuckled as he teased you. You sucked in a breath at his smile.

“Excuse me, Norris, but I’ve been playing this game for almost two years longer than you have!” You giggled, then stuck out your tongue at the camera. “You started, what, three weeks ago? Let’s see who has their ass handed to them.”

Lando shook his head, laughing as the chat on his stream went wild. You could see multiple people typing “Lando ❤️😍🥰” and “That smile 😍😍😍”, and all you could do was laugh.

Same, fans. Same.

“Ok, Y/N, get ready and let’s go!”

As the two of you waiting for your game lobby to fill, you greeted some of the fans in the chat. Lando did the same, the two of you taking turns.

“@papayaprincezz1 asks, ‘It’s been all smiles since the two of you signed on. Is there anything going on between the two of you?” Lando froze after he read the last word aloud. He stared directly at the camera for a moment, then huffed a nervous laugh. “Y/N and I have been friends for a while, but there is nothing more between us right now.”

You he glanced to his left, at his second monitor, where he was streaming your stream. You stared up at the camera, offering a smile. The chat started filling up with “right now?” and “what does he mean by that?”

Before you would say anything, your screen flashed to your character preparing to drop into the map.

“Where we droppin’ Lando?” You asking, scanning the map.

“Uhh, let’s do the Peninsula thing next to that castle thing.”

You laughed. “You mean near the Citadel?”

Lando scrunched his nose. “Yeah, that thing.”

“You sure you don’t want to do Slappy Shores?” You offered, preparing to leave the Battle Bus.

“Nah, babe, that place is too hard. People are gnarly there!” Lando followed your lead as he left the Battle Bus.

You blushed at his use of that word, and the chat definitely heard it too. There was another instant barrage of comments about Lando’s choice of nickname, but you tried to ignore it.

mclarengirl04: they would be so cute together! 😍

f1gamergirl0416: he called her babe. There’s gotta be something there between them!

drsdiana55: Lando + Y/N = shipped. 🥰

You glanced away from the chat the moment you heard something whizz by your head. Someone was hiding and sniping at you. You spun your character around, trying to find who was shooting at you.

“Lando, I’ve got a sniper,” you announced as you scanned the land around you. You saw something move in a tree, so you took a shot, and numbers popped up instantly. “I shot him,” you muttered, continuing to aim.

You kept shooting, hitting the player just about every other shot.

“Knocked him.” You furrowed your brow as someone from behind you started shooting at you. “Lando, where the hell are you?”

You glanced up at Lando’s stream and froze. He was just sitting there, staring to his left, at your stream. His eyes appeared to be almost glazed over, like he was daydreaming.

“Earth to Lando Norris!” Your voiced raised a bit, snapping him out of his haze.

“Sorry, I, uh, where are you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Where I’ve been the last four minutes, love.” Your cheeks flushed as the word left your lips, but you shoved your feelings down and focused on the game.

“Right,” Lando muttered, his cheeks redder than you had ever seen them. He nibbled his lower lip as he focused on the screen in front of him.

You sighed in relief when Lando finally came to your aid. You both fought in silence for a few minutes. Then, your stomach flipped as you noticed the chat blowing up again.

formula1fangirl98: I want a man who looks at me the way Lando looks at Y/N.

battlebusdriver249: He’s in love for sure. Ain’t no one look at someone like that unless they in love.

myra_norris: Lando just daydreaming about his dream girl.

Your eyes widened and your stomach tensed as you read the hundreds of comments about you and Lando. There was no way he was staring at you, not consciously. He was probably just daydreaming about something else and happened to be looking at your stream when he zoned out… Right?

One last shot, and you were taken out. You sighed, relaxing your shoulders. Lando leaned back in his chair, his hands cradling the back of his head.

“Well, that was interesting.” Lando yawned, then smiled. “I guess 4th isn’t too shabby.” He peered down at his screen. “Is everyone in the chat still awake? Maybe I should read a couple of these—“

Lando’s eyes widened as he glanced down at the chat, his eyes scrolling over the various messages.

“Oh,” he gasped, glancing back up at the camera. “Uh, I don’t—uh.”

“Are you okay? Did your brain break?” You chuckled. You tried to maintain your cool while watching Lando stumble.

“Well, I think the chat is trying to call me out.” Lando’s cheeks flushed.

“Oh what?” You tried to play naïve, but you knew what they were saying. You weren’t blind.

“Well, let’s see. ‘Lando got those heart eyes’. Oh, and there’s ’His heart exploded and short-circuited his brain’.” He kept reading different comments in the chat, all of them hinting at one thing:

He was too busy staring at you to pay attention to the game.

“Oh,” was all you could muster up. You both stared at each other through the camera, both unable to say what you both knew needed to come next.

You sighed. “Well, are they right?” You winced as the words left your lips. This was not how you thought the day, or stream, was going to go.

“Haha, uh.” He sucked in a breath, then chuckled again. “Well, fans and friends, thank you for joining us today. I hope to be in here soon, and hopefully this lovely lady here will join me too.” He waved to the camera. “Goodnight, or day, everyone. Cheers.”

And with that, his screen went away, leaving just you and your stream. With a reluctant sigh, you said your farewells to your fans, and signed off too.

He just signed off like that? Not wanting to talk? Why would he read those comments off his chat if he wasn’t going to get to the point?

You leaned back in your chair just as your phone vibrated on your desk.

Text Message

Lando 😎🏎️🧡

Can you hop on Skype? I think we have a convo to finish.

You sent him a quick thumbs up emoji and pulled up Skype on your computer.

Within 30 seconds, you were getting a call from Lando, which you quickly accepted. His face popped into view, without his usual grin.

“Hey,” he muttered before letting out a sigh.

“Hey back.” You licked your lips nervously as you waited for his next words.

“Uh, so, sorry for earlier. I got a bit distracted.” Lando fiddled with his fingers.

“Yeah, I noticed. But what was so distracting?” His eyes shut for a moment at your words, then opened again. His gaze locked on the camera.

“You, obviously. As the chat said, I was mesmerized, transfixed,” he admitted. “I was distracted by watching you.”

You huffed a laugh. “By me playing a video game?”

He nodded. “Playing a video game, concentrating, analyzing, smiling, just being you.” Lando ran his hands over his hair. “Y/N, I was admiring how stunning you are. You’ve known me for what, a year now? And every single stream you’re on, I’m there right? Sure, you’re a pretty decent player, but I’m also there because watching you smile and laugh makes my stomach flutter like some stupid fucking romance movie. And for the races you’ve been at, I pushed harder than I thought I could because I wanted to make you proud. Not the team, not Zak, you.”

The only response you could give was a smile. A wide, gleeful grin as you listened to goofy, wacky Lando Norris spill his heart out to you.

“So, you’re saying—“

“I love you, Y/N. I have fallen head over fucking heels for a beautiful, funny, smart, quirky gamer girl named Y/N Y/L/N. And there’s no turning back now.” Lando’s lips finally curled. “And I hope—“

“I love you too, Lando. I knew you meant something special to me shortly after we met. I never thought a Formula 1 driver would have followed my gaming Twitch account, let alone become my friend.” Your cheeks heated while tears welled in your eyes. The man really meant a lot to you, and the fact that he felt the same way was magical.

“And maybe, uh, maybe more than a friend?”

You blinked the tears from your eyes and you chuckled. “What exactly are you asking, Mr. Lando Norris?” He cleared his throat then giggled, flashing that award winning smile.

“Y/N, will you, uh, would you like to be my girlfriend?” You both laughed.

“I would love to, Lando.” You both chuckled again. “And very smooth delivery,” you teased, but offering a wink.

“Ha, thanks. It did the job, didn’t it?” It sure did. You couldn’t argue with that.

When the giggles stopped, you both sat there, not sure what to do next. But, it didn’t matter. You were still swimming in the high of what just happened, that Lando Norris confessed to being in love with you.

Lando sat up a little, a grin across his lips. “Hey, I can ask for an all access pass to next weekend’s Grand Prix. If you would like to come and see it, that is.” That million dollar smile struck your heart as you considered his words.

“An all access pass to the Monaco Grand Prix? I could never say no to that.” You winked. “I heard there’s a really cute guy racing for McLaren.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll have to keep my eye out for him.” Lando smirked as you rolled your eyes.

The two of you continued to plan for the Grand Prix, like when you would leave and where you would stay. Lando beamed as he talked about this race, and you knew it was a special race for all of them. And sure, you had seen him race at Silverstone, Barcelona, and in Miami, but this one was going to be special.

“Hey Lando?” you asked as a random thought crossed your mind.

“Yeah, love?”

You let out a breath, then smiled. “When were you going to say something? You know, if thousands of people hadn’t called you out on it?”

Lando pursed his lips. “Well, I was planning on inviting you to the Grand Prix at the end of the stream. I was hoping to talk to you then. Maybe.” He nodded as he spoke.

You peered down randomly at your phone and gasped at the amount of notifications on the Lock Screen. X, Facebook, Instagram.

“Oh boy, we’re viral,” you muttered as you opened each notification. Most of them were just photos of Lando’s stream, his staring at your stream or blushing on camera. Fans had multiple hashtags, like #landoy/n forever and #flirtingonstream.

You rolled your eyes while Lando laughed hysterically at some of the posts.

“I guess the secret is out now the press are going to have a field day with us at the race.” You shrugged, realizing it may not be a calm little visit like before.

Lando chuckled and smirked. “Well, then let’s give them something to write about.” He winked, which made your stomach swirl.

This was going to be an interesting weekend.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fluff #lando norris x female reader #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lando norris imagine

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firegirl888101 · 8 months

Text

Insatiable Madness (8)

|Sagau Yandere Fatui Harbingers x Reader|

Bedroom arrangements... You have to sort them out soon.

Reader is Gender Neutral!

"Would you stop staring at me? It's borderline creepy." You turned behind you, seeing Dottore and Sandrone peering from the doorway.

They had been doing this since you allowed the Harbingers to get comfortable. Some of them in your opinion had been too comfortable considering the current circumstances... But other than that, everything had been going shockingly smoothly.

Well, until you realised none of them could cook using modern technology.

So here you are now, cooking for 12 people with food you definitely couldn't afford everyday.

"You won't let me delve into machines of this century, like 'The Television'. Therefore, you will allow me to study what you're doing..."

"I'm cooking, you fucking weirdo."

"I do not see anywhere that could possibly let out heat, surely a fire is required to cook food?" Dottore argued.

"Just because electricity isn't hot, doesn't mean other materials can't change the temperature."

"I see... So you have an infinite source of electricity which is cooking your food. Then conducting that electricity with a material, perhaps a type of conductive ore, to warm up that pot you placed on that flat slab. To be able to do that... You truly must be powerful and knowledgeable."

"...It's just science and mechanics bro-- and it's not a 'flat slab'! It's a hob."

"Heeeeey, when will the food be ready? I'm starving over here!" Childe whined, entering the kitchen and walking past the two peepers.

Oh my god. This is the fifth time he's said that.

"Ask me that one more time and I'll pour this boiling water over your head."

"How long do you expect us to wait?" Pantalone walked up to you.

"Taking your time as usual, mortals truly are slow." Scaramouche rolled his eyes.

...Maybe it was too early to say things had been going smoothly earlier.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Getting everyone to sit at the table together proved to be a challenge.

The few who did so without complaint soon got up and left when you came back with more willing people, and some refusing to cooperate even when you got Pierro to help you out.

And then you had fuckers like Capitano insisting he 'guards the house' as if it's a fucking castle or private expensive estate.

"I do not see the point in sitting to eat if there could be danger lurking around every corner."

"This is my house. There won't be any danger unless it sneaks in from outside." You tried to convince him, truly you did.

You were so close to getting everyone to sit down. He's the last harbinger you needed... and the dinner is still warm too!

"Your argument is weak and insulting. I have offered to protect your home, and protect your honour. Yet, you force me to move away?" He questions you, his voice showing unfiltered offense.

