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#i’ve been thinking about this ever since i read the first two books a few years ago
heartless-tate · 1 month
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Notice Me! | Part two | Azriel X Freader
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Azriel x Freader | Part one
Summary: Azriel courting oblivi reader
a/n; Heyy! This is the last part guys! Hope you enjoy 🤗 also I really recommend looking up the meaning of the flowers after you read. 💕
content/trigger warnings; food, cussing, kissing, one or two use y/n, no smut BUT some lust and hints to masturbation, Azriel pining, Cassian being sassy, FEM reader (if you’d like me to make a another post with male reader, message me!) she/her pronouns for reader, rain mention and I think that’s it. If I missed something, feel free to message me on it!💗
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You are in a warm bath, infused with the scent of essential oils, a perfect remedy to the grime from your training. You shake the thought out of your head, cursing yourself. Azriel didn’t like you like that. Cassian kisses Feyre on the cheek all the time, so why did it mean anything different if he kissed you? It didn’t mean anything different. But still, ever since he had left for his mission you found yourself running your fingers over your cheek.
It felt as though your skin was ablaze, heat gathering in your thighs. You abruptly reached towards them, water splashing. Halting yourself, you felt a surge of guilt and shame. If Azriel knew what you were thinking, he'd avoid your gaze forever. The thought made you feel sick. You groaned aloud, resting your head against the edge of the tub. You longed for him, missed his enticing cooking and physique. No, just his cooking. You chastised yourself again. Bad thoughts!
Goosebumps arose on your skin. The water had become ice cold. You rose from the water, letting the air chill your skin. Your nipples hardened, and you wondered if it was from your imagination or the cold air. You quickly leaped from the tub, landing on the mat. You wrapped your towel around your body after drying your wet hair.
Your bare feet padded against the floor as you walked out of the bathroom, letting the house magic take care of the leftover water. Your room felt warmer upon entering, soothing you. The room smelt like musk and bourbon. Like Azriel almost. You shivered with delight, stepping to your vanity. You reached for your hair brush, looking into the mirror only to be met with horror.
You yelped in shock, turning to face the shadowsinger. He sat on your bed, holding one of your books. His wings were spread lazily on your covers. He huffed a laugh at your reaction, grinning. “That’s certainly not the welcoming I was expecting.” He concurred smugly.
“Azriel..” You muttered. He was early. And you hadn’t expected him to be here. “How long have you been back?” you asked. He smiled.
“I’ve been here for fifteen minutes waiting for you to get out of,” he paused, his eyes trailing down to your body, “your bath..”
You felt your face heat, suddenly realizing you wore nothing but a small towel. Your body was glistening wet. He looked you back in the eyes with a small smirk.
“Oh cauldron!” You squeaked, wrapping your arms around your body more tightly. He laughed, heartily. Azriel shook his head before standing. He laid your book down and with embarrassment you realized it was one of your more smuttier books. And by that you mean it was pure porn. There was nothing more embarrassing about this situation. He smirked at you again, before taking a few steps towards you. You notice there are fresh flowers on your nightstand now. It was a bouquet of red and pink flowers you hadn't seen before. You’d have to look them up in your flower guide.
“I have a training session where I plan on beating Cas’s ass, but I wanted to see you first. We’ll have lunch in around two hours, okay?” He demanded gently. You nodded shyly, unable to think of a coherent response. He smiled, pleased. He walked forward, and you hoped he would kiss you again. Just not on the cheek. But alas, he pulled you in a hug, his warm muscly body a hard contrast to your cold one. Your right hand held your towel in place, while your left wrapped around him. He shivered, and you figured it was due to your wet hair?
Azriel let go quickly and abruptly and you wondered if you did something wrong. He smiled tightly. “See you in two hours, love.” He whispered affectionately before turning and taking flight from your balcony.
He left you standing there, wet all over, confused, warm, and also shivering. You still couldn’t wrap your head around this feeling you had.
After you changed into a tank top and shorts you approached the flowers on your nightstand. They were gorgeous. You bit your lip as you grabbed a flower guide book, ready to find what type of flowers they were.
They were pink bluebells and red chrysanthemums.
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A beautiful sandwich filled with all your favorite toppings, sat in front of you. Courtesy to Azriel. You sighed, wondering if you’d ever be as good as a cook Azriel was. It was truly a hidden talent of his. There wasn’t something he couldn’t fix.
A warm leathery wing brushed on your bare shoulder as he passed by. He sat his food down beside yours before pulling out a chair and setting it directly by yours. It was now lunch time. Both Cassian and Azriel were sweaty muscly messes. Their skin glistened with pure sweat. And you wondered how Azriel still managed to smell like a god still. After you left your room, you spent some time enjoying the morning breeze and relaxing. When it came time for lunch, you walked to the dining area. Azriel was waiting for you in the kitchen where he made your sandwich and a drink for you. Every detail of it was to your liking.
Cassian, of course, stood in the corner complaining about Azriel never fixing him sandwiches. Azriel had knocked him in the face with his wing, shutting him up. Cassian stayed in the kitchen, munching on some snacks. He feigned not paying attention to you nor Azriel.
Both of your chairs were back less, as to accommodate for wings. Sure, your skin felt a little chilly in the air due to your tank top. But Azriel’s wing, warm from training in the sun, stayed on your back. It was comforting. Like a blanket that's been sitting by a cozy fireplace.
Azriel pushed the plate towards you again, motioning for you to start eating. When you started, and he was sure you were satisfied with the taste, he started eating his too. And, of course, everything tasted perfect. When you both finished, the house took care of the plates. Cassian and Nesta had joined at the other end of the table, talking to each other as they ate. You caught yourself admiring them- the love they had. That you felt you would never have. They bickered, sure. But they were so in love. You couldn’t help but envy them. If only a guy loved you like that.
Your thoughts broke when Azriel started talking. He had a soft smile as he told you of his mission. Apparently the queens were doing okay and hadn’t been stirring up trouble, so he was able to leave early.
“You didn’t starve while I was away did you? Next time I’ll drag you with me so I can actually focus on my mission.” He muttered running his hands through his hair. Azriel always spoke softly unless angry. Or at least you had never heard him get loud. You didn’t catch Cassian and Nesta smirking at you both. Nesta couldn’t help but snort to herself. You were so oblivious. You didn’t even seem to notice Azriel only ran his mouth like this when around you. He seemed so open with you and comfortable.
“Of course I didn’t starve- wait, why couldn’t you focus on your mission?” You inquired, confused.
“Ah- No reason, dear.” He responded. His pet name went over your head. Azriel bit his lower lip, staring at you with intent eyes. He couldn’t help but feel amused by your blatant obliviousness. Your eyes went to where Cassian sat across from you with his eyes closed, kissing and smacking his lips, like he was making out with the air. Your eyebrows furrowed at the weirdness until he stopped and pointed at Azriel, then you. Nesta slapped him and he realized he had been caught. You were about to question his weird antics before a wing blocked your sight towards them.
You turned to where Azriel had gotten closer. He used his wing to make sure ALL of your attention was on him.“I have to go meet with Rhys soon. But when I get back, we need to talk.” He said sternly. His eyes were hardened and your face dropped. Did you do something wrong? He noticed the look and smiled softly to reassure you.
“Wait for me here?” He asked. And you nodded, still nervous. Your hands came together to fiddle awkwardly but Azriel’s hands laid on top of yours. He lifted your hands and kissed the top of both of them. You blushed at the intimacy. He lifted his head, and ran a hand through his hair.
He stood, still holding your hand with one of his. The room had gone quiet. Like it was just you and him. He leaned forward and kissed your forehead. You felt the heat and softness of his lips as they pressed to your head. Your bottom lip quivered as you looked shyly to the floor. What was happening? You didn’t even know anymore. Your body didn’t feel like it was yours anymore.
He stood and winked at you playfully before heading to the balcony and once again spreading those giant wings and shooting into the air. You sighed to yourself before realizing that Cassian and Nesta were both staring at you. Cassian sighed and looked to Nesta.
“I’ll bet you 80 gold coins-“ he started, but Nesta slapped a hand on his mouth so he couldn’t finish. She smiled at you before grabbing Cassian and leaving you alone in the room, deep in your thoughts.
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Rhysand’s office was warmer then the rest of his house today. Azriel was filling him in on his recent mission. And to his distaste, that meant he had to be away from you. He didn't care that he’d be back within a few hours, he had already suffered during his mission. Being away from you- not being able to smell you on his clothes anymore, distressed him more then he cared to admit. He remembers worrying if you had ate, or if you forgot to eat again. His wings bristled at the memory. Upon coming back to you, he couldn't be bothered to care you had just got out of the bath. He thanked the Mother for blessing him with such good timing. You were so god damn beautiful, and if that towel had dropped- Azriel wouldn’t have left that room for a good fucking long while.
He had been too excited to even care that you were wet and only in a towel, he just had to hug you. But he didn't expect to feel his cock stiffen. He couldn’t help it, your body in his arms felt so good. You were so fucking pretty, it hurt. Azriel was embarrassed that he lost control of his own body. He planned on holding you for longer, but when your hand wrapped around his back, it brushed that sensitive part of his wing, sending a jolt to his dick. He had to rip away before you felt the growing hardness in his pants, and he felt so bad seeing your face of confusion. You hadn’t meant too. And you looked so hurt and you didn't even know what your had done. He cursed his body hating his lack of control, but didn't want you to think he was a creep so he left early to take care of himself.
“Az? Are you listening?”
Azriel snapped out of his thoughts and turned back to where his brother sat. Rhysand sighed and shook his head before repeating himself.
“I was asking if you could run to Velaris and pick up some medicine from Madja? Feyre has been having some headaches.”
Azriel’s eyebrows furrowed and he contemplated. Of course, he loved his high lady and didn’t want her to be in pain. But he wanted to get back to you fast. He needed your presence. Soon. Before he lost his mind. “Can’t you just winnow yourself? It’d be a lot faster then me having to fly.” He proposed.
Rhysand bristled slightly at Azriel’s slight coldness. He knew his brother, and knew he didn't mean it personally. Rhysand smirked. “Cassian warned me of this.”
“Warned you of what?” Azriel asked. ”He told me you get extremely pissy whenever you’ve been away from her for too long.” Rhysand spoke, with a knowing smile.
Azriel knew he was talking of you. His eyebrows furrowed and scowled at his brother before huffing. Before he could reply Rhys continued.
“It’s alright, we get it. Cas and I have both been through it with our mates.” Azriel didn’t respond this time. He shook his head with a slight growl. How come everyone could see his affection for you- but you? It was infuriating! He hoped maybe kissing your cheek would make you magically realize he had loved you, but it didn’t. Cauldron! How much more obvious does he need to make it?
Rhys dismissed him with his signature smirk, the all knowing bastard too smug for Azriel’s liking tonight.
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Azriel wasn’t back yet. And the sun had already set, leaving it dark outside. You wondered what was taking him so long to tell Rhys of his mission. In reality you were more worried of what he wanted to talk about. You currently sat by the fireplace in your room, letting the heat warm your body. You had left the balcony doors open, assuming Azriel would fly through there.
You had two candles burning, and a book open in your hands. The sound of pitter patter against the marble floors distracted you from your book. You turned your head to the balcony doors and sighed, seeing it was raining. the water was getting on your floor. You grabbed a towel from the bathroom, and wiped the water from the floor. You closed the door to the balcony, but leaving it unlocked for him.
You turned around, noticing the flowers. You smiled joyfully. It was nice always having a pair of fresh flowers, thanks to Azriel.
“Pay more attention.”
You remembered Mor’s words. What were you suppose to pay attention to? You had already dissected every single memory you had of Azriel, but you coulnd’t find anything in your mind that was out of the ordinary. You sighed, rubbing your temples. Nothing made sense anymore. You ran a hand through your hair, stressed.
You looked around the room before your eyes found the flowers again. You remembered Azriel giving you a book that had the meanings flowers last Starfall. Your eyes snapped to the floating bookshelf Azriel has installed in your room two years ago. You quickly approached it, running your fingers across the titles until you found the right one. You pulled the book out, grazing the cover with your fingertips.
You sat by the fireplace, flipping through until you found the flowers you were looking for.
A whooshing sound came from your balcony, prompting you to close the book and stand, walking to your nightstand and laying it down. You turned to the door of the balcony, watching it open. Azriel stepped in, hair wet from rain. Water dripped from his body onto your floor. He wanted slightly eyes latching onto yours. He held a small pink box that he had managed to keep dry. You briefly wondered what it was until he started to walk towards you. Determination was in his eyes as he walked fast, in front of you within seconds. He licked his lips, looking at your eyes.
Everything froze, and it was just you and him. Standing there. His eyes were dilated and filled with affection now. You didn’t notice him setting the box on your nightstand, never breaking eye contact. His eyes flicked down to your lips, before looking back up. You felt the tension in the room. His eyes seemed to glow more tonight. Brighter than the fire.
You looked back to where the flowers were and then back back to him.
“Why did you give me pink bluebells and red chrysanthemums?” You asked, you voice barely above a whisper.
Azriel cocked his head to the side, studying you. His shadows whirl around, some coming to play with your hair. The tendrils swirl gently around you.
“Why do you think I gave them to you?” He responded. His voice was roughed, but gentle. You looked away to the floor and shrugged, feeling shy under his unwavering stare.
“Answer me.”
You felt a hand on your chin, turning your face back to his. His thumb rubbed mindlessly at your jaw.
“I don’t know..” You replied. He was closer now, you could feel his breath against your face. It was minty and fresh.
“Fucking hell y/n.” He groaned, grabbing your hips and gently pushing you to sit on the edge of the bed. He dropped to his knees in front of you, head bowed. He looked as if he was saying a prayer, his head bowed in your lap. His wings were draped across the floor, and he was muttering something to himself. He held your knees, and when he looked back up to you his eyes were teary.
“Azriel-“ you started, only for him to cut you off.
“What am I doing wrong? Have I not made it painfully clear? I would tie my wings behind my back and jump off this roof if you asked me too. I would do anything,” He sniffled, “anything for you. But you don’t even realize. What am I doing wrong?” You saw tears beginning to form in his eyes. Confusion filled every ounce of your soul. What did he mean?
“I would jump off for you too-“
“No! You don’t get it!” He rose, cupping your face with his hands. A pleading look was in his eyes. “Look at me! Don’t you feel it? Don’t you feel it here?” His hand came to lay where your heart would be. Your felt it beating crazily. What did he mean?
Azriel closed his eyes, sending a silent prayer to the mother. He opened them again.
“Just notice it y/n. Notice it- Notice me. Please..” he whispered. You wanted to scream you loved him suddenly, but he probably doesn’t mean this like that. This is probably some dumb prank he and his brothers came up with again.
His forehead rested against yours now, and you gasped as you felt something tugging on your heart. Like gold threads weaving together. It felt as if someone had tied Azriel to you. Shadows whirled crazily around you both now. Your hand came to rest over his trying to decipher this feeling in your heart. His eyes peered into yours. And he closed them as he moved his head and pressed a small kiss to your forehead.
“I love you, even if you don’t return it.” He croaked, defeatedly. His eyes opened and watched you. He watched as your eyebrows furrowed and you looked at your chest and then back to him.
He let out a grunt of surprise when you smashed your lips against his. Azriel wondered if this was real. Staying still, as if not to scare you away. When he realized it was real- and you were kissing him he melted. He kissed you back gently and meaningful. It was everything you had ever wanted you realized. Why hadn’t you noticed sooner? You could’ve been kissing this muscly man a lot sooner. Only did you detach yourself when you needed air. Both of your foreheads touched, and you both panted for air.
“Mate.” You whispered to him. He smiled, thanking the mother you had finally felt the bond. He nodded in response.
“Mate.” He replied. He nudged you back against the sheets, gently letting your body plop on the bed.
“But I have loved you long before I found out we were mates.” He muttered, his wings flaring slightly. He climbed on top of you, straddling your hips.
You nodded. “I loved you too- but I just thought that, I wasn’t the girl you’d ever wanna be with.”
“I’ve fucking craved you ever since I met you. And that won’t stop, ever. I swear, you’re the most oblivious girl I’ve ever met.” He said. His eyes weren’t wet anymore. It calmed you, seeing him calmer. The shadows were slowly and lazily playing with your hair again. You peered into Azriel’s eyes and thought back to every single memory you and him had, and realized it was all love. You were too oblivious to realize it. He slowly leaned down and brushed his lips against yours, wings covering you both. You kissed him back with a fever you couldn’t stop anymore.
After a few minutes, he crawled off of you and stood. You rose, propping yourself up. He handed you the pink box.
“I stopped by your favorite bakery and got you a cupcake.” Azriel spoke. The cupcake inside was big- almost two times bigger then your hand. And it was your favorite flavor. Your eyes softened at the kindness. You looked back up to him as you lifted the cupcake towards him.
“Eat Azriel.” You whispered. His eyes darkened upon realizing you wanted to solidify the mating bond- and confirm it. He shivered but stopped himself.
“You sure you don’t want a mating ceremony-“
“Eat the fucking cupcake Azriel.”
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atlabeth · 3 months
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bleedin' me dry | luke castellan
runaway with luke ending here!!
summary: luke has a proposal. it doesn't go over well.
a/n: so um. obviously im a huge percy jackson stan ive got annabeth in my name and ive literally wanted to be her since i read the books in second grade and by virtue of being an annabeth stan i hate luke but i also think he is so interesting and so good for angst and i also love the pjo resurgence we’ve got going on here from the show!! so here you go. here's some angst
title from vampire by olivia rodrigo
wc: 2.8k
warning(s): fem!child of demeter reader. luke is his own warning lmao. pushy and manipulative behavior, not the healthiest relationship! and no happy ending
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“You know I love the forest,” you mused, “but you have to have a reason for bringing me out here.”
He gave you a wry smile as he squeezed your hand. “Do I have to have a reason? You said you love it—that’s gotta be reason enough.”
“I love it, but there are monsters here.” You twisted your free hand and flowers sprouted up a few feet away. “It does give me a chance to show off, though.”
You were in your cabin helping Katie clean up everything—it was the last day of summer and most of the Demeter kids had already left—when Luke knocked on the door and asked you to accompany him on “a little adventure”. Despite the teasing of your siblings, you bashfully accepted.
It wasn’t the smartest thing, admittedly, to find yourself in the forest with your boyfriend with a couple hours ‘til curfew when you still weren’t even sure if you were leaving or not, but you had your dagger. Luke didn’t have his sword, but you had been practicing.
It wasn’t like it really mattered, anyways—he probably just wanted to make out with you. It was far from the first time, and for all he knew you were leaving for the school year in a few hours.
He chuckled but didn’t say anything. You looked up at him, a slight frown creasing your brows, and nudged him with your shoulder.
“Is everything okay, Luke?” you asked. “You’ve been… oddly quiet.”
Again, it took him a moment to respond before he just shrugged. “I’ve been thinking, I guess.”
“About what?”
“Life,” he said. “Our lives.”
“Very philosophical for the hour,” you said dryly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” Luke nodded, “yeah, I’m fine. I just wanted to ask you something.”
“Ask away.”
“Have you ever thought about leaving?”
“I’m still deciding whether I want to go back home for school or not, but—”
“Not after the summer,” Luke interrupted. “Leaving camp. For good.”
You frowned, a chill running down your spine. “Of course not. Camp Halfblood saved my life, Luke. I could never leave.”
“Says who?” Luke stopped and your intertwined hands pulled you back, stopping you as well.
“Says all the monsters that tried to kill me last time I went home,” you said slowly. “Don’t tell me you forgot the dracaena that nearly got me on that field trip.”
“‘Course I didn’t forget,” he said, inclining his head. “I just think you’re good enough now to make it without this place.”
“Luke,” you said with a strained laugh, “you— you can’t be serious.”
He shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because if we leave, we’ll die,” you said slowly. “I barely made it on my own out there.”
“You’re more powerful now. And you won’t be on your own,” he said, tugging you closer. Despite it all, warmth bloomed in your chest. “I can protect you.”
“Luke…” You trailed off as he cupped your cheek with his other hand, bringing your gaze back to his.
“What’s the point of staying here?” Luke murmured, an unmistakable softness in his eyes. “Just so we can sit around at summer camp for the rest of our lives? I mean, it’s not like that’s gonna be much longer, the way Chiron tells it.”
“I ha— we have friends here,” you said, huffing another laugh as you took a step back from him. It was easier to think when he wasn’t touching you, when you were still able to sever the string connecting the two of you. “We have a life here. A safe life, Luke, where we don’t have to look over our shoulders constantly.”
“Not me.” Luke shook his head as he moved a step forward in tandem, and he took your hand again, his grip tighter this time. “You’re the only thing I’ve got keeping me here.”
“Please,” you said in disbelief. “You’ve got a whole cabin of siblings that adore you. You’re the best swordfighter here. I’m pretty sure even Mr. D has a soft spot for you.”
“Please,” he mocked, “you can’t seriously believe that.”
You shrugged. “All I know is that when you finally asked me out, I gained a whole lot of enemies.”
“Like that means anything,” Luke said.
“The kids love you too!” you exclaimed. “Their eyes light up with stars whenever you help them with their sparring. You’re a beacon of light to this place— where is all of this coming from?”
“I’m tired,” Luke said roughly. “Tired of the gods ignoring us when all they’ve caused is pain.”
You frowned, but he continued on.
“You’re telling me you haven’t noticed it?” he asked. “When’s the last time you ever saw my dad give me any kind of attention besides some fun-colored smoke? He ruined my mother’s life— he ruined my life! And our cabin is damn near overflowing with unclaimed kids. Where are their parents?
“Luke—”
He shook his head as he forged on. “And you can’t say that Demeter is any good either. I bet she makes your cereal tastes real good in the morning, but she’s abandoned you for your whole life.”
“Luke, where is this coming from?” you asked, your frown deepening further and further as you let go of his hand and took a step back. “You— you know I’m not a fan of them, but you can’t just go around saying things like this. The last thing I need is for my mother to— to smite me, or strangle me with vines or something because I’m not appreciating her enough.”
Luke huffed a laugh. “That would be the most attention she’s paid to you since she claimed you.”
“She’s a goddess,” you said. “She’s got more important things to do than send me emails asking how my day is going.”
“Really?” Luke asked, his eyebrows rising.
“Yes, really,” you enunciated. “I expect it. I consider myself lucky she claimed me at all.”
“Do you even hear yourself?” he marveled as he said your name. “Your mother has never been there for you, and you think you’re lucky?”
“Luke—” you started, but you couldn’t even finish as he continued on.
“Demeter wasn’t there for the year you spent feeling like the scum of the Earth because you hadn’t been claimed yet. Demeter wasn’t there for the childhood she gifted to you then abandoned you for.” He pushed forward still. “Demeter wasn’t there for all those sleepless nights you spent in the Hermes cabin wondering if you were ever going to know who got you into this mess.”
“Luke, stop,” you finally managed to get out, moving back in turn.
“You know who was?” He continued to forge on, capturing your wrist when you tried to take another step back, eliciting a shaky exhale as you flinched. “Me.”
You ripped your arm away from him, fire in your eyes and blazing in your blood. “Don’t ever touch me like that again.”
“I’ve been here for you since the moment you stepped foot into Cabin Eleven!” Luke’s voice rose, and you’d never been more aware of the dagger hanging off your belt. “Through every tear, every tirade, every godsdamned rant about the gods—”
You stumbled back, and your heart stuttered in your chest as your back hit a tree. Your jaw was clenched, attempting to stop your tremors trying to wrack your body.
“And you’re telling me,” his voice suddenly lowered until it was scarily soft, little more than a whisper as he leaned over you, noses nearly touching, “that you would still choose them over me?”
“If you do not get away from me right now,” you said, quiet and even, “what we have, and anything we could have, will be over.”
Luke didn’t move. “Answer me.”
For a moment, it was just that—you and Luke staring at each other. His chest rising and falling just so from the effort of yelling, his beautiful eyes devoid of any previous softness. You thought your teeth might crack with the pressure in your jaw.
“No,” you said. “I wouldn’t choose them over you.”
