#it was so cool…….. why didn’t they do anything with it………………. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mjolnirswriststrap · 1 day

Text

Just Another Notch

Bucky Barnes x Plus Size F!Reader

Masterlist Part 3/??

Word Count: 1,824

Summary: If Bucky thinks his charms will work on you, then you’re gonna put up one hell of a fight to prove him wrong.

Warnings: Nothing explicit 18+, until later chapters, read at your own discretion. Fat shaming, bully!Steve. Protective!Bruce

Training felt useless. When you made it to the simulation room, you didn’t even power up the hologram tech. You sat in the chair facing the super computer. Seeing your reflection in the monitor screen, cause tears to well in your eyes. You thought you were beautiful, when you looked in the mirror after you got dressed, you felt so confident. The look on Bucky’s face when you emerged from your room boosted that confidence tenfold. You could laugh at yourself now. How quickly things change, it’s the cosmos teasing you. Blowing a long breath out of puckered lips, you drop your forehead, landing it on the cool glass desktop. Maybe you bit off more than you can chew. Maybe you weren’t strong enough to play this kind of game.

You knew you never stepped foot in that gym for a reason. Why did you think today would be different? “You ok?” You raise up, searching the room. “Uh hello?” You say, standing up when you still don’t spot anyone. You see the top of a curly head of hair bent under a desk. Walking up to it, the gym situation leaves your mind instantly. You see Bruce folded up untangling wires underneath a desk. “What a sight.” You laugh. “Yeah, yeah, poke your fun.” He contorts himself free, standing up to press the power button on the monitor screen.

When he’s met with continued darkness, he rolls his eyes and faces you. “Your forehead.” He motions towards his own. You make eye contact with yourself in the mirrored wall behind him. Apparently you’d banged your head harder than you thought. You didn’t feel it but you saw the blood at your hairline. “Oh my.” Your eyes grew to be big like saucers.

You look at the desk to see a large crack down the center of it. “I heard you do it, that’s why I asked if you were okay.” He was looking at you with disbelief that you did that to yourself without noticing. “It didn’t hurt, don’t worry about me.” You brush him off, running to the sink in the corner to wash the blood and sweat from your face.

“I know you have a hard head, my desk though? Priceless and fragile.” He jokes, you can hear the real concern under his voice. “What happened, really?” Bruce steals your rolling chair, sitting below you, looking up intently. His big brown eyes gave you the courage to admit it. “Just the same old, same old.” You kick at one of the wheels to the chair.

“C’mon, you know it’s not good to hold it in. Let the doctor help.” He sounds playful, but you know he’s dead serious. You never considered Bruce one of the main team, so there was no reason to ice him out. He was a scientist more than anything. He spent almost one hundred percent of his time in this simulation room, save for when you both knew you’d rather be training alone. He kept you company, not in the verbal sense.

Most of the time the room was filled with the clicking of keys and hard labored breaths. You both did your own thing, over time you started appreciating each others meekness and opened up. Once you got the man talking, he never stopped. You’re sure his brain is a computer, he soaks up information and spits it back out, corrected. You knew better than to ever lie to him, he was far too smart to fall for whatever you planned to say.

“Tell me.” His smile drops and you feel yourself break a little more. “I embarrassed myself, Bruce.” You look away from his saddening eyes. They were starting to pool with pity, and that’s the last thing you want from him. “Hard to believe, but how?” He says, grabbing your wrist to keep you from running away.

With a deep breath you begin, “I went the the gym with Bucky this morning, mistake one.”. Bruce quickly interjects “Bucky? What are you doing hanging out with him?” He presses his eyebrows together, you can’t discern his expression, was it judgement or something else? “It’s a long story.” You find yourself looking down and away from him again. Like there’s a smudge of guilt and shame creeping in.

“I’ve got time.” He raises his arms in a gesture that conveyed ‘bring it on’. God he wanted the details, why? You glance around the room, finding another chair and rolling it infront of him. “Where should I start?” You giggle, forcing yourself to lighten the mood. “The beginning, please.” He starts to bounce his knee.

“Last night, I was eating my late night cereal in the kitchen, when everyone got home.” Bruce folds his arms and nods. “Bucky joined me in the kitchen and well, he dumped a bowl of milk on me. It was an accident, I think.”

“You think it was an accident? Or you have proof of otherwise?” He says, tilting his head. “Maybe the latter.” You admit. “Okay, so the guy spills milk on you, so you go workout with him?” He was obviously confused. “Not directly after! He apologized and brought me coffee this morning to apologize again, offered to help me out with training.” Bruce rolls his eyes again and you’re sure they’ll fall out the next time.

“Please tell me you didn’t believe he was just innocently apologizing.” He sounds annoyed with you, it kinda stings. You never expected Bruce to get upset with you over it. “What else would he be doing?” You shrug your shoulders at him, genuinely curious if he saw it the same way. “Anyone with eyes here knows, that Casanova, will pull any girl in the building, I’m sure he doesn’t even have a type.”. So Bruce also thinks Bucky was flirting with you.

“I honestly didn’t want to believe it. Why would a guy like him be with me?” You shake your head, trying to throw the thoughts from your mind. “He has been nothing but nice to me, I promise.” You look him in the eyes and you see the tone you’ve been hearing in his voice. Flecks of green shine and then die out instantly, his knee was bouncing faster than before. “If he was so nice then why’d you leave the gym?” His voice wasn’t questioning, it was accusatory.

You choose your next words carefully. “Steve came in, and he said something that wasn’t so nice, so I left. That’s all, Bucky didn’t even do anything, there goes his attempt at sleeping with the whole office.” You try to laugh it off, but Bruce isn’t budging. “What did he say?”

“I was getting a water from the vending machine-“ before you could finish, his knee stopped bouncing, and he unfolded his arms. Now you were worried. “Did he comment on your weight, yes or no?” He stands up, harshly slamming the chair into the desk. You would never lie to Bruce, but the truth might start something you don’t want. “Sorta…” you say, ashamed. He strides past you, and now you’re reaching out for him, “Wait.”.

“No, I’m tired of these pompous assholes doing and saying what they want. I’m not letting it happen, especially to you.”. He looks back before exiting the room, and you feel something in your chest swell. He was so serious right now, you could feel the anger radiating off of him. You didn’t know Bruce felt anything besides casual friendship for you, now you’re starting to think differently.

“I’m coming.” You run to catch up with him, taking long strides behind him as his white lab coat swings behind him, and in front of you. “What makes him think he can even speak on my- on you?” He redirects as he swings the gym door open.

You’re met with Bucky and Steve racing each other in push-ups. “99-100!” “You suck.” “You cheated.” They’re laughing as if you and Bruce didn’t just walk in. “No one cares.” Bruce cuts in. The look of annoyance on his face was enough to confuse the super soldiers. “What are you doing out of the lab?” Steve jokes, but no one laughs. “The next time you even so much as think about Y/N, you’ll be talking to the big guy, not me.”. Steve looks around the gym, wondering who Bruce thinks he is. “Sure, pal.” He grabs a towel and wipes the sweat from his neck. “Tell your girlfriend to lose some weight then.” Before you could even be hurt, all you saw was green.

Hulk was infront of you now, taking heaving breaths. You poke your head out from behind him and see Steve and Bucky holding their hands out as if they were calming a wild boar. “Woah, don’t you think you’re over reacting?” Steve says, stepping back. “Y/N! Call off your dog!.” He says, tripping over his own feet.

Hulk slowly stalks towards both of the men, ready to shred them to pieces. A sinister smile on his face. You feel no pity for Steve, but the thought of Bucky being hurt in the crossfire didn’t sit right with you. Before the jolly green giant could break a bone you pipe up loudly. “Hulk? Hey! Over here!” You wave your hands around in the air.

He can see your tiny form trying to catch his attention, and Hulk has the peace of mind to just ignore you, and do what he knows best, smash. The first fist landed on the gym floor, splinters of wood flew everywhere, a hole to the basement left in its place. “Hulk!” You scream this time and it catches his attention. “Go home!” You demand. You knew better than to have a civilized conversation with him. He knew how to take orders from Fury, so maybe it would work. When he just stands there and looks at you, you double down. With a faux confidence, you looked him in his giant green eyes. “Now, Hulk!” You raise an eyebrow, like a tested mother, as if you were about to count to three.

You don’t know why, the hulk didn’t frighten you one bit, but silly, mean words would make you crumble. He growls one last time at the scared super soldiers before breaking through the door way leading outside. Leaving you alone with the men you almost had killed. Bucky looks in disbelief, like he wasn’t almost used for a human punching bag. “Sorry.” You shy away, stepping on fallen bricks to follow Bruce outside.

“What the actual fuck just happened?” You hear Steve ask, but you’re halfway to the swaying trees before you could hear his response. You don’t really know where Bruce lives, so following him through the woods was your only option. You don’t want him destroying more floor boards on your account. Also, you need to find out why he was so passionate about defending you.