Well, if he puts it that way.... I suppose he's doing me a favour, he thinks he is in his mind at the very least. If I challenge him I think he'll grow hostile and refuse further...

"Please," You said after a short while of thinking. "Please join us at the table. I promise the moment you finish eating you can return to your duties, Lord Capitano."

If I remember correctly, most if not all Fatui soldiers respected him due to his loyalty towards his soldiers, no matter what age or gender. He would spend his time for them after a battle, and would make sure everyone was healthy and ready for the next day.

Of course, this couldn't possibly be the full truth, he's a Fatui Harbinger! I doubt he got the first rank by just handing cakes to people.

Besides, this was all from memory. If things turned for the worst, you could always google some theories and knowledge. Or...! Or, you could wait for the game to update! Surely more would be revealed there?

"Even if I... joined you for dinner... I wouldn't dare eat." He sighed after thinking about your words.

"Why? Ohhhhh! It's because of your mask, right?" You suddenly realised.

You were just being insensitive all along! How did it take you this long to come to the conclusion he doesn't take it off?

"Could you please still join? I won't pressure you to eat, I promise." You smiled at him.

You heard a deep sigh, then he slowly nodded.

"When the first person finishes eating, I'll return here."

Wooohoo! Finally, that took way longer than you would have liked. You did lie a bit though, you were going to lock the front door so he couldn't just stand in the middle of it anymore.

It was beginning to get a bit cold in the house, and you didn't feel like hearing extra complaints from a certain banker...

You led him towards the dining room, and when you finally arrived, every single harbinger was looking at the two of you with boredom present on their faces.

"Took you long enough." Scaramouche scoffed with his arms crossed. "Why did you even make us sit together anyway?"

"When you go hungry, don't expect me to make you food then."

"They're kidding right? I don't have to eat to survive, unlike some of these mortals." He rolled his eyes.

"It's still polite, show some etiquette." Pantalone lightly scoffed in his direction, a smile present on his face.

"This all looks rather lovely." He complimented you, watching you sit down at the head of the table, opposite of Pierro.

"Thank you, but please don't compliment my cooking. This is the first time I've actually cooked a proper meal."

You didn't actually cook this. You just took all the noodles you had left in your personal cupboard and combined them into one boiling pot.

You were surprised Dottore and Sandrone didn't notice, especially since they were focusing so intently on you.

"Seriously? You're one talented chef! The noodles you made are perfect, just as good as the ones I've tried in Liyue!" Childe praised you, taking the fork on the side of his plate and dragging the noodles up to eye level.

"Wait a minute... Why has everyone else got chopsticks besides me!?" He suddenly realised.

"Because I need to get rid of them, I'm sick of my cupboards piling up with these shit ones. Plus, I'm aware you still can't use them."

Speaking of your personal and reusable chopsticks, you left them in the kitchen.

"I'm excusing myself from the table to get my own chopsticks since I forgot to grab my personal pair. If I come back and see any of you out of your chairs, I'm kicking you out of my house.

"You're not in any position to say--"

"STAY IN YOUR FUCKING CHAIR."

"Alright, alright! Psh, they can't take a joke."

"If you don't want to use the chopsticks I've provided, you may use the forks I placed in the middle of the table." You added in, almost forgetting that part.

Some harbingers let out a sigh of relief.

...I'll not question that.

You stood up and pushed your chair in, walking to the kitchen and grabbing your chopsticks with a special pattern.

Now is the time to take a deep breath, relax, prepare a couple questions you want to ask and get these Harbingers out of your house.

You've gotten too fearful. They killed your family, your neighbours, your friends. You should never forget that fact, you can't fight them or resist in fear of being killed. But, you can learn how to survive with them.

Take another deep breath. Hide your fear as best you can.

"I'm back!" You announced, a smile present on your face as you sat down where you left off.

You watched each Harbinger eat the food you prepared respectfully, some with small smiles and others looking as bored as earlier.

"So...." You started, nervously stirring your noodles.

"You want to ask questions, correct?" Pierro interrupted your collected thoughts, a sigh erupting from his lips.

"It's obvious that's why you grouped us up together, it's downright clear you know some of us can't eat or don't like to."

"Well, now that you've told me it was obvious, I won't beat around the bush."

"Beat around the... excuse me?" Arlecchino raised an eyebrow after eating another.

"Figure of speech."

"Ah, understood. Continue."

"Actually, before you get down to business I'd like to ask a question of my own." Signora raised her hand.

"And... what would that be? Don't you think I've earned the right to ask my questions first?" You turned your attention to her.

Now that you think about it, she hasn't spoken much at all. This is the first time she's directly addressed you since you first got captured.

...Apart from calling you a child of course, you could never forget that of all things.

"The noodles are a little plain, too plain for my liking. Do you have anything extra to add to it? Perchance some condiments? Your bowl looks... different to our own bowl's. What did you add to it?"

"I forgot you don't know how pot noo- I mean noodles work in this world! Sorry, I keep forgetting how you came from another place entirely different to this planet." You gasped, running to the kitchen and returning with different coloured packets.

"What... are they?" Sandrone pointed at the plastic packs.

"They look like poisons my clone's deliver for me to test out." Dottore thought outloud.

"Not at the table, please." Pantalone cringed.

"These, Harbingers, are a miracle in the making." You began, catching the attention of all of them.

'They look like puppies... It's cute.' Is what you would think if you forgot these are bloodthirsty monsters.

"Allow me to introduce you to the world of Sauce Packets. Each colour and size represents a flavour in the packet, and what garnish you'd like on top of your noodles!" You explained, placing all the packets you could find next to the pile of forks which had been unused.

"Amazing! You just get to pick like that?"

"Yup!"

"And... There's nothing else to it? No storing the packets in a cool area so they don't go off?"

"Nope!"

"Incredible... How does the food not become moldly or uneatable?" Dottore muttered.

"They're sealed really well. No air can get in or out until you rip the packet open."

"I want these two." Scaramouche rolled his eyes, grabbing two packs from the pile and holding them above his bowl.

"Be careful not to grab them too tight or they'll--!" You tried to speak as loud and quick as you could. But, unfortunately... "Burst..."

"What the actual shi--!?"

"There's a lot of sauce in those packets... Luckily for you, you held them above your bowl so the majority went in it! Thanks for not wasting any." You struggled to hold your laughter, grabbing a couple tissues from your pocket.

"Did any get on you?" You let a small giggle pass you lips.

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes burning through yours. After a couple moments, he came to reality and noticed all the harbingers laughing, giggling and chuckling at his previous actions.

"...No." He snatched the tissues from your open hand.

"How amusing and childish Scaramouche." Dottore commented, covering his mouth which hid his grin.

"I don't want to hear that kind of comment from you of all people." The puppet shook his head with a snarl, wiping his lap with the tissues.

"Alright, I only have these two flavours left, the red packet on your left being a really spicy flavour. The orange packet on your right being chicken. Oh, and, the smaller packets I have contain either basil and garlic, as well as coriander here."

The Harbingers, after hearing your explanation, picked which packets they wanted and put them in their bowls of noodles. Except Capitano, he hadn't touched anything since he sat down at the table.

Once demonstrating how to mix the noodles with the cutlery, the Harbingers began to eat once more with happier smiles than before and light chatter.

"So, you wanted to ask some questions?" Pierro coughed into his hand, his expression soon turning stern and distant.

"Yes! Thank god we're back to this topic." You shook your head, a wry smile on your face.

"...What exactly are you planning to do next?" You asked the first question.

"What do you mean by that?" Columbina smiled eagerly at you.

"You're stuck in my world, thanks to Dottore's compass breaking... which looked oddly close to an illegal chest compass - but I won't judge the design."

"Yes, thank you for adding the 'DOTTORE'S COMPASS' breaking in your reasoning." Sandrone nodded with a satisfactory smile.

"Anyway, what do you plan to do next? You can't just hideout in my house until Dottore somehow creates a new machine, with materials he won't ever get his hands on since you're all no longer in Teyvat."

"You mean you don't have the same minerals here as in Teyvat?" He questioned you, tapping the table to form a little tune.

"Did you really think an ore called 'Magical Ore Chunk' would exist here?"

"...We didn't name it."

"I suppose the one thing you could say exists would be Iron. But I have no idea whether they work the same, they could very well have different effects when mined due to different adaptations to their environment."

"Do you use Iron to craft weapons?" Capitano spoke for the first time since entering the dining room. Too bad he sounds so excited, the answer won't please him too much.

"We do... or, we did. In the past hundred years, we've developed new weapons using different minerals and... chemicals." You grimaced.

"Oooh, this is getting interesting!" Columbina laughed, finishing her noodles with a pleasant sigh. "Sooo good."

"Glad you like them." You nodded at her, before returning your attention back to Dottore.

"Don't ask me about the chemical part. It's illegal for those to know how the dangerous substances are made, unless they're working for the goverment or a specially trained company."

"How dangerous could they really be...?"

"Again," You sighed. "Don't question it."

"I'm still traumatised when you put on that surgery channel earlier this afternoon."

"Back to my question?" You asked them again, tone sounding hopeful for a proper answer.

"Truthfully, we don't know what's going to happen. Haven't had a meeting to discuss it yet." Tartaglia shrugged, finishing also and putting his fork in the bowl.

"Tartaglia." Capitano scolded.

"Yes, Captain!" Childe saluted. Capitano and Pulcinella just shook their heads as a reply.

"Tartaglia is right, we don't know what to do."

"By chance, did your parents happen to know anything revolving machinery and world travelling?"

This is unwelcome territory now.

"Maybe. However, we wouldn't be able to ask them anyway." You shook your head, resisting the urge to lash out.

"Why? Are they out of town? Or perhaps they're at work someplace else?"

"You killed them."

Silence then took hold of the Harbinger's, not one person touched the food in front of them nor moved a centimetre.

"What?" Childe broke the silence, his voice as quiet as a mouse.

"You murdered my family in cold blood, butchered their bodies when you found they had no use to you and then dumped them to the side."

They all continued to stay silent, some closing their eyes, while some's faces showing an ounce of guilt.

Like you believed that guilt though.

"Fuck this." Scaramouche rudely announced, pushing his chair out and walking out of the room.

"I wanted to ask a few more questions, but you know what, I'm not in the mood anymore. Enjoy what's left of dinner, I know I won't. With my bruised body, I'm surprised I've lasted this long without collapsing in pain."

And with that, you left the table for the final time that evening. Carrying your bowl with you, you ascended up the stairs to your bedroom with tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

A bit sad, isn't it? Well, they've got more coming to them so I wouldn't get sad just yet. You wouldn't believe what I've got planned lol

Please don't expect too many happy, nice and generally fluffy scenes.

This is Yandere, a genre which should never, under any circumstance be considered normal. It's abusive, unhealthy and leads to a lot of victims facing awful conditions which they never should or ever have to endure no matter who they are.

This is fiction that I'm writing, meaning it's all taken light-heartedly IN A FICTIONAL SENSE.

If anyone, by chance, is currently in conditions where a loved-one or yourself has suddenly become distant and/or being hurt when away from eyes please get help. Talk to them, or if it's you, talk to someone you know you can trust.

If you can't talk to anyone, find authorities who can help you. Call 999, as it is in the U.K, or your local emergency service. They will always help you, and will never deny your rights or freedom.

Thanks for reading this, I hope all who's reading knows this information already, but I thought I'd include it since who knows when it comes to where you are in the world and whether your education programs taught critical information like this.

On to more happy stuff!:

Thank you all so much for the support, I hope you'll stick with me for the rest of the parts in this series until I get to the finish line. :)

Back to the fluffy stuff convo... I'm really trying to squeeze them in, because if Y/N isn't showing kindness or anything nice to any of them, none of them will begin to grow feelings for them. It may seem out of place, but Y/N is coping right now. It's not like they can leave the house to run for help.