And for an even shorter moment, his eyes do soften.
“But I won’t leave my family,” you whispered. “Not for whatever cause you think you’re fighting for.”
And just like that, the armor went up again.
“So that’s the way this ends,” Luke said evenly, and when he moved a few steps back, you felt like you could finally breathe again.
“You know who I am,” you argued, though you couldn’t make yourself move. “My siblings are my family— my friends are my family. I’d never leave them.”
“Oh, I should have expected it,” he said offhandedly. His laughter was a cruel thing. “I always knew you were a coward.”
“Don’t you dare turn this on me,” you spat. “Why do you even want to leave in the first place?”
“Because I’m sick and tired of all the bullshit that goes on here!” Luke yelled. “We’ve been here for years, and what the hell do we have to show for it? A couple scars? A lot of near death experiences? Some deadbeat parents that ruined our damned lives?”
“I have a family that I never could’ve dreamed of!” you exclaimed. “I have sisters and brothers that love me, friends that understand me, and—”
Your voice broke for a moment and you swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing the tears back. Some of the fire burning through your veins had been extinguished as you continued.
“And I thought I had a boyfriend that was there for me.”
It was there again—his eyes softening ever so slightly when he looked at you. But then he clenched his jaw. “And I thought I had a girlfriend that was there for me.”
“I won’t leave,” you enunciated. “I’m not going to help you with whatever crusade you think you’re meant to lead against the gods!”
“You don’t understand,” he insisted.
“You don’t understand!” you exclaimed. “You’re ready to leave all of this behind, and for what?”
“I don’t want to leave it all behind,” he said. “I want you by my side. We could be something truly great together— can’t you see?”
Luke took your hand again and pulled you away from the tree, gesturing with his hand around you. “You can control all of this. The whole world is your domain—we’d be untouchable.”
“Luke, you sound crazy,” you said roughly. “Where is all of this coming from, seriously?”
“I just know that we can live a better life,” he said. “Together, without the gods.”
“Witho—” You couldn’t even manage to finish the word, shaking your head at the pure absurdity of it. You hardly recognized your boyfriend purely because of the insanity he was spouting. “Luke, we don’t need to leave! We don’t need to stand against the gods, or— or whatever this is!”
This time, you took his hand as you tried to smile. “We can make this work, Luke, and we can make it work here,” you begged. “I promise.”
“Things need to change,” he said, voice steely, pulling his hand away. “And they’re clearly not going to change here.”
“Yes, they can,” you insisted, your hands clenching into fists at your side. “I want things to change too, believe me! But going off on your own isn’t going to do anything for it. We can start it here—together.”
His eyes were colder than ever as he looked down on you, and you truly didn’t recognize him. The glint in his eye and edges you would cut yourself on and the insanity he was spouting for no damn reason. You didn’t know what in Hades’ name had gotten into him.
“All we do is sit around and wait for that hag in the attic to spout prophecies, and then Chiron sends some kids off to die, and then we sit around and wait to do it again,” Luke said. “The gods keep making kids and the kids keep dying because they leave them in the world alone— we’re practically grandparents here because we’re lucky to make it past sixteen! The gods don’t do a damn thing about it, and neither does Chiron.”
He shook his head as he stared right into your eyes. “You’re not as smart as I thought if you think you can change anything here.”
“So— so what?” you asked brazenly. “You’re just gonna leave?”
Luke shrugged. “I was always gonna leave. It just depended whether you were with me or not.”
He turned around and started walking, and for a moment you were fully dumbstruck, unable to move. Then something snapped inside of you, and you moved your hands straight up through the air. Vines sprouted from the ground and tangled around Luke’s legs, stopping him and nearly causing him to fall.
“You don’t just get to walk away from me after spouting this bullshit,” you fumed as you ran to catch up with him. “What in Demeter’s name has gotten into you, Luke? Gods— this isn’t you!”
“See?” Luke smiled, ignoring your question. “You are powerful.”
“Answer me,” you seethed.
He shrugged, that small smile still on his lips. “It’s always been me. Maybe you’ve just been too stupid to realize.”
“Where are you going to go?” you asked, ignoring his jab. “Not home, clearly.”
It was a deep cut, something you never would have said under normal circumstances, but his expression didn’t change.
“I’ve got plans,” he said, ignoring your jab, and he huffed a laugh. “And I guess they don’t involve you anymore.”
All you could do was stand there, stunned as you stared at him. It was cliche, but it really wasn’t him, because you loved Luke and he loved you.
He’d always been a bit spitfire, always a little sharp around the edges, but you loved that about him—and he softened those edges for you. He was strong-willed and caring and passionate about everything, and you didn’t want to lose him. Not like this.
You knew what he’d been through. You knew what happened to his mother, what happened to Thalia, everyone he’d lost and every reason for every scar. But you never thought—
Gods. You never thought he’d actually do… this.
“Let me go, will ya?” Luke asked, tilting his head. “Or else what we have will be over— or whatever it was you said back there.”
The vines receded against your will, like his words just connected to your subconscious. You stayed rooted in place as he continued walking away.
But then he stopped. Turned around, looked right at you.
And for a moment you were fourteen again, feeling alone and forgotten going into your third month in the Hermes cabin. Grumbling your way through sword practice because the excited camp counselor who just happened to be your age refused to let you sulk for another day.
It was days after your fifteenth birthday, and the golden sickle with sheaths of wheat had finally appeared over your head at lunch. Luke had lunged at you, wrapping you in the tightest hug possible, and looked at you with all the stars in your eyes as he congratulated you. He helped you move your meager belongings into the Demeter cabin the very next day.
It was the first time you decided to go home since arriving at camp, and Luke was sidled outside your door, making wry comments every so often as he kept you company while you packed.
It was him kissing you right before you went over the hill because he said he couldn’t keep his feelings in any longer. It was you kissing him right back wondering why he waited so damn long.
It was three years of the best thing you’d ever experienced, of the most steadfast companion you could’ve had by your side—three years of Luke Castellan’s love.
Then you blinked, and you were back in the woods. Luke’s expression had softened, but the brimming tears in your eyes blurred your vision.
“I really did love you, y’know,” Luke finally murmured. “But you should know that love isn’t ever enough.”
He was out of your view before you could even muster the strength to move again, and then you were running through the forest faster than ever before.
But when you reached Cabin Eleven, there was no sign of him. And when you checked the pavilion and the forge and the amphitheater and the training arena and every other godsdamned place, you were just as disappointed.
But by the time you got to Chiron and found out the chaos that had spouted in his wake, that he had wanted you to be a part of, it was much, much too late.
Percy Jackson was fighting for his life. Camp had been left in complete disarray. Luke was working for Kronos.
And the man you loved was truly gone.
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art · 1 year
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Creator Spotlight: @velinxi​
Hello! I’m Xiao Tong Kong, better known as “Velinxi.” I’m the creator of the webcomic Countdown to Countdown and have been doing freelance artwork since I was a teenager. I love telling stories with my illustrations! Tumblr was where I first got my start as an artist, specifically a small fandom artist as a hobby… and now I’m somehow here! When I’m not trying my best to stay awake in front of my tablets, I’m usually cooking, gaming, or sleeping. Sometimes all three, in my dreams.
Check out our interview with Velinxi below!
Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?
Yeah! I’ve basically been on track to become an artist since I was a child. I went to a middle school with an emphasis on arts and a high school specializing in it. I went to SVA briefly for computer arts but dropped out to pursue freelance and webcomics after my first year.
Over the years as an artist, what or who were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?
My biggest inspirations growing up were Yuumei and Shilin Huang, two titans on DeviantArt back in the day. They still inspire me today, but the list of inspirations has grown exponentially over the years, including artists, movies, entire art movements, etc.
What was your thought process behind the creation of your webcomic, Countdown to Countdown?
Well, Countdown to Countdown started as a passion project back when I was 15, in high school, and pretty depressed. I just wanted to draw whatever story I thought was cool, inspired by my favorite media at the time. There was a very loose beginning and outline, but I was truly just writing as I drew the story. That’s why I had to stop the comic in 2018 and restart from scratch the year after. Now, the story has a set story and a clear outline. It still has similar roots, characters, and themes of neglect, abuse, and escape—but I think the story is a lot easier to follow now. It’s got an artstyle I can actually keep up with in the long run. The origin of why CTC exists also remains the same: I simply wanted to make a story I wanted to read for myself. Which happens to be about two dumb boys with superpowers navigating a hostile world that wants them dead or caged—together.
Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?
Oh, all the time. It’s part of the process. Personally, though—I just have to draw through it. Every month on my Patreon, I have my patrons vote on a theme I have to draw by the end of the month, and I try my best to make it as interesting as possible. I draw quite a few—tens even, of doodles or compositions for each of these themes to try to make something that tells a story while still being aesthetically pleasing and clear. I think pushing myself like this helps with art block, really. I also do remember to take breaks and simply consume other media I like! It gets the inspiration juices flowing.
Advice you would give to an aspiring creator?
If you do one—your first webcomic should be a short, fun, messy thing. It’s not often you can get it right the first time, but you’ll certainly learn a lot through sheer experience. This goes for a lot of things in art, to be honest.
What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?
3D Animation. I briefly learned it at SVA, and I think that’s enough of that tech for me. I accept that there are some things that are truly beautiful if done right, and I am too simple and lazy for it.
What is your goal for the rest of this year?
Get Countdown to Countdown book 2 finished! And live HAHA
Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?
@yuumei-art on Tumblr, still! They’ve been a huge inspiration for digital artists and storytellers online for years. I have no doubt that many digital artists of my generation have been influenced by them, and they’re still here, making beautiful art and stories. It’s a thing to behold.
Thanks for stopping by, Velinxi! If you haven’t seen her Meet the Artist piece, be sure to check it out here. You can also follow her for more amazing art over at her Tumblr, @velinxi!
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m1ckeyb3rry · 23 days
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── THE GLASS PRINCESS // SEVEN
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Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.
Chapter Synopsis: You get your first taste of freedom from the constricting walls of the Earth Palace.
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Series Masterlist
Pairing: Zuko x Reader
Chapter Word Count: 5.2k
Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery
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A/N: hello everyone and welcome to part two of the glass princess!! in the next few chapters we will be learning more about princess y/n and how she met zuko/the fall of ba sing se :) thank you all for reading!! and yes i did make up an entire spirit for the #plot 😭🙏🏻 i promise she will have significance to the story later on though!!
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Although it was uncharitable, you could not help yourself from thinking that the only reason Long Feng was allowing your brother to keep that ridiculous creature around was because of its apparent resemblance to Quynh. In a way, it could be considered to have been made in her image, and Kuei knew that as well as you did, which was why he was currently leaping about joyfully, shaking you by the shoulders as if he were a child instead of a man.
“I’ve found him!” Kuei shrieked at you for the thousandth time. “I’ve found Quynh’s son! She hasn’t abandoned us after all, Y/N! She sent her son to me!”
“That ghastly, muddy creature is no child of Quynh’s,” you said, wrinkling your nose at the tufts of fur all over the fine carpet. “And Quynh never abandoned us in the first place. I do not know why you think that that is the case.”
“No one has seen her in nearly a century, and it’s been even longer since anyone found Quynh’s Door. If ever she was real, she left the palace long ago,” Kuei said. “Maybe she was never a spirit in the first place — just one of Bosco’s ancestors.”
“That is blasphemy!” you rebuked him. “Quynh is no Agni — she is a concrete spirit, not an abstract deity. If anything, she is far more similar to Tui and La, from the Northern Water Tribe.”
“Who?” Kuei said.
“The ocean and moon spirits,” you said with a heavy sigh, once again finding yourself unimpressed by Kuei and his ignorance. “They live in the Northern Water Tribe and allow Waterbenders to bend.”
“Quynh doesn’t allow anyone to bend. She’s a different legend entirely. You should know that,” he said. You gritted your teeth.
“I wish you would pick up a book for once! It was an analogy, you fool,” you said.
“It matters not,” Kuei said after a second. “I don’t know why you’re so set on this fairytale, but the sooner you give up on it, the sooner you can find the wonder in the real world.”
“By the real world, do you mean my chambers?” you said. “Or yours? Because that is the extent of the world I know.”
“I mean the bear sitting before you at this very moment!” he said, ignoring your pointed response and gesturing towards his new pet with a flourish. “You are more taken with a made up story than an actual natural phenomenon. That’s a problem, dear sister.”
Bosco the bear grumbled at you in agreement, blinking his large, wet eyes at you. And perhaps you might’ve been impressed by his sturdy build and elegant snout, but all you could see when you gazed upon him was a cheap copy, a faded replica that could never hope to capture even half of the original’s glory.
“Well, dear brother, it can’t be helped. Your pet will never be Quynh,” you said.
“Always bringing down the mood, aren’t you?” he said, rolling his eyes at you. “I wasn’t saying he was Quynh, I was saying he resembled her greatly. Anyways, you know stories always inflate their characters; for all we know, Quynh really did once look like this.”
You wanted to argue with him, but of course it would not be productive. Like the element he ruled, your brother was set in his ways — the only qualities he had in equal measure to stubbornness were cowardice and naïveté, both of which he was perhaps better known for. It was true, though, that when he gained a sense of conviction for something, he’d stand by it with a fervor that he rarely displayed otherwise. It was one of the few attributes you could genuinely admire him for, even if it was inconvenient at times.
“As you say,” you said. “I see no purpose in further discussions on the matter. You do not believe in Quynh, and I do. Neither of us can change the other’s mind, so we ought to just move on.”
“Compliment Bosco first,” Kuei said. “On my authority as the Earth King, I demand it.”
“You demand a lot of things on that tenuous authority,” you muttered. Then, you smiled at the piteous looking bear. “You truly deserve to be my brother’s companion. I am certain you are possessed with the same commanding spirit that he is so fortunate to claim.”
Kuei beamed at you. “Thank you. You can return to your room.”
You snickered at him. “It is appreciated.”
Only when you were halfway down the hallway did he shout in protest, realizing your thinly veiled insult. You sped up your pace, running towards your room before he could come and question you or make another demand — you did not put it past him to insist that you compliment his bear properly.
It was one of those ways you had to get back at him. You were ever searching for more, trying your best to needle the brother who was, whether directly or indirectly, the cause of your imprisonment.
Your chambers. His chambers. The hallway in between. These were the confines of your world, according to Kuei and Long Feng, who was his most trusted advisor. It would be dangerous, after all, for a girl with no bending and royal blood flowing through her veins to be wandering the streets without protection, even in a city as safe as Ba Sing Se. So although you had begged to at least see the kingdom which was your own, you had been promptly refused every time, the locks changed periodically and the guards rotated hourly to ensure they stayed alert to your movements.
Escape was impossible, but even in such a life, you could find solace: in your dressing room, a door would sometimes appear, a door which led to the heart of the palace — not the throne room, but the true heart upon which the entire structure was constructed. Quynh’s Den, the entrance to which was constantly shifting between the spirit world and the mortal one, was the only place you had for yourself, though of course you shared it with its other inhabitant: the great mother bear spirit Quynh.
It was there today. Ensuring that the entrance to your own chambers was sufficiently blocked, you did not even hesitate to pull the door open, ducking into the stone passageway behind it eagerly. The only light came from the glowing crystals overhead, but you knew the way so well that you could’ve tread it even with your eyes closed, so the dimness did not trouble you any.
It did not make sense for such a long, winding hall made entirely of stone to be behind your dressing room, but that was because the hallway was not truly there. The door was only a gateway to the realm in which Quynh’s Den resided, but that realm was somewhere else, in some intangible other dimension that did not quite obey the same rules as yours.
Time, too, felt strange in this place. You did not know for how long you walked; you never did. You could only keep going until the narrow passage opened into a large cavern, the walls of which were studded with the same glowing green crystals that the entire hall had been encrusted with. The majority of the space was taken up by a massive black form curled up on a bed of ghostly white moss, her head resting on paws that were several times your own size. You knew from past experience that if you were to stand right beside her when she was in such a position, you would barely even be able to peek over her nose.
“Quynh,” you said. Twin jewels blinked open — her enormous eyes were the same luminous shade as the crystals surrounding her, and they, too, shone with a mysterious, intrinsic power.
“Y/N,” she said, the cavern rumbling with the depth of her voice. “I was wondering when you would come again.”
“I come whenever you allow me to,” you said, moving so that you could sit in front of her. She huffed, tilting her head so that you could clamber onto her paw and lean against the plush fur of her cheek, which would be several times warmer than the cold stone floor.
“It’s not under my control,” she said. “You know my limitations.”
“Yes, of course I do,” you said. “That’s how it’s always been. I was just reminding you, so that you are not angry.”
“I do not blame you,” she said. “For not visiting. I know that you cannot unless the circumstances align. Rather, it is that I am bereaved when you are gone. It has been many years since I could say this with certainty, but the truth is that I miss your company.”
“And I, yours,” you said. “Though you should not feel too complimented by that. It is you or Kuei, and I am, as ever, irritated by him at the moment.”
“You should not quarrel with him,” Quynh chided you. “He is the only family you have. It does you no good to fight with him so frequently. You will be sad if something happens and those are the only memories you have of him.”
“I wish that you were not inclined to defend him!” you said.
“Whether you like it or not, he is of the same line as you. I love him as well, for that fact. I am bound to,” she said. You pouted.
“You ought to love me more. He doesn’t even think you are real,” you said. “I’m the only one who’s believed in you in decades.”
“A mother cannot declare favorites,” Quynh said diplomatically. “And so, neither can I. You ought to know this by now.”
“He’s found a bear,” you muttered obstinately. “It’s a disgusting creature. Rolls in mud whenever given the opportunity and barely knows to shut its jowls when it’s eating.”
“A bear?” Quynh said, one of her ears flicking with interest. “I did not know of any which existed.”
“I suppose there is this one,” you said. “He is a true bear; I have ascertained as much. He does resemble you, though it is in the way that quartz resembles diamond.”
Bear was not quite enough to encapsulate what Quynh was. Certainly, her form was as such, but she was in a sense phantasmic, and so ascribing a physical species to her was disingenuous. That was why you found it so grating that Kuei was frolicking about and proclaiming that he had found her equal — she had no equal. Quynh stood alone.
“It is unfair,” she said, “for you to hold that against him. If you were possessed with an uneducated eye, you, too, would mistake the quartz for the diamond. He cannot be blamed.”
“I would know,” you said. “Even if I were blind, I would know. The diamond possesses something which the quartz never can.”
“And what might that be?” Quynh said.
“I don’t know,” you said. “But there is some such quality.”
“Perhaps,” she said. “Or perhaps you are upset about something entirely different and are taking out your frustration on an animal that cannot help its ancestry and a brother who is known to be a fool.”
“On that much, we can agree,” you said with a self-satisfied smile. “Kuei is a fool.”
“Y/N,” Quynh warned you. You hung your head in defeat.
“I asked Long Feng if I could leave again,” you said. “I thought he was in a generous mood, considering he raised no complaint about Bosco being moved to the royal chambers, but he refused! I told him I would not stray from my guards’ side, that I only wished to go for a matter of minutes, but still he said no.”
“Did he give his reasons?” Quynh said.
“The same as ever,” you said. “Until Kuei marries and has children, I am next in line for the throne. As the heir, I must be kept with the utmost of caution, and the only place I can be safe for certain is the palace.”
“He’s not entirely wrong,” she said. “The world is dangerous. More than you might think.”
“I don’t think anything,” you said, though you immediately felt poorly for snapping at her. “I cannot even form an opinion on the city I might one day rule. What sort of a princess does not even know her subjects? To say nothing of my brother the king, who himself has not left the palace walls in years and is entirely comfortable with that! I cannot understand it. I cannot understand why he has no desire to know his people, the very people who love him so dearly as to accept him as their ruler.”
“Not everyone is like you,” Quynh said, nudging you as gently as she could. “And your brother’s past shaped who he is now. You cannot blame him for desiring safety when he was there when it all happened.”
She spoke of your father. You had never met the man, for he had died days before you had been born, so you felt no grief at the reminder, but you knew it was not the same for Kuei. After all, your father’s death was the only reason your brother had taken the throne in the first place; a throne which, at his young age, he had been ill-suited for.
Due to Kuei’s fondness for animals, which he had had since he was very young, your father had taken him to the zoo for his birthday. There, a wayward assassin of the Earthbending variety had sent spikes of stone into your father’s heart, killing him before the guards could even react. It was all they could do to save Kuei and run — the assassin, as far as you knew, still walked free today, for they had been too concerned with your brother’s protection to chase after the killer.
The zoo was shut down. The child Kuei was crowned king, though your mother was deemed his regent. Days later, she fell gravely ill. Giving birth to you was the last thing she did — she never left the childbearing bed, using the final remains of her strength to push you out and hold you tightly against her chest until she stopped breathing entirely.
One child there for your father’s last moments. The other, for your mother’s. Quynh was not exaggerating in saying that Kuei was the only family you had left, but your lives had been so dissimilar as to be entire opposites. He had his ministers and advisors to replace the gap your father had left in his life. You had Quynh to serve as your mother, in whatever way she could.
“The guards will be vigilant,” you said. “And anyways, even if I am Kuei’s heir, I doubt that anyone would have cause to assassinate me. I am not important enough to the kingdom. If I were killed, Kuei would simply marry earlier, and have more children, so it would be a net loss for any assailants.”
“You know that I am not opposed to it,” Quynh said. “It is your brother and his advisors who forbid you; I am only reminding you to respect their wishes, for they, in some manner, have your best interests at heart.”
“But I am dying of it,” you said. “Every day I languish in the palace, I can feel my spirit being crushed by the ever-encroaching walls. My only respite is visiting you, Quynh, but even that is not enough. I am still captive.”
Quynh sighed. It was a great sound, whistling and low, teeming with disappointment and worry and affection, all in equal measure. You rubbed your hand against her fur, waiting for her response, though you doubted it would be any different than every other time you had asked.
“You want me to open a door to the kingdom,” she said.
“Yes,” you said. “If I go alone, in the garb of a commoner, then I should escape notice entirely.”
“Alright,” she said. You opened your mouth to argue before closing it.
“Alright?” you repeated. “You’re saying yes? What about the usual rebuttals? It’s too much of a risk, Y/N, you won’t even be able to find Quynh’s Door.”
“It’s true,” she said. “You won’t have that guarantee, but of course, I can manually open doors back to the palace. The danger in this is that you will have to wait until I can open a door to allow your return, even if you want it earlier. As you well know, time is different here. I could open a door for you mere seconds after you’ve left, but that still might mean you must spend hours in the city.”
“I do not mind,” you said. “I will make good use of that time. But what has changed your mind? Why have you never offered before?”
“Something has come to the city,” she said. “I can feel it. There is a presence, or perhaps multiple presences, that can change the course of Ba Sing Se’s destiny — and, more importantly, of your family’s destiny. I am not sure, but I feel as if it is imperative that you leave, or else I will be depriving you of that destiny. And that unto itself is a fate, but not the one which you are meant to find.”
“Who are they?” you said. “These presences. How will I know that I’ve met them?”
“You won’t,” she said. “There is no way for any of us to know. Even they, themselves, may not yet be aware of it. It is just like that. You needn’t endeavor to find them; if you are meant to, you will.”
“I see,” you said, and then you leapt off of her paw, beaming up at her. “Then the only thing I will
“I hope you do,” Quynh said. “Furthermore, I hope you do not regret your decision.”
“I won’t,” you said firmly. “Thank you, Quynh.”
“It is my duty,” she said. “I am obligated to. To be sure, it is difficult, for there is always some difficulty when a mother must let her child go, but it is necessary. It is a story older than even I.”
“And this story is just as old,” you said. “That even when you let me go, I will return to you. Of my own volition, I shall return.”
“So you shall,” she said. “Go, then, Y/N. And return with as much haste as you leave, so that I may not miss you for too long.”
A new hallway formed in the walls of the cave, and without a backward glance, you walked towards it. Striding down the passage, you kept your eyes forward, knowing that if you turned around, you would see the stone closing behind you. You could not go back; it was not the nature of Quynh’s power. There was only one way to go, now that the decision had been made: forward.