Tag List:

@cjand10

@winterslove1917

@honestlywork

@calwitch

@missvelvetsstuff

@differenttyphoonwerewolf

@Thewiselionessss

@mcira

@sashaisready

@thejujvtsupost

@toxicteapot

#avengers fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #avengers #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #mcu #fanfic #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x you #bruce banner #hulk #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x you

112 notes · View notes

specialagentartemis · 3 days

Text

The Murderbot Diaries and Terminator: Dark Fate: What Does a Killer Robot WANT, Anyway?

The Terminator (1984) is probably the most famous killer robot in media, setting the image for a what a killer robot is. It’s shaped like a bodybuilder, weapons built into its metal skeleton, eyes hidden behind cool and impersonal sunglasses, a threateningly “foreign” accent, and no feelings, no remorse, and no desires besides killing its target. Kyle Reese describes it to Sarah Connor bluntly: “That Terminator is out there! It can't be bargained with. It can't be reasoned with. It doesn't feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop... ever, until you are dead!” And the film supports this wholeheartedly. We get a few scenes from the Terminator’s perspective, and they do not really indicate that it has much in the way of personality or free will. It’s scary because it is a ruthlessly efficient, tireless, and analytical machine built to kill. It will not stop until its target is dead, or it is.

Terminator 2: Judgement Day (1991) gives us a nice Terminator, a Terminator captured from its controlling Skynet and re-programmed to help Sarah and John Connor rather than hunt them. This Terminator gives slightly more suggestions that it has a personality of its own, but ultimately it is still now ruthlessly efficient, tireless, and analytical in protecting its charges, but it still dies at the end in the course of fulfilling its objective. It was, after all, programmed by the human rebels to protect John Connor, and it did.

Did the Terminator want any of that? The second film halfheartedly cares a little, and the first film certainly did not at all. It’s an irrelevant question. It’s a robot; it’s incapable of truly wanting anything, it just does as it’s programmed. It fulfills its objective.

In modern sci-fi, that’s not really a satisfying answer anymore. It looks like a human, has human organic parts built into it, and it clearly has the ability to process large amounts of information and make complex and reasoned decisions. Why do we write it off so thoroughly? Does a Terminator like what it does? Would it choose this? What does a Terminator want?

The Murderbot Diaries (2017-present) by Martha Wells isn’t a direct answer to this question, but it sure is considering it.

The titular Murderbot is very similar to the Terminator: a human-form cyborg, a robot with human organic parts built in, a machine with guns in its arms made to do a job and that job being to protect and/or oppress humans. But as a thinking, feeling, complex entity, it has opinions about that job.

You know what else is a clear response to early Terminator movies’ fundamental uninterest in the Terminator’s inner life and personal opinions on things? Later Terminator movies. Specifically Terminator: Dark Fate (2019).

The fact that The Murderbot Diaries and Dark Fate came out at roughly the same time, in the same sci-fi AI-story zeitgeist, looking back critically at the 80’s and early 90’s Terminator and asking, well, what would it do if it didn’t have to murder, who would it be if it had the choice, is telling.

The Murderbot Diaries stars Murderbot, a SecurityUnit owned by a callously greedy and corner-cutting company that uses such SecUnits ostensibly to protect but in reality to intimidate, control, and surveil human clients. It calls itself “Murderbot” and all SecUnits as a whole “murderbots” for a reason. The world of the books sees SecUnits as mindless killer robots kept in check by their programming, in a very similar way that the Terminator was presented in 1984. We see the story from Murderbot’s point of view: it’s snarky, depressed, anxious, bitter, funny, and very opinionated. It also really, really hates intimidating, controlling, and surveilling people, and it specifically broke its own programming meant to keep it compliant so it wouldn’t have to hurt people. Instead, it wants to half-ass its job and watch soap operas… but it’s sympathetic to humans in danger despite itself, and when it chooses humans it cares about, it will go to great lengths (ruthless, but very tired and full of fear and pity) to protect them. What does it want? To be given space; to not be given orders; to have the ability to take its time and watch its shows and determine what its job as Security means to it.

Terminator: Dark Fate takes a different tack. (It’s actually about three badass women and I’m very sorry for focusing on the man-like character here BUT) Dark Fate presents an alternate timeline off the main series, where the Terminator succeeded in killing young John Connor. Previously, we had seen Terminators that would not stop until they were dead; this one fulfills Reese’s other warning. It will not stop until John Connor is dead. Well…. it succeeded. John Connor is dead.

Now what?

In the opening scene, we see this from his mother Sarah Connor’s perspective. The Terminator appears out of time, ambushes and kills young John Connor, and then stands there looking impassively at the destruction it wrought while Sarah screams.

It looks cold and satisfied when that scene is first presented. But when we see it again from the Terminator’s perspective, it seems to just stand there, staring stupidly, suddenly with no direction in life. It fulfilled its objective. It followed its programming. Now it has no more objective, can receive no more orders, and its programming has nothing more to tell it to do. It eventually disappears into the woods, learns more about humanity, grows a conscience, lives in a little cabin with a woman and her son fleeing an abusive husband in an apparently mutually very supportive relationship, chops wood, drives a truck, and gives Sarah Connor insider information to allow her to track down other incoming Terminators as a way of atonement. It does have remorse, if given time to think for itself and realize it. It doesn’t really want to hurt people, and even, similar to Murderbot, has a drive to use its strength and intimidating-ness to protect the people it chooses. It mostly wants to be quietly and safely left alone.

Both the Terminator and Murderbot are killer robots left adrift, aimless, reeling, suddenly having to decide for themselves what to do with their lives for the first time. Both are stories that circle back to the original Terminator premise and say, okay, but that killer robot isn’t killing for the sheer thrill of it, it was forced into doing that by a top-down authority in control of its programming. That would kind of fuck someone up, actually. It’s a hopeful narrative: these things are people, and they don’t want to be hurting other people. When given the option, they just want to rest, make amends, understand the truth, find a place they belong, and see the people they care about safe. And I think it’s fascinating that not only is smaller, literary sci-fi asking this question and telling this story, but so is the Terminator franchise itself.

We also just as blatantly see the evolution of Sarah Connor as a character. In The Terminator (1984) the Terminator is sent to kill Sarah Connor. When I was watching it recently with some friends who had never seen it before, they guessed—almost correctly—“oh, it’s because she’s the rebel leader in the future!” Sorry guys, this is a 1980s mainstream sci-fi blockbuster. Her as-yet unborn son is going to be the rebel leader. That’s why the robots in the future need to kill her, before she gives birth to the hero of the humans. Blech, I know.

Over the course of the movie, though, she becomes tough, fierce, and brave, the type who can and will survive the apocalypse; in future movies and tv series (like The Sarah Connor Chronicles, 2008, where she gets to be the eponymous title character this time!), she gets to be a strong leader in her own right. This is particularly true in Terminator: Dark Fate, where Sarah Connor is a tough, grizzled, middle-aged Terminator-fighter, who steals heavy weaponry from the government to track down and kill Terminators arriving from the future. She becomes a mentor to the new woman being hunted down by the new Terminator threat, Dani Ramos. This time, though, Dani isn’t fated to be the mother of the human rebel leader—she is destined to become the human rebel leader herself. Along with Dani’s own Kyle Reese figure, a cybernetically-augmented human fighter from the future named Grace, women get central action-hero and rebel-leader roles in Terminator: Dark Fate, feeling like an awkward apology for the sexism inherent in the premise of 1984’s The Terminator. (However, Dark Fate stops short of committing to the Dani-Sarah/Grace-Reese parallel and letting them be lesbians. It’s still a mainstream action movie, I guess.) We even see the development of a curt but resentfully respectful understanding between Sarah Connor and the Terminator that killed her son.

I lay this out because in the same way I see the literary DNA of the Terminator in Murderbot, I see elements of Sarah Connor in Dr. Mensah. She’s the human protagonist—the one who would be the protagonist if All Systems Red had been from the human perspective—and feels like the answer to a similar question to “what does a killer robot want?”, namely, “what if, instead of enemies locked into battle to the death, the badass human and the killer robot worked together and came to an understanding? What if they could be friends instead of enemies?” Mensah also feels like a feminist response to some of the issues I had with Sarah Connor—that she didn’t get to be the leader herself, that despite her own strength and tenacity being the mother to the leader was the most important thing she would do—and responds to them in a similar way that Dark Fate somewhat apologetically does. Mensah is the leader of her society (her planet). Mensah is a mother and she is a scientist and a leader and gets her badass action-hero moments (MINING DRILL). She is the first to reach out to Murderbot. To ask it how it feels, and calm down the others later when they’re afraid; her relationship with Murderbot is unique. She’s a foil to Murderbot in a parallel but opposite way that Sarah Connor is a foil to the Terminator. And while in Dark Fate they are not friends (the Terminator did still kill Sarah’s son, even if it didn’t specifically want to) we see the same kind of desire reflected: what if they were at least allies? What if they were working together? How would that relationship go? What kind of understanding could they come to, about what it means to be human and to be machine? It's a smaller part of the movie and they don't give a whole lot of answers, but it's there.