They saw what the Harbingers can do without thinking of other's lives being a consequence.

✨Elusive✨ Taglist!:

@valeriele3 @pale-value @pix-stuff @yumi-genshin-writer @yuii-v @itz-luna @annoying-mary @etherisy @khalhaimdad @haikyuusboringassmanager @magica-ren @sweatyexpertdeputyduck @booksandteaplusart @9140 @whatamidoing89 @raesleepyhead @nasidibakar @shikanosn @purpleamethystsblog @chihawari @esthelily @stuffyfrenchflowers @conspicuous-mayonnaise @sielt @katsumikumo @greyhoundwires707 @carminerin @raidendeeznuts123 @angelofdarkness2 @conspicuous-mayonnaise @ginnxy-galaxy @clara-maddenlin @bk-4-trash-fire @uniqaal @tnsophiaonly @vianitry @dottoreandcolumbinaslovechild

Quick Reminder Here! If you no longer want to be on the taglist that's completely fine; I take no offence whatsoever so please don't hesitate to tell me. ^^

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howtofightwrite · 28 days

Note

I don't know if you covered this before, but how does being left-handed effect handling weaponry? I imagine it doesn't impact too much with guns, but I've heard it can alter how using a sword works. How true is this, in the end?

That's sort of backwards. With a handful of exceptions, being left-handed doesn't do much to how you handle most melee weapons. The big exceptions are if you're wielding a shield, and in some medieval siege assault situations. Being a left-handed shooter, on the other hand, comes with a host of considerations, and in some cases, requires modifying your firearms so that they're convenient to use, or in others, it straight up requires learning to shoot right handed.

So, the part about this that is true, has nothing to do with which hand is dominant. Speaking from personal experience, it is much easier to accurately shoot with your off-hand, than it is to wield a melee weapon off-handed.

So, the issue with being a lefty with a shield is that your shield will be on the right side of your body while your opponent's shield will be on the left side of theirs. This means you're mirroring each other, and blocking an attack with your shield (or your opponent doing the same to you) is far more vulnerable to stepping out of line slightly and striking your opponent's weapon arm. This goes both ways, though a left-handed fighter is more likely to be prepared to immediately exploit this opening, simply because there are more right handed fighters, so they'll be encountering this situation more often.

The second exception is architectural. We've mentioned this on many occasions, but medieval castles were designed to favor the defenders. This took multiple forms, but among them were stairways designed so that someone invading the castle would have their right arm pressed up against a wall, while their left hand was free. (This was true both with open stairways, and also with spiral stairways inside the keep.) The assumed word here is, “designed to favor right-handed defenders.” A left-handed assaulter would be able to use their dominant arm freely as they assaulted, because the keep was (accidentally) built to favor them. In some cases, they might even have advantages over the right-handed defenders, such as being able to attack freely from above as they descended.

I'm been mostly thinking about the standard infantry sidearms of the era, but is worth remembering that a left-handed spearman would be a problem in a tightly packed formation (such as the phalanx), because their arm would be running extremely close to their fellow fighter on the left side of their battle line, while leaving a gap to their right.

It's also worth knowing that most lefties train (often involuntarily) some degree ambidexterity. Everything from doorknobs to jars are built for right-handed people, so, you learn to do things with your off-hand that a right-handed individual would never even think about. Hell even just putting on your clothes in the morning will train some dexterity in your right-hand, which a right-handed individual would never do with their left. (Amusingly, the major exception to this would be some articles of women's clothing, which were originally oriented opposite a man's clothes so that a servant could fasten her clothes for her, using their right hand for the more dexterous bits.) (Actually, if you know your Latin, there's a pun in the previous sentence, and I am truly sorry for that.)

Now, when it comes to firearms, being a left-handed shooter can be annoying. It also means you're far more likely to write about firearms in some public capacity. So, that's a weird trend.

The biggest problem tends to be the controls. A lot of firearms will position their controls to be convenient for a right-handed operator. If you're left-handed, you'll find yourself having to reach over the weapon, or break fire position, to interact with those settings, more than a right-handed shooter would. This can include safety switches, fire control groups, magazine releases, slide/bolt catch releases, and even decockers.

It's fairly rare to encounter a handgun where the slide release and safety are ambidextrous. Ambidextrous mag releases are a bit more common these days than they used to be, so that's always nice. But, whenever someone breaks out a 1911, yeah, that's really expecting you to be right-handed.

This isn't just with modern firearms either. One of my favorite handguns is the Colt SAA. The gun is over 150 years old, and if you're left-handed, reloading it will see you dropping spent brass onto the back of your hand. (Or cradling the gun, and clearing the cylinders that way, which is entirely valid.)

Sometimes, you can modify a gun for left-handed use. This will often involve things like replacing the magazine release (and praying that the mags' manufacture considered someone would switch the release button, or cutting new release notches into your mags.) Revering the safety (which in some of the most obnoxious cases, also means replacing the grip paneling.) This is all doable, but you're going to put a lot of work into making the gun comfortable for your left hand.

Though, there are other solutions. The H&K USP's massive slide release leaver, designed for use with gloves, can easily be operated by a left-handed shooter's index finger. (Also, the USP has an ambidextrous mag release, and the safety/decocker is positioned so that you can, at least, safe and unsafe it with the first knuckle of your index finger, though, good luck decocking it, without moving your left hand out of the way entirely), and in other cases, you can flip your thumb over the slide to adjust it.

In the case of most push button releases, you can simply eject it by drawing back your middle finger and pressing the button directly. Though, this does lead to another problem. Your hand is not supposed to be right over that button at all times, and until you learn how to manage the recoil on a gun, it can very easy for a left-handed shooter to accidentally drop the mag after they fire. This is especially an issue for Glocks and SIG P220 series pistols. (Ironically, this is less of a problem with the Beretta 92/M9 family of pistols, given how the push button sits in the grip.)

If you what a modified left-handed pistol can end up looking like, McClane (Bruce Willis)'s Beretta from Die Hard was modified to accommodate his left-hand dominance, with the major differences being the slide release being modified, and the mag release being replaced with one that was easier to reach.

Behind the controls, is the slightly less common non-ambidextrous grips. I still remember this MP5 variant with a contoured thumb rest on the left side. Perfect for a right-handed shooter, but if you're a lefty, it would dig into your palm. This is slightly more common with hunting rifles, and sporting guns in general, but as the MP5 above indicates, it's not exclusive to them.

It's also worth remembering that this last issue can pop up with melee weapons as well. If a rapier is designed to be held in the right hand, it might not be compatible with your left hand. I've never seen this personally, but it's something worth remembering.

The end result is, a lot of left-handed shooters learn to shoot right-handed for situations where the firearm simply isn't compatible with their dominant hand. (Cue: multiple people saying, “hey, I never learned to shoot with my right hand.”) I don't know who those individuals are, but, frankly, unless they've only handled customized, left handed guns, I'm dubious about that one.

So, it is certainly a thing, but it affects firearms far more than melee weapons.

-Starke

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#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #how to fight write #starke answers #Starke is left handed

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cinnbar-bun · 5 months

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Mihawk Gen NSFW HCs

Rating: NSFW, it's all smut here baby

Headcanons are under the read more.

You can read this on my AO3 here!

A generous, thorough lover, who doesn’t waste any time getting down to business with you.

Mihawk is incredibly patient and passionate with his touches. It’s intimate, it’s loving, and he uses physical action to express more of what he feels than through his own words.

Mihawk, first and foremost, is a lover of roleplay. And not just any roleplay. No, no, no- we’ve seen how extra Mihawk is in general, and it is no different in the bedroom. He loves certain “themes” (which you begin to recognize the pattern of after a few ‘sessions’ with him).

His favorite roleplay scenarios include:

Injured, wandering swordsman needing a place to stay and heal after a terrible battle, and you happen to find him and take him in (and fuck him).

Wandering swordsman comes across a dark castle with you trapped inside due to your evil father/lord (and then you fuck).

Lord of the castle sees you trespassing on his estate and takes you as his prisoner (whom he falls majorly in love with and fucks).

Loyal swordsman/bodyguard falls for his lord despite the different class ranks and society forbidding your love (you two fuck anyways).

Dark vampire swordsman invites you into castle after you stumble in during a terrible storm (and then he fucks you to remind you to never trust unsuspecting strangers in their dark castles).

This man gets VERY into his scenarios. He’s preparing a script for himself, buying outfits and decor that perfectly match the theme (because how DARE you try to have sex in a room that is NOT accurate to gothic interior design), and lighting different scents and waiting for the perfect weather.

That doesn’t mean he’ll never have sex otherwise, he’s just a very detail-oriented person who gets really caught up in things like settings and feelings. It makes the sex better when all his senses are filled with what he feels are the “correct” attributes of a scene. It makes him excited that you trust and enjoy playing along into these scenarios with him, and he views it as a bonding activity.

He wasn’t particularly sexually active with someone before, so when you two get close together, he begins to read plenty of romance novels to get an idea or two for a good way to woo and excite you. This does mean reading plenty of smut. You can tell when he’s reading it by the way his face looks even more serious than usual. It’s very subtle compared to his normal appearance, but when he furrows his brows and nods curiously at different times, he’s almost certainly reading a smutty scene.

A way you can tell he’s in the mood (beyond him proposing and asking to do a roleplay session with you), is when he kisses your neck more and offers you plates of fresh fruits like apples, pomegranates, figs, or strawberries.

Speaking of fruits, he’s not averse to food play. It depends on the type of food, generally, but with things like fruits or even honey, he’s absolutely down for it. If you two are really feeling frisky, he might pour wine on you and lick it off.

Despite his eagerness to cut his enemies down- he absolutely will NOT cut you. To him, as a swordsman, seeing any scars on you would mean he has failed to protect you, and he sees that as a source of shame. It would take a while before he dares bring a knife or sword into the bedroom to use on you. Until then, it might appear as a prop or just be held by your side to get the “thrill” of being cut.

I also doubt he’d enjoy getting cut either, as a scar is a source of shame on a swordsman. Actual cuts are not something he wants, but he probably would not mind something like hickies or hand/finger prints.

He does enjoy restraints- whether on you or him. He prefers ropes and leather belts over something like handcuffs. Hell, even your own hands will be good too.

Mihawk adores your neck and your hands. Pro tip, moisturize your hands a lot and he will spend his time peppering kisses all over your hands.

He can get sappy as hell during foreplay. He will kiss all over your arms and hands and body. It’s Gomez Addams levels of adoration towards you.

Tends to whisper affectionate nicknames to you, and occasionally, when he’s really into it, he will whisper beautiful words of praise for you in his language (I personally hc him as Transylvanian so I think he’d speak Romanian, but I know many others believe him to be Spanish or Italian so hey, whatever floats your boat my lovelies <3. You can just imagine).

Mihawk isn’t loud during bed (but then again, when is he ever?), but he lets out the most beautiful moans and pants ever. When he gets close, his breath picks up and ugh, can you imagine the world’s strongest swordsman just panting in your ear? It’s a sound you won’t be forgetting anytime soon.

He is rather possessive but also respectful of your feelings, so he wouldn’t prefer to have public sex or sex with a risk of getting caught. He would not have sex where Perona or Zoro could easily walk in (Perona has made that mistake once and never again), so Mihawk always blocks off a room in the castle specifically for the both of you to indulge in all of your whims together with. Everyone else knows not to step in there for fear of Mihawk’s wrath.

His aftercare is wonderful, and during this time, he may become more talkative. It’s more so to make sure you were okay and if you enjoyed it or not. He’d carefully tend to you and clean you and the bed up before you to go to sleep or back to work.

Mihawk likes to have sex with you the night before he leaves to various missions. One reason being that it’s a way for you two to enjoy the intimacy of each other before a long stretch of time where he’s off. Two, he likes seeing the smile on your face and the post-sex afterglow that surrounds you when you begin to fall asleep. It comforts him and gives you a good reminder of him when he’s gone in the morning (not without him leaving you a note saying he’ll seen you soon).