All of the passages made by Quynh were the same length — barring the one behind the famed Quynh’s Door, naturally — so it was a trick of your mind that made the trek to Ba Sing Se seem longer than when you returned to your room from her den. Still, eventually, you came to another door, and your entire body shuddered in anticipation as you placed your hand on the knob, because this was the moment that you waited your entire life for.
Unable to delay for a second more, you swung the door open, taking your first step into the city of Ba Sing Se, your silk-slippered foot toeing delicately onto the cobblestones. Shutting the door behind you, you glanced over your shoulder to ascertain that it had disappeared. As you had expected, the wall was smooth and bare, giving no indication that there had ever been an exit in the first place.
There were people everywhere. You had never witnessed such a large crowd before; people milled about by the fading light of the setting sun, jostling one another as they rushed to and fro. At the fringes of the throng, two men with long torches went about lighting the street lamps, though they took their own time doing so, talking and laughing with whichever passersby that they recognized.
Another person might find the chaos to be ugly, hideous in its disorder, but you found a kind of mystical appeal to the hustle of the street. These were people who were living their lives as they were meant to, with no awareness of the simple freedoms and small joys they possessed. They gave no care to the idea that their daily lives were so remarkable to you, that their going-ons were the most wonderful thing you had ever seen.
You were too afraid to step into the sea of people, so you stayed along the sides of the road, admiring them, watching them, wanting more than anything to be one of them. But of course you were not. You would never be.
The door had spit you out near a small tea shop. It was not run down, exactly, but it was lived in, homey, the wood polished and the chairs worn. You opened the door to the establishment, but found it to be devoid of any patrons. There was only an old man behind the counter, sorting the change with toughened hands, though he looked up when he heard the bell chime announce your entrance.
“Hello, miss,” he said. “I’m afraid we are about to close for the night.”
“Oh, it’s not a problem,” you said. “I wasn’t wanting tea, anyways. I was just admiring your shop.”
“Why, thank you,” he said, grinning at you. “Though it’s not my shop, so I can’t claim to have any hand in the decor.”
“It smells so lovely,” you said. “It reminds me of a very beautiful thing, though I can’t name which.”
“Flowers?” he guessed. “Maybe a garden full of jasmine blossoms, their petals facing the moon, with a few drops of rain scattered about on their surfaces?”
“Actually, yes,” you said, amazed at his accuracy. “How did you know? That was exactly correct.”
“It’s the new blend of jasmine tea we’re brewing for tomorrow. My nephew picks the flowers himself, so that we can be sure of the condition of the jasmine before we make the tea. It’s the best way to allow the flavors to come through!” the man said.
“Wow,” you said. “I never knew there was so much thought put behind tea. I just drink it.”
“Most people don’t care enough,” the man said with a nod. “That’s what sets our tea apart. It’s only when you pay attention to the most minute details that you can ensure your final product is as close to perfection as can be found in a teacup. It’s a grave sin to think that tea begins and ends with the boiling of water; in truth, it starts when you plant seeds in the soil.”
“That makes a lot of sense,” you said. “Though I hadn’t it until now. Thank you for telling me. I shall pay more attention the next time I have tea; perhaps then I, too, will be able to understand its origins from a mere sip.”
“It takes practice,” the man said. “But no harm ever befell the man who paid attention. Or woman, in this case.”
“Of course,” you said. “But I should leave you to close. I apologize for bothering you in the first place.”
“Don’t apologize,” the man said, waving you off. “It’s always a delight to have a conversation with a willing partner.”
“The delight was mine,” you said.
“Do come again!” the man said. “Perhaps earlier in the day, though. I can serve you tea — or, better, I can make my nephew do it. I think he’s about your age, and he is wanting for friends. But don’t tell him I said that! He’s not aware of it quite yet.”
Your eyes widened at the thought. You had never met someone your own age, nor had you ever had a friend — Quynh and Kuei were your family, for better or for worse, and the servants never dared speak to you beyond the barest of formalities. So, in a way, you were alsowanting for a friend, but you could not tell the man this. Instead, you smiled slightly at him, bowing your head in gratitude.
“I should like that,” you said. “If ever I am nearby again, I will surely come.”
As the night stretched on, the streets began to empty — or was it that you were wandering further and further away from the main crossroads? Regardless, there was certainly a shift in the air, and it was only when you entered a deserted neighborhood that you realized there had been footsteps following you for quite some time now.
Turning around, you saw no one. The streets were devoid of life. The footsteps had stopped, but you could not help the nagging feeling that something was wrong.
Where was the door? It had been long enough — you should’ve been able to find it by now. You should’ve been able to go home by now. But there was no door. You were alone, and you suddenly understood why you had been forbidden from leaving the palace.
“Who goes there?” you said. “I — I am armed, so show yourself, but proceed with caution!”
“Armed?” a voice said. “Don’t fool yourself, your royal highness. Everyone knows you aren’t armed.”
“Your royal — how do you know who I am?” you called out. “Coward! You dare to hide in the shadows and hurl such insults at me?”
Your response was an enormous boulder shooting towards you. You squealed and dropped to the ground, covering your head with your hands as the boulder smashed into the wall behind you, bits of rubble raining down. There was a stinging pain on your knee, and you frowned as you realized that you had scraped it when you had initially dodged.
“What are you doing?” you said. “You will kill me! Stop it! You craven hound, I command you to stop what you are doing and face me like a man! If you cease your actions and explain yourself at once, I shan’t have you put to death. I will even pardon you of your every crime!”
Again, no response, and your heart dropped as you realized that might be his goal. What other reason would the man, who apparently knew your identity, have for attacking you? It was unfathomable, but you were reminded that it had not been so long since your father had been assassinated. Whatever sentiments had driven that attack…what if you had been wrong? What if you were, for whatever reason, the target for the next assassination?
It reminded you of a story, one you had read on the tenth anniversary of your father’s death. You thought it might comfort you, or more specifically your brother, to read the tale of another king who had been assassinated but whose reign had continued on regardless; in truth, though, only one quote had stuck with you, and this quote was neither comforting nor kind.
Sometimes, these things just happen, it had said. Kings are murdered. There isn’t always an explanation. Sometimes, the only reason is the action itself. Sometimes, people just kill for the spectacle of killing.
Maybe that was the case. Maybe you were just going to be killed for the spectacle. The show. The king’s beloved sister, murdered in his own city, the safest city in the entire world.
Right when the second boulder was about to hit you, there was a metallic sound, and then something sliced through the boulder, cutting it in half before it could reach you. When you looked up, there was a man in black standing in front of you, twin blades held in each hand, his posture confident but wary.
“Who are you?” you said. The man did not respond, scanning the area. He must’ve determined it to be safe, as abruptly, he relaxed his stance, sheathing the swords and then shifting to face you.
You could not stop yourself from yelping. Instead of a face, there was a blue mask regarding you, frozen in a grotesque grin, though when you got over your initial surprise, you realized you recognized the guise.
“The Blue Spirit?” you said. He nodded. “I’ve read the play, but I didn’t realize that you were — that you were a real being!”
The Blue Spirit was motionless in the wake of your words. Or, no, that was not correct. It was not that he was motionless, but that every part of his body was constantly shifting and changing, on high alert, so that the sum total was a man that was both ever at rest yet ever moving.
You pulled yourself to your feet, careful not to hurt yourself on the scattered stones surrounding you both, and just then, right behind you, a door appeared. You laughed ruefully at the ironic timing.
“What were you doing here, anyways?” you said. He mimed opening his hand; you did so, your palm facing the sky, though you had no idea what he planned to do with it. But he had saved you, so you thought that there was no harm in trusting him for a moment longer.
He did not do anything as dramatic as grabbing it or carving his name into it. He just dropped something into it, something soft and light and white.
Jasmine flowers. The delicate cups of the blooms were opened, seeking out the moon, and twinkling in the starlight against the silky fibers of the petals were a few drops of water — holdovers, you assumed, from the day’s rainfall.
You closed your fingers over the flowers, careful not to crush them in your fist. You did not know what they meant — an offering? A price? Something else entirely? Regardless, you knew that they were important, and you vowed to reread the story of the Blue Spirit once you returned home, so that you could understand their significance.
“Thank you,” you said. “For the flowers, and also for rescuing me. If we should ever meet again, then I will thank you in a better way, but for now, I have to go. The longer I linger here, the more danger the two of us are put in.”
Opening the door, you took a step in, but before you closed it, you looked over your shoulder, back at where the Blue Spirit had stood. That strange person…you owed him your life. The least you could do was look back at him, afford him a final glance before you sealed yourself away entirely.
When you turned, though, he was already gone. The only proof that he had ever been there in the first place was the flowers in your hand, the pluming dust in the air, and the heart which steadily beat in your chest — that beat which meant you were still alive, at least for now.
You did not stand there and mourn his absence. Allowing the door to swing shut and the passageway to close behind you, you began to walk home.
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taglist (comment/send an ask/dm to be added): @rinisfruity14 @c4ttheart
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deathbecomesthem · 3 months
Text
+18 ONLY
Eddie Munson x Reader smut | ~1K
*This reader has a vagina.
He doesn’t know, he can’t. How can anyone outside of the skin you’re living in understand the way that you feel. An ache? A desire? A bottomless pit of hunger? True, true, and true - but it doesn’t scratch the surface of the thing that blossoms inside of your gut when you see his face. There is a place inside of you that opened up when his fingers first touched your skin, a wound that doesn’t heal. This love is raw, it is pain, and there is no balm to heal it.
“What are you thinking about?” Eddie’s been quiet for the last hour, nose in The Talisman. You’ve been sitting on the other side of the sofa with your feet curled underneath your ass. Watching the way his eyes scan the page. Watching the way his brow wrinkles every so often. You think you’ll have to read the book too, try to find those places that make him look so concerned.
“I’m just thinking about you.” You tell him, honestly. It’s a new thing, being able to tell him the truth about these things. A few weeks ago, you’d feel heat rise up in your cheeks at that question, and stumble over a response. Not now, not since you’ve been sharing a bed with him.
Eddie closes the book, careful to keep a finger on the page where he left the story. “Me? And what about me, pray tell, has your mind so occupied?” Eddie asks with a shy smile on his face. You can see a bit of pink spread across the bridge of his nose, and his eyes are looking at your shoulders. 
You didn’t know how shy he could be. It’s not something you would have guessed about him - that desperate and sweet way he needs to hear the sweet words from you. The way he blushes when you tell him how pretty he is. It’s a shot through your heart every time, thinking that he’s never heard these things about himself before you told him.
“I was thinking,” you uncurl your body and set your water down on the table at your side, “that your face is the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen. Sometimes I wonder if you’re real.” Eddie dog ears the page hastily, and tossed the book on the floor next to him eagerly. 
“I’m real. I’m very, very real. Why don’t you come over here and find out, hm?” Eddie’s voice is low. Your body responds to the change, a ripple of desire moves through your gut. “You, on the other hand, might be an elaborate fantasy my brain conjured up.”
You crawl up him, careful to keep your eyes focused on him. Now, he’s focused on your face, not averting his eyes from your own. You let your knee press into the space between his legs and feel the heat of him. You feel him twitch at your contact between two sets of denim jeans. That place inside you, that wound, begins to bleed. 
“Do I feel real to you? Show me how real this can be, Eddie. I need you.” You hear the need in your own voice, and wonder where it comes from. You wonder what it is about this man, warm and firm under your body, that makes you ache this way. 
You wonder if there will ever be a time when you can look at him without feeling that need creep up your throat. As if answering that private thought, Eddie’s lips are on your neck, his lips, tongue, and teeth almost touching that urgent feeling. It’s a blur of arms and legs, of jeans and shirts, of underwear and socks. 
His mouth against your lips, on your nipples, against your cunt. You’re trying to feel it all, but it moves so fast. The aching need within both of you directing this thing. As it always does. You’ve wondered more than once if there will ever be a time when time will slow down enough for the both of you to spend the time learning your bodies. But not tonight. Not now. Now, there’s one thing that you need. You’re pulling his hair, hard enough for his face to disconnect from your wet cunt. His lips are swollen and pink, and you throb at the sight.
He looks at you, he sees the need on your face. He moves a finger up and down your slit, letting it dance over that hard nub with each stroke. “What do you need, hm? You don’t want my mouth?” He asks, eyebrows pinched. 
“I need you inside of me.” You tell him, and two of his fingers push their way into you. Your body rocks down to meet him. His thumb brushes against your clit, a ghost of a touch where you need him the most. “Please.” You rock down again to meet a thrust of his fingers.
“You’re so fucking beautiful like this.” Eddie removes his fingers from inside of you, and he brings them to your mouth, “taste yourself, Baby.”
You do, you taste yourself on his fingers. You run your tongue between his fingers. It’s familiar and pleasant. You can feel Eddie’s cock throb against your thigh at the sight of you sucking on his fingers, and it’s a swift movement. He’s between your legs, forehead pressed against your own.
You open for him easily, he fits inside of you like a key turning in a lock. That gash inside your soul bleeds freely while your hips rock together. Your fingers are digging into the meat of his ass while he digs deeper and deeper. His cock searching for that place inside. This is where you belong, this is what your body was made for. 
If the world could stop, if time could freeze, this is where you would happily spend eternity. Foreheads together, eyes on eyes, bodies fused reaching and searching for something that can never be touched. 
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evanpeterswhoresblog · 2 months
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Cherry Bomb (pt. 2)
James Potter x f!reader, Sirius Black x f!reader (mentioned)
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warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, oral (male receiving), oral (female receiving), switch james? brief fingering, heavy making out, i love this smut w my heart
summary: you proceed with the second part of your plan. james potter.
word count: 2.4k
a/n: i’m so bad at writing summaries i’m sorry, i promise it’s worth it lol. i suppose this could be a stand off but i like reading them in order. hope you enjoy :) also ps if there’s any mistakes i’m sorry grammarly told me it was fine but i don’t fully trust that hoe smh
~~~
James Potter was a different story. He thought of himself as a gentleman though not many seventeen-year-olds were gentlemen. He thought this solely because he was nothing like his best mate. He had to at least know a girl's name before taking her to bed. Though, he typically liked to know a bit more than just that. So, in order to shag James Potter, one must abide by a few more rules than with dear Sirius Black. One, she must be friendly. Two, she must have some knowledge of quidditch. Three, she must be willing to stroke his massive ego despite how humiliating it may be. And four, the most important rule, she must be ready to play along with his games. Because James Potter was a chaser in all senses. And oh, how he loved a good chase.
~~~
You peak around the corner of one of the hallways, a bit out of breath. You just ran down a few flights of stairs to get here. For a few seconds you search the hallway, then he appears. He’s alone. Good.
It’s been two weeks since your night with Sirius, and it hasn’t been easy. You regret your whole show of making him remember your name, it’s caused more harm than good. But it felt good in the moment, it felt more than good. Shagging Sirius all together became your best shag the second he pressed you against the wall and kissed you till you were out of breath. You regret picking him first. In retrospect though, you had no idea how much he’d care for a second time. He’s always been known as a one-nighter. It’s been hard having to deny him, and it’s been hard convincing him that he has you mistaken for another girl. But you’ve managed.
You feel bad about it, but you try not to pay it much mind as the second part of your plan is about to begin.
You clutch your books to your chest and begin to walk down the hallway, your face down. You know what his shoes look like. So, when they begin to come closer you loosen your grip on your books and shift your body ever so slightly so that you’re in his way. Inevitably, the two of you bump into each other, and your books quickly fall to the floor.
“Shit,” you say as you fall to your knees to start gathering your things.
“Sorry love, didn’t see you there. Let me help,” he replies, crouching down in front of you.
You look at him. “Oh, it’s alright, I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Me either.” He laughs, handing you one of your papers. His eyes linger on yours. “I think I know you.”
“I doubt it.”
“No, I do. You’re the girl my mate Sirius thinks he shagged.”
You look away, pretending to be flustered. “I don’t know why he’s so set on me. I mean, I was at that party, but I went back to my dorm with my friend. And I think I’d remember a night with him you know, with his reputation.”
“Yeah, I dunno, he tends to get hammered and forget a lot,” he says. You look back at him and watch as he runs one of his hands through his dark curls. A habit of his. “I’m sure he’ll stop bothering you soon enough.”
“Yes, when the next girl is in his bed,” you reply. The two of you share a laugh and you pick up your last paper. You hold them close to your chest and stand, he follows. “Well thanks for helping, you’re very kind.”
He smiles that brilliant smile of his. “It’s only right.”
You return the smile. “I’ve got to get to class thanks again James.”
“You know my name? Are you one of my adoring fans?”
He’s smirking now, his arms folded across his chest. His ego is taking over. Perfect.
You shyly look down for a few seconds before meeting his eyes again. “Isn’t everyone a fan of the famous chaser from Gryffindor?”
“You’d be surprised how many aren’t.”
“Well, that lot must simply consist of fools.” You look down at your watch. “Seems I’m going to be a bit late to history of magic. ‘Suppose it’s alright, I don’t care for it much anyway. But I best be going, wouldn’t want to keep you from your class.”
“That’s quite kind of you y/n,” he says.
You raise a brow. “Oh? Do you happen to be one of my adoring fans?”
“Perhaps, or perhaps Sirius has been talking our ears off about you.”
“I think I like the first answer better.”
He smirks. “I see. It was nice running into you then. Literally.”
“Yes, it was.” You step past him, your eyes lingering on him for a few more seconds. “Goodbye then James.”
“Goodbye y/n.”
You leave fast with a smile on your face.
Phase one is complete.
~~~
For the next two weeks, you have more of those run ins with James. Each time having a different reaction. Some end in a sweet goodbye, some end with you barely acknowledging him at all, and some end in a quick walk through the halls together. You know how it messes with his head. One day you’re a girl who strokes his ego with flattering compliments, and another day you brush past him as if he doesn’t exist. By the sixth encounter, you relish in the knowledge that he’s starting to bump into you. Not the other way around.
“I’m starting to get Sirius. I suppose he wishes it was you that he shagged.”
The two of you are walking alone, not another person is in the hall. You look up at him, your cheeks flushing when you find him already looking down at you. He runs his hand through his hair. You hate how it makes your stomach fill with butterflies. You turn your head away.
“I don’t know why he would wish that with me.”
“I could name a few reasons,” he says.
You’ve stopped walking at this point. You turn your body to face him, another shy smile on your face. James Potter is such a charmer. You’ve known this. Yet his words affect you as if you have no idea about his reputation of being a flirt.
This is bad, you think.
It’s been hard enough resisting the urge to take Sirius up on another night together, even harder keeping up the lie that it never happened. You should stop this before it gets any worse, you know that. However, from the look James is giving you, you know you won't be able to stop this no matter how hard you try.
“Yeah?” You eventually challenge. “What reasons might those be Mr. Potter?”
“For starters, you are incredibly fit.” You watch his eyes trail up and down your body for a few seconds before returning to yours. “You’re kind, you’re funny, you make your interest noticeable, but you aren’t desperate.”
“I never claimed to be interested in you though, that’s an assumption.” You point out.
He takes a step closer to you, your breath catches in your throat. “So, if I were to, I dunno, snog you right now, you wouldn’t be pleased?”
Despite everything in your head screaming at you to snap out of it and push him away for the plan's sake, you can’t. No matter how hard you plan it seems that James Potter’s charm outdoes it. You don’t dare to move a muscle.
“I’m not sure, you might have to test and see.”
He takes another step. “I don’t want to be hexed though, if this experiment ends in the possibility of you not liking it.”
You take a step forward. The two of you are so close you can practically feel the heat radiating off his body.
“Probability and possibility are different you know.”
He lifts one of his hands to your chin, tilting it up ever so slightly. “So, it’s a possibility that you’ll push me off and hex me, and it’s a probability that you’ll...”
“Snog you harder.”
“Well, I suppose I’ll take my chances then.”
He begins to lean his head down, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning yours up, meeting him halfway. The first few seconds are gentle. You like how soft his lips are, how you can taste the mint chap stick on them. But once that initial new feeling fades so does the gentleness.
Within a few short minutes you’re no longer standing in the middle of a hallway being kissed as if it were your first. Instead, you’re pressed against the wall in a broom closet, with your shirt half unbuttoned and James Potter’s hand up your skirt. Your head falls back against the stone as he sucks the sweet spot on your neck, his thumb rubbing perfect circles on your clit. You run your hands through his curls, they’re just as soft as you expected.
“James,” you moan.
“Yes love?”
You struggle to catch your breath. “I don’t- we can’t- fuck.”
“Hm?” He presses his thumb down harder; you feel your orgasm approaching. “You alright?”
“Yes- just don’t stop,” you reply.
He lifts his head, his dark eyes meeting yours. “Whatever you want.”
It’s safe to say, after that, phase two is completed.
~~~
Another week passes before you reach phase three. You don’t know why but playing James’s game is awfully fun. You know you’ve got him, and he knows he’s got you, but neither of you will say it. So, before anything can move too far in the closets, one of you stops it with an excuse and the other doesn’t question it. Part of you keeps it going because you want him to say the words, and another part of you keeps it going because deep down you don’t want it to be over yet.
But everything must end eventually.
The game's ending comes on a quiet Friday night. James catches you after dinner, dragging you off to one of the now familiar closets. He wastes no time, instantly pressing his lips to yours the second the door closes. There’s a desperation on his lips you haven’t felt before, it excites you. Naturally, you kiss him back, your hands moving up to his hair, his moving down to your waist.
Only a few seconds pass like this, then he pulls back. You can barely see his eyes through the darkness, but what you can see tells you something different is going to happen. He’s starving and you are more than happy to give him a taste.
“Can I have you y/n?” He whispers.
“Have me?”
He nods, his hands roaming up your sides. You shiver. “I need it, need you. Now.”
“You can have me, as long as you promise to keep this between us.” You place your hands on his shoulders and push him till his back hits one of the walls. “We wouldn’t want Sirius to be jealous that you actually got to shag me. You haven’t told any of them about this have you?”
“I have not, and I won’t. I swear,” he answers. “You can trust me.”
You smile and press a small kiss to his lips before lowering yourself to your knees. “I know I can. You’re a very sweet guy James and for that I’m going to show my appreciation.”
“You don’t have to-”
You begin to undo his belt. “I want to.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
You unzip his trousers and pull away the fabric. You’re not surprised to find him already hard. You also aren’t surprised at how big he is. From the girls you’ve known to have shagged him, only good things came from them. You don’t waste any more time. You take him in your mouth and as far down your throat as possible. Blow jobs have never been your favorite activity, but from the sound that leaves James’s lips you know you’ll enjoy this specific one.
And you do.
You don’t know how much time passes by the time he’s cumming down your throat, but you do know you’ve enjoyed every moment. He moans your name louder than he should, his fingers tangled in your hair as he cums. Typically, you’d spit but this time you swallow. When you’re sure he’s done you pull back and rise, whipping your drool with the back of your hand.
James is breathless when he reaches for you. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you, nor to return the favor. Your legs shake as he buries his face between them, licking and sucking your clit at a perfect rhythm. It’s not long before it’s your turn to come undone due to his mouth. You have to hold yourself up on the wall as you finish, you practically see stars.
You pull him back up a minute later and wrap your arms around his neck. He kisses you once again and you savor the taste of yourself on his lips. It’s like a prize. And a memory you will forever cherish.
“Fuck me James,” you whisper eventually. “Like you mean it.”
“Your wish is my command,” he replies.
His hands fall to your thighs, and he lifts you up. You comply, wrapping your legs around his waist as he positions his hard again cock at your entrance. He enters you slowly, both of you savoring the feeling. He stretches you in an indescribable way that makes your toes curl. You hold him tight as he begins to fuck you.
Due to his active role in quidditch, his stamina is very built. He fucks you through two more orgasms before he even begins to show a sign of finishing. Tears role down your cheeks from the overstimulation, he asks you if you want to stop. You shake your head. He continues. Each thrust hits that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back into your head. When he does eventually finish, he fills you up, his dick pulsing inside you.
He holds you tight after, his face tucked in your neck.