Both All Systems Red (and the subsequent Murderbot Diaries books) and Terminator: Dark Fate were released in a very different sci-fi zeitgeist than The Terminator was. They’re both looking back, and reacting to it: Dark Fate directly, The Murderbot Diaries indirectly. And they’re approaching the concept of the Terminator and its Sarah Connor figure with similar questions: What does the robot want, aside from its programming to kill, and if it could be freed of its programming to kill, what kind of relationships—with society, with the concept of self-determination, and with its human woman foil—could it potentially be able to develop, with that freedom?

#They’re also both aroace #is it regressive? Does it imply things about sex/romance and humanity?#I don’t care I appreciate that neither one had to prove itself a whole person by falling in love #that’s a topic for a different post #Dani and Grace didn’t get a romance either. Cowards #but I kind of appreciate there was no human romance and sex/inhuman lack of romance and sex that was sorta lowkey going on in the original #This piece is less polished than last week's but oh well #MurderMetaMay #The Terminator #Terminator Dark Fate #The Murderbot Diaries #meta #my meta

73 notes · View notes

dronebiscuitbat · 3 days

Text

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 2)

Uzi felt herself being dragged out of sleep mode. Something she wanted to cling to heavily, she was warm, safe, happy, she moved closer to the heat source, mumbling a "no” as it seemed to try and move away.

Then it stopped, before enveloping her again, followed by a deep, strong rumble that did nothing but make her more comfortable.

“Uzi, come on, if you're dad walks in on this he's going to have a system crash.” A voice spoke to her, she recognized it, she smiled.

“Let him… he sucks.” She mumbled, and another rumble went through her. A pressure on her back, guiding her, and lingering for just a moment.

“Come on. At least let me go drink something before I overheat.” At that she felt herself get pulled completely out of sleep mode, her eyes flashed back to her visor with a groggy grumble.

“N?” She questioned, not quite awake. Why was he here again? And why was she so warm?

“Yeah? Are you going to let me get up?” He had a laugh tucked in his words. Uzi opened her eyes, only to look directly into a honeyed visor.

Her mouth went dry, memories of the sleepover invading her head, the movie, him overheating, his sleek armored body-

Ack, No! What the hell? Drones didn't even have anything to look at!

Oh but it was worse, she was on top of him, his arms wrapped around her waist and his tail wrapped around her leg, her chest pressed against his, feeling his core hum underneath her.

Oh… Oh no…

Her face exploded in blush. Every ounce of her body suddenly becoming ice. She scrambled off him, throwing herself off the bed with “ohgreatrobojesus” tumbling out of her mouth right before she hit the floor with a thud.

N was immediately next to her, checking to see if she was okay.

“You good? I'm so sorry! I didn't think I would scare you awake!” His hand was on her shoulder, already apologizing for something that wasn't his fault. Stupid crush, stupid cute golden drone boy, dammit.

“Bite me! I'm fine, you didn't. I just, wasn't expecting- whatever.” All her shields came up at once, trying to grip for something familiar despite how soft she felt. N thankfully only laughed, stepping back and stretching his tail.

“Good! I was worried I spooked you. You know you're really cuddly in your sleep?”

Oh Robo-god, how… how did he still not know? After everything that had happened in just this one night, how had he not figured her out by now? Did he know? Was he just pretending he didn't? Or was he actually that dense?

“Oh… uh sorry.” She apologized, turning to him after doing her best to conceal her fluster, only for N to look horrified.

“I didn’t mean to imply it was bad! It's really nice you can relax like that with me! It let's me know I'm being a good freind!”

He was… actually that dense. And Uzi had never been happier about having a crush on an idiot.

He's not an idiot, he's just dense, there's a difference.

“Still, s-sorry for keeping you pinned down.” She offered. Still feeling the need to apologize for using N's body like a personal heating pad without asking, even if he looked like he hadn't minded in the slightest.

“It's okay! I could still breathe, nothing like being pinned to a wall!”

Man sometimes the shit that came out of his mouth was concerning. It wasn't often, but sometimes he would reference how he was mistreated by J, V tended to just ignore him, which annoyed her, but at least she wasn't physically abusive.

She was glad she'd vaporized the bitch. Twice.

“Oil stash is in the mini-fridge, help yourself.” He immediately whipped towards it, burying his face into the space beneath her desk.

“Tanks!” His muffled voice cheered, pulling out an oil can with a straw. Chugging the container like it was water. Oil running down his cheek and threatening to drip from his chin.

Honestly, Uzi wouldn't ever admit it, and felt weird admitting it even to herself. But watching him display his more… murdery side always excited her, like he was dangerous to be around and she was cool and edgy for being able to tame the beast inside him.

The only problem with that fantasy is that N was probably the safest being in a hundred miles to be around. And the beast inside was an overly excited dog.

Still, she could sometimes pretend.

He finished, wiping his mouth before training his gaze on her, she felt her neck prickle, damn he looked predatory sometimes-

“When's the last time you topped up?” He asked, realizing that he'd drunk from her personal stash and hadn't noticed any other container.

“Yesterday. Don't worry, I haven't been ignoring it… it kinda won't let me…” She thought back to the first time she'd drunk the stuff without being, for lack of a better word, Possesed.

She was curled up in a ball, sitting in the pod. Looking reproachfully at the cannister of oil N had put in front of her. The same N sitting across from her, trying to hype her up.

“You need this, if you don't have it you'll go on a rampage again. And I know you don't want that.”

“It's still from a worker drone. It's still blood, I… I don't want it. Please don't make me.” She'd been in hysterics, only a week after she'd killed half her classmates did she start hungering for more. Temperature slowly ticking up.

“Uzi, I won't let you burn yourself up.” N had replied, looking steely, he moved slightly closer, picking up the canister and holding it out to her.

She took it with a shaky hand, she hadn't recovered from loosing control, waking up terrified, or waking up drooling, or both. She didn't want to hurt anyone else, she couldn't, she didn't think her conscious could handle it.

So she tipped it into her mouth, and the oil slithered down her throat.

She felt both relief and disgust hit her at once, making her immediately want to vomit. She would have, had N not grabbed the container and forced it to stay in place.

“Don't vomit, I know you want to. I did at fist too, drink slowly, stop thinking about where it comes from.” He had a hand on her back, the other slowly tipping more in her mouth.

She hated it, she **loved** it, it was sweet and warm and rich, like the best mixture of coolant she'd ever tasted. Tears pricked on the corners of her visor. Fuck, was this what she was now? She really was a freak.

A monster.

“Thats it… it's okay. Don't cry Uzi, it's okay.” N's voice was soft, and he was rubbing circles into her back to relax her. Slowly she did, taking the container from his hand and holding it herself, draining the liquid from it.

She finished it, visor blurry from the tears, N wiped what was left from her mouth with his thumb, looking at her with a soft smile.

“Are you okay?” He asked, and the worker drone blinked back at him for a moment before Uzi launched herself into his chest, choked sobs escaping her, her arms wrapping around his neck, gripping his shoulders so tight that if it was any other drone it would hurt.

N wasn't a monster, he was the nicest person Uzi had ever met and then some. But he still needed oil, and he'd killed for it, countless times, but it still wasn't okay was it? That she craved it, that the desire was there just under the surface?

“Yeah… that's what I figured.” He said sadly, holding her tightly as she sobbed uncontrollably into him, his arms went around her, holding her close, then his tail, and then they were shielded by his wings, as if they were cocconed in thier own little world.

“You're not a monster, it's not your fault.” N said into her hair, almost reading her mind, sobs turned into hiccups and whimpers, feeling the warmth of his core humming underneath her.

“W-why does it h-have to be me?!” She said in a warbled, watery yell, pressing herself against him further, she felt him stiffen, then relax, a hand petting her hair.

“You're so strong, you're so brave, and smart, if it was anyone else they'd already be dead.” He complimented her, her beanie slid off as he ran his fingers through her hair. She sniffed, despite her current state she felt a blush creep up her visor.

“B-bite me, you don't actually mean that.”

“Yes I do. Would I ever lie to you?”

She was pulled out of the memory by N's hand on her shoulder, head cocked the side as if he expected something from her.

Had she been ignoring him?

“Oh! Sorry, did you say something? I kinda zoned out…”

“I just asked if you needed me to get more oil for you, I don't want you going without.” He repeated, not looking annoyed at her in the slightest, which honestly kinda made her feel worse.