#one piece x reader #one piece hcs #one piece smut #dracule mihawk #one piece mihawk #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #smut #op smut

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hyperactively-me · 7 months

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ask from @redzscare

(king!ghost x princess!reader au) -- anger

i just wanna say oh my god, thank you for your inbox message with those two amazing and well thought out ideas!!!! i would also love to know your other ideas if you still have any :) and i know its been over a month since you requested, but i wanted to do your ideas justice! i decided to split them up into two separate pieces so that it can flow better in the story, but i have your first request in my "to be written" notes, and it will be posted in the future!!!! i hope you like it! the angst is immaculate and heart-wrenching. anyway, here is #2!!!

word count: ~3.6k

warnings: fighting/yelling, angst lots of angst/hurt (like A LOT, A TON, he's so mean, you've been warned), hurt/comfort, happy ending!!!

The past few weeks have been nothing but stressful for Kastron. A southern kingdom, for no clear reason, has been trying to infiltrate the borders of Kastron. As the tension between the two realms escalated, King Simon found himself ensnared in the web of political turmoil and military strategies, his every waking moment consumed by the threat looming at the kingdom's doorstep.

As the southern kingdom persisted in its attempts to breach Kastron’s defenses, Simon’s frustration grew. Kastron’s forces have been able to hold off the enemy for the past few weeks, but the battle was proving to get more difficult by the day. His days were spent in council meetings, devising counterstrategies, and restless nights plagued by the knowledge of impending conflict.

Throughout the past few weeks as Simon was extremely busy, you had taken to caring for more things around the castle. By no means was it an easy task. Your already busy schedules were now packed with more mundane, tedious tasks. You had to step into a few roles that Simon usually took care of, thrown into uncharted territory that you now had to know like the back of your hand.

To say you were stressed was an understatement. To say that you felt secure in this new position would be a lie. Hell, even with your lessons, you were still slightly insecure about helping run a whole kingdom. The lessons were truly helpful, and you really were learning useful information, but to actually put this knowledge into practice proved to be more difficult than you thought; a learning curve, if you will.

Every evening before you went to bed, you watched Simon with a heavy heart. Stress etched lines on his face, and the once affectionate bond between you strained under the weight of your responsibilities.

The command room now had countless maps, scrolls, and military reports scattered across the tables, and you found yourself poring over them, trying to decipher strategies that seemed more like cryptic codes than plans for defense. The language of war was harsh, and its intricacies were not easily grasped. You also had to take care of more civilian matters, tending to disputes and other technicalities that arose when handling such matters. Managing the palace as well proved to be more difficult, although it was not as prioritized as other duties you had to upkeep.

Simon, in his stress and preoccupation, had not noticed the added weight on your shoulders. The castle, usually filled with warmth, now echoed with the sounds of strategizing military personnel and the tension that gripped every corner.

One day, as you were immersed in the endless paperwork, a knock on the chamber door interrupted your thoughts. Simon, looking more fatigued than ever, stood at the threshold.

“I need these reports on the southern borders done by tomorrow morning. Make sure they’re accurate,” he said, his voice clipped and devoid of the usual tenderness. It echoed the commanding voice he reserved for his soldiers.

You take a breath. “I’m not sure I can have those ready for you by tomorrow Simon. Can’t you ask someone else to do them for me? I’m sure Price can—”

“Price is extremely busy devising strategies. He doesn’t have time for paperwork.”

Simon's curt response echoed through the room, leaving you with a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. The weight of the responsibilities, the unrelenting pressure, and now Simon's growing impatience were pushing you to the brink.

“Simon, I'm doing my best,” you pleaded, looking up from the parchment strewn across the table. “I'm still learning, and there's just so much to handle.”

Simon's eyes flashed with frustration. “We don't have the luxury of time for you to ‘learn.’ We need results, and we need them now.”

The exhaustion etched on his face mirrored your own weariness. The kingdom's issues had taken its toll on both of you, driving a wedge between you.

“I’m just asking for your patience,” you implored, hoping for a flicker of understanding in his eyes.

His gaze remained unyielding. “I ask you to take care of things in my absence, to support me. And it seems even that is too much.”

“I'm sorry, but I'm trying my best,” you scoff.

Simon scoffs back, his expression a stern resolve.

“I don't have time for apologies. I need solutions. Figure it out,” he said, turning on his heel and leaving the room without a backward glance.

Left alone, burdened by the weight of your responsibilities, an angry tear escapes the corner of your eye. The castle walls seem to close in on you, and with a swift motion, you brush the tear away, forcing your attention back to the task at hand.

. . .

It was an innocent mistake, a forgotten task that finally ignited Simon's brewing anger like a firecracker on the brink of explosion.

As you stood before him, explaining the oversight, his eyes darkened with frustration.

“Are you even paying attention?" Simon's voice rose with frustration.

The storm within him erupted, and hurtful words spilled from his lips like daggers. "How could you be so careless?" he bellowed. "This is important, and you can't even handle the simplest tasks!"

"I'm sorry, Simon. I’ve been busy, but I'll fix it," you pleaded, trying to diffuse the growing storm.

"Fix it?" Simon scoffed, his anger unabated. "You're always making mistakes, aren't you? I don't know why I expected anything different from you. You’re just a fuckin’ spoiled little princess, just complaining about all the work she has to do. You’ve never seen a day of real work in your whole life, and the moment you have to do anything remotely helpful, you become useless.”

You’re stunned into silence. It feels like your heart has fallen out of your chest, your throat constricting with anxiety. This isn’t the Simon you knew.

"You can't possibly understand the pressure I'm under!” Simon's voice carried a harsh edge as he spoke, the strain evident in every word.

"I tried my best, Simon. I'm not used to this," you replied, hurt laced through your voice. The word useless echoes through your mind. How could he?

"Your best isn't good enough. We can't afford mistakes," he snapped.

“We’re supposed to be a team," you responded gently, trying to bridge the growing chasm between you.

But Simon's patience had worn thin. “You can't even manage the affairs within the castle! How am I supposed to rely on you when you can't even handle the simplest tasks?”

"I'm sorry, Simon. I never wanted to let you down," you whispered, your voice barely audible amidst the tension.

"Let me down?" Simon laughed bitterly. "You were never lifting me up in the first place. Just a burden I have to carry alongside everythin’ else I have to worry about."

His words pierced through you like a million iron swords. The once warm and loving connection between you and Simon now felt frayed, hanging by the thinnest of threads. Your attempts to support him had become ammunition for his anger.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm not cut out for this,” you admitted shortly, your shoulders slumping under the weight of defeat.

Simon's expression twisted with a mixture of frustration and exasperation. “That's the first sensible thing you've said.”

His cruel words struck a nerve, tearing down the foundations of trust and understanding that had defined your relationship. His words hung in the air like a bitter aftertaste. Hurt and frustration welled up within you, but you swallowed them and bottled them up, unwilling to add to Simon's burden.

The pain in your eyes did not escape Simon, but his frustration blinded him to the depth of his own words. In that moment, the man you loved seemed like a stranger, his anger, frustrations, and impatience casting a shadow over you.

With a heavy heart, you walk away, desperately holding back tears. It took everything within you to not let out an audible sob, clasping your hand over your mouth. You push open the door hastily, stumbling out into the hallway. You wipe your now falling tears off your cheeks with the back of your hand as you make your way to your old bedroom.

The echoes of Simon's bitter words lingered in the corridor as you escaped into the dimly lit hallway. Desperation clawed at your chest, and with each step, the weight of his accusations pressed harder. Holding back sobs, you fumbled your way to the shared bedroom, seeking solace in the sanctuary you once knew.

Once inside, the room felt emptier than before, its warmth replaced by an icy chill. Closing the door behind you, you allowed a few silent tears to fall, the pain of Simon's harsh words cutting deep. As you glanced around the room, the memories of happier times haunted the corners. A sense of isolation settled in, and you felt like a stranger in the very place that used to bring comfort. Swallowing hard, you allow yourself to let it all out, crying into the empty bedroom. The resilient facade you had built over the weeks seemed to crumble in the face of his words.

The weight of the crown, both figuratively and literally, felt heavier than ever. With a shudder, you begin to remove the regalia that symbolized your responsibility as queen, a responsibility that had become increasingly difficult.

The empty now seemed like a cold, unwelcoming space. You curled up, hugging a pillow close to your chest, seeking any source of comfort. The room held a somber silence, a silence you haven’t heard since you were last in this room, before you had fallen in love with Simon.

As sleep finally overcame you, the hope for a better tomorrow mingled with the ache of your strained relationship.

. . .

Sleep had been elusive, and the echoes of Simon's bitter words reverberated in your mind. With a sigh, you rose from the solitude of your old bedroom, still haunted by the sense of isolation that clung to you.

He hadn’t even come looking for you.

You had called a maid to help you get dressed in your room, but made her swear to not say anything about you being back in this room to the rest of the staff. You purposefully waited until after your usual breakfast time with Simon to get something to eat, strolling into the kitchen to request a small breakfast.

After breakfast, you read through your schedule for the day. Today you were supposed to have defense lessons with Simon. Not going to happen. Taking a pen, you scratch it off your to-do list.

With a sigh, you run through the rest of your plan for the day, mostly consisting of busy work and advising.

The day unfolded in a haze of responsibilities, each task demanding your focus. Advising on matters of governance and managing the affairs of the kingdom became a refuge, a temporary escape from the emotional turmoil that threatened to swallow you whole.

Dinner that night came and went, and again you had refused to sit at the table with him. Instead, you chose to wait until after he was gone to eat. Sitting at the expansive table, you picked around at your food, taking small bites before you became nauseous with unease.

This was the longest you’ve gone without Simon the whole time you’ve proclaimed your love for him, and it’s only been a day. After finishing your solitary meal, you made your way to your old bedroom yet again. The night pressed on, silent and unwavering, wrapping the castle in a cocoon of quiet melancholy. And so, you retired to your old bedroom, bracing yourself for another night of sleepless contemplation in the face of a relationship that seemed to be slipping through your fingers.

. . .

Another agonizingly painful day had gone by of you avoiding Simon. The same evening, he had come to knock on your door.

He called your name from behind the door. His voice sounded gentle, yet strained.

You stayed silent, unmoving from your curled up position on the bed.

He persisted, knocking louder this time.

“Go away,” you yell, fighting back more tears as your heartstrings were being tugged with every time he called your name.

“‘M not going away until you come out,” his muffled voice filtered through from under the door.

“Yeah, well, I may as well rot away in here. Leave me alone, Ghost.”

That shut him up immediately. You could hear his footsteps fade away in the distance.

You sob into your pillow, burying your face in the fabric to muffle your cries.

. . .

The next morning was rough. You were groggy, two nights of restless sleep taking a toll on you. Right before you entered the kitchen for breakfast you were stopped by Ghost. He had jumped in front of you out of nowhere, blocking you from entering the kitchen.

“Dove, please—” he began.

“Don’t call me that, get away from me–”

You try to sidestep him, looking at the ground as you attempt to move past him.

“Just listen to me–” he grabs your shoulders firmly, forcing you to stay in place.

“Let go of me–” you shrug his hands off, yanking his wrists off your shoulders with a vice grip. He lets you shake him off you, but still moves to block you from entering the kitchen.

You sigh angrily, finally looking up at him with a death glare.

“Oh, you finally need me for something, right? Is this what this is all about?”

Simon's eyes held a mixture of concern and frustration. “I need to talk to you. Please, just listen to me.”

The coldness in your expression didn't waver. “Talk? Is this about another mistake I made, or perhaps you've found another fault in your ‘spoiled princess’?”