“You’re amazing,” he mumbles, his breath ragged. “I think I’d like to keep you.”
In this moment, you forget about your plan, and you turn your head to press a soft kiss to his sweaty head.
“I wouldn’t mind that.”
~~~
As you lie in bed that night with your diary in hand, a fresh checkmark next to James’s name, you wonder how you’re supposed to go on to the next part. Too many emotions have gotten involved from you, James, and Sirius. You know adding another person into the mix will only cause further issues. However, you also did save the best for last. Intentionally. At least, you think so anyway. James and Sirius have given you times you didn’t know you could ever have.
But then your eyes trail over the last name again.
Remus Lupin.
The show must go on.
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see-arcane · 4 months
Text
The Vampyres--The Bones and Blood of the Book
Good news! I’m not dead and the book isn’t either! Just shambling slowly through the wasteland of the publication process. It’s been a bit since I last waved this bloody morsel around. So, consider this a progress report on the state of the novella, the prospective publishing options, and a few other questions that have been bouncing around in the inbox.
EDIT:
I have a website now! For some reason.
It's See Arcane Scribbles.
Smaller Edit:
Got a Spotify too for story soundtrack goodness:
COVERS
First things first—and the first part of a finished book is the cover. Here are some mockups I’ve been juggling, starting with the original placeholder. They’re far from perfect, but I’m proud of what I managed with a fairly skinny graphic art skill set.
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FINISHING, FORMAT, AND FINANCE*
*(OR, THE HEADACHENING)
Copyright: Technically speaking, you have the copyright to your own writing once you put it to paper or screen. But this is somehow a different thing from a legally-binding registered copyright, which everyone declares is a must-have if you want your work to be protected with more than a non-textual trust-fall exercise, hoping nobody steals your work and runs.
That said, electronic registration with the copyright office is $65, or $45 to register one work by one author.
ISBN: I only recently learned the words behind this acronym. ‘International Standard Book Number.’ It’s the ID on a book that marks it as unique and helps commercial booksellers and libraries circulate it. Each iteration of a book—paperback, digital, hardcover, new editions, et cetera—has its own ISBN. When you’re publishing on your own, you purchase ISBNs through a service called Bowker.
One book/version’s ISBN costs $125.
There are better bargains the higher the number of books and/or versions you go, starting at a bulk of 10 books for $295. But as I only have the one (1) skinny novella on the table, that’s a no-go. Which begs the question of how many ISBNs are in store for this little monster. It depends on how many formats I go with.
eBook: The quickest and most cost-efficient option across the board for any self-publication service. Short, sweet, no printing pains of trim sizes or distribution costs or formatting, oh my. Nice.
Paperback VS Hardcover: …But I am now and forever a sucker for physical media. Even though it’s a teeny brochure of a thing, I want to hold a physical copy of The Vampyres in my hands! So bad! And every service I’ve looked through has stated the obvious: Hardcover costs more than paperback. My heart won’t break if I have to stick with paperback to spare everyone’s wallets—hardcovers are pricy in both directions!—but I am a little torn. Especially as physical size might affect the price too.
Here we have two of my favorite quick reads, an anthology of Poe stories and Clive Barker’s novella, The Hellbound Heart.
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The Poe book is a clothbound hardcover. 6.5 x 4.5 inches, a bit over 120 pages.
The Hellbound Heart is roughly 8 x 5 inches (about standard for a novella), at 164 pages. But unlike Poe, it looks like Barker took some liberties with the spacing and font size.
Standard size dimensions cost less than unique cuts, which means that whether paperback or hardcover, I sadly have to say goodbye to the petite palm-sized edition I was hoping for. On the upside, good news to us crap-vision readers—the font’s going to get H U G E in order to make the book more than a pamphlet with delusions of grandeur.
Audiobook: The fact is, my voice is not up to the task of reciting anything with appropriate gravitas and I think we’ve all been spoiled by @re-dracula and assorted other podcasts’ skill in orating. I don’t have the cash to hire a professional and I’m not about to accept anyone’s freebie offers. I won’t pickpocket friends for their talent. If an audio version ever comes along for any story of mine it’ll be down the road when it proves worth the format’s effort and cost.
REVIEWS (and a Foreword!)
It was the best of times (People reading the thing! Commenting on the thing! Good good good—), it was the worst of times (The Mortifying Ordeal of People Reading and Commenting on the Thing). Time for what every advice site declares a book absolutely must have the moment it’s thrust into the wild.
Reviews, reviews, reviews.
I’ve already bitten several bullets and passed copies out to a handful of fellow scribblers to scrutinize, their reviews destined to be hung up like literary gold stars on their bookselling site of choice, my own included. Now comes my preliminary grovel to readers en masse to please drop a review, a comment, a blurb of any shape or size where you can once The Vampyres drops. I’ve already gotten some early comments that have consisted mostly of screaming. Screams also count as a review.
As an aside, there are two folks in particular who I reached out to who exist in the stratosphere of Coolest People in the Vampiric Lit scene. They promptly exploded me into disbelieving giblets when they told me, yes, they’d be happy to read my little story and offer up a review and a foreword for the book respectively.
I’m not sure what the decorum here is, but for safety (and surprise’s) sake, I’ll not name names. But they are names I’ve been happy to come across for the past two years while neck deep in the undead book club. I’m infinitely grateful to both of them and am waiting on pins, needles, stakes and kukri blades by my inbox so I can pin their words up inside the book itself.
FUTURE SCRIBBLING
To get one of the biggest questions out of the way, let’s talk about Barking Harker.
My very own object lesson on sunk cost fallacy.
I wrote my way through a goddamn cinderblock of text without even grazing the finish line of the first section of the story. A story made of so many convoluted triple-decker layers of subplots and side characters that it had the structural integrity of a monolithic Nature Valley granola bar, just waiting to fall apart under its own weight. Such is the hubris and curse of too-many-words-itis. The Vampyres remains a miraculous fluke, jotted down during an overdue break from BH’s slog. Not just because I tripped and fell into finishing the story, but because it’s comparatively compact! Brevity at last!
For those still craving the assorted gothic and ghoulish promises of the initial novel idea, don’t worry, those aren’t going anywhere. I’ve just crumbled the metaphorical bloodstained granola by my own hand and have done the sane thing of parsing out the various subplots to become the foundations of their own stories. Which they really should have been from the get-go. Insert 100+ clown emojis here.
On that note, I am turning into WIPs Georg over here. Good god.
I hesitate to throw myself all-in again and make promises of X Story that may leave me spinning my mental wheels or ballooning the plot out into a behemoth that can’t be steered back on course. Even so, here’s a peek at a few ideas I currently have on the brain.
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So.
Not exactly lacking for stories. It’s just a matter of seeing which of them breaks ahead of the herd and squeezes out into the publication ether first.
LAST BIT  
Blah, blah, requisite reminder that I have a Ko-Fi where you can donate a buck or commission my best attempt at art, blah. Any pennies are a help.
But I’m betting very few of you came around here for my doodles. Somehow, a good amount of people tripped into this pit with me because you enjoy the rambles and horrors I’ve written over the years. Maybe some of you will even buy my book once it’s out. And you, there, on the other side of the screen—you’re reading this right now. You made it all the way to the bottom of this pile of exposition just because you wanted to. So, thank you.
Thank you for reading this far. Thank you for reading before and reading what’s to come. Thank you for giving me the confidence to even consider shouldering my own work out into the wider world.
Thank you.
P.S. If you want to re-read the preview, go here!
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ocn-blvd · 2 months
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what once was.
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summary ellie travels back to jackson after leaving for her revenge quest… only to live with a certain consequence.
warning nothing but utter despair </3
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opening the door to allow the coldness and splatters of wetness from outside to evade the warmness of her lonely one bedroom house as you saw the face of a long lost loved one, standing in the hard rain with her hair and clothes sticking to her freckled skin.
"hey you..." that voice. that raspy, yet sweet voice you couldn't get enough of. you wanted to wake up to that melody every morning and you wanted it to be the thing that lulled you to sleep at night— but it was gone when she disappeared from your sight.
that shocked look in your eyes wasn't hard for her to miss - it was like she could read you like an open book. that’s a skill she's grown to build and learn since she’d met you at the mere age of fourteen.
"i missed you a lot," she admitted with that dorky smile of hers, nervous of what you'd say next. leaving you for half a year was one of her biggest regrets; deeming that leaving the only loving relationship she had behind for a fruitless revenge quest was foolish.
she cried in your arms that night, expressing how much she loved you as her tears stained the best shirt you owned. you told her you were seeing another woman, having been on a date with her a few minutes prior to this surprise appearance.
“i love you. i just can’t lose you again, i won’t be able to handle it.”
you knew the day that she left to avenge the death of her father figure that her mind was already made. she left you alone, with nothing else to fight for.
“you’ve already lost me.”
and she begged for forgiveness repeatedly, like a broken record. she needed you in her life. she couldn’t see a life without your beautiful form in it. her pleas clogged her voice box as she began to spill sobs instead.
that was a year ago, and now you were walking the streets with your new partner, hand-in-hand as you two shared a loving smile. unexpectedly, your bright eyes found her dim green ones.
“hi,” you waved at her, putting your hands in the front pockets of your coat. she couldn’t believe that you waved at her. that one word that fell from your lips was just enough to make her melt and to have her heart thump into that same rhythm whenever she was around you. she almost forgot how it felt pounding against her chest. and to see you in person for the first time since, felt even better.
“hi.”
“long time no see,” you chuckled as she felt the vibrations course through her veins and enter her brain, releasing endorphins.
“that’s an understatement,” she managed a soft curl of her lips. “i can’t even begin to describe how much i’ve missed you.”
and there it was; her love language of affirmation that continued to spew out despite her heart almost completely breaking from the sight of you officially moving on. it made that feeling you could only experience with her return; true love.
“i’ve missed you too,” you admitted, making her dimpled cheek mark a presence as she smiled widely— admiring every facial feature of yours as if she hadn’t done this a million times. you really were as lovely as she remembered. every detail that she missed about you had been burned into her memories.
“are you happy?” she asked softly; something she’s always wanted to ask.
you grinned and said, “getting there. how about you?”
“i’m okay too,” she masked that feeling of pain as her mind kept wondering if your new partner was the reason for your response. and yet, hoping all of these months made this moment all the more sweeter to her. “i’ve, uh… been thinkin’ about you lately.”
“really?”
“yeah,” your ears picked up the soft chuckle she emitted. she certainly missed this— missed you.
“did you ever think about me?”
“i have,” you looked down at your shoes that stamped the inches of snow. “i was wondering if you left Jackson.”
“i-i didn’t. i was hoping to bump into you again actually. you were the only thing keepin’ me here.”
and it echoed through your thoughts— you were the only thing keeping her here.
“i was worried about you.”
and to think that she thought you had completely forgotten about her. her eyes lit up like a bulb when she consumed soft your words. she had spent many months in a slump over the fact that you hadn’t been in her life— but now that you were here, it gave her much more hope. “i was worried about you too.”
you let out a giggle that made her smile. “you should’ve came to see me. you know where i live.”
“didn’t think you’d want to see me again.”
“why would you think that?”
“you’ve moved on. you have this entire new life without me,” she nervously played with her pinkie and ring finger, “that’s how i’ve been convincing myself anyway— that you probably never wanted to see me again,” she shrugged,
“i’m just your past now.”
“i’ll always have room for you.”
that’s when she realized that you truly were still the same girl she fell in love with. she was falling in love with you all over again; and she couldn’t stop even if she tried. her dates with three women for the past year couldn’t reach this level of endearment.
“i’m glad i stayed then. it was worth the wait just to see you again,” she fought tears like she was in a war, losing the battle almost immediately. she swallowed that emotional lump just for it to regurgitate itself through her teary eyes and shaky voice.
“i never got over you, you know? i just couldn’t get myself to,” and as each month passed, she just kept remembering the sweet memories you two had together.
they would be the only thing she had to cherish you by after you admitted that you didn’t see another romantic relationship with her as of that moment. but the sight of her breaking down in front of you was what pinched your heart with sadness of your own. you cupped her chiseled cheeks and wiped the soft pads of your thumbs over her wet cheeks, looking into those emerald eyes that were overflowing with sapphire.
“don’t let me be the reason why you’re not out there trying to look for someone new,” you only wanted what was best for her. she deserved happiness in this world so unfair. you watched her eyes water even more as she failed to contain herself. her voice never sounded so broken.
“how can i ever love someone else when i’m still madly in love with you? there’s no one even remotely close to what you mean to me. i don’t want anyone else. i only want you.”
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wrongplacerighttime · 5 months
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Hi!! This is my first fic that I’m posting. I wrote it loosely based on this love by taylor. I write for my own enjoyment usually but this is my first time sharing my work!! I hope you enjoy it <3
word count: 7.5k (got carried away lol)
tw: smut MDNI!!, hints at dom harry, fluff, angst, drinking, kind of feelings of regret, mentions of a cheating partner.…i think that’s it but lemme know if i missed any :’)
This Love Left A Permanent Mark
This was a terrible idea.
My inner monologue has been repeating the phrase through my head like a mantra from the moment I walked through the glass doors of the club.
In hindsight, I don’t know why I didn’t think this sooner. Why did I think coming to my ex-boyfriend's album release party was a good idea? In what world would that ever be a good idea? Especially the way we ended things. I mentally note to never let Ginny talk me into something like this ever again, even if she is dating a member of his team. I recall the conversation we had about it a mere four days before this moment.
“It’ll be fun! And he’ll be busy talking to people all night anyway. He won’t even know you’re there, probably.” she insisted
“I don’t know, Gin. I really don’t want to crash his night.” I mumble, twiddling with the menu on the table in front of me.
“You need to get out of the house. All you do is sit and read your books and play your guitar. It makes me sad and depressed.” her nose crinkles in displeasure.
“What’s wrong with that?” I shoot back, raising an eyebrow.
“Nothing, I guess.” She shrugs. “I just think you deserve to have a good night. I won’t tell Joe you’re coming so he doesn’t mention it to Harry. You can just hang around and mingle and drink and dance with me.” She reaches over the table and takes my hand in hers. “Please. We haven’t had a night out in so long.” she gives me a pouty lip and I roll my eyes.
“We could go out any other night.” I point out and she sighs loudly.
“True…but this would be perfect. You don’t have to pay for any drinks or deal with sleazy guys at the bar. Just industry people doing industry people things and listening to the album at a big party.”
I contemplate her request. What’s there to lose? I weigh the options in my head for a moment. If I don’t go, she’s right, and I’ll just sit in my room all night flipping through the same romcoms and sitcoms that I’ve already watched 3 times over. I’ve been doing fine for a few months now. I’ve been going on dates again, and meeting new guys. On the other hand, no one will ever be him and I have no idea how I’ll react if I do end up seeing him…or if he sees me. But, there will be so many people there, he’ll be mingling, and he probably won’t see me, right?
“Fine. But if he sees me, I’m bolting. .” I mutter and she squeals in excitement.
Now here I am, sitting at the bar alone in the same spot for the past 45 minutes. Ginny is nowhere to be found, and I’m in an uncomfortable dress that’s too short for my typical comfort zone and the sequins are making me itchy. I twirl the straw around in my drink and sigh, holding my head in my hand.
On the plus side, I’ve avoided him for most of the night. The first time I spotted him was when he was walking into the club, making his grand entrance. I was hiding behind Ginny and he didn’t see me. But when I saw him my heart skipped. He’s wearing a cream colored suit, that looks almost a baby pink color if it’s in the right light, with a white tank top underneath that shows off his toned chest along with the two swallows tattooed on his tanned skin, and his cross necklace hanging from his neck. He’s got a pair of glasses with orange colored lenses perched on his head also. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish I was on his arm right now.
This was a terrible idea.
It’s been over a year since I saw him last. I don’t even know what he’s writing about in his music because I avoid every single thing about him. Arguably one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do because he’s everywhere right now. If I see his name in the news, I don’t read the article. If he’s on the TV, I change the channel. I scroll past anything I see that his name associated with it. I learned my lesson the hard way in the beginning. I purposely searched his name in the weeks following our tumultuous end, and saw so many pictures of him with other women…and every time I saw him with them, the picture of him that I saw that night comes to my brain. So I stopped putting myself through that misery.
I hear a loud noise like someone patting a microphone. I turn my head to see Harry standing at the front of the room on a small stage. He’s looking out to the crowd of people who are now mostly turned to face him. He looks my way for a moment, and I feel my breath catching in my throat, but then he skips over me and continues skimming the crowd, and I let go of the breath I was holding.
“Hello, I’m Harry.” His deep voice sounds so smooth in the microphone and my stomach churns. It’s been so long since I’ve heard his voice.
“We know!” Someone yells back to him and the room erupts in laughter, making Harry chuckle into the microphone. So many thoughts are going through my head while I stare across the room at him, like the last time I heard him laugh like that. I turn back to face my drink so I don’t have to look at him. How good he looks.
“I just wanted to say thank you all for coming. It really means the world to me that I get to celebrate the release of my third album with all of you. I wouldn’t be here, in this moment, if it weren’t for every single one of you. All of you have played such an important role in making me the artist that I am. So thank you.” I sneak a peek at him from the corner of my eye. He brings his hand up to place over his heart in an endearing gesture. “Now, let’s get this show on the road and listen to it, shall we?” He says cheekily and the crowd sounds off with applause and cheers. The speakers in the room begin to play the tune of the first song and he walks off the stage making his way around the crowd of people, stopping to shake hands and chat with some of them.
I feel a hand on my shoulder and flinch in surprise, only to whip my head around and see Ginny hopping up into the seat next to me. I shoot her a look that shows I’m not happy with her and she tilts her head. The song changes and the next song is just as upbeat as the first.
“What? What’s wrong?” She questions and I roll my eyes.
“I’ve been sitting here alone for 45 minutes. You left me. You said you wouldn’t.” I pout, looking back down at my half-empty drink.
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. Joe wanted to introduce me to some people and then I lost track of time. I won’t leave again. I’m yours for the night. Promise.” She wraps her arm around my shoulders and squeezes me into her and I smirk. She orders a drink and I turn to face the crowd again. I don’t see Harry anywhere, and I feel the tension I was holding in my shoulders release a fraction.
We sit for a while, drinking and chatting amongst ourselves and other people who come to the bar while they’re waiting for their drinks to be made. They mostly talk to Ginny and ask how things with Joe are going, while I just listen and add little bits to the conversation here and there. I’m turned to face her at the same moment the 5th song ends and turns to a slower one, not as upbeat as the others. And they’re all so good. His talent really shining through in all of these words he’s written.
The chatter dies down a little, everyone taking in the beginning of the song before it picks back up again. Some people are swaying to the music and others are standing in groups. While looking through the crowd I spot some of Harry’s famous friends and when one of them makes eye contact and waves at me, I wave back. I feel a little stab in my chest, thinking back to a time Harry and I would be over there talking to them together. We would talk about how their projects are going and their plans for the future. Harry would always have his arm draped over my shoulder, pulling me closer to his side and kissing the top of my head. I sigh and continue to look around the room, looking for anyone else I might know, but then I spot him.
He’s sitting in a large curved booth with three others. He’s leaned over listening to one of them speak. I watch as his jaw clenches, and a small piece of hair falls down over his forehead. His eyes crinkle the way I always remember when he smiles and I can feel my breath leave my chest, just looking at him like this stole it away. His hand comes up to push his hair back off of his forehead while he nods and I catch the rings adorned on all of his fingers. One of them in particular catches my eye though.
The lion ring.
I gave him the ring as a gift for our anniversary a few years ago. He used to wear it every time he performed, but I didn’t realize he still wore it. You would if you’d ever pay attention to him, my conscience informs me and I swallow the thick lump in my throat. Ginny taps me on the shoulder once, pausing before tapping again, I turn my head towards her, but my gaze was still on the ring on his finger. My eyes work my way back up to his face before I tear them away, admiring his features for another moment. His beautiful green eyes…but when I turn to look at Ginny, I have to do a double take back to him.
Wait.
His eyes?
After a single second my brain catches up and registers that he’s looking at me. He opened his mouth once, then closed it again, his brow furrowed and shaking his head. I see the confusion laced through his expression, and I’m cursing myself, but I can’t look away.
“Fuck.” I manage to squeak out, and Ginny follows my gaze over to Harry.
“Oh shit. Laine, don’t—” she starts to say something but stops when he’s holding up his hand to whoever is speaking to him, signaling for them to give him a moment, and his eyes never leave mine.
“Laine?” I saw him mouth my name. A sight I’ve memorized ten times over. My breathing, my heart, and my mind all stop. Everything stops. It felt like the entire world stopped turning.
Within two seconds he’s standing, pushing his way through groups of people towards me. As he stands, I’m running for the door. I don’t look back. I just keep moving forward through the groups of people, pushing myself through…in the same sense that I have been for 19 months now. Running away and never looking back.
“Run away like you have from everything else.” The words that have infiltrated every single thought in my head for the past 19 months.
This was a terrible idea.
I’m pushing to the door, the air suddenly thick with dread that clouds my mind. I can’t breathe and it’s suddenly so hot. The room around me blurs and I can’t see where I am because there are tears clouding my vision. I’m blinking fast to clear them and all I hear are the last words he ever said to me, and then I feel the familiarity of his touch, and the flashback of the fight comes so quickly that it hits me like a freight train. Coming to the forefront so easily after I’ve tried so hard to just forget.
“Laine! Stop. Please, you don’t have to do this.” His voice drops an octave on the last few words, desperate for me to stay, and I knew I couldn’t.
“No, H. I can’t. This isn’t working. I can’t keep sitting here waiting for you to care about this, about us, when you’re photographed necking a girl at a bar. I sit here looking like a damn fool, waiting for you to love me.” My voice trembles and I shove him away from me.
“It wasn’t even what it looked like! You’re being irrational.” He throws his hands up in the air.
“Me? Irrational? Don’t. We’re falling apart. You’ve been growing so distant. Every time you go out you’re photographed with some other girl…and this time you’re all over her? I know we haven’t been the best lately but this is too much. You’ve gone too far.” I argue back, throwing things into a bag.
“You should know the paps twist everything. Please let me explain!” He’s practically yelling now, and I turn back to face him, rage clouding my mind.
“You cannot explain away this one Harry. All I wanted was for you to look at me the way you look at them. You used to. I used to be the only one you looked at.” My voice trembles, the tears threatening to spill. “It’s time to stop lying to ourselves, this was over a long time ago.” I snap at him with a shake of my head. He looks at me, defeated.
“Fine, Laine. Just go. Run away from this like you have everything else in your life. You’re so predictable.” He shoots back and I visibly flinch, I never thought he would use my past against me.
“You don’t get to say those things to me after doing this. This is your fault. I’m done. It’s over. Go call your new girl, I’m sure she’s waiting for you.” I grit through my teeth. I don’t let him say anything else before I walk out the door, leaving the only place I've ever called home behind.
“Let go of me!” I yell, trying to catch my breath and gasping for air. Trying to push and pull my way out of the grip on my arm. I know it’s him. I’d know the feeling of his hands anywhere. My eyes are squeezed shut.
“Hey! Laine, calm down. Look at me.” He shakes me slightly trying to get me to come back down to earth. I feel his hands let go of my arms and he grabs my face. “Please. Look at me.” I shake my head.
“I can’t. Because if I open my eyes and you’re really standing there and it’s not a dream, I will pass out.” I say quickly, so quickly that my words run together and I’m not sure he even understood what I said. But what am I so afraid of? It’s just Harry. But then again, my mind is replaying his words from that night over and over again. Run away like you have from everything else.
“If you do, I’m right here. I’ll catch you.” His voice is deep and he speaks slowly. His hands are still holding my face. I don’t respond, my lips pressed together in a thin line. My heart is beating out of my chest.
“What are you doing here Laine?” He asks, so quietly it was almost a whisper.