“Nah, I can get some from the nursery.” She brushed him off, walking to her door and leaning against it for a moment, looking back at him.

“It's not dusk yet, and I'd feel weird just leaving you in my room… wanna come with? I don't think you've seen the nursery before.” If she was being even more honest with herself, she just wanted him put of her room so he wouldn't snoop. He… didn't need to find her dair-journal, it was a journal.

Not that she thought N would intentionally voilate her privacy, but just the thought of him stumbling upon her stupid sappy fanfiction about him- no shut up made her want to never give him the chance.

“Oh! Babies?” He hummed, grabbing his overcoat and hat from where they hung on the side of her bed.

“There might be a couple. People have started to have them more after you and V stopped… you know.”

N smiled, beginning to pull off his shirt before he saw Uzi standing there and paused, sheepishly motioning for her to turn around.

She did, facing the door as she heard N fumble with his clothes, and a muttered “Oh Biscuits” under his breath.

“Problem?” She hummed, trying not to think about how broad his should- freaking stop brain why.

“No! Er well yes, but I got it!” She heard more shuffling, then the distinct sound of N's claws unsheathing. Then more sounds of N getting increasingly frustrated.

She turned around to find N struggling with his belt, mostly because his tail was caught in it, and he was trying desperately not to stick himself while trying to use his claws as a crowbar, lifting up the belt so he could pull his tail free.

“How did you manage that?!” She laughed as N looked dejected, returning his claws back to his normal hands and awkwardly wringing them.

“I haven't ever taken the coat off before.” He mumbled, and Uzi just giggled, coming up to him and grabbing the wire of his tail, and slowly unweaving it from the fabric of his belt.

This was what he meant by sweet, Uzi didn't make fun of him when he made mistakes, at least not seriously, and he felt less dumb and less scared when he did make one. She'd often just explain what he got wrong or- like now, just help him out.

“Least I can put mine away, this looks like it can be a nuisance sometimes.” She pointed out, seemingly almost done with her task.

“Sometimes, and the vial is really sensitive too, I think it's to make sure we don't break it…” as he mentioned it, Uzi's palm grazed the nanite vial in question, sending a brief but powerful bolt of input up his tail, making him wince.

“Sorry… said that a second too late.” She said, also looking like she winced with him. But he just smiled.

“S'okies, it wasn't on purpose, you're also trying fix my screw up, so can't complain.” He gave her a thumbs up as he was finally able to pull his tail free.

“You can still complain. Also it wasn't a screw up, just a… wardrobe malfunction.” At that they both laughed, Uzi looking down at herself in her light yellow shirt.

“Right, my turn. Then nursery.”

#md uzi #md n #serial designation n #biscuitbites #murder drones uzi #murder drones n #murder drones nuzi #nuzi #murder drones #n and uzi #uzi doorman #so many tags #they're in love your honor #and make me feel the warm fuzzies #Don't worry we'll get to V

62 notes · View notes

wosomaanum · 11 hours

Text

Pains | Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: You we’re on day two of your period, and it hurt everywhere. You’re girlfriend, Jessie was there to help.

Warnings: anything to do with periods, medication

Notes: Short

————————

You were wrapped up in bed, clutching your stomach. You felt horrible and just miserable. Not only were you having severe cramps and dealing with your period, but you had a horrible headache.

“Hey babe, I saw this really cool resta-“ your girlfriend, Jessie is soon cut off by her own concern as she enters the room - her speech that trailed along the hallway coming to a halt.

“Baby what’s wrong?” Jess says instinctively, her freckles highlighted by the sun hitting her face - perfectly framing her features. All of which you adored.

“I promise it’s not that bad. I’m fine, really.” You knew you weren’t, and you knew Jessie knew that too.

Jessie cutely grumbled in a soft tone. “I know you’re not. Are you on your period, is it cramps? What do you need me to get you?” A sudden plethora of questions escaped her mouth.

“Jessie I said I’m fine.”

“You are not fine. I’m gonna get you a few things. Just stay here.”

You told her not to bother, but your words fell on deaf ears.

Soon, Jessie returned. A hot water bottle clutched in her arm and some medication and water in the other. She speed walked over to your side and crouched down next to the bed as she examined your face.

“Hey hey. It’s okay I’m here.” She comforts you, as she places the hot water bottle on your stomach. She brushes some loose strands of hair out of your face.

“I’ve got some paracetamol okay? Come on let’s just sit up for a moment.” She gently guides you so your back is against the headboard before she hands you your medication. You drink it, reluctantly - knowing your too stubborn to let others take care of you.

"Here you go, love," she says softly, handing you the medication and water. "This should help a bit.”

You didn’t grow up in a house of affection. You weren’t use to it and it made you feel awkward. You were stubborn, and you knew it but Jessie made you better. Overtime, she made a dent in your stubborn exterior slowly and slowly peeling back the layers. Of course, there was still times you felt like you were a burden but Jessie always reassured you that you weren’t.

The truth is you weren’t.

———————

Throughout the day, Jessie ensures you are as comfortable as possible. She prepares meals that are not only nutritious but also easy on your stomach. Whether it's a bowl of hearty vegetable soup or a plate of fresh fruit, she prioritizes your well-being with every bite.

"How about some soup for lunch?" she suggests. "I made your favorite vegetable soup.

"That sounds perfect," you reply, grateful for her thoughtfulness.

Understanding that rest is crucial, she encourages you to take it easy, often taking over household chores to allow you some much-needed relaxation.

"Why don't you lie down for a bit? I'll handle the laundry," she says, giving you a reassuring smile.

When the pain gets intense, Jessie is there with a stash of your favorite chocolates and a comforting hand. She’ll sit with you, holding your hand, or massaging your lower back when the cramps are unbearable.

"Do you need anything else?" she asks, her eyes full of concern. "Let me know if the cramps get worse."

"Just having you here helps a lot," you admit, squeezing her hand.

In the evenings, Jessie suggests watching your favorite shows or movies, a welcome distraction.

"How about we watch that new comedy series you've been wanting to see?" she offers, dimming the lights and creating a cozy atmosphere. You snuggle up together on the couch, her warmth and care transforming these difficult days into manageable ones.

Jessie’s unwavering support not only eases the physical discomfort but also makes you feel profoundly loved and cared for. "I don't know what I'd do without you," you whisper, snuggled against her.

"You'll never have to find out," she replies, kissing your forehead gently.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #period cramps #period #portland thorns #canada #canwnt #jflem #woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader

97 notes · View notes

wintersera · 20 hours

Note

Can you make a fic about vampire!karina? Her fangs in supernova mv got me dizzy😵‍💫

not so much of a fic but maybe a short little imagine/drabble thingy? cause yk yuh eslayyy

tw: blood 😰

anyways she looks like a little brat here it’s actually driving me a little insane CAUSE HOW DOES SHE LOOK SO CUTE WHEN SHES WREAKING HAVOC IN THE STREETS (and in the sheets ifykwim)😭

the typa vampire girlie to be so desperate to feed on reader bc shes so pretty and shes so so hungry ;;

lets say one day you woke up in the middle of the damn night, had a singular thought- the thought being explore the forest, at what? 2am. what a great idea 😭

so you prepared essentials in a backpack; some food, water bottle, a torch, lighter, batteries and thats about it.

you weren’t too big of a believer in the supernatural, you thought the concept of it was cool yk, warewolves and vampires- all that interesting stuff that you’d see in movies and books. obviously all that stuff was fake, so really, coming across a vampire wasn’t on your list of ‘what to do and encounter at a forest’. and now you’re aimlessly wondering around in the butt fuck of nowhere ignoring the obvious signs as to why your ass should NAWT be in the fucksss forest at this ungodly hour. you could’ve chosen any other time but naaurrr,,,

anyways, as you were strolling around without a care in the world, you heard the snap of a twig and something rustling around in the bushes. it could be a bear, or a man… the idea of that was worse by tenfold.

was the right option run back home and go back to sleep, yes! did you do it? NO, you know what you did? move towards the bushes… any reasoning? “what if its a cat? the cat distribution system could be in my favour today” :]

WRONG.

out from the bushes came a pretty tall girl. she bared her teeth at you, a clear warning so you could back up before anything bad happened. yet you stood there observing her instead. ngl you were pretty terrified none the less, pretty girl with sharp fangs that could rip through your skin. you were convinced she wasn’t real, maybe she was a hallucination??? idk bro maybe you were on shrooms or something.

“what are you doing here all alone in the woods pretty girl?”

tbh you were pretty shocked to the point of not being able to talk, so you stood there.