Simon winced at the reference to his hurtful words. “No, it's not about that. It's about us. I... I overreacted, and I said things I shouldn't have. I need you to understand the pressure I'm under.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. “Pressure? Yes, I understand. I've been picking up work and dealing with responsibilities I’m not prepared for. I understand pressure very well.”

Simon's jaw tightened, regret flashing in his eyes. "I know I've been distant, and I've let this problem consume me for the past few weeks. But, dove, we can work through this. I need you.”

Your anger flared. “Now you need me? When everything is falling apart? What about when I needed you? You were too busy berating me.”

The word berating came out stressed, and a flare of emotions bubbled in your chest. You fought against tears threatening to spring from your eyes.

Simon's expression softened, nothing but remorse in his eyes. "I fucked up. I should’ve never said those things to you. I was wrong, and I’m sorry. Please, let me make it right.”

You shake your head, taking a step back.

“You can't just apologize and expect everything to go back to normal. Words have consequences.” A fat tear rolls down your cheek. “I’m not one of your soldiers you can order around.”

The moment Simon sees the tear, knowing that he’s the cause of it, he comes crashing down.

He drops to his knees in front of you, his eyes pleading with a desperate intensity. “I never meant to hurt you. I can't bear to see you cry, especially because of me. Please, give me a chance to make things right.”

You sniffle, wiping the tear away quickly. The raw vulnerability in his voice tugged at your heart, but you held onto the shards of your wounded pride.

He reaches for you, holding your hips tightly in his grasp as he looks up at you from the floor. His hands on your hips sought reassurance, his eyes pleading for a chance at redemption. You fold your arms over your chest, hugging yourself tightly.

“Please, love, please, I will do anything, I’ll prove to you every single day for the rest of my life that I can treat you the way you deserve. I don’t want to turn into my father.”

His thumbs press into the flesh of your hips, his usual stoic demeanor crumbles, and in this moment of vulnerability, he’s laying bare his regrets.

His father. His terrible, disgusting, abusive father.

"You’re not turning into your father, Simon," you whispered, your voice carrying reassurance. "But you also can't treat me like that ever again. We're a team. But it's also not just about the words. It's about trust and understanding.”

He nods, swallowing thickly.

"Please, dove," he implored, his voice choking with emotion. “I never meant to hurt you like this. I'm begging you, give me a chance to make things right. I can't stand to see you in pain.”

“I miss you,” he whispers, and you spot a few tears in the corners of his eyes. You’ve never seen him cry before. “I miss you, and I don’t deserve you. Not after what I did to you.”

Your heart wavered, torn between the hurt he caused and the raw vulnerability he now displayed. The sight of Simon, a powerful and composed ruler, reduced to tears, spoke volumes about the depth of his regret.

As you looked down at him, a swirl of conflicting emotions clouded you. Part of you wanted to pull him into an embrace, to reassure him that things could get better. Yet, the wounds were still fresh, and trust can’t be easily mended. You swipe his tears away with the pad of your thumb.

“Simon,” you began, your voice gentle but firm, "this isn't something that can be fixed overnight. It's going to take time."

He nodded vigorously, his tear-streaked face desperate for any glimmer of hope. "I'll do anything, dove. Anything to make it right.”

The sincerity in his voice resonated, and for a moment, you softened. “Simon, I need you to understand that we're in this together. We need to communicate and support each other.”

Simon nodded, a genuine determination in his eyes. "I promise you, I'll be there for you. No more takin’ out my frustrations on you, it will never happen again, so long as I live.”

You sighed, the weight of the situation still heavy on your shoulders. “Actions speak louder than words.”

He nodded again, his gaze unwavering. "I'll prove it to you, every day."

Releasing your hips, Simon stood up, his eyes never leaving yours. The air between you held a mix of tension and tentative hope.

“I love you, dove. I love you.”

He wipes his face clear of the tears, and you stand there, twisting your hands together. His hands brush over your upper arms, causing you to shiver slightly, but this time you don’t back away. You let him ever so slowly pull you in for a hug, and you reluctantly grasp on to his tunic. His arms pull you in tighter now, and he strokes your hair in reassurance.

You breathe out the quietest, “I love you.”

. . .

A few weeks passed, and the castle, once shrouded in tension, began to regain its warmth. The scars of those horrendous three days were healing, and your relationship with Simon has strengthened more than ever. The air was lighter and you felt like a significant change had occurred between you and Simon.

Simon had indeed lived up to his promise. He consistently showed effort in rebuilding trust. Small, thoughtful gestures became the norm—unexpected flowers, shared quiet moments, and the tenderness in his voice returned. The voice he has reserved only for you. You had moved back into his room after a while, sharing a bed again has never felt so good for you. Honestly, you were relieved. You didn’t have any doubt that Simon wouldn’t live up to his promises.

The castle had transformed back into a sanctuary. The sounds of strategizing military personnel were replaced with the hum of everyday life. The warmth returned, and the tension that once gripped every corner dissipated like a distant memory.

The conflict in the south had been resolved after Kastron’s forces were successfully able to defend the border. Their motives were still unclear, but Simon had put it behind him.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you found yourself in the garden. The air was crisp, and the fragrance of blooming flowers filled the space. Simon joined you, and together you strolled through the gardens, hand in hand.

“I missed this,” you smile, leaning into Simon’s side.

Simon tightened his grip around you, his eyes softening as he looked at the vibrant hues of the sunset. "I missed this too."

The weight that once burdened your relationship had lifted, replaced by a renewed sense of connection and trust. The garden echoed with the shared laughter and whispered promises of your love, and it always will.

Simon glanced down at you, a hint of playfulness in his eyes. “Do you remember the first time we walked through these gardens together?” he asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You giggled, the memory surfacing in your mind. "How could I forget? You were trying to plant the most random assortment of seeds during the off-season.”

Simon laughed, a genuine sound that warmed your heart. “I was nervous. I wanted everything to be perfect.”

“And look at us now,” you said, gazing up at him. “Perfectly imperfect.”

He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. “I love you, darlin.’”

The sincerity in his words made your heart flutter. “I promise to always be with you.”

The sun dipped lower, casting a warm glow over the castle and the garden. As you continued your leisurely stroll, the castle loomed in the distance, its turrets illuminated by the fading sunlight.

The stars began to twinkle in the evening sky, and Simon pulled you closer. “Let's stay out a bit longer, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nod, nuzzling against him.

You take a beat.

“I love you, too,” you whisper.

He strokes your waist, squeezing your flesh in his grip.

“I love you.”

- - - - -

(masterlist)

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme

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weasleyreidstyles · 25 days

Text

Serendipity

chapter seventeen

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. all characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): mentions of death (its a funeral), some fluff but it's mainly angst

series masterlist; previous part; next part

In the week following Dumbledore's death, the school had emptied out almost immediately – students were leaving via the Hogwarts Express almost daily and some parents would even apparate into Hogsmeade and meet their children at the gate to escort them home themselves.

No one trusted that Hogwarts was safe for their children anymore. Nowhere was truly safe. Not without the safety that Albus Dumbledore had always provided.

The hallways were desolate by the time two weeks had passed.

Your parents had met you and Hermione at the gates to the castle on they day of Dumbledore's funeral, pulling you both into tight hugs; unwilling to let you go. Molly Weasley had praised your efforts of saving her eldest son from Greyback, not taking into account how worried your parents would become upon not knowing if you were truly alright. Your father, a healer working at St Mungo's had demanded to know whether you should still be in the Hospital Wing recovering, but you'd assured him, and your mother, that you were only left with a few ugly scars.

Scars that you abhorred, but there was nothing you could do about the way they littered the skin of your abdomen. Mattheo had done his best to rid you of those insecurities, pressing lingering kisses to the marred skin whenever the opportunity arose. But the feelings still lingered when you examined the jagged silver lines in your bathroom mirror and in your nightmares where you don't save Bill, but end up worse off.

Hermione too, had assured your parents that she had come out of the battle virtually unscathed after they had turned to her with the same brutal enthusiasm for her safety. But the worry was still apparent in their eyes. You doubted that it would disappear any time soon. Not now that they are in the Order, and know just what you've been up to this year.

A few days after the battle, Hermione and Ron had found you while you sat in the library, enjoying a moment of solitude. They'd sat in the two seats opposite you and were looking at you with nervous expressions on their faces.

"Where's Harry?" you ask without looking up from your book. He was noticeably absent, probably grieving in his own way. Ron coughs awkwardly as Hermione shuffles in her seat.

"He doesn't know we're here, but we need your insight on something." she says and you finally look up at them, both as weathered by the battle as you are, dark circles stain their eyes just as badly as they do on your own face.

"What do you need?" You ask, voice quiet, so you don't draw any unnecessary attention. Ron reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled piece of parchment, which looks old and worn.

"Can you read this, and tell us what you think?" he asks as he places it on the table infront of you.

Hesitantly, you unfold the intricate little thing which reveals the neatest scroll of penmanship you'd ever seen.

To the Dark Lord, I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more – R.A.B

"What the hell does this mean?" You ask, looking up at them with the same confusion mirrored in their eyes. You give Hermione a look and she nods imperceptibly, prompting you to see into her recent memories. You look at them with wide eyes. "The horcrux was a fake?"

"And whoever this R.A.B person is, has the real one." Hermione mumbles with a nod. Ron looks between the two of you before shaking his head and taking the note to examine it for the thousandth time.

You sit back in your seat, disbelief marring your features. Had Dumbledore died for nothing?

~∞~

The actual funeral service was a long, arduous process. But it was truly beautiful, despite the reason for such a large gathering.

The sun shined brightly, even as it began its slow descent in the sky, sending ripples of dazzling sunlight across the surface of the lake, and it was so warm. Warm enough that you had to wear a sundress that had been stuffed right at the bottom of your trunk since you'd returned to school after the Christmas holidays.

It was held on the school grounds, near the Whomping Willow, surrounded by the cascading violet of the wisteria trees that surrounded the banks of the Black Lake, resembling an almost life-like watercolour painting from where you were sat. It seemed that every entity on the grounds, from the people to the flora and fauna, had felt the impact of Dumbledore's death and mourned it on that balmy June evening. Some of the plants were dull where they used to be vibrant; even the birds weren't singing as joyfully.

The atmosphere surrounding the crowd was taut, ripe with with the whispers of conversations that drifted across the assortment of seating like a strange, lulling birdsong. The attendees varied from young students to old scholars, most of which you don't recognise. But you can see members of The Order dotted about the rows sporadically, eying certain rows and glancing conspiratorially between eachother; you understand why when you see Delores Umbridge (and Cornelius Fudge) waltz up the centre aisle into one of the rows near where other Ministry officials, including Rufus Scrimgeour sat, dressed in a vibrant fuchsia pink cloak, a 'grieving' expression painted on her ugly face. They're followed closely by Rita Skeeter, her enchanted pen and pad at hand. The Order members around their row are tense and alert.

You took a seat closer the back of the crowd, beside your parents, dressed in a deep green sundress with embroidered vines of the deepest sepia winding up the skirt in intricate patterns with little bluebells climbing up the stems, to combat the stifling heat of summer, and your wand is tucked into a thin, onyx holster on your waist.

Ron had clearly forgiven you to some extent, evident in the way he'd willingly sought you out in the library over a week ago, but he was still wary of the Slytherins you surrounded yourself with; Harry seemed content with bypassing your existence entirely. It was probably wise to sit further away from them, especially because it was obvious that Harry blamed your friends for Dumbledore's death. You can see the back of Ginny's head, where she's sat with the Golden Trio about five rows ahead of you. Even from where you are, you can see how she grips onto Harry's hand for dear life.

You can even feel Mattheo's eyes on you from his seat at the very back of the procession.

Can feel the way his magic calls to your's.

He's sat with Pansy to his left, Theo to his right and Enzo and Blaise are beside them.

Draco is nowhere to be seen.

The five of them have received a multitude of looks from those surrounding them, and you would be stupid not to see the amount of Aurors and Order members who had ended up seated near them.