“I-,” I stop myself, realizing I have no good explanation, to collect my thoughts. I realize that my eyes are still tightly closed, and I probably look ridiculous. But now that he’s here and the entire world hasn’t imploded yet, I’m beginning to come back down to earth. I realize I don’t hear the music, I don’t hear anyone else talking, and my back is against a cool concrete wall. I open my eyes slowly, and I’m outside, and he’s there. Right there in front of me, not a dream, not a figment of my imagination. His eyes are so green, his jaw is sharp with little bits of stubble beginning to grow. His lips are full and pink, and they look so, so kissable. His hair is perfectly wavy sitting on top of his head, and he’s just close. Closer than he’s been in so many months. I turn my head, looking away from him and down the alley. I take a shaky breath.
“Ginny invited me. I don’t think she told Joe I was coming. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I-I didn’t think…” My gaze travels back to his, and he’s smirking.
“Didn’t think what? That you’d run into me at my own album party?” He asks.
“In hindsight it was not the smartest decision.” I mutter and look down at the ground. I can’t look at him. If I look at him again I’ll want to kiss him and I can’t do that, not anymore. “I think I’m just gonna go home.” I add and look back up at him through my lashes.
“Don’t. Stay. I’m sorry that I scared you. I just haven’t seen you in so long, it caught me off guard. I didn’t know if it was really you sitting there or if my mind was playing tricks on me again.” He rubs his hands down my arms, stopping at my wrists and going back up again, keeping me warm in the cool night air.
“Again?” My brow furrows.
“Yeah. Again. See you everywhere I turn, have since…” He trails off, then shakes his head slightly. “Please, come back in…I’m sorry that I startled you.”
“I need to anyway. I ran out and left all of my stuff with Ginny.” I wrap my arms around my torso to try and shield myself from the cold. He moves out of my way and stands beside me. We walk back inside in awkward silence, and this feels like some terrible kind of walk of shame. He holds the door for me and I mumble a thank you. Someone catches his attention when we walk into the main area so he stops to talk to them and I take that as my cue to walk away before it’s even more awkward. I make my way back over to the bar and Ginny is still in her seat. Her eyes widen at me as she sips through her straw.
“Oh my god. Are you okay? I didn’t know what to do. I saw him coming this and then you were running and then he ran after you and I just froze. I’m sorry. Should I have come to save you?” she rambles on and I shake my head.
“It’s fine. I think I just overreacted. I haven’t seen him in so long and when I saw him coming towards me I panicked. Nothing bad happened.” I sigh and run my hands over my face. My mind wanders, thinking about what he said. He said he sees me everywhere, and he has since the night I left. I didn’t think he even wanted anything else to do with me. Thinking about what he said pulls at my heartstrings and I’m confused…I decide I don’t want to feel this way.
I order a drink from the bartender.
Then another.
Then another.
And before I know it, another hour has gone by, and I’m drunk and on the dance floor laughing with Ginny. I have a drink in one hand and the other above my head, holding onto Ginny’s and swaying our hips together. I’ve not felt this way in a long time. I feel on top of the world, like I’m floating. She leans into me and whispers something in my ear but I don’t quite catch it. I turn towards her with a confused look on my face.
She gestures her head across the room and my gaze travels that direction. I look to find Harry, sitting in the same booth as before. He’s leaned back with one leg crossed so his ankle is resting on his knee. He’s got a drink in his hand, bringing it up to his mouth with a smirk on his face. Smirking at me.
“He’s been watching you for, like, the past 10 minutes. I know because I counted.” Ginny slurs in my ear and I look at her with an eyebrow raised.
“You counted?” I repeated back, skeptical. I don’t think I could even count to 20 right now.
“Um, yeah. It was for like two and a half songs that’s pretty much the same as 10 minutes right?” Her words run together and I turn my head to look at him again over my shoulder. A woman is sitting next to him, trying to get his attention and he’s nodding to whatever she’s saying, but his eyes are still on me.
I don’t really think my brain can comprehend why he’s staring at me in this moment. So I keep dancing with Ginny, and then eventually with other people too. I end up dancing with one of his friends that came up to talk to me, his arm around my shoulder and jumping around, singing the words to a popular song we’ve all heard repeatedly on the radio. I don’t remember when it happened because all my thoughts are running together and Ginny just keeps handing me drinks, and I’m so grateful for that. Grateful that he doesn’t come over to me. But why was he grinning at me like that?
Another hour goes by, I’m standing at a table talking to someone I’ve never met before, but Ginny knows them. Another one of Joe’s clients he manages, I think. I don’t really remember. I’m sipping my drink through a straw, slightly swaying to the music and listening to one of the women at the table speak when I feel hands on my waist, pulling me away from the table. I stumble backwards, feeling my back collide with a strong chest. I turn my head to see that Harry is the one pulling me away. His eyes are dilated and I can smell the alcohol on his breath. He grabs my hand, pulling me into the shadows of the club where no one can see us. He leans down and I can feel his breath on my ear.
“You look so tempting. It’s not fair.” He cups his hand around my cheek, running his fingers down my jaw line then holding my chin between his thumb and finger. He tilts my head up so my eyes meet his. He reaches up, running his thumb over my mouth, pulling my lip as he drags it down. He breathes a heavy sigh through his nose. Bravely, and not in the right state of mind, I gently bite his thumb between my teeth, closing my lips around it and sucking lightly. He chuckles and shakes his head. He just looks so good.
“You’re killing me.” He groans and drops his forehead to meet mine. “All I want right now is you and I can’t have you.”
“Who says you can’t?” I whisper back to him, looking up at him through my lashes, and our faces are so close. So close all I can see are his eyes. He grins and leans in, leaving a small kiss on my neck under my ear, and I feel tingling where his lips touch. I can smell his cologne. I would recognize it anywhere. He grabs my hand and leads me through the crowds of people towards the back door.
“My place or yours?” He asks, his eyes peeking at me over his shoulder.
“Yours.” I answer back without hesitation.
He opens the door and I feel the cold air biting my skin, instantly making my body shiver. We’re walking fast towards his car, his hand still wrapped around mine and pulling me along behind him. He walks me around to the passenger side of his car and opens the door for me. I slide into the seat and my teeth are chattering, when he comes to the drivers side he takes his jacket off and hands it to me over the center console.
We drive to his apartment in silence, his jacket shrugged over my shoulders. The air is filled with tension, both sexual and nervous. I don’t want to speak because I don’t know what to say. He grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles, making my heart flutter in my chest. Like he always used to. I don’t pull away. I let him hold my hand against his mouth.
We make our way up to his apartment with haste. The elevator stops and opens to his penthouse, and once we’re inside he’s pushing me against the wall, not wasting a single second, and his lips finding mine. He grabs my hips so hard that I’m sure there will be bruises. When my mouth opens he’s slipping his tongue inside and I feel my knees weaken. He kisses me like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to.
He’s grabbing my thighs and lifting me up, all without breaking the kiss and instinctively my legs wrap around his waist. My hands work their way into his hair and pull slightly, making him groan into my mouth. He carries me into his room, the room we used to share, and lays me down ever so gently. He’s hovering over me, his knee between my thighs and putting pressure on my center. His kiss and his touch feel so familiar that it hurts, and I can feel it in my bones. Something I’ve longed for since the very last time. I feel my muscles melting into the bed with the weight of him on my chest. I moan into the kiss and he pulls away slightly.
“Been thinking about this for so fucking long, Laine. Think about you every day.” He whispers, touching his forehead to mine. My brain feels fuzzy and somewhere in my mind my conscience is telling me not to sleep with him, that I’ll regret it, but I push the thought out of my mind and focus on him hovering over me, paying attention to me. The only thing I’ve ever wanted him to do. The only thing I’ve craved for the past 19 months.
“Just kiss me.” I say breathlessly, and he does. His hand travels to the nape of my neck and grips tightly, holding my face to his. His lips are as soft as I remember. My veins are buzzing with a mixture of pleasure and alcohol, and I feel the heat grow through my entire body. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m grinding my hips against his thigh that's still between my legs and I whimper into his mouth at the friction it gives and he pulls his lips away just far enough to speak.
“Needy girl.” He purrs and I nod, lolling my head to the side while still moving my hips against his thigh. “Look at you. Need me this badly? No one else than take care of you like me, can they?” He pushes his leg against me harder and I gasp. “Answer me.” He grits through his teeth.
“No.” I choke out, “Nobody but you.” I whine, telling him what he wants to hear. And it’s the truth. Nobody could ever make me feel the way he does.
His hands travel down my body and push my dress over my hips, exposing me to him. He pulls away and looks down at the lacy piece of white fabric settled on my body, biting his lip and running his finger across the waistband, his light touches making me shiver.
“Is this okay?” He murmurs and I nod.
In one swift motion he hooks his finger in the fabric and pulls them down my legs, kneeling in front of my knees. He hooks his arms under my legs and palms the top of my thighs. I close my eyes and feel his breath trailing over my thighs and ghosting over the spot where I needed him the most. He peppers small kisses on my inner thighs, teasing me. I reach my hand down and tangle my fingers in his hair.
“You’re dripping.” He grins and looks up at me through his lashes. “All for me?” His warm breath on my wet center sends chills up my spine.
“No one else. Please, Har. Need you.” I say breathlessly, and I feel him smirk against my skin, grabbing my legs and opening them so far I feel the stretch in my muscles.
“How much?” He mutters, his voice low and gravelly.
“Please. So much. Need you so much.” I whine and gasp when I feel his tongue begin to lap at my clit, barely letting me finish my sentence. My back arches off the bed and he uses his hands to grab my hips and force me back down. He groans against me and the vibrations travel through my body, making me writhe against the bed. My hand still in his hair tugs at the root slightly, making his eyes flutter closed. My other hand grips the bed sheets so tightly I can feel my nails digging into my palm through the fabric. He trails his tongue down to my leaking hole and thrusts it inside while his nose creates friction at my bundle of nerves.
“Fuck, Harry. So good. Feels so good.” I manage to gasp out between moans in broken phrases. He lifts his head and his chin is glistening with my arousal and he smirks. Going back in fervently he brings me closer and closer to the edge. I feel the coil tighten in my belly and he doesn’t stop.
“I’m so close.” I whisper between gasps and he moans against me again, and the vibration it provides is enough to send me over the edge. The coil snaps and my vision goes white, and I’m moaning his name over and over while he continues to move his tongue against me and working me through my high. I try to push him away from my body on his shoulders but he’s stronger than I am, and the overstimulation brings tears to my eyes and he stares back at me devilishly as he thrusts his tongue into me and my hips buck.
“Please.” I whisper breathlessly. “Hurts, Har.” I gasp as he licks against my now sensitive clit. Finally, he pulls his mouth away from me and stands between my legs at the edge of the bed. My eyes, barely open, travel down his body and stop at the outline of his hard cock in his pants. I sit up and hurriedly work on undoing his belt, not saying a word. I look up at him through my lashes and he’s watching me intently. He wraps his hand around the back of my neck and squeezes, letting me know what he wants. Once his belt is undone I push his pants and underwear down and his cock springs free and hits his abdomen. My mouth waters at the sight, a sight I’ve been dreaming of for months.
I lean forward, wasting no time and lick up his length and he tips his head back with a low groan. I wrap my lips around his leaking tip and suck lightly, then spitting. I pull him into my mouth until he touches the back of my throat and I swallow around him, causing him to curse and tangle his fingers in my hair. He holds my head there for a moment and then let’s go, and I’m coming back up for air before going right back in. I flatten my tongue around him and the tip hits the back of my throat again, my nose meeting the skin of his waist.
“Fuck.” He hisses between his teeth. “If you keep doing that I’m not gonna last.” He moans with his head thrown back, looking at the ceiling. I pull back and take a breath through my nose before repeating the motions over and over, his tip repeatedly hitting the back of my throat until I gag and that’s when something snaps in him. He grabs my hair and twists it in around his fist, moving his hips so he’s fucking my mouth. I moan, causing a vibration to travel from my throat through his cock and then he’s pulling me off, a string of saliva falling out of my mouth. He grabs both sides of my face, pulling me to stand and kissing me with so much force it almost knocks me over completely. “Don’t wanna finish yet. Not done with you.” He mumbles against my lips before pressing them against mine again.
He pushes me down onto the bed and climbs over me. He wastes no time settling himself between my legs. He pulls my dress off over my head and throws it somewhere in the room. He brings his hands up to cup my breasts, and then he tweaks both of my nipples between his fingers, making my mouth drop open in a small, quiet moan escaping. Then, he’s dragging his cock through my folds and pushing into me slowly. I gasp as my back arches off the bed and he grabs my hips to hold me down. I almost forgot how much I missed this. His hips meet mine and his eyes flutter shut and he groans. I writhe under him, needing more and a whine escapes my throat.
“Please H, need you. Please, please.” I whisper. He leans down, bringing his lips to mine and kisses me slowly, his tongue dancing with mine. I moan into his mouth and he grins as he pulls away from me, resting his forehead on mine.
“No. Wanna go slow, missed this so much. Wanna feel every inch of you.” He mutters, rubbing his nose against mine. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown out. He trails little kisses down my skin, finally moving his hips slowly. I feel every drag of his thick cock against my walls and the sounds that leave my mouth are almost pornographic.
Savoring the moment doesn’t last long. He picks up his pace, his fingers gripping and digging into my hips so hard I’m sure there will be bruises left in their place. Quickly he pulls out of me and flips me over onto my belly. With his hands still on my hips he brings me up to my knees and pushes back into me, quickly pounding into me without remorse making me cry out.
“Oh god, Harry.” I whine and he tangles a hand in my hair, and yanking so my head lifts from the bed.
“Take me so well, baby. The only one who’s ever taken me so well.” He grits through his teeth, the sound of his hips snapping against my ass echoing through the room along with his demanding tone and me moaning his name over and over. I feel the familiar warmth traveling through my belly as he continues hitting the right spot deep inside me.
“I’m gonna cum, please don’t stop.” I beg and his movements become sloppy. The familiarity of this scene gives me deja vu, back to a time when things were simple and all that mattered to us was each other. My brain is fuzzy, and I’m remembering the way he says my name through his gritted teeth and just thinking about it makes me feel euphoric.
“Yeah? Gonna cum for me? Go ahead, cum all over my cock.” He demands. “Shit, Laine.” He growls through his teeth, as if he read my mind and saw my memories and knowing how my name dripping from his tongue gives me exactly what I need to send me over the edge.
“Oh, I’m cumming. Fuck, H.” I gasp, and the warmth blossoms at my center and I’m a moaning, whining mess, my walls fluttering around his cock. He groans and stills, and I feel his warmth inside of me, spurting into me and painting my walls with his cum. His hips stutter before pulling out of me and he sighs heavily as he topples onto the bed beside me.
I roll onto my back, my head lolling to the side and looking at Harry through hooded eyes. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing heavily through his nose, both of us coming down from our highs. And he’s perfect. In every way I remember. My eyes trail down his face to his tattooed chest, the butterfly rising and falling with each breath he’s chasing. The muscles in his arms that flex and relax when he runs his hand down his face…and he’s just so perfect…and I missed him, more than anything…and I still love him, more than anything.
Somewhere in the midst of this, the cloud that hangs over my sense of judgment begins to dissipate and I feel my heart sink to my stomach. Why was I here? The first time I’ve seen him in almost two years and we fucked like it was just a hookup? I was doing so well trying to forget everything about him. But this…this puts me right back at square one.
“I-um…I need…” I stutter, trailing off and scrambling out of his bed. I look around and try to find my underwear and my dress strewn across the room, but it’s dark and I can’t really see well.
“What are you doing?” He sits up, propping on his elbows and watching me with a raised brow.
“I need to go.” I say quietly, bending over and pickup up my underwear, then walking to the other side of the room and looking for my dress.
“Why? You can stay here. This was your place once upon a time, too.” He stands up and pulls his pants back on, walking over to me. I’m frantically looking for my clothes, my heart feeling like it’s beating out of my chest. When I still can’t find it, my breathing picks up rapidly and I’m standing there with my hands in my hair, completely nude, about to have a panic attack.
This is so pathetic.
“Hey, Laine. It’s okay. Take a deep breath.” Harry says quietly, and I feel his hand on my shoulder. I drop my chin to my chest and I bring my hand up to cover my eyes.
“We shouldn’t have done this.” I mutter between my palms, desperately trying to calm my brain.
You’re irrational. Run away from this like you have everything else. You’re so predictable.
“Why?” He asks like he doesn’t know. Like he forgot. I’m clenching my teeth, wincing because I’m already trying to push it out of my head. “Don’t leave. I want you to stay.” He says softly, his hand trailing down to my waist.
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” I ask, nervously. He looks at me with a look of confusion, but doesn’t respond.
“Do you know where my dress is?” I ask, throwing up hands up in the air, gesturing around the room. I slip my underwear back on so I feel at least a little bit covered and he walks into his closet. He comes out with just one of his t-shirts and hands it to me. I slip it over my head. “Thanks but I can’t go home without pants on.” I mutter.
“Can we just talk?” He snaps at me, and I look at him and blink, not registering that he was growing impatient with me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to come out the way it did.”
“What is there to talk about, H?” I ask with a small sarcastic laugh. The nickname I always used for him slipping out like it’s an old habit recently rediscovered. I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the wall.
“Us. Please.” He begs and I sigh.
“There is no us. There hasn’t been for a long time.” I shoot back at him.
“Can I just say what I want to say and then you can decide what you want to do. Please just hear me out.” He asks and I hesitate for a second before agreeing. I’m not sure what he’s going to say, and I’m also not sure how I’m going to react. If I leave now, then what he said to me last time would be true. I’d just be running away like I always do. I give him a nod, letting him know that I’ll listen to whatever he has to say, and he steps closer to me.
He grabs my hand and leads me out of the bedroom and to the living room. He sits on one end of the couch and I sit on the other end facing him, bringing my knees to my chest and resting my chin on top of them, chewing on the inside of my lips nervously. He sighs and runs his hands through his hair.
“So…how have you been?” He asks, scratching his head and I furrow my eyebrows together.
“Really? Small talk?” I ask and he scoffs, shaking his head and looking away from me, averting his gaze to look out the large glass windows in front of us that overlook the city. This was always my favorite room. He stands and walks over to them, leaning his shoulder against them.
“I don’t know what to say. I thought I had it all planned out…what I was going to say if I ever got the chance…and now, I just…” he trails off, shaking his head again and sighing. “I never stopped loving you, Laine. Not even when I was being a fuck up, I think I just forgot…and then I got blindsided by the attention I was getting and I screwed up. But that was never an excuse to treat you the way that I did. I never apologized, and I sincerely am so sorry.” He says, glancing over at me. “If you don’t believe me, I understand. I just wanted you to know that I still love you. I think about you every single day.”
“I wanted to know that you loved me back then, too.” I whisper, hurt lacing my tone. “That’s all I ever wanted.” I close my eyes and try to control my breathing before I let my emotions talk for me. “I gave you everything, every piece of me, waiting for you to love me. I don’t have anything left to give. I’ve been trying not to think about the last words you ever said to me every single day for the past 19 months. It keeps me up every night and eats away at my thoughts, knowing that that was the way you thought of me at the end of our relationship, and using things I told you in confidence against me. When it was never me fucking anything up, it was you…and that hurt me. You said I was irrational for wanting to leave after I saw you with another girl pushed up against a wall, kissing all over her neck.” I stated, bringing back the memory of the night I left. He winces.
“I know, Laine. Fuck, I am so sorry. I would do anything to prove to you that I’m just so fucking sorry.” He strides over to where I sit on the couch and drops to his knees in front of me, pulling my hands into his. “At first, I tried to forget you. I couldn’t. You were in my dreams every single night. When I was with anyone else for the past five hundred ninety-seven days, all I ever did was compare them to you. They were never you.” He holds my hands against his chest. “It’s always been you. I am so sorry I didn’t realize that sooner. I should have fixed us instead of letting you leave.” His voice cracks on the last few words and he’s searching my eyes for any indication of my feelings. “When I saw you tonight, I knew. I’ve been begging to any god that was listening for a sign and then, there you were, and I just knew. It’ll always be you. I don’t want it to be anyone else.”
“Harry, I just…” I trail off, both sides of my feelings fighting each other in my brain. On one hand, this is everything I ever wanted him to say to me. On the other hand, I’m unsure if I can trust him, no matter how sincere his words sound. I look at him, here in front of me on his knees, and I feel the tears stinging the corners of my eyes. “All I ever wanted was you, and you betrayed my trust. How can I trust you again?” I ask.
“I’ll do anything.” He answers quickly. “I will work for the rest of my life to prove that you can trust me. I’m not the same person I was then.” He squeezes my hands. “I know my words aren’t enough, but I promise I will prove them to you. I know I was selfish then. I’m not anymore.” He shakes his head, looking into my eyes. I feel a single tear escape down my face, and he lets go of one of my hands to cradle my cheek and wipe it away. “I just want you to come back to me, baby. Please.” He whispers, bringing my hand to his lips and kissing my knuckles, his eyes closing and taking in a deep breath.
I’m silent for a moment. I know he’s waiting for a response. I know he won’t pressure me if I say no…he’ll let me walk away if I really wanted to, and I think that’s what he’s expecting. The thing is, I don’t want to. I don’t want to run away this time. I’m so tired of running…running from my thoughts, my feelings, from everything. I remember all of the good. Writing with him, playing board games with him, going to events with him, the way he used to stroke my hair in bed every morning, the way he would come up with silly songs to make me feel better when I was having a bad day, the way we would dance in the kitchen while we were making dinner together, the way he always made me laugh and knew the right words to say…and when I think about him, before everything came falling down, all I can think of is the good. Before I can think about it any further I decide to go with my gut.
“Okay.” I whisper. He lifts his head up to look at me, his eyes glistening.
“What?” He looks at me with an expression of disbelief on his face.
“I said okay.” I take my hands from his and grab his face, pulling him closer so I can kiss him. Our lips meet and it’s like everything fell right back into place. After a few seconds, I pull away, touching my forehead to his. “I never want it to be anyone else, either.”
—————
ahhh!! i’m so excited to post this. I think i’m going to write more of their story, like how they met and things leading up to the break up. idk though!!! i hope you enjoy. 🥹 it’s not my best work but i still just love them so much. <3
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“You are", he says, "the absolute worst idea I've ever had.” - me @ ao3 after watching the movie and thinking "there's probably fic for this."
i like lists. i've lost sleep reading fic like it's gonna disappear the second i look away. i'm making my problem yours. i'm sure a lot of these won't be new to people since they pre-date the movie and it's far from comprehensive but. i'm late to this party. i also can't make gifs, so enjoy the basic canva header.
(baby) don't make me spell it out by extasiswings
One night near the end of first semester 1L finals, just a few weeks before the two-year anniversary of their first kiss, Alex finds himself looking up from his desk with its messy piles of color-coded notes and tabbed textbooks to see Henry asleep on the couch, clearly having dozed off waiting for him to come to bed, and unbidden he thinks, God, I’m going to marry this man. It startles him, the spike of adrenaline that floods through him waking him up and bringing the parts of his brain turning over concepts like proximate cause and strict liability to a standstill as he stares at Henry. I want to marry this man.
God Save the Blessed American President Mom by zipadeea
["June stopped by at lunch; she showed me a delightful channel called Hallmark, which repeats the same story every hour after they swap one round of white, straight, small-town conventionally beautiful actors for another. It was entertaining.” “June and I used to play a drinking game with those. Take a shot every time someone goes ice skating, sledding, or leaves the big city for their tiny hometown.” “Good lord, you must’ve been sloshed in the first ten minutes.”] -- On December 4, 2021, an attempt is made on President Ellen Claremont's life. Alex gets shot instead.
Familiar Gravity by cmere
“Yeah,” Alex breathes, and he pulls back to look Henry in the eyes. “I’ve been fantasizing about you fucking me in this chair for, like, weeks. Every time you sit down here with your stupid book.”   Henry likes it when Alex speaks Spanish and Alex has a request.
Am I the Asshole? by everwitch
AITA for spending Valentine’s Day with my roommate instead of my boyfriend? It’s well past midnight on a Saturday and hardly the first time Alex has scrolled aimlessly on his phone instead of trying to sleep, but it’s definitely the first goddamn time Alex has discovered his roommate has made a lengthy post about last night’s curry debacle to r/AmItheAsshole — a post that’s apparently gone fucking viral. -- In which Alex and Henry are college roommates, and a few thousand strangers think they should fuck.