“aww too scared to speak? that’s okay, come with me” she grabbed your hand, grip pretty tight since she didn’t know how strong she really was. now all of a sudden you’re in an empty cabin log “dont be alarmed but… im hungry- can i get a bite? just a little. i promise i’ll only drink a little” you thought this was a big ass lie but let her bite you :( she’s so hungry.

her sharp fangs pierce into your neck, moaning at how good you taste. she couldn’t help but to embrace you as she was savouring your blood. the pain only lasted for a mere second before your body was engulfed in warmth, you thought that maybe you were gonna pass out but you were fine. i guess she figured out how nervous you were, your body tense and everything?!?2)2! she pulled back “i’m sorry did it hurt too much? it’s okay i can make it feel better” kissing your neck and whispering how happy you made her “i’ll return the favour” trailing bloody kisses from your neck down, to your collarbone and further down. ngl you thought it was pretty hot at how messy and how inexperienced she was at this. her hands would be all over you at first, on your tits mostly playing with them through you clothes “feel any good…? c-can i still taste you?” you nod hesitantly, but it did feel good though!

maybe because you were her first victim, she didn’t know what in the hells she was doing :,( obviously as a new vampire spawn she was trying her very best to make you feel good after she fed off of you. ripping your clothes off with ease, she wasted no time :] she made sure that every inch or your body felt good— leaving bloody stains wherver she kissed you, yes shes a messy eater 😭 the blood is all over her mouth leave her be-

after a long time of being kissed and having your boobs played with, she finally takes off your panties- soaked ofc! and blushes at you, looking up with her darkened puppy eyes,, awww how cute ;; you give her a slow nod and she just goes for it. so desperate and needy to make you feel good, she wouldn’t be lying if biting you made her so turned on. she fr eats you out like you were her last ever meal on earth 😊 like she gets so pussy drunk, lapping up all your juices, sucking and licking your clit so harshly earning a whimper from you.

she just thinks you taste so good,, your blood, your pussy? her heads spinning from your scent,, ouh girl she’s feeling dizzy, but that only drives her more insane. gripping onto your thighs, digging her nails into them. she wants more- moaning loudly as she continues to eat you out vigorously, her tongue circling around your clit so fast that it brings you to tears- are you sure she’s inexperienced bc this feels way too good “mmmhf is.. is this good? does your pussy feel good pretty girl?” that sentence alone brings you towards your climax- thighs squeezing together, essentially trapping her inbetween your legs 🫣🫣

so know if you’re ever feeling bored, you’d know where to go to find a certain specific desperate vampire waiting for you in the log cabins at 3am 🤩

IGNORE IF I MADE ANY MISTAKES PLEEKKKK 🙏🙏🙏🙏

#kaye: imagines!!#aespa smut #aespa x reader smut #aespa karina smut #karina smut #yu jimin x reader smut #girl group smut #yu jimin smut

132 notes · View notes

vanishingstarrs · 20 hours

Text

sleepless nights

part 1/?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was late. You shouldn’t even be awake, but you couldn’t sleep with all that was going on in the world.

So you decided to do something productive: bake. You needed something to focus your energy onto and who didn’t love cookies? You were sure your dorm mates would appreciate some in the morning when they all awoke.

You had very minimal lighting, but were wearing your glasses so that wasn’t an issue. You also had a pair of earbuds in one ear so you could monitor for any noise or disturbances you may be causing by being up so late into the night. The music was soft and meant to be soothing, you hoped it might make you sleepy with time, but it didn’t take and eventually you sat down next to the oven while you waited for your timer to run out.

“What are you doing?”

You nearly jumped, your hand coming up to clutch your chest as you pulled out your earbud and looked up at the person standing there.

“Jesus, you’re quiet.”

“And you’re not.” The blond countered.

You frowned at him,“Sorry, I couldn’t sleep.”

Bakugo sat down across from you, eyes glancing at the oven briefly before looking at you again,“How much longer?”

You glanced at your phone before looking at him and shrugging,“Seven minutes.”

He said nothing as he turned on the stove and placed a pot of water on. He stood and watched it until it was hot enough to pour into a mug with a teabag hanging off the side. He held it out to you, your eyes focused on the fact that it was his mug, his favorite color, his initial, his.

“For me?” You asked, unsure.

“Drink.” He said.

You took it and slowly took a sip, the tea was unfamiliar in taste and you figured it might also be one of his. Usually Yaoyorozu was the one to offer you tea, you weren’t well versed in them, but did enjoy the taste whenever you had one.

“Did I really wake you up?” You asked as guilt settled in the pit of your stomach.

To your knowledge, Bakugo was a heavy sleeper.

He eyed your timer again.

“No.”

“Oh.”

You didn’t really know what else to say. You stopped the timer before it could make noise and stood up, placing the mug on the counter and picking up an oven mitt instead. The cookies smelt amazing as you pulled them out and part of you wanted to taste one, but the other part worried you’d get judged for eating it so late. Instead, you placed them on a rack to cool and took another sip of the tea.

You felt his gaze on you.

“Aren’t you gonna eat one?” He asked.

You shrugged for the second time,“They’re too hot right now, maybe tomorrow.”

“It’s already tomorrow.” He deadpanned.

There was no way your face wasn’t red as embarrassment flooded your mind, now you felt even worse for him being awake despite him saying it wasn’t your fault. The heat of the tea concealed your blush but fogged up your glasses, which was arguably even more mortifying, as you suddenly remembered that you were wearing them. No one ever saw you in them. You always made sure to wear your contacts in class and in costume for training, around anyone besides your parents.

Before you could do anything about it, the frames were plucked off your face and you watched dumbfounded as Bakugo used his t-shirt to clear them back up for you. You briefly eyed the tiny sliver of skin exposed by him using his shirt.

“Why can’t you sleep?” He brought the lenses up to his eyes to make sure they were good before placing them back on your face.

The question was unexpected, the whole interaction was, in fact. He was the last person you’d expect to care. Well… you didn’t know if he actually cared but still. You gulped, did you want to confide in him? You were never really close, I mean, sure, he didn’t yell at you the way he did the others and often times you’d worked together and managed to take care of your assignments without arguing. But you weren’t friends. At best, he tolerated you.

While you continued to hesitate, he walked over to the rack of cookies and plucked two out of the bunch. He bit into one, showing no signs of liking or hating it.

“How is it?” You couldn’t help seek validation, even if it was from him.

He held out the second cookie to you and you took it. One bite, two, they were fucking amazing. Not to toot your own horn, but if you were good at anything, it was baking.

He finished his off but said nothing on the taste or quality, you had a feeling chocolate chip wasn’t his favorite but didn’t dare ask what was.

“You gonna answer my question?”

You sighed and took another slow sip of tea before the mug was pulled from your hands and you watched Bakugo tip it back and down the rest. You watched with an open mouth as you didn’t know whether to be offended since he’d made it for you or go red at the fact that he’d drink from the same cup as you without care. As he rinsed the mug in the sink and set it down to wash later, he looked back at you with raised brows, okay…

“I’m worried.” You fidgeted with your fingers now that you didn’t have the mug to hold onto,“About Midoriya, about the fate of Japan… the world, actually. I wonder how it’ll all end, and whether all of us will—”

Your voice cracked, you took a deep breath,“You know?”

He sighed. “You gonna cry?”

Okay, that kinda hurt, you thought to yourself. Stubbornly, you held in your remaining feelings as you shook your head, you couldn’t say no or else you’d definitely shed a tear or two.

“Worrying won’t help him, or any of us.” He spoke up after a second,“What you need is rest, so that when they need us we’re able to do something. I know it’s all words or whatever, but that’s about all I can offer. Put your shit away, I’ll walk you back to your room, that tea should be kicking in any minute now.”

You looked at him with a questioning gaze and he scoffed.

“Relax. I didn’t slip you anything, I drank some too. It’s just some shit I buy, it soothes and helps you sleep. C’mon, I’m tired.”

You nodded and left it at that, quickly working to put your baked goods in a cute cookie jar you’d purchased once and writing a note for your classmates to help themselves and that they were fresh. You added that you’d clean up your dishes in the morning and your initials at the end with a smiley face. When you turned back around, Bakugo was waiting and he let you walk ahead of him.

It didn’t take long to reach you door, but when you did what he said surprised you.

“Leave your door open. Mine will be too.” He didn’t say it, but the implication was there. He’d be there if you needed anything.

“Okay.” Was all you responded with.

You didn’t know if it was the tea, or the fact that you felt a little lighter after telling someone a bit of what you were feeling, but you were definitely starting to feel tired and you couldn’t help reach up to rub one of your eyes.

“Nice glasses.” He teased.

You were thankful for the darkness to hide your blush as he ended it with,“Night.”

He was already walking away when you whispered so low he surely couldn’t have heard it,“Night… Bakugo.”

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #part one ??#unedited

60 notes · View notes

daydreaming-nerd · 20 hours

Text

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 13

Young Love and Old Money Masterlist

AN: This is more of a filler chapter before shit gets fucking wild in the next one. I'm telling you I'm so pumped for the next chapter ahhhhh! It's not super exciting but I hope you all enjoy it! If you're new here from The Prophecy... Hi!🥰🖤

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Mentions of under the mountain and what Eris did

Word Count: 5,338

Rhys POV:

I had finally allowed myself to hope.