Just thinking about the fact that they were surrounded as if they were a guild of threatening wizards, when they were still students at this very school, made your blood boil.

They still were not trusted, despite Remus vouching for them personally. Only a few members: the twins, Andromeda Tonks and her husband, Ted, seemed to acknowledge the risk that your friends were taking by just being at the school. Even your own parents were wary. Especially now. Voldemort was actively gathering more support and wreaking havoc across the country – wizard and muggle world alike.

Despite all the eyes on him, Mattheo appears to be surprisingly relaxed. But that's only because you are in his eye line. Dressed in a pretty sundress, with your hair cascading down your back and shoulders in delightful curls that he has the urge to tug on. Only you and his friends know just how tense he truly was, surrounded by people he didn't trust; people who didn't trust him.

You look lovely. You smile at the warmth in his voice, body thrumming with the heat of his gaze from a few rows behind you. Discreetly, so you don't attract your parents' attention, you turn to face Mattheo, who has a smirk widening on his face as he takes in the flush that dusts your cheeks, despite the tension that sits on his broad shoulders.

So do you. You reply, catching your bottom lip with your teeth instinctively as your eyes trail the length of his body. What you can see of it, at least.

He's dressed in a suit of all black – no ounce of colour aside from the singular indigo bluebell in the breast pocket of his suit jacket, one that he'd conjured when he noticed the patterns on your dress. His hair is unruly as always, blowing wildly in the soft breeze.

Stop looking at me like that, darling. It's inappropriate. His handsome smirk widens with his smugness.

I can't help it. Especially when you look at me like that.

He narrows his onyx eyes playfully at you and you turn around before anyone can notice your brief interaction, exhaling a breathy laugh as you shake your head. His own laughter reverberates through your mind like a gentle caress, igniting a spark in your core.

Strangely, you can feel his magic like its your very own, even two weeks after it had initially exploded around you.

Neither you or Mattheo have an answer for it. And neither of you are in a hurry to share the discovery, for it felt far too intimate to involve anyone else.

~∞~

As the service began the merfolk, who had gathered at the bank of the lake, had begun a sorrowful tune, their pallid skin glistening in the sun, wirey hair spreading about the murky waters. As they sang their song of loss and despair, Hagrid had started to walk down the central aisle, his face blotchy and red with tears that fell heavily from his eyes. He was cradling something in his arms, or rather someone, wrapped in velvet fabric of the deepest purple, spangled with glittering golden stars. A cloak that many students had deemed as Professor Dumbledore's personal favourite over the years, as it was his most frequently worn one.

It was becoming harder to swallow as a sob crawled its way up your throat at the sight. You gripped your father's hand in your's tightly and he squeezed back.

At that moment, it seemed like all the warmth from the sun was sucked from the atmosphere, as a cold shiver ran down your spine. You couldn't feel the powerful allure of his magical core anymore. His covered body looked so small and frail in Hagrid's arms and you finally let out a muffled sob as he makes his way past your row.

You feel a wave of love, sorrow and care caress your mind, which lets you know that, despite the indifference he holds towards his Headmaster, Mattheo was also feeling the devastation that their safety blanket; the one who was supposed to help defeat great evil, was gone.

When Hagrid was near the front, you could hardly see what was happening due to the amount of heads that obscured your view, but you can hear the distinct sound of hooves on stone as a herd of centaurs make their presence known, but they did not move from the trees and their shadows. They were stood preternaturally still as they observed with their bows and weapons laying limply at their sides.

Dumbledore's body had been gently placed onto a table of pure white quartzite, that made the colours of his cloak shine vibrantly in the steadily setting sun. The tune from the merfolk reached a slow end and from what you could make out, a small Ministry official, dressed in plain black robes stood beside the table, where a small stand had been erected.

From your seats, you and your parents could hardly hear what was said in Dumbledore's honour and when he stopped speaking and took his seat again, a palpable silence swept over the crowd when no one else got up to pay their respects. It was like a brutal finality had swept over the courtyard.

Albus Dumbledore was never coming back. You were on your own in this battle.

Suddenly, bright white flames errupted around the quartzite table and Dumbledore's body, growing higher and higher, spiralling in pretty patterns as a pheonix flew amongst the inferno joyfully as if rising from the ashes, before disappearing with an abrupt flash of golden light. The white fire, too, had vanished with the pheonix, leaving a white marble tomb in it's place.

More cries of shock are let out as a shower of arrows soared through the air, falling like dangerous silver-tipped raindrops into a clearing far away from the crowd. The centaurs turned and disappeared without a trace once they'd paid their tribute; the merfolk sunk below the surface of the Black Lake promptly after them.

~∞~

"Well...that was depressing." Theo's voice was low, sarcasm etched in his tone. Blaise and Enzo rolled their eyes as Pansy openly gaped at him as passers by gave him looks of disgust.

"Don't disrespect the dead, Teddy." You admonish with a scathing look, that he only bats away with shrug of his shoulders.

"Oh lighten up, tesoro. We all know he wouldn't have cared for all this seriousness." He says, bringing you into a side along hug, ruffling your carefully done hair with calloused hands. You bat them away with an irritated huff.

As soon as you were able to, you'd made a beeline for your friends, wrapping a sniffling Pansy into a hug, comforting eachother in silence as you sent words of affection mind to mind.

Now the six of you are stood off to the side, ostracised from where many of Dumbledore's Army are stood, sharing recollections of Dumbledore's life. Harry, Ron and Hermione are nowhere to be seen.

Mattheo is a silent, imposing wall of stoicism. He doesn't take part in you're friend's untimely banter, and hardly reacts to the scathing, untrustworthy looks that are sent his way.

You send a wave of your emotions to him, love pooling over the anxiety, which causes his stiff muscles to loosen as you reach over to take his hand in your's. Unashamedly you press kisses to his scarred knuckles, running a careful hand across his arm, and thread your fingers with his.

His onyx eyes are alight with gratitude, as the two of you listen to Theo and Enzo bicker.

Suddenly your isolation is cut off by a woman who looks exactly like the one who subjected you to the cruciatus curse a year ago. Her presence makes you startle on instinct, but that feeling is overcome with guilt as Andromeda Tonks, strong-willed, beautiful, stoic and regal; a good friend to your mother and Remus, stands before you with warm, russett eyes.

"Hello Meadow." She greets you, her voice soft and low, matching the slight hauty expression that matched Sirius' with haunting accuracy.

"Hi Andy." You reply, your brows crease in confusion when her husband is nowhere to be found. "Where's Ted?"

"Talking to your father and Remus, I believe." She says, a gentle look overtaking her features that makes her appear youthful and stress free, but that look is gone in a split second when her dark eyes trail to Mattheo's hand, still in your grasp and up to his carefully guarded face.

"You look scarily like your father." She says and you feel the way Mattheo imperceptibly flinches at her observation. The boys and Pansy stop their conversation to form a solid wall of mistrust behind the two of you, faces resigned and stony.

She must sense their growing hostility because she relaxes the harshness from her face, replacing it with apology.

"I mean no offfence." She says slowly, face twisting with regret. "We cannot help who are parents are, after all."

Mattheo doesn't relax, but he knows that you clearly trust her. Andromeda turns to face you instead, that soft look that painted her aristocratic face when she first saw you, appearing again.

"I've come to offer an olive branch of sorts." She tells you. "Remus vouched for the all of you and my nephew during a previous meeting and I'm inclined to agree with him."

"Nephew?" Blaise questions and you turn to see that they all look equally as confused.

"This is Andromeda Tonks, previously Andromeda Black." You introduce her formally with a light smile on your face, and the recognition lights up on your friends' faces when you do. "Draco's Aunt."

"I do wish I was meeting your friends under different circumstances, Meadow." She says.

"What's this olive branch you mentioned?" You ask curiously, steering the conversation back in the direction it had been going in before being sidetracked.

"I'm offering my home as a safe house for you all." Andromeda replies, casting her eyes on your Slytherin friends again.

"What's the catch?" Mattheo asks, his voice filled with suspicion, his grip on your hand tightening with his growing paranoia. You sooth him unconsciously with a stroke of your fingers against his knuckles. Andromeda's careful eyes catch the moment almost immediately.

"We know you're already inducted into your father's regime, unwillingly." She says quietly, wary of Mattheo untrusting stance. "With Severus gone, it is imperative that we know what we're dealing with."

"You need spies." Theo says with certainty, his face twisting with barely restrained contempt.

Andromeda only nods once.

Theo, Enzo and Mattheo seem to have a three way conversation mentally before they come to a decision and it's Enzo who speaks up first.

"Who else besides Professor Lupin, know about this?"

"Meadow's parents, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody."

You stare up at Mattheo with uncertainty. Would they really put their lives at risk for an organisation that barely trusts them?

"Are there any other conditions?" Mattheo asks, stepping towards Andromeda slightly, but not in any threatening way.

"Gather as much information as you can, as safely as you can. And get my nephew and my sister out of that Manor."

"What about after the war?" Pansy asks, having been silent throughout the whole exchange. "Like you said, they're already inducted. If the war goes in Potter's favour, will they be pardoned?"

Andromeda seems to still at that, as if she didn't know the answer and suddenly every single one of you are on edge as you consider the possibility that, if the boys help, they could be thrown right into Azkaban to rot, simply for carrying the burden of the Dark Mark.

"After the war," Andromeda whispers, "there will be justice. But I cannot predict the outcome, and we won't win without your help. I know how Voldemort's court works, for I was part of it for much of my youth before I got out. What you're doing already is proof enough that you are inherently good, even if most people don't see it."

"But what if-" Pansy replies but Andromeda holds out one of her slim, pale hands to gently silence her trail of thought.

"Thinking of that now will not help you during this. You mustn't for it will dull your hope for a better future. Take the offer, my house is in a quiet muggle town. No one will bother you there and it's delightfully warm this time of year."

You each exchange silent but definitive looks before Mattheo nods towards her once and immediately the six of you are given the image of a quaint cottage that sits on the edge of a seaside town, seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

"Ted and I will visit occasionally, to make sure our house is not in disarray. Remus or Alastor will deliver your assignments on a biweekly basis."

"Where will you stay, if we're taking up your space?" You ask and Andromeda offers you a friendly smile.

"With your parents in a safe house of our own. With them working high profile jobs in the Ministry and St Mungo's and being 'suspected' members of the Order, they can't be living somewhere anyone can find them."

You blink back your surprise emotions at the implications of her statement. It dawns on you then. The severity of everything happening around you.

Their need for an insider means that The Order weren't as prepared as they wanted people to believe.

They were willing to send your friends to the snake pit so they would have a chance to save themselves.

~∞~

The cottage stands at the end of a winding lane in Falmouth, Cornwall. It's all cobblestoned streets and thatch roofed houses, surrounded by idyllic fields and the most stunning views of beach for as far as the eye could see.

It was certainly out of the way – the nearest village was about a thirty minute walk away.

The perfect place to erect a safe house.

The six of you are stood infront of the picket fenced gate, bags in hand as your parents, Andromeda, Ted and Remus finish putting up the final protective enchantments.

It's been a week since the funeral. In that week, you spent every possible second with your parents, who seemed reluctant to let you stay here. All week, they'd been asking you to join them in their own safe house; one accidental peak in their minds told you all you needed to know for the reason why.

They didn't trust your friends. They especially didn't trust Mattheo.

Now, you stand beside him, tucked into his side as Remus gives you a debrief of instructions for the boys' first task.

"When is the next meeting?" He asks Mattheo, head tilting as you all stand in the cramped kitchen of the cottage, your parents and the Tonks couple nowhere to be seen.

Mattheo opens his mouth to answer, but grimaces as the Mark on his forearm burns in earnest, warning him...daring him to answer. You feel his pain in the very depths of your soul, scrunching your face at the feeling that brushes over you, even as you squeeze his hand in your's.