Everybody needs good neighbours by railmedaddy
To nora(9.37pm): So a funny thing happened My hot neighbour brought me the mcflurry i ordered and we fucked From nora (9.38pm): WHAT DETAILS NOW Which neighbour? Wait, you only have one hot neighbour. Alex, did you fuck a guy?!?!?! ALEX Or Alex meets a hot new neighbour. Shenanigans ensue.
A Picture on Your Corkboard by bleedingballroomfloor
It happens on a random morning in May when Alex, age fourteen, pads into the kitchen to greet his mother and steal a waffle from June's plate and sees a man sitting at their breakfast counter, reading a newspaper, a cup of coffee raised to his lips. Like he belongs. Like it's the most natural thing in the world. June doesn't seem to give the man a second thought. She merely flicks Alex on the forehead and takes back the waffle. Ellen isn't worrying, either. In fact, she's talking to him. Asking what his schedule is like. Making plans for dinner. Alex has never seen this man before in his life.
this is the worthwhile fight by dearhappy
It's not that Henry's scared of their future, he's never been more sure of anything in his life. The thing is they're still trying to figure out how that future is going to look. And he worries about how it'll affect Alex's career in politics.
Déjame Ver Cómo Es Que Floreces by 14carrotgold
Oscar gets in close and bluntly asks, “Earlier. In the bathroom. Did you do it?” Alex scoffs, “No. Don't be a perv. Why would you wanna know that anyway?” Oscar rolls his eyes. “Mind out of the gutter, chamaco. Did you propose?” Ah.  - Henry is introduced to the extended Diaz side of the family at their matriarch's birthday. Shenanigans (and romance and feelings) ensue.
Please Don't Let Me Be So Understood by chamel
“I’m glad you both see it that way,” Dr. Chen says. Then she closes her notebook and folds her hands on top of it. “I think I’m starting to get a sense of where the issues lie. The good news is that you’re both here, and you’re both willing to work on this relationship. That’s promising. Not all of the couples I see are even at that point.” “Sorry, what?” Henry says, voicing Alex’s stuttering thoughts as well. (After one too many fights at work, Henry and Alex are assigned mandatory reconciliation therapy by their boss. Except the therapist thinks they're there for couples therapy... and surely, a bet on who will break first makes more sense than actually correcting her, right?)
Such a Burden, This Flame on My Chest by allmylovesatonce
Alex Claremont-Diaz is relocating back to Austin to join his dad's firehouse. His days as a firefighter in Washington D.C. ended badly, but no one knows that, or knows why. And he plans to keep that close to his chest. He has to shove it back down if he wants to seem like a normal person, if he wants to do the job, if he wants to get along with his new crew, and most of all, if he wants to get to know the hot British firefighter on the squad. No one can know what really happened.
thinking (about last night) by rhosyn_du
“I hope you know that I am literally never going to stop reminding you that you said that. I’m going to, like, take out an ad in the student paper. Maybe hire a skywriter or something. I am definitely telling Pez." "I hate you," Henry tells him. "Lies," Alex says, still laughing. "You know you love me." Henry lets out a heavy sigh. "Well," he says softly, "that's rather the problem, isn't it?" “What, you think we’d be better off if we still hated each other?” “I think," Henry says slowly, "I’d be better off if I could figure out how to stop being so stupidly in love with you.” It takes a few seconds for the words to really register, as distracted as Alex is by the heat of Henry’s breath and wondering how much it would cost to actually hire a skywriter. Once they do, it takes a full minute before Alex can move. Can breathe. Can think. Finally, he forces out a whispered, “What?” When that gets no response, he tries again. This time, his voice actually cooperates. “Wait, what?” The only response he gets is a soft snore and Alex realizes that Henry, the utter fucking asshole, has passed out on his shoulder.
you're the reason i let myself fall by perfect-porcelain (tedddylupin)
Alex doesn't quite know what to expect when he walks into a room with a glowing screen separating him from the person in the other pod. The entire experience makes him skeptical. How can you fall in love with someone you've never met? Or: Love is Blind AU
Sharper Head, Wilder Heart by Dawg1515
"This could work out,” Henry offers. “It could,” Alex replies. “That’s good, then. Someone’s going to have to walk me through the brilliance of Empire Strikes Back, after all.” “Sweetheart, if we’re legitimately dating now, I’m forcing you to watch every movie that has Harrison Ford in it.” “Duly noted.” Or: When the Queen decides it’s time for Henry to settle down with a woman, she arranges a courtship between him and Alex Claremont-Diaz, closeted political powerhouse. Alex secretly tells Henry he’s trans, and Henry tells Alex that he’s gay. To say they become an amazing couple would be an understatement—but nothing is ever that easy for a prince and a president’s son.
every version of you (i love) by coffeecatsme
“So,” the voice narrates as the man squishes the dog’s cheeks and laughs at himself. “There’s this guy that lives next to me with the cutest beagle in the world and this little guy climbs to the fence every day to drop his toys off at, like, 5:30 on the dot, I’m not kidding.” The camera shows the man boop the dog’s nose and press a little kiss to his forehead. There’s a ball in his hands that he hands to the dog, but it slips from his mouth all over again, making the man reach down to grab it. He glares at the dog, but even then he’s still smiling. “And this guy always walks by and picks up the stuff and it’s the cutest fucking thing ever you have no idea.” The camera zooms in farther into the man’s smile, genuine and wild, as he pushes his wild curls away from his face. His eyes flicker up when another figure walks into the frame, his blonde hair falling over his forehead in waves. The man’s smile, impossibly, widens. “Oh. I’m also pretty sure he has a crush on my neighbor.” Or, 5 times David greets Alex with something that belongs to Henry, and 1 time he greets Alex with something that belongs to both of them.
The Duke Who Loved Me by annesbonny, Inareskai, schmulte
This Author knows as well as anyone how much you, gentle readers, enjoy a scandal and a love story. And what could bring more delight that two young gentlemen who bring both of those wherever they go? Join the Duke of Mountchristen and the, untitled, Mr Claremont-Diaz as they attempt to find a Love Match amongst the gossip of the ton.
The Edge of Glory by politics_and_prose
Subject: CD-10 To: Alex Claremont-Diaz ([email protected]) From: Natasha Wallace ([email protected]) Alex - You know how you jokingly told me to let you know when Mayfield was vulnerable and/or not seeking re-election? Tash
lying in the low light by smc_27
The thing about having a one night stand with the guy your sister is close friends with and gatekept from you is that it becomes really fucking important that she never knows. Or, Alex and Henry have a one year stand. Or, Alex and Henry are in a relationship, only they’re the only ones who don’t know it.
what we might do (if we stop keeping a secret) by indomitablelove
'This isn't how I wanted to tell people. I thought we'd get the chance to do it right.' - Red, White and Royal Blue, Casey McQuiston, p.327 --- or, in another world, Alex and Henry get to do it right.
Who Could Love You The Same as I by MariaDmitrievnaLikesSundays
Inside was exactly what Alex had found himself dreaming about ever since that night at Kensington. The kind of dreams that he forced himself to forget once he woke up, but dreams all the same. A gold band, simple and smooth, with a single square diamond embedded on top. It was small, modest, exactly to Alex’s taste. ”Holy shit,” he said again. “Holy shit.” That was a ring. That was, unmistakably, an engagement ring. Hidden in his boyfriend’s coat. And he had just found it.
—— Or, Alex finds the engagement ring that Henry had hidden, and does exactly what you’d expect him to.
As the World Falls Down by 3bowtruckles
So while we all knew that the 2020 written in the book would be glorious fiction, we didn’t realize that reality would throw us something to take 2020 even further away from the book’s events. This story is where I attempt to merge our 2020 reality and the fiction of RWRB, using research (a LOT of research) to try to figure out what the trajectory of reality might have been. The story starts picking up the timeline after their late-February trip to Paris. After that, it's strictly AU, but I try to keep a lot of the intents of the events in the book (for instance, Alex's trip to confront Henry in Britain after the lake) while still making them fit the narrative I've created.
We'll Change the World Yet to our Dessire [sic] by cresswells
Alex and Henry are engaged and ready to share their announcement with the world, but after the media circus surrounding their forced outing Queen Mary wants them to do things properly this time. To Alex’s surprise, ‘properly’ apparently means taking a Royal Tour around Europe as an official couple. Ten days, five countries and lots of unnecessary wardrobe changes. What could possibly go wrong?
where clouds look like mountains by weather_stained
Four months after the election, while still learning to navigate the complexities of being in a public relationship, Alex finally has the chance to show Henry around Austin.
We'll Invite Something In by smc_27
Alex is grinning a little too hard.  This is absolutely idiotic and pointless and fun.  The cover of Hello UK with a photo of him pulled out and a photo of His Royal Highness Prince Henry Fox-Mountchristen whatever the hell the rest of his names are (Alex knows; he being a dick) with the admittedly stupid but flattering headline which reads: His Royal Highness: He’s just like us and crushes on Pres ACD.
Henry's Cold, Empty Tower by DracoWillHearAboutThis
“I want you,” Henry said, slowly but clearly, “to leave.” When Alex storms Kensington Palace, Henry sends him away. Then, their relationship gets leaked, and it's Henry's turn to fight for Alex.
behind the diamond-shaped glass by Celaestis
Five times Alex and Henry used tea and biscuits to communicate, and one time they don't need to.
The Byline by rosetintednerdglasses
Press Secretary Alex Claremont-Diaz serves at the pleasure of the President, and he does it excellently until a new White House correspondent darkens his press room: Henry Fox, The Guardian.
we've been here forever (here's the frozen proof) by r_holland
Objectively, I am aware that you – a stranger – cannot tell me my own sexuality any better than I can, however... Can you, please? Tell me? It’s 4am and I have been thinking about this for hours, and I can’t sleep. Warmest regards, ACD *** It’s four in the morning, and Alex Claremont-Diaz has managed to follow a research spiral straight down into a personal crisis. It isn’t the first time.
words on the tip of your tongue (but please don't say them) by viciouslyqueer
So close. He was so close to saying those words that have lived inside him for so long, and now it's gone, a moment that slipped right between his fingertips before he could grasp it. Now he’s floating in the middle of the lake alone, the ghost of Henry’s touch still lingering on his skin and an unknown, heartbreaking feeling in his chest. — Or: canon-divergence where Henry doesn't leave the lake house.
The Grand Tour by lucky (revolutionbarbie)
When Henry returned from an audience with Queen Mary looking stony faced and grim, Alex had immediately feared the worst. She had requested to see Henry – and Henry alone – the moment their plane had landed at Heathrow on a visit to Pez’s new shelter in London.  Alex had suggested that they go to see her together just to spite the old hag, but Henry wanted to keep the peace. Since moving to Brooklyn, they had entered into an uncomfortable détente with Queen Mary and Henry was loathe to be the one to break it.  “She wants us to go to Australia. It would be an unofficial Royal Tour, of sorts, with stops in several cities and a short visit to New Zealand. Three and a half weeks in total.”  “She wants to send us on an all-expenses paid Australian getaway? Count me in.”
come and get me by rizcriz
The email arrives 8 days after Henry left the lake house. He contemplates deleting it without reading, but it sits in his Alex inbox, where there are over seventy emails favourited, and somehow it feels wrong and weirdly impersonal. As if leaving without a note were any different. He stares at the from line with an aching longing that seeps into his veins. It settles on his heart like a tangible thing; something warranted and cruel that casts shackles around the aorta and locks them tight so that he might never love again. -- or, alex sends an email instead of flying to KP.
Never Did Run Smooth by clottedcreamfudge
"You and me? Best friends. Stellar. Love that for us. But we could absolutely fake being in love. Dating. Whatever. I know literally everything about you—" (No you don't, Henry thinks firmly) "—and you know everything about me. We would absolutely fucking annihilate the other contestants.” "You're too drunk to apply," Henry points out, like he himself isn't about as wasted as it's possible for him to be without curling up and going immediately to sleep. "I doubt you could spell your own name right on the application. Or mine." Alex grins and pulls something up on his phone; it looks like it takes him a few tries. "Wanna fucking bet?" *** Or: Henry's life is a comedy of errors; a patchwork of oopsie-daisies; a quilt stitched together with hauntingly terrible mistakes. And at the centre of it all is his best friend, Alex Claremont-Diaz; director of said comedy, threading together his oopsie-daisies into a flower crown, rolling around in the quilt of his own making, and this analogy is going to shit because Henry's so in love with him he wants to die.
idk I'll do a part two if anyone wants.
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wttcsms · 1 year
Note
“she fell first, but he fell harder” with any inarizaki boy of your liking please! 🩵 have a good day~
pairing rintarou suna x f!reader word count 2.6k content contains mutual pining, tutor!au, right person/wrong time, bittersweet ending, unrequited love, slight angst author’s notes maybe not what u anticipated hehe
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i.
You don’t look up from your book even though the slamming of a bookbag on top of the table obnoxiously announces the arrival of another student, one who’s obviously going to take the seat next to yours. 
“Hey—” So it’s a boy then.
“—can I ask you for a favor?” 
Now you look up, partially annoyed that he’s interrupted you while you were in the middle of reading a particularly interesting paragraph, but more curious than not. You tilt your head, taking him in. Of course, you know Rintarou Suna — it’s hard for any student in the school not to know him. But just because you’re aware of his existence — and if you dare to allow yourself to be bold enough, you think he’s aware of your own — doesn’t exactly make the two of you chummy enough to ask each other for favors on a Tuesday morning. 
You must have a bad poker face because he raises both hands in mock surrender. “Look, just hear me out. I need to pass this English class or my coach and captain won’t sign off on allowing me to play in the next few matches. I’ve seen the rankings; you’re top of our class. You know this shit a lot better than I do.” 
A beat passes. 
Two startling and equally scary revelations:
Now that you’re finally seeing him up close, Suna’s eyes are a much lighter shade than you thought they were. (Not that you’ve given his eyes much thought up until now, anyway.) It suits him. And,
Suna is absolutely aware of your existence.
“I’ll owe you one.” He says, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He’s playing at being nonchalant, but you can see it in those lighter-than-you-thought eyes of his that he’s practically pleading with you. 
“I want you to convince Atsumu Miya to do an interview for the school paper.” You finally say. 
Raised eyebrows is the closest thing you’ll get to seeing emotion on his face, you think. “Done.” And then, “Why Atsumu?”
“He’s not an easy person to get a hold of, but I know being the first person to ever interview him will probably mean something in the future.” 
He nods, taking it in. “So it’s not because you’ve got a crush on him?” 
You can’t tell if he’s teasing you or not; his voice and facial expression give nothing away. Shifting a bit in your seat, you frown. “No. His bad dye job makes him an eyesore.” 
The corners of Suna’s mouth curve up at that. 
ii. 
“I didn’t know you wrote for the school paper,” Suna says. 
“I’m the president of the club.” You push a paper covered in red pen marks, all of them corrections and criticisms against him. “Suna, we’ve been going at this for almost two weeks now. How have you barely improved?” 
“Maybe you’re just not a good tutor.” You can read him well enough to know that he’s only joking. “You wanna be a journalist or somethin’?”
“Don’t try to change the subject. At least pretend to look over your paper.” Sighing because you know he won’t actually do anything unless you appease him, you shrug. “I want to be a sports reporter.”
“So that’s why you were so excited to meet with Atsumu!” You don’t expect him to actually be invested in your life, but you excuse his exclamation as him being bored out of his mind and savoring any distraction he can get. 
The idea of being just a pleasant distraction from the pain of schoolwork makes you feel weird. 
iii. 
As you near the two-month mark since your tutoring sessions began, you make progress with Suna. He’s funnier than you realize, both of you sharing the same dry sense of humor that has jokes that can only properly be delivered if you say it with a straight face. He’s shown you about 200 of the images and videos cluttering his camera roll, and you pretend there’s no intimacy in that. His grades in English have substantially gotten better, to the point where you’re certain one day he’s going to decide that he doesn’t need tutoring anymore. 
(For some reason, that makes you kind of sad.) 
For now, you’re content to just be sitting next to him, both of you silently working on your assignments. He’s rewriting his essay due tomorrow (he’s a bit of a procrastinator, really) and you on your latest article for the school paper. The silence in the library — the silence wrapping the two of you together — is surprisingly comfortable. 
Sometimes, Suna can’t make it to the tutoring sessions, and you pretend that it doesn’t matter. You just shrug and smile and move on. After the third time he does, he confesses that it’s because he’s seeing someone. 
We’re just talking, he tells you. But you know that he must really like her because Suna doesn’t usually waste his breath talking about things he doesn’t care to talk about. He’s the one who brought her up completely unprompted. You actually would have been more than okay with remaining completely oblivious to whoever Suna decides to enter the talking stage with. 
He yawns, stretching his arms while he does so.
It should be illegal, you decide, for someone so out of reach to still be so close to you. If you shifted your body back against your chair, nothing would stop the inevitability of his outstretched fingers brushing against your hair. The thought of that happening makes you far more excited than it should. 
(He never tells you when they stop talking, but you know when they do because somewhere in between all these tutoring sessions, you started to learn him.) 
iv. 
“You really think I’m just messin’ around?” He’s got his elbow resting on the library table, cheek and chin laying against the open palm of his hand. When Suna smiles, it’s a little crooked, almost like a smirk, yet warm enough to cause heat to rise to your cheeks, especially when he’s smiling and staring at you like that, like you’re the one person he actually wants to see. 
“You’re always messing around,” You point out. 
“I wouldn’t joke about this.” There’s that familiar pleading look in his eyes that contains enough superhuman strength to pound away at your steely resolve. It’s the same look he gave you all those months ago when you two were nothing more than classmates exchanging favors. It’s the same damn look that got you caught up in all sorts of messes: rearranging your schedule to tutor him, suddenly spending more time making sure you look good for school, rejecting the other guy who first asked you the same question Suna’s asking now… 
“I’m serious. Please go to the dance with me.”
“You didn’t even give me chocolate or flowers.” You manage to say, trying to ignore the pleased sensation that overtakes your body. It’s a different reaction from what you felt when your other classmate asked, and he at least had the decency to bring you your favorite drink from the vending machine when he did it. “This doesn’t seem like a very serious request.” 
He snorts. “Would you have even wanted me to show up to homeroom with a poster and a bouquet and the twins serenading you as I asked you to a school dance?” 
He knows you well enough that an extravagant proposal like that would have you wanting to run into the nearest bathroom stall and lock yourself in there until school ended. The fact that he knows you would hate anything remotely close to that, less dramatic or not, makes you agree to go with him.
(Perhaps he’s spent these tutoring sessions learning you, as well.)
v.
“Hey!” 
You turn around at the sound of a familiar voice, smiling when he comes into view. Donned in the same oversized gown, graduation cap hanging from one hand, Rintarou Suna is smiling back at you. 
“Knew you would graduate top of our class. Congratulations.” 
“And you were ranked within the top twenty. Being a volleyball star just wasn’t enough for you, huh?” 
It feels good to be out here, freshly graduated and knowing the rest of the world is out there, just beyond the boundaries of your high school. The heat is getting the best of everyone wearing the thick graduation gowns, but instead of looking like a sweaty mess like the rest of you mere mortals, Rintarou just seems to shine, as if he’s made for summer. His hair sticks up, probably an effect of being stuffed in the cap for so long, and you find yourself pressing down on his hair. This isn’t the first time you’ve tried to help him tame his cowlick, and the action is so familiar, that it doesn’t even catch him off guard.  
“My tutor carried.” He says, grinning at you. 
(You feel considerably warmer now, and it’s not because of the sun.)
The laugh you give him makes his grin only grow wider. You sound equal parts pleased and surprised, just like how you always do whenever he decides to randomly compliment you. Is it bad that he wants to make you laugh like this for the rest of his life? 
Before he can make a proper quip, one that will surely have you laughing even harder, someone is gently tugging you away from him. 
“Hey, babe, my parents wanted to get pictures of us together.” And then, as if realizing Suna’s right there even though he’s tall enough to be hard to miss and close enough to tug you back towards him, the boy stares at him. “Oh, hey. Suna, right?” 
Everyone here pretends as if it’s not already obvious that you all know each other. 
“Congrats on nationals, man.” 
“Thanks.” Suna says, without sounding the least bit thankful, even though he should be. He thought the two of you broke up already, and he’s been preparing for how he’s going to confess his feelings for you for the past two months now. At least now, he won’t have to suffer your rejection and embarrass himself for making a move on a taken girl.
“C’mon, my mom’s going to hate us if we keep her waiting any longer.” Your boyfriend is holding your hand, leading you toward wherever his parents are. You turn your head, looking like you want to say something to Rintarou, anything at all, but instead you give him a shrug and a small smile. 
He keeps that smile of yours tucked safely in his pocket, not knowing that it’ll be a few more years until he gets to see it again. 
vi.
Staying in touch is hard, but Suna is nothing if not stubborn. A random TikTok sent to you at 2 AM here, an attempt to meet for lunch if the two of you are in the same city at the same time there. 
Getting drunk from your high school reunion and sneaking into the library the two of you spent the better half of your high school years pining after each other in is the most fun Suna’s had in years. The two of you are lying on the plush carpet, too drunk to care about how dirty it must be.
“Gosh, we spent so much time in this place.” You’re looking up at the ceiling, tacky glow-in-the-dark stars still stuck to it, remnants left behind by students who graduated way before you two. 
“Some of the happiest times of my life.” He’s being too honest without realizing it. 
You laugh, thinking he’s just joking because you always think he’s joking every time he tries to hint at his feelings for you. Feelings that didn’t hit him until he realized how pretty you are, even with your hair tied back and your bottom lip being bitten to death by your teeth as you type away at an article none of the students in this school will even bother to read. Feelings that he wished he confessed to you on the dancefloor, when the two of you slow danced, and you asked him are we doing this as friends? and he didn’t have the balls to say anything but of course it’s as friends. 
“Yeah, I bet having me roast the shit out of every paper you wrote was the highlight of your second year.” 
“It’s because it was you doing it that made me so happy.” 
You laugh even louder at that. “Oh my God, Rin, you’re such a sap when you’re drunk.” 
“I’m not just sayin’ shit just to say it, y’know? I mean it.” He tries his hardest to make the sincerity in his words stick, but he’s drunk, and his words are kind of slurred, and his intentions just slip and slide away. “I liked you back then.” Still do, he doesn’t say. I still like you.
“No way, really?” You turn to face him, wide-eyed with a tipsy smile on your face that lets him know that you just don’t know how serious he is right now. “Because I had the biggest crush on you in high school too!” 
He always assumed the feelings were returned, but the possibility that they weren’t — that him confessing would just fuck up your friendship and have you leave him — was too large for him to risk it. Swallowing hard, he asks,
“Did you… Did you ever think we would end up together? Back then, I mean?”
You hum, too inebriated and maybe too distant to him now to recognize the pleading look in his eyes. “I wanted us to, but then I thought there wasn’t a chance in hell you would actually like me back. Gosh, this was all so long ago, though. I can’t believe we used to like each other, isn’t that so funny, Rin?”
The used to reveals enough to him. 
vii.
You’ve made a name for yourself now. You’re not just a mere sports reporter (he doesn’t know that he’s the first person you confessed your dream career to), but every professional volleyball team in Japan has deemed you their favorite reporter to see out on court. Rintarou blames the fluttering of his heart and the excitement that floods him every time he sees you at one of his games on your popularity, but he sees through his own flimsy excuse. 
You don’t show favoritism when it comes to conducting your post-game interviews, but tonight, you’re standing in front of the camera with him, smiling up at him with a microphone in your hand. He’s happy you’re here, but the only question he cares to answer is the what if? that’s been haunting him ever since that reunion. What if he confessed in high school? What if he sobered up after that night and told you the truth? Would this interview be different, then? Would you still say,
“Congratulations on a game well played!” 