The circumstances of which I had granted myself that hope was…well… unpleasant. I would never wish Feyre to be under duress for any reason, but it did bring her into my court for good. When Mor came back with her I had never felt so relieved. I wanted to say that I couldn’t believe that Tamlin would lock her up like that, but I would be lying to myself.

It wasn’t the first time she had been to Velaris. Once I saw the state she was in at the wedding, too thin, too pale, I started calling in the bargain. I saw her improving dramatically since I started doing so, pink lining her cheeks, muscles building on her arms. She had yet to meet anyone but Mor. Y/n had been dying to meet my mate, but I didn’t want to overwhelm Feyre. She was still learning what it meant to be fae, still getting used to her new life, and still learning to trust me.

“So you are both High Fae and Illyrian?” Feyre asks, messing with the leftover food on her plate.

“Yes, my mother was Illyrian and my father was High Fae. That is why I can summon Illyrian wings when I want to.” I answered her question truthfully. I knew that no matter what I wanted to be honest with her, let her see every dark part of me and choose to love me anyways, I owed her that.

“Were they mates?” she inquires further.

“Yes they were,” I replied, secretly hanging on every word she said. I tried my best to act aloof, but when she was here? In my home? It was hard to keep my cool.

“How do you know someone is your mate?” she queries and my heart drops.

I know that she is talking about Tamlin in her own subtle way, wondering if the High Lord of Spring is her mate.

“You don’t always know right away, take Kallias and Viviane, they didn’t know they were mates until they were married,” I explained to her, I watched her face lighten, no doubt thinking that there was still a chance for her and Tamlin.

“I’ve never met a set of mates before,” she said with a hint of longing, like if she could just set eyes on a pair it might ease her mind.

“Would you like to?” My words slipped out before I could think of the implications of them.

Her eyes flitted up in amusement and I swore I melted at her lighthearted gaze, “I would.” she said.

“My younger sister, y/n. She’s mates with my general, Cassian. We can go and see them if you would like.” I say thinking about how excited y/n will be to finally meet the cursebreaker.

“I would like that very much,” Feyre smiled.

I stood and walked with Feyre to the edge of the property outside the townhouse. It wasn’t the first time I had flown with her, but I could still tell she was apprehensive of the height. I took the fastest route to The House of Wind and made sure to fly like I was holding my mothers china. Feyre was far from breakable, she was strong enough to withstand just about anything. But that didn’t mean I was going to be someone who challenged that strength, not like Tamlin did. When we arrived at the huge mansion I could feel the female's eyes glancing over the exterior in awe.

“This is another one of my homes, but I tend to stay in the townhouse. My little sister and Cassian live here with Azriel.” I say opening the door for her.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, her eyes taking in every single detail.

I try to pry into y/n and Cassian’s mental shields but I’m met with nothing. They were here though, their scents lingered in the library we passed on the way to Cassian’s room. I knock on the door and I’m met with silence.

“Cassian? Y/n?” I call out hoping for some sort of answer but hear nothing once more.

As Feyre looks at me expectantly I weigh my options, which would make my sister angrier? Waking her up to meet Feyre or not waking her up to meet Feyre? I let out a shallow breath and chose the latter, opening the door to reveal a giant heap of limbs.

“Oh I didn’t know they were asleep,” Feyre said, moving away.

“Don’t worry about it, y/n will have my head if I don’t introduce you two,” I laugh walking into the dark room, Feyre trailing behind me.

When I approach the bed I can’t even see my little sister, her body covered entirely by Cassian’s wing. The only indication that she’s even there is her small hand peeking out from under it and a tendril of hair on the pillow.

“I thought you said that Illyrians were protective of their wings?” Feyre whispered, clearly questioning why Cass’ wing was draped over y/n.

“They are,” I whisper back. “But she’s his mate. He would rather have his wings shredded than have anything happen to her.” I say fondly. I had to admit, while I was still getting used to Cassian and my little sister being together, it was nice to not have to worry about her safety as much. Anyone who dared to harm her would have to face Cassian. Gods spare that poor fool.

“Even in his sleep?” she asked in a hushed tone.

“Especially in his sleep,” I laugh, moving to shake my sister's hand, trying to wake her.

The second I grasp that small hand to shake it awake Cassian’s eyes fly open and the next thing I know there’s a dagger aimed at my throat and a murderous gaze thrown my way.

“Easy Cass it’s just me,” I chuckle as I hear Feyre gasping and taking a step back.

“Cauldron Rhys you scared the shit out of me,” Cassian sighed lowering the dagger, beside him my sister stirred.

“Cass what’s going on?” she asked, her voice laced with sleep.

“Nothing princess, it's just Rhys,” he answered, smoothing her hair out of her face. It was strange to see my war general so docile and domestic.

“And Feyre Archeron,” I corrected as Feyre took a step further. “Why don’t you two wake up and meet us outside.” I laugh leading Feyre towards the door.

Behind me I can hear Cass gently explaining to a very tired y/n what’s going on.

y/n’s POV:

“Do you think she saw me?” I ask frantically putting on my dress.

My older brother had just ambushed me with his mate and the first time she saw me might’ve been with a bed head. I was angry with him for waking me, but I would’ve been more pissed if he hadn’t done so, not when I wanted to meet the cursebreaker so badly.

“I’m sure she did,” Cassian chuckled, strapping his daggers to his side, no doubt going to train when this is over.

“Ugh,” I sigh, running a brush through my hair. “I probably looked awful.” I sigh, setting down the brush.

I see Cassian walking up to me through the mirror. He wraps his arms around my waist and places a kiss on my shoulder, sending reassurance and affection down the bond.

“I don’t think you’ve ever looked awful a day in your life, princess.” he smiled into my shoulder.

“You have to say that you’re my mate,” I laughed, turning in his arms.

“And your husband don’t forget that title too,” he says, tilting my chin up to meet his warm gaze.

“How could I ever forget that, husband.” I smile, pecking his lips.

Without another word Cassian and I walk hand in hand down the hallway to where Rhys and Feyre are sitting in the living room. I take a moment to survey their body language. While my brother leans on his knees, seemingly drinking in every breath and movement Feyre has to offer, the cursebreaker sits stiffly on the couch. I make eye contact with my brother and he stands immediately.

“Feyre darling I would like to introduce you to Cassian, the general of my armies and y/n, my little sister,” Rhys says proudly gesturing to the two of us.

Feyre turns to see us and I swear my heart stops. The last time I saw the female she was prone on the floor underneath the mountain. Every High Lord had sacrificed a bit of power to save her. Becoming high fae seemed to suit her.

“Hello Feyre, it's an honor to meet you,” I smile.

“The honor is all mine,” she says timidly, giving a slight bow. “I’ve heard stories of your beauty before. Tamiln and Lucien used to talk about you a lot, I never believed them but now I see they were right.”

“Oh really?” Cassian inquired brisling at her words and I considered elbowing him in the ribs.

“You flatter me too much, Feyre.” I say and look to change the subject. “How are you liking Velaris so far?”

“I like it very much, it’s beautiful here.” she says looking around the townhouse. “Rhysand says that you and Cassain are mates?”

“We are, we just had our mating ceremony and our wedding last month,” I say happily. Cauldron, had it already been a month?

“Congratulations to the both of you,” she smiled stiffly.

“I was just about to take a walk through the city, there’s a pastry shop down there that makes croissants stuffed with this delicious chocolate and hazelnut filling. Would you like to join?” I ask, my brother gave me a weary eye, but I shrugged him off. What Feyre needed was a friend, a female friend that is, and I was more than happy to jump at the opportunity.

“I would like that,” she smiles, the blue in her eyes lighting up ever so slightly. “May I walk with your sister oh so powerful high lord?” Feyre turned to Rhys, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

Rhys barked out a laugh, one I hadn’t heard in quite some time, “Feyre darling I told you that you are not my prisoner, you may take the air with my sister if it pleases you.” he says gesturing to me.

“Well then shall we?” the cursebreaker asked me.

I couldn’t help but let out a small giggle as I looped my arm in hers, I had a feeling she and I were going to be fast friends.

“You’re right this is incredible,” Feyre’s words were nearly inaudible as flakes of pastry fell from her mouth.

“I know right? I’ve been going there once a week for years. Well sort of…when I was growing up I wasn’t allowed to leave the house. My parents were weird and feared my beauty would be too tempting for males. So they locked me up tight and threw away the key. Rhys used to bring me these pastries all the time, he was my only real window to the outside world.” I divulge, almost regretting telling her so much until I remember how she came to be here in Velaris.

“So you haven’t really seen the other courts then have you?” she asks, wiping some chocolate from the corner of her mouth.