No one seems to notice other than Remus, who stares between you and Mattheo almost too quickly that you could have missed it.

"I see." He nods to himself as Mattheo runs his hand against his agitated forearm. "Does this happen whenever you try and disclose information."

"Only with the more top secret things." Enzo says from beside Pansy, who has already found where the mugs are as she sips on a steaming cup of tea.

Remus is silent for a moment, as if contemplating whether or not this would even work, before he speaks again.

"At the next meeting, try and gather as much information as possible. Even if it seems meaningless – but only if it doesn't pain you." He says gently. Remus knows pain, and he knows how detrimental it can be for a person.

He doesn't want to see this group of young adults go through what he did, but he knows it's futile, and hypocritical of him to wish, for he's the one sending them into the snake pit.

"How's 'meaningless' information going to help the Order?" Theo asks with skeptical eyes.

"We need to buy Harry time." Remus says, but he doesn't divulge any further.

"Why?" You ask from Mattheo's side and Remus' gaze turns to you.

"You know why, Meadow." He says and your face twists in confusion before realisation sets in.

"He's going to hunt horcruxes instead of returning to Hogwarts, isn't he." It's not a question and in the way that Remus tenses, you know you're right.

"Yes, Meadow. But I'm afraid what they found wasn't a real one."

This, you already knew of course.

"What do you mean, it wasn't real?" Mattheo sounds like he doesn't believe a word Remus says, and one look up at his face confirms the disbelief in his tone.

"It was a fake. Something transfigured into a replica of the Locket." Remus pulls out a polaroid photo from his pocket. In the centre of the blurred image, sits a locket with a similar insignia to the ring that Dumbledore had handed to you in the Hospital Wing at the start of the year.

"That's not possible." Mattheo snarls and you take it upon yourself to push him into one of the chairs at the dining table, lest he try and launch himself at your old Professor.

"It is very possible." Remus says without a blink. "You see, in the first war, we had a spy. Only few of us knew of his identity but he told us that he'd discovered something. He'd found out about horcruxes and was going to singlehandedly destroy them himself.

One day he was scheduled to come to a meeting, to discuss any progress with his discovery, and to also give us more information on who was on Voldemort's side, but he didn't show up.

Three days later, his house elf, Kreacher showed up in my flat. He didn't even get a funeral."

Remus' voice was soft and desolate as he told you this information, eyes foggy as he relives one of the most traumatic times of his life. Your eyes are alight with realisation almost as soon as he's finished speaking.

"Kreature? Isn't that-"

"Sirius' family house elf? Yeah he is." Remus replied, his eyes glassy.

"Sirius had a brother-" you whisper, your voice betraying your sadness at the thought of the eccentric man.

"Yes. His name was Regulus Black."

~∞~

omg she's finally posted!😱😱

a few things...first of all i have 1000 followers!?! wtf!! thankyou with my whole heart 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

secondly...i've been revamping the layout of my posts but theres an issue with a couple of them (cough...chapter 16....cough) and it wont let me edit those posts but thats fine😶😶😶😶

anyway hope you enjoyed this one....the cliffhanger wasn't planned but then i liked how it flowed to the start of chapter 18 so hehehehe

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover

@thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony

@dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf

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@whatsupb18

#serendipity series #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle #slytherin boys x reader #ravenclaw x slytherin #pansy parkinson x reader #enzo berkshire x reader #blaise zabini #theodore nott x reader #harry potter #hermione granger x reader #ron wealsey x y/n #ginny weasley x reader #pansy parkinson #flangst #angst

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witchthewriter · 8 months

Text

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑶𝒏𝒆.

⤷ gender neutral, Valyrian blood (dragon rider), and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: I was inspired by @reiignonme, and I just HAD to do this. I'm so excited to write it. Also, I do know that dragons are aggressive creatures, but to their bonded rider, they're different.

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍:

・The God of Dragons, is what his title should have been

・But to you, he wasn't the intimidating beast that everyone saw him as.

・To you he was a work of art, a creation so wonderous that your breath hitched whenever you saw him.

・You show your love to him by laying beside him, treating him with respect and dignity.

・You hate leaving him on his own, but you allow him his independence.

・Never in a million years would you put him in the Dragonpit, chained and waiting for you.

・And in turn, he shows you his love by fiercely protecting you. He will fly you anywhere, and calls whenever he's beckoned.

・Only obedient to you, he doesn't listen to anyone else but you. However, it's almost as if he's level-headed and can be reasoned with.

・The other dragons fall in line and let him lead - which means you're the leader as well.

・His roar is earth-shakingly loud. And it can be heard from miles away.

・All of your subjects bow to you, knowing your power.

・Because we know, that a dragonrider has the same traits as their dragon.

𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐗𝐄𝐒:

・Is quite the adventurous dragon; she isn't one to be paraded around like Silverwing or Dreamfyre. She rather dislikes large crowds, preferring mountainsides and flying over oceans. She doesn't like small spaces either.

・Bonding with Meraxes was like bonding with a Border Collie - always has energy and curiosity

・But unlike Quicksilver, Meraxes is less energetic in a comic sense. She's more mature; more battle-worn.

・Will protect you unrelentingly.

・Hates sudden loud noises

・But loves hearing how much you love her and how much of a good job she's done

・Her teeth are smaller than the other dragons, but more pointed/sharp and there's more of them

・Her roar is also more high pitch and of a scream

・Meraxes' scales are pearlescent and seem to move in the sunlight

・Not many people know that, because she doesn't like being approached by others.

・That's why she isn't kept in the dragonpit.

・But she isn't as aggressive as Vermithor or the Cannibal

・You can tell that she wants a mate though, and often tries to woo Balerion - but he wants none of it.

𝐕𝐇𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐑:

・She shows her love by waiting for you to sit on her saddle before taking off.

・You have to shout out the command to fly and then, she takes off.

・You have a very special bond with Vhagar, which clicked into place because you would spend more time looking after her than making her fly.

・For example, talking to her, brushing/washing her, stroking her face.

・For those who don't think dragons understand - you're wrong because they really do. That's why some riders have a bigger bond than others.

・Some just see their dragon as an animal, as a beast. But those that see them as apart of them, that's when the true bond clicks into place.

・And you knew that being pampered is everyone's dream - or just being doted upon. So, because you put in the hours for her, she does the same for you.

・She obeys your commands without question, because she trusts you.

・But she doesn't like anyone else touching her, in fact there's a few trainers with burnt hands because of Vhagar.

・She loves laying in the sun, and will fly you to a beach to lay in the sand. Often you're chastised by your family for bringing sand into the castle.

𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑:

・LOVES TO FLY

・She's the type of dragon to be like, "let's go faster! let's go faaaaasteeeer!"

・Isn't as aggressive as others, but would rather be away from people if able.

・Hates being paraded around

・But will do it if persuaded with food and belly rubs (although most dragons don't like to expose their stomachs as it is one of their most vulnerable body parts)

・When you introduce her to a friend or acquaintance, she does a big roar and then huffs a laugh at the person's scared response

・One of the more docile dragons like Silverwing

・Has similar colouring to Meraxes, but unlike her, Quicksilver is smaller but nimbler.

・One of the fastest

・Can beat anyone in a race

・And she LOVES to race

・Has to be ridden everyday otherwise she goes hyperactive and will lash out at the trainers

・Once when you were bedridden for a week, she flicked a whole group of trainers with her tail and then let out the biggest flame she had ever expelled.

・Tail flick = I'm irritated, Roar = I'm hungry or is trying to scare someone for a laugh, Fire = she is actually angry, Baring her teeth = scared

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐁𝐀𝐋:

・No one is allowed to approach him, hell no one is allowed to look at him.

・He's an incredibly aggressive and temperamental dragon. One that hates everyone but you.

・Completely black, he's known for eating other dragons - which makes him an outsider. No dragon, no matter how mighty, doesn't feel safe around him

・Even Balerion keeps his distance

・You weren't sure whether to keep his name or not, since you did have an emotional connection with him.

・But you guessed that he like being intimidating

・You have to feed him yourself or he will go hunting for dragons or sheep. Hasn't actually eaten a person, but has killed many.

・As he's your bonded dragon, people are a lot more intimidated by you. Since dragons and riders have somewhat similar traits.

・Although he does like showing you his den. He looks at you like, 'it's nice, isn't it. Did you see the bones I placed at the front? Yeah...it's to scare people off...'

・You see him differently than others see him. You aren't afraid of him. It's how you were able to bond with him in the first place.

・There was something in his eye that you thought was vulnerability, rather than hostility.

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑:

・His favourite form of physical touch is being scratched, like, really really scratched.

・Vermithor's back leg will wobble in absolute delight

・Especially when you get to those places where he cannot reach himself

・Doesn't like anyone but you doing it (or anyone but you being in the room when you do it)

・He's a very private & grumpy boi. Doesn't like being woken too early either. And likes to have an afternoon nap.

・And an angry/aggressive one too. He doesn't like being woken up early, and once you had to dodge out of his firing line. When he realised it was you, he made a really long upset face (that only you and his only other rider, Jaehaerys has seen)

・But he's incredibly loyal, and would die for you.

・What's important to you, is important to him (unless it's before 8am)

・Can sense when you're overwhelmed and will let out a huge roar so no one comes near

・Likes when you fall asleep with him. He may like his solitude, but he doesn't mind company (it depends on the company)

・Actually likes doing royal processions because he gets to show off how big and scary he is. He knows it's too remind the people of whose in charge.

𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆:

・The least aggressive out of all the dragons (but that doesn't make her a formidable foe.)

・It's almost as if Silverwing understands that dragons keep people in line, but an approachable dragon keeps the respect and admiration of the people

・If she's patient and sociable with others, then you know damn well she has all the love, patience and affection for you.

・She shows her affection by nuzzling into your open palm, her eyes closed and you swear her lips are in the shape of a smile

・Wherever you are - standing alone, or in a crowd etc., she has her body wrapped around you; shielding you.

・And when you're alone together, she'll lay down and let you rest with her, and/or on her. Then, she'll fully wrap around you to help you warm up.

・She absolutely loves spending time with you. Funnily enough, she's a very outgoing dragon.

・She won't let you come into any harm though. Either because she herself has placated the people who could hurt you (the common people) by interacting with them calmly and gently.

・And if anyone tries to hurt you, she's the first to react. Although her temperament seems calm, she is highly protective of you and will burn someone to ash if they try to hurt you.

・When you're in King's Landing and the King demands that Silverwing be put in the Dragonpits, you sneak down to sleep with her. You have a very tight bond.

・Otherwise, she takes you somewhere else to sleep; amongst the grass, so you can fall asleep underneath the stars.

#witchthewriter #dragon headcanons #house of the dragon headcanons #headcanons #preferences #dragon preferences #witch the writer's headcanons #witch the writer's preferences #balerion #meraxes #vhagar #quicksilver #the cannibal #vermithor #silverwing #dragon dictionary #dragon directory

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itwasthereaminuteago · 1 month

Text

Of course I've heard the new Hozier EP...

|| Too Sweet ||

Frank Castle x reader

It's the blood wet on your skin that does it. His blood. It smears and taints you as you pull the knot tight and cut the final stitch free by the soft light of your bedside lamp.

He screws his eyes closed for a few seconds but when he opens them again you're still there, carefully cleaning the wound, wiping the blood away trying not to make it sting as if that kind of soft pain is remotely worse than what he's already endured on his grisley crusade. It's almost ridiculous, how gentle you are despite everything. How even in the early hours, you welcome him without question in to your home, your bed, your arms.

Somehow, you're able to lift the heavy weight of all his past and future and hold him in the clear simplicity of now.

You're putting away the bandages and needles, and now, as you apply the soothing salve of your kisses on his dirty, battle-worn skin, Frank can't cope. He doesn't deserve the honesty in your love. You give and he takes and yeah, he tries his damndest to give it back, but what he's got is charred, broken, and corrupted. It doesn't match. Its been so long since he's had something close to that, and he's only seeing this for the first time like some kind of fucked up epiphany.