And would he still say,
“I heard some more congratulations are in order.” He’s giving you the same lopsided smile he always gives you, the smile that rests on his face yet belongs to only you. It’s all anyone could talk about. Pictures of you flood his timeline; his teammates, other players, and sports fans alike all were overjoyed at your happy announcement. You didn’t just win his heart over, but a good portion of Japan’s as well. 
“Congratulations on your engagement.” 
You smile at him, practically beaming, shining so much brighter than these stadium lights, and he holds onto this one even tighter. A smile just for him, placed right next to the memory of the one you’d given him at graduation.
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starryeyedstories · 1 year
Note
So now that everyone's favorite roommates are finally together how about something about the reactions when Bradley's friends find out? Since we've already seen both Natasha and Jake seeing right through their bullshit. Would they find out by accident? Would they figure it out themselves? Or would Roomie and Bradley just come right out and tell them direct? Or if that doesn't spark any inspiration I'd also love to see just some plain old cuddling, as soft and fluffy as you please because I'm a softie and also because I couldn't decide which to request 😂 -@din-damn-djarin-fics
Oooh I absolutely love both of these ideas but I’m in a very cuddly mood today and I really wanna write about them cuddling for the first time as a couple!!
I also have an idea about how they tell (or don’t tell) the squad which will come up in this blurb and you’re welcome to send another request once you’ve read this and seen what that is 👀
And They Were Roommates
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When did sitting on a sofa become something that required so much thinking?
You and Bradley were both sitting in your usual spots at each end of the sofa, watching Golden Girls together like you had done a hundred times before. And yet everything was different, because that morning you had confessed to each other that you were in love, having previously been nothing more than roommates and friends until that moment.
Did that mean it was too soon to cuddle?
Did you have to go on an actual date before acting like a couple?
Or did a year of living together erase the need for a date?
Wait, did Bradley even want to take you on a-
His arm stretching slowly along the back of the sofa behind your shoulders with a yawn that was far too loud to be real answered your first question. He was definitely trying to cuddle.
It was ridiculous; he had you feeling like a teenager with a crush. The yawn-and-stretch move was one of the oldest in the book, and you should have felt more ashamed of the fact that it had you resisting the urge to squeal and kick your feet when you were in your thirties. As it was, however, you settled for slowly leaning your head onto his shoulder.
You had to bite your lip to stop yourself giggling as his arm settled more securely around your shoulders.
Swinging your legs up onto the sofa beside you, you leaned completely into his side and smiled at the feeling of him kissing the top of your head. His chest felt so warm and sturdy under your cheek; you weren’t sure that your pillow was going to be comfortable enough anymore now that you had Bradley…which begged the question:
Would you and Bradley start sharing a bed?
When?
Whose bed?
“I can practically hear you thinking right now,” he teased you quietly, turning his head to look down at you, “You okay?”
You nodded against his chest.
“Yeah. Just…it’s kinda crazy that a few hours ago we were roommates and now we’re…this,” you said, gesturing between the two of you.
“Does that scare you?” he asked curiously.
“No!” you were quick to clarify, “I really, really like this. I’m just trying to make sense of it all, I guess. I’ve never moved in with someone, then told them I love them, then become a couple before.”
He chuckled, rubbing your forearm gently.
“I know what you mean. We kinda did it all backwards, didn’t we?”
“We really did,” you agreed, grateful that he understood.
He sat up straighter and turned his body towards you, prompting you to sit upright and face him. His large hand rested on your thigh as though it belonged there.
“I love you,” he told you seriously, for the second time that day and the third time ever, “I want to be your boyfriend. I wanna hold your hand in public and tell everyone we meet that you’re my girlfriend. I want everything with you, baby.”
If his words hadn’t already been making you giddy, “baby” certainly did the trick.
“I want all of that too,” you told him, unable to stop yourself smiling, “I love you.”
You were still smiling when he pressed his lips to yours, and still smiling when he pulled away to speak.
“I should warn you though.”
His serious tone had your smile faltering.
“What about?” you asked, trying to ignore the worry bubbling in your stomach at his words.
“I’m kind of a cuddle whore in a relationship,” he whispered dramatically, as though it was a scandalous confession. You burst out laughing, relieved and surprised in equal measures.
“Oh my god, Bradley.”
He grinned at you.
“I’m serious! You’ll never get to sit on the couch alone again now. I’m just gonna wanna hold you all the time.”
Rolling your eyes, you kissed him softly.
“I think I can live with that.”
You settled back down under his arm- your boyfriend’s arm- with your head on his chest again, your hand resting comfortably on his belly.
“When do you think we should tell the squad?” you asked curiously.
Above you, Bradley cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Well, uh, Phoenix already knows how I feel about you.”
“She knows about my feelings too.”
“Seriously? I could’ve been cuddling you months ago if she’d just put us both out of our misery,” he grumbled.
Giggling, you turned your head to press a kiss to his shirt, over his heart.
“She did try and tell me that you liked me but I didn’t believe her. And so did Jake, actually,” you admitted.
The kiss that he left on your forehead was a lingering one, a silent promise that you would never have any reason to doubt his feelings again.
“What if we kept it to ourselves for a little while?Give us some time to get used to being together before we have to deal with all their questions and I-told-you-so’s.”
You thought about it for a few seconds before nodding against his chest.
“That sounds good.” A grin spread across your face. “Plus it could be fun keeping it a secret from them.”
You could hear the grin in his voice when he replied.
“It’s only fair since they apparently knew about our feelings before we did.”
“If they’re so clever then really they should be able to work it out themselves.”
“It’s their own faults if they don’t realise.”
You lifted your head to look up at him and you both burst out laughing, far too pleased with your mischievous plan. He ducked his head to nuzzle his nose against yours before stealing another kiss.
“Is it cheesy to say that this feels really right, getting to hold you?” he murmured against your lips.
You lowered your face into the crook of his neck to hide the giddy smile you wore at his words.
“It’s extremely cheesy…but I agree.”
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buckylattes · 1 year
Text
Stuck with me-B.B.(winter soldier)
DON’T STEAL, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE MY STUFF!!!!
a/n- Please like, comment, and reblog!!!
Summary: You help The Winter Soldier hide from Hydra in your home. Soft feelings arise between the two of you after he starts to remember more of who he is.
Warnings n stuff: 18+, female!reader, not canon, angst, fluff, mentions of hydra, mentions of the torment from hydra(minor things), pet names: doll and babydoll, bucky is smitten with reader🥺. WC: 3k+
All mistakes within this fic are my own!!!
Do not read or interact(with this post, any posts, or my blogs) if you’re under 18!!!
NO LONGER DOING TAG LISTS!! FOLLOW & TURN ON NOTIFS FOR MY LIBRARY, WHICH IS @cherryredmurdock-library TO GET MY UPDATES!!!
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It’s become a nightly routine by now. The soldier will be in your kitchen waiting for you after you get home from work. He’s told you that he’s slowly started to remember things, and he doesn’t want to go back to Hydra. You know that’s who he was referring to, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the name. It’s been almost three weeks since he last went to the base. They’re definitely looking for him, but you’ve promised a safe place here in your home.
You’ve given him food, water, shelter, a place to sleep, and some place to shower. You remember the first night he came to you. You were scared, honestly who wouldn’t be? But he soon enough earned your trust, and you let him in. You’d never heard stories about who he was before they did this to him. So when he told you that he thinks he’s starting to remember his old life, and he didn’t want to go back to Hydra, you couldn’t help but want to help this poor man.
The first night, you showed him your shower. You let him use any soap he wanted and let him be by himself. When he was done, you came to the door with clothes from ex boyfriends and one night stands that had left some shirts and pants here, thankfully they looked like they would fit him- you made a mental note to buy him some things when out sometime. But when he opened the door, your eyes saw the scars. The scarring was worse than your mind could’ve imagined. He told you it was bad, told you things they did to him without going into much detail, but you felt bad for him.
So you’ve been helping him ever since. And you’ve told him you work late shifts, so he should sleep, but his words were, “I need to make sure you get home okay, because I don't need something to happen to you.” You’re not sure if he doesn’t want you hurt because of his well-being, or if it’s because he might care about you the way you’ve begun to care about him, but those words have been stuck in your head ever since.
“Sleep any?” Your voice rings out softly through the place after you’ve locked your front door. He grunts, and his voice breaks the temporary silence, “not much…remembered more things.” His Russian accent is still there every time he talks, even if it’s not thick, but the sound of a book smacking the table catches your attention. The book you got him so he could write down things he wants to remember. “I think I’ve remembered my name.” That time, the accent is not as noticeable, and you smile. “What would it be?” You ask, placing your purse onto the counter as you turn on a light. There he is, ruggedly handsome is what you have come to describe him as. It took him a few days to take the mask off around you, but he trusts you, fully now.
“I think my name is James Buchanan Barnes….” You furrow your brows and take your jacket off, hanging it up onto the wrack, “yeah? That’s a long name to remember, but it’s so good that you do.” You give him a small smile as you go to the fridge, looking for food. “Mhm…but I think people used to call me Bucky.” His tone is a bit lower now as he watches you, and he sees you pull out left over pasta. “It’s a nice name, fits you perfectly.” You say before grabbing two plates and starting to put the food onto each one, giving him a little more. “So…Bucky…” you hum before you place one plate into the microwave, then you turn around, “have you thought of a plan yet?” You ask him, a worried expression is on your pretty face- he hates seeing you look like that. Bucky doesn’t like to see you worried, especially about him. “No. I know they’re looking but if I can just stay low and stay here…they won’t find me. I’m a long, long way from them.” His gruff voice comes out and you nod, “good…I hope you’re right, because I just- I’m worried about you-.” “Shouldn’t be worried about me.” Bucky shakes his head as he stands up, and the more he talks, the less of an accent you hear, maybe the longer he stays out from the cryo and the mind wiping, his tongue remembers that he’s not Russian. “You should be worried about yourself, doll.” He says, tone low as he walks over.
You sigh and look to the floor. Usually he wouldn’t make much contact with you, but Bucky wants to. He wants to touch your face and he wants to feel you. So when he’s standing less than a foot away from you, you feel the body heat radiating off of him for only the third or fourth time ever. You manage to tilt your head up and look into his bright eyes, even if they do tell many, horrible stories, and he lifts his right hand. He won’t dare touch you with the left one, not yet at least. He needs to make sure that he won’t hurt you.
“Bucky…” you whisper and his right hand, shakily, touches your cheek. You sigh from feeling the touch, and you swallow as his thumb, skin calloused yet the touch is gentle, brushes over your skin. Bucky takes in the way your eyes flutter closed, how your breathing changes, and the way your heart pounds against your chest. “You’re scared.” He states and you shake your head, taking his wrist into your hand before he has the chance to pull away. “Not scared. No. Nervous.” You laugh a little and your cheeks get warm from admitting it. “You have an effect on me, Bucky, a good one, but I don't want you to run away because of it.” The first smile you’ve seen from him appears on his lips, and a little chuckle comes from his mouth. “Run me away? You couldn't do that.” “Because you’re hiding…” He tilts his head a little, “yes, but there is another reason. I feel safe here. You’ve treated me so nicely and I don’t think too many other people would ever let me in. Not after what Hydra….made me do, made me out to be.” Bucky says their name with a grit to his teeth and you nod. His thumb brushes over the corner of your mouth before he pulls his hand away. The microwave beeps and he opens it behind you, grabbing the plate. “You get more tonight…you’ve been giving me a lot more food than you get.” “I’m fine, Bucky…honestly.” You whisper as you softly nudge the plate to him and he scowls, “do this, for me?” And he nudges the plate back to you. You sigh and reluctantly take the plate, and the corner of his mouth lifts in a small cheeky smile. He then puts the other plate into the microwave and warms it up while you get drinks and some garlic bread ready, then he’s sitting down in front of you.
You two both eat in moderate silence. He does ask how your shift at work went but that’s about it. You two then go about getting ready for bed. Thankfully you have a spare room so Bucky takes that one, and you take yours. It doesn’t take you long to sleep, and Bucky listens to your breathing as he closes his eyes and rests some, but not much. It’s hard for him to fall asleep when he knows someone could bust through that door at any moment if they wanted to. And he won’t let anyone lay a hand on you if he can help it.
The morning is like usual. You wake up around eleven, due to your night shift having you stay up late, and you fix coffee. Bucky likes his black with only a little sugar, so you fix him a cup too. Only this morning, he’s up and has your coffee fixed, and his, in your corresponding mugs. He loves the one with little white cats on it, got attached to the mug the first day you made him some hot tea, and yours is a black mug with your favorite show quote on it. Bucky doesn’t really get it, but he’s hoping that maybe one day you’ll sit with him and let him watch the show with you. “So…today's my day off.” You say as you take the mug, lips in a smile as you look up at him. It’s clear he didn’t sleep much, his eyes have dark circles slightly, hair is not so messy. “I figured we could do something together!” You say before taking a sip of your coffee- just perfect, you think.
Bucky nods, and you can’t miss the hint of a smile that graces his pretty lips. “I’d like that. Maybe we could watch a movie or something?” He doesn’t dare ask about the show, not wanting to make it weird. “Sure! We can watch something. I also think I have the ingredients to make soup.” Bucky hums, and you can’t help the giggle that leaves your lips. “Soup…? What kind??” He’s curious as he follows you further into the kitchen. “Chicken noodle probably.” “I love that.”
So you make chicken noodle soup, leaving it on the stove to finish cooking while the two of you sit on the couch, lazily, watching movies. You’ve drunk around two or three cups of coffee, each, and are content in each other's presence, that is until you see Bucky’s eyes start to close and then they’ll quickly open back up. You softly put your hand on his arm and squeeze it, “hey….take a nap. You need rest and I’m right here. I’ll wake you if I need you.” You whisper as you grab a blanket and a pillow, and you hand it to him. “Just rest right here.” You hum, standing up as you help him adjust so he’s comfy. He doesn’t fight you on it, shockingly, and he lays down, head on pillow, and you put the blanket over his body.
That leaves you the end space on the couch. So you sit back down and watch tv until the soup needs to be stirred. And that’s what happens until around 4pm. You then make you both a nice bowl of soup, a grilled cheese for you and two for him, along with a salad for yourself. Bucky said before that he’s not big on salads unless they have lots of meat on them, so he declines them usually.
When everything’s done, and you’ve got some wine, water, and lemonade out, you go to the couch and place your hand on his cheek. “Bucky.” You hum out before placing a kiss on his head. “Food is done, sweetheart.” You whisper and his eyelids stir, a groan leaving his lips. You really hate to wake him but he needs food. “Hmm…?” He asks as he slowly sits up, his left hand gently grabbing yours that’s on his face and you’re shocked- but you don’t say anything. “Food is done. I got everything on the table.” You smile before standing up and taking his right hand into your other hand and getting him up. “Thanks….” He mumbles before he gives you a warm smile, then you walk to the kitchen.
This time, eating with him isn’t quiet. He tells you that for the first time in years he had a peaceful dream about you. That you were both happy and smiling. It makes your heart warm hearing about his dream, and so you fix him another bowl of soup which happily accepts with a thank you. The night seems to go extremely well after his little nap, and you’re thankful that he feels somewhat rested.
The next week goes well. You’re on your way home from a shift you picked up, so it’s around 2pm. Thankfully you have two days off to rest and relax with Bucky, but once you’re inside your home, you know he’s not there. Usually he’s on the couch or in the kitchen, and when you check the rest of the place he’s not home. Panic settles in your chest and you find it hard to breathe. Had they found him?? Did they break in and take him back?? But there’s no sign of fighting, nothings broken, so you’re confused.
All you can do is sit and wait. That’s it. Bucky doesn’t have a phone, if he ever needs you he always calls on your house phone- which you rarely use anymore. You go to the fridge and grab some wine. You need something to calm your nerves. There’s no notes, no sign of a fight, nothing. But then you notice the window is cracked just a little bit, and after you pour your wine you walk over to it, just in time to see Bucky snatch it open and hop in. “Holy fuck!” You say, clutching your chest, and Bucky’s eyes are wide as he shuts the window down and locks it. “Bucky! Where have you been!!?” You ask, upset clearly.
He has eight bags of groceries on his metal arm and a smile on his face. “You- you didn’t hear??” He asks before he goes to the kitchen and sets everything down. “I was only gone for about thirty minutes. Took the money you gave me and did some shopping. Don’t worry, no one recognized me.” He tells you and then he places the bags down onto the counter. “Before you ask anything else, get your phone.” Bucky tells you, and you take a sip of wine before you pull your cellphone out. “Search up Hydra on the internet.” You furrow your brows but you do what he tells you to.
The first articles that come up, is that the terrorist group known as Hydra, has been taken down. Their bases around the world have been destroyed, and there is no more reason to worry about them. That’s the basic summary of what you read. You’re shocked, your brows raised and Bucky looks so happy. “So that’s why you left?” He nods as he puts stuff away, and he puts things exactly where he’s seen you put them. “Yep. I needed to get out, even if it was for just thirty minutes.” You nod, understanding where he’s coming from, and soon enough, you’re out of your panic mode, dumping the wine from your glass down the sink, and helping him put up groceries.
You have a celebration meal, one that Bucky insists on helping you make. You two laugh in the kitchen, having fun, and even though he’s not….free completely, Bucky feels as if a thousand weights have been lifted from his shoulders. He even ends up wrapping his right arm around your waist and pressing you to him. His nose rubs against yours as you two sway to the music, and Bucky can finally say he’s okay.
Dinner goes on, and it’s lovely. Bucky picked out amazing steaks to have, along with perfect sides, and the little smile that’s on his lips as he eats has you crushing harder on this man. He asks how your day was, and of course when you mention that shitty coworker of yours he gets all grumpy, but you find it cute. So when it’s time to clean up, Bucky sends you off to shower for the night while he cleans up the kitchen for you.
You take a nice shower, a relaxing one, and the water helps your muscles relax too. When you come out, dressed, you walk to the living room. Bucky is sat on the couch, looking out of the window as he sips some water. “Hey doll….” He says softly as you walk over, and he pulls you into his lap, which isn’t expected by you. “It’s a beautiful night isn’t it?” He asks you, and you give him a nod as you curl up into his lap. Bucky has found himself touching you with his left arm a little more recently, and he thinks that maybe it’s a good thing. Maybe he can’t hurt you after all.
“It’s beautiful, Bucky.” You murmur before you place a kiss on his cheek. He can’t contain it anymore. Bucky needs to do it now. He’s waited long enough, so he takes your face into his right hand and turns to face your face. “Can I….can I kiss you, babydoll?” His words come out hushed but you can hear him due to how close he is in proximity. You smile, “yes you can.” Then Bucky places his lips onto yours.
He tastes of minty toothpaste, and you wonder if he brushed his teeth while you were showering, in the spare bathroom- because that’s the only explanation. His lips are soft, and Bucky is now thankful that he asked you to buy him some chapstick a couple of weeks ago. His right hand moves to cup your cheek and his thumb brushes over your skin.
Your lips move together, delicately, as if they were made from the same mold- meant to be together. When your noses finally brush together, you both pull away. You stay close, though, and Bucky smiles before pecking your lips a couple of more times. “I have so much I want to say, I do, I just- I’m not good with words like I used to be.” He chuckles and you shake your head, “no it’s okay. That kiss said so much.” Your voice is a whisper when it comes out, and part of it is probably because you’re in shock but also really giddy, like it was a true love's first kiss situation. Hell, maybe it was.
“Thank you, for everything.” Bucky says before he kisses your lips again, and now that he’s tasted them, he’s never letting you go. There’s so much more of you that he wants to explore, he’s not losing you. “You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart. I know kindness when I see it.” You brush your nose to his, and you both laugh as you hold onto each other. “Well…I’ll do everything I can to repay you. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.” “I’m perfectly okay with that, Bucky Barnes.”
-
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#352
“Hey, if you want to suck my dick and eat my ass follow me.  Don’t look surprised.  I’ve been watching you from my office window sitting on that bench pretending to read a book only to follow older businessmen into that public bathroom.  I know what goes on in there, and it’s disgusting.  Not the sex, but the cleanliness.  So if you want to be impaled on my dick in a clean and private office, follow me….
“Don’t speak until we get into the building and walk a few paces behind me…  And past security and into the elevator. 
“Hey Steven.  How many?...  Five?  Thanks.
“…Into the elevator.  I see you recognized our security guard.  He knows about you.  He was telling me that you know how to handle a big dick.  That is the only reason that you are going into my office.  He just told me that you followed five men into the bathroom and you both were in there for at least five minutes.  He saw it all on the security cameras.
“We are the first on the left….  Right here.  I am the only one who works in this office.  I have been without a receptionist, ever since the last one had to quit after his husband found out I was fucking him once a day.  I don’t know why he was upset, that was an unwritten condition for employment from day one.  Since he’s been gone, I don’t really need a receptionist—a fuckboy yes, but a receptionist no.  No one ever comes to this office without an appointment.
“Get naked.  All cunts are naked in my private office, either in this receptionist area or in my own office.  Fold your clothes and put them on the desk.  When you are naked, come into my office….
“…Good, now kneel in front of my desk.  You take orders well.  That’s good.  You shave your body.  I like that a lot.  Do you do that on your own, or are you ordered to do it?...  On your own….  Oh, so you really know your role in the faggot hierarchy.  Good. 
“Well, you are sparking an interest in my dick.  Here look at it.  I like to walk around here with my dick and balls hanging out.  Sometimes, I’m pantsless.
“Bend over and show me your cunt….  Nice and smooth.  How many of the men you serviced earlier shot in here?...  None?  They shot down your throat.  Didn’t they want your cunt?...  Are you at least cleaned out?...  We’ll see how good you did.  Follow me.
“This is my private bathroom.  I took this office so that I had my own toilet.  See that rubber mat in front of the shower?  Get on all fours on it with your shoulders on the mat and your cunt up in the air….
“Ain’t that a pretty site.  I can’t wait until my cock fills that hole.  But first, this.  Look at me fag.  You know what this is?...  This is an enema bag, an old school two-quart enema bag.  Here’s some lube; put it on your pussy lips. 
“Here’s the nozzle.  Shove it in.  Now hold it in place, while I open the hose.  There’s two quarts.  Don’t fidget, and don’t you dare lose a drop.  Let it fill you up.  We are going to get you squeaky clean. 
“Don’t move.  You’re going to get filled up pretty soon, and it’s going to be painful.  Just think about my cock—look at it; it’s liking what you are doing.  I have nine and a half inches ready to be shoved inside of you.  Just got to get you empty of fag mud.
“Look, you got it all inside.  Hurts hunh?  Now stand up, and don’t you dare leak….  Don’t you dare move to my toilet.  My ass is the only ass that has touched that toilet seat, and I plan on keeping it that way.  
“When I say so, I want you to go into the shower and close the glass door then let it rip.  Let me get the shower going. 
“Look at your abdomen.  You are full….  In the shower and empty NOW!
“You moved fast!  Let it go!  I don’t care if there is shit everywhere; you’re the one who said you were cleaned out.  So you’re gonna clean up after yourself…. Don’t look at me like that, fagboy.  That’s your disgusting mess.  Don’t worry, I have cleaning supplies.
“You empty?  Good.  Get on all fours right there in the shower and present your cunt towards the glass door.  I have another bag for you.  But I have an offer.  I have to take a piss.  Want it in your face?  Or, do you want me to add it to the enema bag?...  What was that? 
“You want half and half?  You disgusting nasty nasty nasty fag.  Heh heh.  That wasn’t a choice.  So you like piss play.  Good.
“Stick the nozzle back in and let’s get this next bag to flood your guts.  So, you want to know how I know you are a piss fag?  Remember Steven, the security guard from downstairs?  He’s been watching you cruise that bathroom for months now.  He used to be a private investigator.  Once you caught my attention, I asked him to find out who you are.  You are 22-year-old Gregory Monson, a recent part-time student at the community college down the road.  You work weekends at Best Buy selling appliances.  You share an apartment with a driver for Amazon.  You are totally a sperm burping fag who drives across the city to go to the daddy bear bar.  You pursue men who resemble your father, a man who had to give up construction due to a back injury but went into the suit and tie life in executive sales.