“I actually have,” I smile finishing the last bite of my treat. “When Rhys learned to fly the first thing he did was come and get me and take me to a candy shop. From that day forward he snuck me out whenever he got the chance, that’s how I know Tamlin and Lucien. It never sat right with my brother, what my parents did to me,” I continue, hoping to show a side of Rhys that I knew he would never offer up himself.

Feyre continued walking beside me, for a moment there was silence, as if she was considering my story, comparing it with hers. If she had something to say about Rhys she didn’t divulge, instead turning the conversation to other matters.

“Can I ask about you and your mate?” she queries. “I’m not sure if it’s a personal subject or not, I’m not well versed in the customs of fae.”

“Ask anything you like, I assure you I have no problem talking about my mate,” I laugh thinking of Cassian’s smiling face now.

Feyre gives a subtle laugh, “How did you know he was your mate?” she says, turning her head to read my expression as we further walked down the Sidra, seemingly clinging on my every word just like Rhys had clinged to hers.

“Well Cassian knew first, I didn’t know until much later,” I start recalling the moment the bond snapped, the joy followed by pure terror. “I was set to marry Eris Vanserra, an arrangement made by our fathers a long time ago. When Rhys and I returned from under the mountain we both grew apart as we were both processing what had happened in our own way. He found the arrangement in my fathers things and thought that we could use the Autumn Court’s armies if Hybern should come to call, and after he saved me under the mountain I didn’t want to say no.”

“He saved you, yet you were still down there?” Feyre asked, and I paused for a moment. Rhys had not told her the conditions of his servitude.

“You don’t know?” I ask to make sure. If Rhys didn’t explain to his mate why he took the actions he did, it would be a great disservice to both him and his character, one I would rectify.

“Know what?” she asked clearly not seeing the big deal as she finished off her own croissant.

“The only reason Rhys was Amarantha’s whore was because of me,” I start, feeling the shame seep in. “When we first arrived under the mountain he was able to keep me hidden, but then Hybern paid a visit and he wanted to take me for his wife. Rhys begged Amarantha not to let him take me, she agreed on the condition that he would come to her bed willingly.”

“I-I had no idea,” the cursebreaker stuttered as her eyes zoned out on something far away.

“It’s not something he and I talk about much, but it’s for that reason I chose to marry Eris, to try and repay his sacrifice. However, Eris was cruel, he hurt me and assaulted me, I was nothing more than a pet to him. Cassian was the one to take me back and forth to the Autumn Court during our courtship and I fell in love with him. One night we couldn’t stay away any longer and I found myself in his bed. I knew I couldn’t end the courtship with Eris without bargaining for armies so I kept our relationship a secret.”

“That must’ve been torture,” Feyre gasped her eyes finally finding me.

“It was,” I nodded. “I didn’t know we were mates, and I ended up finding out the day of the wedding, but it was too late. I married Eris to save Velaris and Cassian was banished from Autumn. That night Eris found out I was impure, he dumped me over the Autumn court border and left me to die. If it wasn’t for the bond Cassian never would have found me.” I finished telling the story.

“I- I’m sorry that you had to go through those things. That you came to be with Cassian under such hard circumstances.” she says, as if she doesn’t trust her own words. “But things are better now right? You’re safe?”

I let out a light hearted laugh, trying to keep the conversation from veering anywhere dark, “I’ve never been safer. Eris is out of the picture now that my brother and Cassian have chased him out of town. Now it’s just Cassian and I in our newly mated bliss.” I smile.

“I can see how anyone would run from Rhys,” Feyre rolls her eyes dramatically.

A warm chuckle rumbles through my chest, one so infectious it finds Feyre’s lips too, “I know my brother can be a bit of an ass sometimes. But give him a chance, he might be the king of sarcasm, but underneath all that he truly cares.” I tell her, bumping into her shoulder playfully.

“I suppose I can try, at least I know I have you now,” she smiles looking across the way at a nearby vendor.

My heart smiles at her words.

At least I have you.

My mission was complete. I was able to get her to trust me, to feel like she had a friend in me. Maybe, just maybe, her knowing that there was someone else on her side would bring her closer to Rhys, maybe I could finally find a way to repay the sacrifice my brother gave for me.

I swing the wooden sword down at Cassian’s, the hard impact of them meeting causing a grunt to leave my lips. The hot sun beat down on us as we spared as best we could. He could easily beat me if he wanted to, I was still a beginner after all, but he never made me feel like I was inferior. We had been out here for over an hour, the evidence of it being seen on my sweaty fighting leathers. My second set, to be exact. Once my first set got dirty and sweaty Cassian bought me another so I didn’t have to wash them so often.

I had no clue where he got them, but somehow these were even more beautiful than the last set. My mate even got me a Illyrian steel corset that would keep me from being lacerated, as well as metal bracers to protect my wrists. At first they took some getting used to, the weight of them a new feeling, but now they were like a second skin.

“Sword high princess,” Cassian instructed me as I felt the weight of the wooden sword start to bring my arm down.

“It's heavy!” I protest swinging at him again, this time with both hands on the hilt to hit him harder, even though he told me not to do that.

His sword clashes with mine and in one swoop he uses his wooden blade to raise my own. My hands were high above my head as he stood inches from me.

“I know it’s heavy just wait until you wield a real sword,” he says, placing a kiss on my nose, taunting me. “And don’t use both hands, in real combat you’ll have a shield as well, you’ll need to be able to use that sword with one hand.”

I let out a low growl before stepping on his foot, earning a groan from him as he didn’t see it coming. My sword sits heavy in my hands as I swing it, knocking his legs out from under him and using my shoulder as extra force to put him on the ground. He lies on his back below me, wooden sword tumbling from his hand. I see him reach for it and lightly press the toe of my boot into his wrist and lower myself on top of him, placing the pretend blade to his throat.

Cassian’s hazel eyes look up at me in pure awe and amusement and something I had only ever seen from him, pride.

“Is it bad that this is turning me on right now?” he barked out a laugh causing me to break my menacing stare.

I snort at his words, letting up the pressure I had on his arms in the process, “Cass you ruin everything!” I laughed, tossing my sword to the side and shifting my foot off his wrist so that I sat fully on his stomach.

“You call it ruining the moment, I say I’m making it better,” he smirks as his hands find my hips.

The Lord of Bloodshed leans up to place a passionate kiss on my lips. My hands find either of his cheeks needing him closer to me than he already is. As his tongue swipes my bottom lip and enters my mouth I let out a small moan that has him shifting beneath me.

“Really guys on the training mat? Is nowhere sacred anymore?” Azriel’s causes us both to nearly jump out of our skin.

“Cauldron Az,” Cassian curses, putting a hand over his heart like it might’ve stopped. “Enough with the spymaster shit you scared the piss out of me.”

A smirk tugged at Azriel’s lips, “You deserved it,” he remarked, going to wrap his hands.

I shift my weight off Cassian and stand offering him my hand. He takes it, even though he’s twice my size and if he truly used my help I would end up on the ground again.

“You’re getting better princess,” Azriel praised me. “I’d say it’s time you wield a steel sword instead of a wooden one.”

“Maybe,” Cass warns, dusting himself off. “The last thing I need is you slicing yourself open.” he said to me.

“What afraid I’ll mar my pretty skin?” I tease rocking back and forth on my toes, remembering how Cassian all but worshiped me last night, claiming that the stories of my rose petal soft skin were true.

“No I’m afraid that you’ll accidentally bleed out on me,” he replies, flicking my nose.

Azriel chuckles beside us, “You’re far too protective of your mate brother, she can handle a real sword if she can handle your ass.” he taunts.

“You forget that if anything were to happen to her Rhys would have my head,” Cassian rolls his eyes, placing our swords back on the rack behind him.

“I suppose you’re right, but she has to start sometime.” Az shrugs, finishing the wrappings on his hands. “Alright princess who you got today?” he asked me.

I let out a laugh as our new tradition reared its head again. For weeks now after Cass trained me Azriel would come down and they would spar. I would always gamble on who would win the first match, sometimes I would win, sometimes I would lose, it was all in great fun. But lately the boys had been taking it much more seriously and I couldn’t help but laugh at them and call them “Illyrian babies”.

“Hmmm,” I said, pretending to think. “Considering I just handed Cassian his ass I think you’ve got this one Azriel.”

“Pfft in his dreams,” Cassian scoffs, ripping off his shirt. Azriel copies the motion and I can’t help but feel my cheeks heat at the sweaty males in front of me.

“Then let’s raise the stakes then,” Azriel boasts. “I win, y/n trains with steel tomorrow”

“You’re on,” Cassian taunts as he squares up. “Baby, I hope you aren’t prone to splinters because you’re going to be getting them for a while.”

Azriel took two steps back towards me, “Wanna give me some good luck?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

I laughed and gave the shadow singer a playful kiss on the cheek.