He pinches the thick bridge of his nose as if waking from a nightmare, but it's the opposite.

Your eyes search for the problem, another thing for you to fix with your gentle touch and he can't stand it.

"Don't need to do this." He says, head shaking slowly from side to side as you meet him with a puzzled look.

"Frank, I'm not letting you run around bleeding out-"

"No, that's just it. You don't need this kinda shit from me. You've got your own life and things to care of. You don’t need this, dont need me."

He's acting like a spooked dog. You don't know where all this fear has come from so suddenly. You place your hand on his face, cupping his jaw and making him see that you mean what you say, not for one second letting him cower away and hide.

"What if I do need you, huh? You ever think about that? What I want?" You ask him.

Frank still struggles to meet your eyes. "I-I ain't no good, sweetheart... I've done things I ain't proud of, things you shouldn't even know about.'

"But I do know about them, and look, Frank, look! I'm still here with you."

"It ain't right though, layin' that kind of shit at your door."

To hell with that, you think.

"I know it ain't a competition, but I can be just as nasty. I can roll around in the dirt and get my hands dirty if I need to, you know that. C'mon Frank, I'm no princess."

"It ain't all that-"

"Then what? Do you want out?"

If he did, you definitely hadn't see this coming.

"No, 'course not."

"Then tell me."

He hesitates.

"You're too sweet f'me." He finally says quietly.

You can't help but laugh.

"Frank Castle, the day I'm too sweet for you will be the day I stop drinking coffee. And that's never just in case it isn't clear."

You catch the slight ghost of a smile picking up the edge of his mouth.

"I'm serious." You say.

You swing your leg over his, settling in his lap and hooking your arms around his neck. You'll make sure he gets the message alright.

"Let me show just how sweet I am..."

~ Please reblog if you liked my writing! Thank you 💕

#frank castle x reader #frank castle angst #frank castle fluff #ficlet

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secretagentsociety · 1 year

Text

loves makes people crazy

yandere dragon X madly in love reader

Here's another idea,a yandere dragon like all powerful and scary the villager is scared of him,the king is scared of him,the Wizards and pretty much everyone and their grandmother is scared of him but then there's you,you different breed of a human decides to see him for the first time and say "yes that's my hubby" and the rest is history

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• people often called you crazy, dilusional and others not so nice insults for being still not being married despite hitting the big 2 0 that and also rejecting the local lords and basically anyone who tries to court you

• now just because people say it doesn't mean you HAVE to follow it yk?oh but you did you played their little fantasy of you being crazy so perfectly people were honestly scared for your mental well being,why?you may ask

• well it's because when khum first arrived at the village (I say first but it's really his 100th time terrorising the village) you decide to whisper something that some people might have heard "he's perfect" you said eyes filled with hearts watching him scaring the sht out of the locals

• honestly you're staring so much he could feel you boring holes into his head,curious he looked around for whoever it is that dared to stare at him for so long and BAM! He saw you,at first he thought you're staring at him in contempt or anger maybe both but then you sigh lovingly and waved at him a fools smile placed upon your face

• he had to look around and points at himself just to made sure he even mouthed "m-me? you're talking to me?!" But you blowing him a kiss and winking made it pretty clear it was him,well let's say after that he couldn't help but think about you "what an odd human" he thought

• "oh my god haven't you heard?! The dragons visit has been so frequent lately our village can't keep affording the rebuilding cost!" One of the villagers said,you aren't paying attention but just hearing him coming back more and more made your heart flutter "I know it's a blessing" you sighed melting into the seat as you remembered the first time he talks to you

•well it happened,khum stood Infront of you folding his hand,what is his plans anyway?kidnapping a human all of a sudden,a weird one at that,"human,do you have a name?" He said

• "you can call me yours,and I'll call you mine" you said "how about the name....treasure?no too basic maybe clove?nah um.....oh darling?" he said tilting his head,khum never thought one day he'd witness a human visibly explode and faint but here we was

• it was a rocky start to the relationship,well...rocky as in everything was so perfect it's scary, here's the recap,on day five of your kidnappings you've opened up to how the villagers had been treating you(not that it's hard to make you open up,all he had to do was give you food and call you pet names while stroking your head and bam! you're dumping your entire trauma onto him) and oh boy was he not happy

• now despite everything he's still a classy dragon,he ofcourse had hoarse of treasure but he also had a pretty nice castle he may or may not seize from a royal you don't have to know that tho so moving on,and with a huge castle come servants and with those come soldiers who needs to maintain security,not that he needs any but you know he likes to have thing's completed and that including the castles needs

• now when his subordinates first saw you absolutely gushing on how cute he was they were absolutely shocked,because one he literally look like a demon ripping out people's heart and two this isn't some flower field it's a grusome battle scene yet you couldn't help but blush when his shirt got torn off,you even closed your eyes to savor the moment after a while

• khum really can't understand your fixation on him,is it like his love for you?but even then he acknowledges your weird behaviour but you literally looked at him as if he was a god,not that he minds,he gotta admit that day he kinda wore a shirt that's a couple of size down so when he does some movements that needs intents flexibility his shirt would rip off in some cool cinematic style,it worked,it worked too well

• so apparently his stamina had their limits he'd come to know it last Night after the battle,oh but the details won't be necessary,oh but don't be fooled if he were to actually try you'd be the one to pass out

• now is he dilusional?nope he knows full well that it's not healthy but does he care?nope he's a powerful dragon,are you dilusional?maybe?...idk...probably....yes?.... Well he is cute so I'll give you that

• he is possesive, but it's really hard to show possesive when the person he loved won't look at other people,you will talk to people normally but once he entered your line of sight the other people can forget ever having a conversation with you

• now for the big question does this technically make you a yandere? maybe..yes.

•i feel the need to say he is 100% taller than you, I'm sorry but it's just the rules 乁⁠(⁠ ⁠•⁠_⁠•⁠ ⁠)⁠ㄏ

• yes he has two pp lets move on now

• he had a way of marking you so other beasts knows to back the fuck off it's called biting,the first night you ever discover the chamber of secrets together(wink wink nudge nudge)he bit down on your neck,it leaves a pretty little flower mark that's imbued with his power it's very very very tiny teeny I cannot stress enough how tiny it is so it's safe

• now if you EVER even say someone else is cute then oh boi oh my,now I have established that he is jealous have I?,no?well too bad because he is,and his jealousy doesn't play nice,he will rip out the heart and torture the person over and over and over each time reviving them again and again and put a curse of Resurrection on them only to leave them in a forest of ravaging beasts that has lost their minds to be feasted upon and tortured until he sees them having suffered enough. ಠ⁠︵⁠ಠ Moral of the story? don't just don't say anyone is cute (yes not even babies) (he won't like k.o them but he will like curse them or sum sht )

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on that note good night people

#yandere dragon #Yandere X reader #tw yandere #yandere monster x reader #Yandere dragon X reader #yandere x yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere x willing reader #Dear god why is tagging so frustrating?#monster fic

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easy-there-leftovers · 7 months

Note

Hiii can I just say I’m OBSESSED with ISY,D!! Amazing work truly the best ❤️

I saw asks are open so I thought I’d slip in a little prompt 👀

Astarion and Tav have a bit of a spat at camp. Tav is trying to convince Astarion that ascending would make him just as bad as Cazador, but Astarion craves the power and the freedom. Tav, upset and frustrated, ends up leaving for a walk through the late night streets of the gate to clear their head. One of the vampire spawn out looking for their next prey find Tav, recognizing them immediately as Astarion’s love (and one true weakness) and kidnaps them to bring to Cazador. Cazador, being the sick fuck he is, locks Tav away and sends a note to Astarion that he finds the next morning, saying that he had Tav and that if Astarion wants them back he has to surrender to Cazador and go through with the ceremony. Astarion loses his mind and races to the castle with the gang in tow, praying that Tav is unharmed. Will he be there just in time to save Tav? Or will he be too late, will Cazador have already turned them by the time he gets there?

Sorry for the paragraph but this has been in my mind for DAYS and I would cry if you could make this story come to fruition ❤️

-🌸

Hello 🌸anon!! Thank you so much for liking the series, I'm glad that it's something that you enjoy reading! Also, I've decided to include @simp-4-astarion's request as they were rather similar in nature!! Thank you so much for liking my work :,DDD

In addition!! Just a heads up for people who'd like to request or send an idea in, I don't just write for Astarion! Feel free to include your favorite romanceable pcs (and non romanceable npcs lol) into the mix!!

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That night at camp had been fraught with tension, like a fraying rope ready to snap. The campfire crackled, the tongues of the flame dancing and flickering about, mirroring the storm within the heated pair.

Your voice, something that he's come to find solace in as of late, quivered with frustration unlike any he's heard directed at him before as you tried to reason with him.

"I don't relish it. but my," He pauses, wondering what he should call them. "--Siblings lured thousands of people to their death over the years. I doubt Baldur's Gate would miss any of them." He seems rather taken with the idea, and you worry about what this could mean for him.

"But we don't even know if it's possible, Astarion. You're hypothesizing that you become the Vampire Ascended at the expense of eradicating the other spawn." Whether or not they had done things as horrendous as your,-- gods you don't even know what you are,-- as the ex-magistrate, they did not deserve to be subjected to such a ritual.

He paces around you, ascertaining your reactions, and making quick work to think about how he could convince you

"And so what? I've obviously thought about it. If I completed the ritual, this evocation, I'd have insurmountable power. And--" He nears himself to you, practically whispering the following words into the skin of you neck. As if anything he said would etch its way into your skin and carve you anew.

"I could walk in the sun without fear of becoming a mindflayer. Don't you want that for me, darling? For us?" The question instills an indescribable fear in you. Not the same fear that's been riddling you as you wonder if you'd perish in one of your many battles, but the fear you'd witness when you lost something dear to you.

It's as if he's giving you an out.

Agree with him, and you seal his fate as the Vampire Ascendant with a sure place at his side.

Or disagree, allowing all those spawn the same chance he had been given all those tendays ago, and snuff out whatever growing relationship you had between you.

He senses your uncertainty. And he feels lost. He figured that you would be so sure to keep him at your side. Doing anything it takes to make sure it stays that way, but now you're getting cold feet with his blatant proposal of companionship because of what?

These monsters he's hunted with?

These damned spawn that represent everything you've seeked to correct about the world?

"Astarion, please, give them a chance. They were just like you once, give them that much."

At any other time, he would've admired your efforts to help them. But in this moment, he thinks you a fool who could never truly understand what it means to be a slave and to want for power.

"You did not know them. And you do not know me as well as you may think, my dear, if you think they deserve a chance more than I do."

He doesn't know why it all happened the way it did. The way that his thoughts came tumbling out of his mouth and only allowing the worst of things to escape him.

All he knows was that it had surely hurt you and that he doesn't think he's ever seen your retreating form look as small as it did as you walked towards somewhere in the city.

And that he wished he had remembered where they were. So near to where his consanguines and he used to hunt.

So when he and the others are greeted with a letter smelling of undeath, telling them that they had their precious leader imprisoned in Cazadaor's manor, he knows not to tell them about the little argument you two had.

Knows not to tell them anything to dampen their mood as they search for you.

Knows not to tell them that the likelihood he kept you alive was slim to none, now that he has Astarion's attention.

Once they had been alerted of your whereabouts, a clear ploy to lure him back to his master, there would be no use for you anymore. They don't know Cazador like he did, and he was sure that by the time they reached their destination, you would be no more.

Stil, he's willing to take any chance he can get to get you back. No use in proclaiming you dead if he hasn't seen you, and he'd be damned if he let Cazador take any more from him.

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#astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #bg3 x reader #astarion x you #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion x mc #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin x tav #baldur's gate 3 x reader

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