“Hold still in place.  I got to add my piss to the bag for your puss.  Oh man!  It feels good to unleash my bladder.  That’s probably a quart of piss in the bag making its way down the hose.  You are full.  Here let me clamp the hose.  Take the nozzle out of your cunt.  Stick it in your mouth….  What? You said you wanted to drink half of it.  You are a nasty fag; ass to mouth should be a turn on to you.  Drink!
“When the rest of the bag empties into your stomach, stand up, and close the shower door….  OK, let it go.  Damn, your first load was very dirty, this one is almost clear.  Keep squirting.
“So you like the daddies?  Well I like the boys.  Steven gave me the final report on you last week.  I’m impressed.  One would think that someone who spends that much time as a cruising bathroom cock sucking whore, that the rest of your life would be in shambles.  You may go to the bars looking for daddy dick, but you aren’t in debt, you’ve been a dutiful employee at Best Buy for three years straight.  So you are a responsible nasty cock sucking whore.
“Behind you is the hand held shower sprayer.  Point it in the enema bag to fill it up.  You will be taking over that part of your cleaning out.  See the hook on the wall below and to the right of the showerhead.  The bag hangs there.  Back on your knees.  Let it fill you up a third time.  When it is emptied, you don’t have to wait for me.  Just get into a squatting position and squirt it out.
“So, you have been looking for a daddy to take care of you?  Well boy, I would like to see if you can handle what I have to dish out.  You up for spending a few days taking care of my needs?...  Good.  Good.  It’s Monday, I know you primarily work Thursday through Sunday.  Is that right?  Good.  Do you have any commitments between now and Thursday afternoon?  Great.  I will be your sole focus until then.
“The one thing that concerns me is that I hear that you are a pushy bottom.  Wait, what’s the current term?...  ‘Power Bottom.’  That shit needs to be shut down.  I do not and will not tolerate some pushy bottom.  My needs are your needs.  Your desire is to take care of my pleasure.  That’s it.  I’m going to ignore your pecker, and you will be expected to do the same.  Cleanliness is foreplay to me.  My cock has been rock hard watching you humiliate yourself cleaning out your cunt.  You will do that every day.  Sitting at my desk, and with the bathroom door open, I can watch you and jack off to you cleaning out.  And yes, it will be with the enema bag.  I can’t stand cunts inadequately cleaned with a Shower Shot.  
“Oh it looks like third bag seems to be a winner.  Squirt every drop out.  When you finish, stand up. 
“If I take you on as my fag boy you will be expected to clean out daily.  We’ll adjust your diet to make things easier.  You will clean out with the door open so I can watch.  You will be well groomed at all times.  Keep your body below the nose free of hair.  I will take you to my barber to give you a proper haircut before Thursday. 
“Should I take you on after Thursday, you will quit your job, and you will work for me.  I will train you on what you need to do around here and at my home.  Primarily it is to take care of my needs.  All the stuff I mentioned before will be expected to be done at home.  One of the things my fagboys loved to do is join me in the shower and wash me head to toe. 
“You will also keep both places clean and organized.  First thing you are going to learn to do is wash out that shower.  Behind you and on the left, see those two buttons?  Push the one on the left.  That sprays water on all sides of the shower.  As you can see, standing in the middle of it also hoses you down.  The key is that it and the handheld pushes your fag turds into the drain.  Push the second button.  That starts the flushable floor drain to take your shit out of here.  I had that put in special when I moved in.  C’mon out here.
“Turn around.  Good.  Normally, you would do this all on your own.  And when you finished hosing things down you would sanitize the sides by hand.  The cleaning supplies are under the sink.  Here’s a towel.  I expect this bathroom to be scrubbed down.  Never use chemicals to clean my toilet seat.  Instead, I expect you to lick it clean. 
“Your mouth is going to keep a lot of things clean.  This would include my feet, my dick, my armpits, and my ass.  I’m very hairy, and your mouth will lick just about everyone on my body, especially my ass.
“This way.  I expect rimjobs every day.  I have several rimseats for that.  In fact, look at my desk.  Looks like a normal desk, hunh?  I chose that desk and chair so that I can have a faggot like yourself service me.  There’s plenty of room for you to be under there worshiping my feet, orally giving me a pedicure or a blow job; although I prefer blowjobs where I can skull fuck. 
“See that desk chair.  The memory foam seat comes up and reveals… a rim seat.  You will be under there for hours at a time.  I had it made by this man in the mountains; that’s all he makes, custom rim chairs.  I love having a faggot clean my hairy shithole while I am doing my day-to-day work.  That’s a head strap that goes under it to give your head support and keeps your face wedged in my crack.
“Look at our peckers.  We are both rock hard.  We want this.  Look out these floor to ceiling windows.  Don’t worry, no one can see in.  I made sure of that before signing the lease.  Look down.  See the bench you would be sitting on?  I have been watching you for some time, you filthy whore. 
“I think it’s time that I claim that cunt.  Get down on your knees.  I only want to use your spit for lube….  Oh fuck boy.  You are hungry.  You know how to throat a man.  That speaks volumes.
“Boy I am only going to tell you once.  That pecker between your legs is off limits to you.  I don’t like cages, but I would put a painful one on you if I need to.  Don’t worry, I like to jerk my fag boys when we are in bed for the night.  I use their loads as lube for a piledriving brutal fuck.  I hope you aren’t one of those faggots who lose interest after cumming.  I’m still fucking you one way or the other.  It’s usually the longest and most savage fuck of the day.  I like to expend all that energy before I roll to my side and fall asleep with the fag in my arms and my cock still in its cunt.
“Fuck I can’t take any more.  Stand up and put your hands on the window.  Spread your legs and arch your back.  Fuck yeah.  Daddy’s coming in, and I’m going right to the root.  You figure out how to accommodate me. 
“Fuck your cunt feels good.  Oh man.  It is not going to be long.  Look at that daddy going into the bathroom down below.  He’s looking for a cocksucker and a cunt to fuck.  That cunt is up here wrapped around my dick.  Oh man.  You ready faggot?  You ready?  Daddy is going to flood your faggot guts.  Here it comes.  Here it fucking cums.  Ahhhh ahhhh ahhhh!
“Clean me up.  Boy, you know how to take care of a man.  No ass to mouth problems now I see….  Here drink a little piss.  There you go.
“…Fuck.  Pull off.  Now get under the desk chair,… no, your body should lie behind me.  You comfortable?  Good.  You are going to be down there for a while.  So this will be the first time you see my ass, taste it too.
“…What was that?  It’s hard to hear you….  I’m a bit dirty back there?  Faggot that’s your job.  Get that tongue in action.  I got a shitload of work to do.”
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valorant-drabbles · 4 months
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Hallo! I'm the one who requested the iso x reader from last time (^v^)
I was wondering if you could make a part two showing how they slowly progressed with each other if it's alright since I really loved the first part and I'm brain rotting hard about Iso
PS - I'll go by ♠️spade anon from now on
Not me accidentally creating a multi-part slow burn Iso fic!! Oh boy
Could be seen as platonic or romantic… but if people want a part 3, it’ll definitely be more romantic.
Gender neutral reader!
Word Count: 1.5k
Warnings: Mild Cursing, Spoiler for Part 1 of this fic
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Cold Shoulder
Reader x Iso
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |
It had been about three weeks since the incident; since you and Iso had your little quarrel, and inevitably having started to understand one another. It was definitely a challenge for you, since you’d struggled for years when it came to getting along with people outside of work hours. Thankfully, Iso was proving to be extremely patient and courteous towards you and your growth. That wasn’t to say he didn’t get irritated every so often if he noticed you slipping back into your old, cold habits…
But you were making a genuine effort. What more could he ask for?
Despite it only having been a few weeks, you and Iso had started getting along quite quickly. He’d made it clear that you were always welcome to join him if you were feeling lonely- and considering your friend quantity in the Protocol was quite low, you were finding yourself ‘lonely’ often. It was strange- last month, you were completely fine being on your own. And now, if you went a few days without a casual conversation with somebody… you felt an odd emptiness inside your chest. A yearning for connection that you’d thought you’d severed long ago.
There were many days where Iso would return to his room after training to find you sat on his bed, listening to the playlist he’d shared with you. Usually you were reading, or watching movies on your laptop… passing the time until he’d return and possibly join you. Iso knew you had a bit of trouble asking to spend time together, so when you were in his room- it was kind of obvious why you were there. Once he’d shower and change clothes, he’d settle into bed and join you in whatever you were doing.
Overtime, this became routine. On days neither of you had a mission, you’d spend time together in the comfort of Iso’s room… quietly bonding, occasionally starting conversations- though usually it was Iso initiating. After all, even after all this time, he still found you to be absolutely fascinating, and desired to learn more about you.
“What do you think we learn from fighting ourselves?” Iso’s voice cut through the current silence filling the bedroom, causing you to look up from your book, eyebrow raised curiously at the sudden query.
“… what?”
“Ah- sorry. That came from nowhere.” Iso apologized quietly, his gaze sheepishly moving away from where you were watching him. “I was just… thinking about our mirror selves. From Omega Earth. How they look and act almost exactly like us- and our teammates as well.”
“Mhm. What about them, though?” You questioned further, noticing Iso shift in his seat.
“I’ve… had this question on my mind ever since I saw myself on the other team. ‘What do we learn from fighting ourselves?’… I’ve asked a few of the others, but… honestly, none of them had an answer I was looking for.” Iso grimaced softly at the memory of him asking Phoenix this question, only for the Brit to cockily answer ‘How much better I am compared to that fake me!’.
You took a moment to ponder his question. This was something you genuinely appreciated about spending time with Iso- he posed questions that made you think. Nothing too philosophical, usually… but it kept conversations interesting, and additionally helped the two of you learn more about how the other thinks.
“I guess… we learn our weaknesses.” You answer after about a minute of silence. “Though it’s not ideal… there’s certain circumstances where our double will be better than us at something. It’ll reveal a weak point in our abilities… and give us something to work towards improving. Alternatively, we learn the weakness of our double, and how to potentially exploit it if need be.” Your shoulders shrugged slightly, as you bit gently at the end of the pen in your hand. “It can also help us to… uh…”
Your hesitance to speak further piques Iso’s curiosity, and his gaze moves to you. He can’t help but notice your cheeks glowing a faint shade of red. You seldom showed emotion like this… allowing yourself to be embarrassed or even revealing a moment of weakness. Despite his desire to urge you into finishing your thought, he knew pushing you to answer would just make you uncomfortable. And, there was the possibility it could cause you to throw out your walls again, giving him the cold shoulder again- he couldn’t risk that. So, he waited.
As much as you wanted to change the topic or just… leave the thought unfinished, Iso’s eyes on you made it clear that he really wanted to know what you were thinking.
“Y/N?” Iso called out quietly. A sigh escaped you reluctantly, as you turned your body to face away from him slightly- only so that he would have trouble seeing how flushed your face had become.
“It… it also helps us to… see what we couldn’t see before. In our own teammates.” You finally continue, deciding to occupy your twitching hands with twirling your pen between your fingers. “How much our team would do to… to protect us. In the face of danger. The threat of death is always so real when you know the enemy won’t hesitate to kill you… sometimes you forget how dangerous it can be. How quickly you can lose somebody. And… how… if a teammate dies, you might go about the rest of your life… regretting that you never got to know them better. Or you might die with the same regret…” You swallow.
You thought back on the day you nearly died at Pearl almost every day. It all felt so surreal… the rush of emotion you felt when you saw Iso in danger? The searing pain from the bullets that had pierced your body?… the last thing you see being Iso using your Operator to take down the approaching threats…
His words echoing constantly in your mind.
“Don’t you dare die on me, Y/N.”
You’d always been so cold towards him… never giving him any reason to like your company. And yet… Iso risked his own life to save yours. With no hesitation.
“Y/N.” It was only after feeling Iso’s hand on your own that you realized he’d been calling your name. His voice was gentle, worry lacing the elegance he spoke your name with. His gaze on you was equally as concerned. It was only in that moment, seeing your own reflection in his eyes, where you notice you’d started crying.
“Shit.” You pull your hand away from Iso’s, and quickly moved to wipe your face of any tears that may had fallen. This was… new. You never let such fragile emotions show in front of the other agents… you only ever let out your piled up emotions behind closed doors, where nobody could see. Where nobody could know. “Sorry, I don’t… know why I’m crying. Can you just forget I said any of that?” You requested, though your voice wavered as you spoke, making you cringe internally. Were you truly so emotional when you thought back on that day…?
Without another word, you found yourself being pulled into Iso’s lap, his arms wrapped around you comfortingly, yet not intrusively. Physical contact wasn’t something you were used to either, but… in that moment? It felt… incredible. You needed this… so badly. For how long you’d needed it for, you didn’t know. You just knew you never wanted this moment to end- as soft as that sounded.
“I’m… not going to let either of us die with that regret.” Iso promised ever so softly, with his head resting comfortably against your shoulder. “And believe me, I don’t intend on dying anytime soon. So you don’t have to worry to much about missed opportunities to… get to know each other. And stuff.”
You kept your face hidden away from Iso; thankful he wasn’t making an effort to look regardless. You felt incredibly vulnerable in that moment… so you truly appreciated that Iso was making the effort to give you some level of privacy. At least as you attempted to pull yourself together again.
“I… I’m glad that… you didn’t give up on me.” You mumble gently against his chest. “… even though I was kind of an asshole to you.”
“Oh, no. You were a total asshole.” Iso chimed. You could just hear the grin on his face through his voice. It made you want to strangle him… not to death, per se.
“… besides. There’s no way I’d give up on someone as… incredible as you.”
Iso’s hand managed to find yours once again, and slowly, gently, you found your fingers intertwining with his without even thinking about it. The previously jarring silence in the room had been replaced with an air of comfortable quiet, as the two of you sat in each other’s company.
You never thought you’d have this thought towards another agent… but…
You really did enjoy Iso’s company. To what extent?… You were unsure.
Yet you enjoyed it regardless.
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aerynwrites · 5 months
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Worries and Doubts
Halsin x Astarion
Summary: On a quiet afternoon in the forest, Astarion starts to have worries about the future. Halsin is quick to comfort him. A/N: first dive into actually writing this ship. Overall I’m really happy with it and hope you all enjoy this soft vulnerable moment between these two. Apologies if it seems OOC, still working with them! Word Count: 2k Warnings: Emotional hurt/comfort, talks of past abuse, slight spoilers for Astarion’s arc, non-sexual intimacy, kissing, fluff.
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The afternoon is surprising cool today, the sun leaving dappled patterns on the forest floor through the trees as a gentle breeze rustle the pages of the book in Astarions hands. 
It’s a fictional tome, a romance if one could believe it. But the words are but a blur before Astarion’s eyes from where he holds it above him in his lounged position. 
His head rests against sturdy legs outstretched in front of the larger elf beside him, Halsin’s eyes closed peacefully as he leans against the large oak the two men have taken shelter under. 
Halsin had asked him to come out here, missing the touch of natures embrace after spending so long within the city’s walls. Astarion had obliged in his usual flippant way. 
“Oh I might as well…reading here or reading in the forest. Makes no difference to me.” 
Yet…he is silently grateful for the peace this small glade provides. Finally, allowing him to think. All his emotions from the past few weeks swirling in his mind and making it near impossible to focus on the words before him despite still flipping the pages. 
Cazador is gone. Finally, dead and sent back to whatever hell awaits him. 
Astarion is free. Free from the man who tortured him - took his life from him. He should have no more worries. 
But…worries have been the main thing plaguing his thoughts since that fateful night in the mansion that was his prison. 
His eyes flick up to the druid above him, flashes of the way Halsin’s arms wrapped around him as Astarion cried out above Cazadors brutalized body flicking across his mind. Memories of a few nights later when Astarion finally found pleasure for himself with someone else instead of falling into his old manipulative ways. 
His eyes return to his books pages just as Halsin’s eyes start to flutter, always fearing his partner can read him better than he can understand himself sometimes. 
“I can almost hear the way your mind churns, Astarion,” Halsin says, voice gentle. “What troubles you?” 
Astarion can’t stop the way he falls into that all too familiar nonchalant manner. Despite having let his walls down ever so slowly with Halsin…the rubble is still there and hard to navigate at times. 
The vampire shrugs his shoulders, flipping a page of his book. “Why must something be troubling me?” He asks, answering a question with a question.
Halsin lets out a low hum, reaching up to tug the book down, clearing his view of the man in his lap. 
“I feel that I’ve come to know you’re heart just as much, if not better than my own,” the druid admits, lips turned downwards. “I only wish to lessen your burdens if I am able.” 
Astarions eyes tear away from deep pools of hazel, flitting off into the tree line before he lets out an exaggerated huff and moves to sit up. He tosses the book aside as he moves to straddle Halsin’s thighs, eyes avoiding his still as his hand comes up to gently take a honey colored braid between two fingers. 
“You’re braids are a mess,” Astarion deflects once more. “When was the last time you redid them?” 
Halsin smiles, an action Astarion notices holds a hint of fondness. “I haven’t touched them since the last time you braided them,” he reveals, eyes twinkling. 
Astarion lets out a quiet ‘tsk’ sound, fingers working to tug at the hair ties before working the first braid apart. “Well that just won’t do,” he says. “Can’t have you galavanting about looking like that.” 
A rumble of amused laughter leaves the other man, but he offers no protest as Astarion deftly undoes all the braids before combing through his hair and creating new ones. 
Silence is the only thing that fills the space between them, and soon Halsin’s eyes fall closed again as his hands come up to rest lightly on Astarions hips. He doesn’t do anything; doesn’t pull him closer or squeeze in a suggestive way. No, his hands just rest there, thumbs rubbing soothing patterns against the covered skin. 
Eventually, as Astraion is working on his third braid, he lets out a quiet sigh. Internally battling with himself as the words spill from his lips hesitantly. 
“I was thinking,” he says softly, words a mere whisper in the quote of the glade. “Thinking about everything that’s happened and what…What it means for the future. For…us.”
The last word is spoken so quietly, if Halsin were not an elf he wouldn’t have heard. Be he did, and Astarion stares fastidiously at the hair he works between his fingers, hating the weighted gaze that settles on his face. 
Astarion is a lot of things. But he is not a fool. He knows the way Halsin’s heart beats, the way he sees love as free flowing river, ever changing and swelling and drying up. 
In some ways Astarion feels the same, he’s never wanted the older elf to promise himself to him but…He’s also never thought too much about what would happen if he did leave. 
If at the end of all this, once the tadpoles are gone and the world is safe from the absolute, Halsin decides to leave…
It strikes a different kind of fear in Astarions heart. A fear that settles so deep in his chest it makes his heart ache and his throat close up. 
He meant it when he told Halsin he wanted something real. And real is what he’s gotten. 
Which makes everything so utterly terrifying and complicated.
That fear, that uncertainty, must show plainly on his face, because warm hands reach up to settle against his own, clasping his wrists in a gentle hold and stilling his work.
“What about those things is causing you so much grief, my heart?” Halsin asks, that familiar nickname tugging at something with Astarion. 
He looks up now, red eyes finally locking with hazel as he voices his worries. 
“I’ve never had the…luxury of thinking about the future,” he begins, fingers toying absently with Halsin’s hair. “But with Cazador gone I find my mind drifting there quite often since I…” He hesitates for a moment. “I meant what I said. When I told you I wanted something real. That I want you, and yet-“
“You find yourself turning to fears of what’s to come. Fear of the unknown,” Halsin supplies, hands squeezing his hips gently in his hands. 
“Yes, well, It’s hard not to when I actually have a future to worry about now that Cazador is-“ Astarion closes his eyes, frustration creeping up. “What if I can no longer bask in the sun when the tadpoles are gone? What if I'm once again made to spend the rest of my days in darkness or you-“ Astarion bites his tongue swallowing the rest of his words. 
He can’t voice them. He won’t. Because that would make them real. Tangible. He could very well speak his very fears into existence if they fall from his lips unguarded. 
A warm hand settled against his cheek, urging him to look at the man in front of him again. Halsin’s brow is furrowed, lips drawn tight as he silently encourages Astarion to continue. 
As per usual as of late, that look makes him do things he never thought he would. Astarion often jokes about how he hated Halsin’s ‘wounded puppy eyes’ but the insult always landed teasingly, usually followed by Astarion's compliance to whatever Halsin was asking of him. 
He grimaces, biting the inside of his cheek as his eyes fall away from his partners. 
Part of him hates it. He hates the way this druid has wormed his way into his dead heart. Hates the way he’s managed to slowly mend the cracks that fill his entire being. Part of him hates the way things are no longer…simple. 
But then…He doesn’t truly. He…He loves the parts of him he’s starting to find again. No longer having to rely on fear and manipulation to get what he wants but simply…having it because Halsin gives it freely. 
Finally, hesitantly, Astarion speaks. “What if you leave?” He asks, eyes still avoiding the druids. “Or what if you don’t? What if I’m stuck watching time take yet another thing away from me?” 
His throat constricts as the words fall into the silent afternoon air. The only response he receives right away being the gentle rustling of the leaves and grass around them and suddenly he feels foolish. 
He shakes his head, bitterness settling in his chest despite his best efforts to push the feelings away. 
“Forget I said anything,” he says harsher than he means to, leaning back and rushing to stand.
He just barely gets to his feet when a firm hand wraps around his wrist. Not tight enough to truly keep him in place, but beckoning. Asking him silently not to run as Halsin moves to join him on his feet. 
“Your fears are not something to run from, little star,” Halsin finally says, his voice soft. “I am happy to share your burdens, to help you in any way I can and in truth…” he trails off, reaching out to take Astarions other hand in his own. 
“I cannot pretend to know what the future holds for you. For us.” His words are honest and Astarion can’t help but appreciate the honesty and lack of false niceties. 
Yet again, Astarion feels a familiar calloused palm resting against his cheek, urging him towards his partner. 
“But I do know this; whatever is to come, I promise to stand by your side. Whether that be scouring the earth for a way for you to see the sun again or living in forests so thick the sun cannot reach us…I vow to stay by your side. If that is what you wish.” 
Slight irritation works its way into Astarion’s words as he looks up at the larger elf. “How are you always so…blissfully optimistic? It’s downright infuriating at times.” 
Halsin smiles down at the vampire, thumb brushing gently over his cheek. “Most people find my blind optimism refreshing.” 
Astarion rolls his eyes but still opens his mouth for a rebuttal. However, he’s cut off as Halsin leans down to press his lips to his own, the hand on his cheek sliding back to card through the hair at his nape. 
Despite the initial shock, Astarion melts into the kiss. It’s both firm and gentle at the same time, as if Halsin is trying to say ‘I understand your fears. But I’m here.’ 
Halsin is the first to pull away, but not before leaving one last kiss to Astarion’s cheek. 
“The future is full of unknowns. Neither of us know what tomorrow will bring, we can only deal with what comes as it does. Trust that I plan to be there for whatever happens.”
Trust. 
Such foreign concept to Astarion. He hasn’t been able to trust anyone in nearly two centuries. 
But now…Maybe he can start. 
His fears are still there, the lack of control he now seems to have over things still present in the back of his mind. But it’s quieter now, pushed away by Halsin’s soothing words for the time being. He knows they will come back, both new fears and the things that still haunt him but…
He won’t have to face them alone. 
Astarion sighs before leaning in to press a quick kiss to Halsin lips before tugging him back towards the tree. 
“Come on. I still have to finish your braids.” 
Halsin says nothing, simply smiling as he takes up his previous position sitting against the tree, eyes slipping closed once more as Astarion settles back onto his lap. 
He picks up his task effortlessly, the actions familiar as honey-colored locks slip through his fingers. 
Only when silence envelopes them in a comfortable blanket does Astarion speak up. 
“Thank you,” he says simply, eyes flitting briefly from his task to take in Halsin features.
His lips turn up in a grin, one eye peeking open before two arms come up to wrap Astarion in a comforting embrace, forcing another halt to his work. 
“Anything for you, my heart.” 
And for the first time, in a long time, Astarion lets himself be held and loved by someone who truly means it. 
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