“Now we’re talking,” Azriel laughed, flipping his swords in his hands.

“Oh you’re a dead male where you stand,” Cassian smirked.

In an instant they were a storm of steel. If it had been a real fight I’m sure wisps of cobalt and crimson power would be among that twister of metal. But their rule was no siphons when training. In a weird way it was beautiful the way they fought. During the training sessions with Cass I had come to learn that fighting was much like dancing, it was about anticipating your enemies next movement. Knowing where to step when, how to move your feet.

They were both evenly matched in every way. Even though I spent every day pretending to think about who might win I never truly knew. It was always a guess, or a gut feeling. So far I had bet mostly on Cassian, for obvious reasons, but whenever I put my money on Azriel he seemed to show up.

As I watched them deflecting eachothers blows and grunting with the sheer force of striking and blocking, I couldn’t help but wonder if I would ever be as good as them. If I would ever be able to truly fight and win against the warriors.

My thoughts were interrupted when I saw Azriel’s back hit the ground, his wing being pinned underneath him. Cassian stood above him, chest heaving and pointing his sword at the shadowsingers neck.

“Do you yield?” Cassian asked out of breath.

Azriel simply held up his hand to ask his brother for a lift up, silently admitting defeat. Cass took it and hauled the spymaster up in one heave.

I clapped my hands slowly as Cass walked over to me knowing that this is when I typically took my leave to wash up for dinner.

“It was a good match,” I smiled at my mate trying to hide my disappointment about not being able to train with real swords yet.

Cass slid his fingers under my chin and tilted it up so he could place a goodbye kiss on my lips, “You’ll train with steel tomorrow,” he smiled before returning to his own training.

I gave an enthusiastic whoop before retreating to The House of Wind to clean up and prepare for dinner with Feyre and Rhys.

Months Later…

It had finally happened. Feyre had found out that Rhys was her mate and she wasn’t taking it well at all.

Rhys was distraught when he found me in the library reading. He told me what had happened, from the ambush, to the Suriel telling Feyre about the bond. I honestly spent most of the time being surprised that the cursebreaker had been able to find the Suriel in the first place. My brother told me that his mate sat in the old cabin in the Illyrian mountains and I knew instantly that I needed to see her.

I had watched the two of them come alive for each other these past few months. Saw Feyre become stronger and more sure of herself. Watched my brother turn back into the male he was when we were just kids. I had befriended the Archeron girl all the while, offering her comfort when I could, as we shared many of the same experiences, being locked up, being in an abusive relationship, being under the mountain…

I ran to Cassian asking him to fly me to the cabin and he did so without a second thought. He saw the panic in my eyes, the need to be there with her, to offer her some sort of comfort. Because as if fate had intertwined us we now shared another experience… being the last to know about our mating bonds.

As Cassian landed in the snow outside the cabin I wished I had brought more furs. The wind ripped around me, chilling me to the bone. I shook off the memories of being thrown into the Winter Court and marched my way up to the cabin door giving it a knock.

Feyre opened the cabin door dressed in breeches and a thick sweater, her hands and face covered in paint.

“I can leave if you would like some privacy, I just wanted to check on you,” I say earnestly trying to keep my teeth from chattering.

Feyre’s blue eyes look to me and then back to Cassian who stands a few yards away. “Come on in, I could use a friend.” she said quietly and my heart warmed at the word ‘friend’.

I nod to Cassian who takes off into the sky before stepping into the cabin. The warmth of the raging fire immediately heats my cheeks and I discard my furs onto a nearby chair. It had been years since I had been back here. We used to spend solstice here, just the four of us. Of course that was before mother and father died, and I hadn’t been back since.

I look around and gasped. All over the walls Feyre had painted our eyes, my family's eyes. Each so distinct I could name each one. Amren and Mors, Azriel’s, Rhys’ distinct violet, and at the end, Cassian and I’s painted together.

“These are beautiful,” I say in awe, looking over each set again.

“I just needed something to get my mind off things,” she sighed, collecting the paints in a box.

There was a moment of silence as I tried to let her decide where she wanted the conversation to go. She closed the box with a sigh and then turned to me.

“Did you know?” she inquired, her eyes flickered with hope and I realized she prayed that I was just as in the dark as she was, that she wasn’t alone in this.

My heart dropped and her eyes faltered as she heard the answer in my hesitation. “I wanted so badly to tell you, but I knew it wasn’t my place to say anything, it was between you and Rhys.” I say sitting on the floor by the fire.

“I understand why you didn’t say anything but I wish someone had told me,” she says solemnly before joining me on the rug.

“Believe me I wanted someone to tell me too,” I chuckle as I lean forward more soaking up the heat of the flames.

Her eyes shoot to me as she seems to remember how I was in the same situation not too long ago, “When you found out Cassian was your mate, that he had kept the bond a secret from you, were you upset with him?” she asked.

I cocked my head trying to remember what I felt that day in the Autumn Court, “Honestly it happened so fast that I can’t remember what I was feeling exactly, but I know I wasn’t angry,” I chuckled. “I had loved Cass long before I ever said it. He kept the bond from me because he thought he was taking a weight off my shoulders. He didn’t want me to feel like I had to choose between my mate and my court. I wish I would’ve known, it would’ve saved me a world of trouble because I would’ve chosen him no questions asked. But I understand he had his reasons for keeping it from me.”

Feyre gave a shallow nod, signaling that she had heard me. “But why didn’t Rhys tell me?” she asked, her words desperate and I wasn’t sure if it was a question I could answer.

“I don’t know for sure.” I said honestly. “But I do know this, Rhys has spent his whole life believing he is a monster because of the front he has to put on for others. I think sometimes he forgets why he puts on that front, to protect his people and his family.”

I take a deep breath wondering if I should continue but I can’t stop the overflow of words coming from me, “I think he didn’t want you to feel shackled to a monster. All you’ve ever known is the darker parts of him, he wanted to give you a chance to let you know the good parts, then let you decide for yourself,” I place my hand on her arm and her eyes snap to mine. “All I can say is that Rhys wouldn’t keep it from you if he didn’t have a good reason. You don’t have to hear him out today, tomorrow or even next week. But I think you should at some point, if only to give yourself the peace of mind of knowing the full story.”

Feyre nods again, grabbing my hand and squeezing it tight, “I’m really glad you’re here,” she confessed, her eyes going glassy.

“Anything for you Archeron,” I smile, feeling my eyes glass over too.

I'm so fucking excited for the next chapter I'm buzzin' guys...

Permanent Taglist: @fides25, @dissociated-always @crystalferret202, @batboyrhyrhy , @kennedy-brooke , @sunshineangel-reads , @lilah-asteria

Taglist: @crystalferret202 , @nickishadow139 , @graceshifts , @writeroutoftime , @heyyitsnat21, @stinkinstuffie , @lilah-asteria , @12358 , @fxckmiup , @daughterofthemoons-stuff , @mybestfriendmademe , @anxious-study , @bxm-1012 , @mal-adaptive-dreams , @sh4nn , @talesofadragon , @5onedirection5 , @saltedcoffeescotch , @flourelle ,

47 notes · View notes

gracie-rosee · 2 days

Text

Early morning 5AM thoughts and (a LOT of) questions about Azriel’s powers. Longer post, I’m just having fun with theories.

First of all, I was inspired by @violetasteracademic and @nikachansstuff. Not by any particular post, but because they are just so cool and have very smart thoughts that got the gears turning in my head.

So I often wonder about Azriel’s shadows. We learn that his powers started to show when he was locked up by his father as a child. But did they come to him, or are they a real part of him that he was born with?

It’s just something that I’ve never been able to fully wrap my mind around. If he was born with this immense power—enough for seven siphons—why did they suddenly show up after what, 11 years?

The thing is, the power he was born with, the one that requires seven siphons, that’s the Illyrian power he got from his father. Right? That power requires seven siphons. So… his shadows have to be separate, and had to have come to him afterwards. (For now I won’t be talking about the possibility that he inherited shadowsinging powers from some long ago ancestor. This post will not be going in that direction, and instead focuses more on the powers themselves.)

So it begs the question(s) then: if they came to him, are they like, their own entity? Or are they literally just shadows and nothing more? Though the idea that they CAME to him implies that they are more than just shadow. Do they speak to him? If they came to him, could they potentially leave? Does Azriel even control them at all or do they just like… work alongside him? Do they have… thoughts? Do they have a personality? Why did they choose him?

But there’s also the elephant in the room: Elain.

Did she wield his shadows? Did Azriel send them to her? Or did the shadows find her and help her on their own?? SJM told us Elain stepped out of a shadow, when winnowing is described as a literal blink to/from a place. So she 100% came from his shadows. (Side note: this whole stepping out of shadows, and not to mention her being the only one to use TT thing, just solidifies that Elain is, and always will be intertwined with Azriel, regardless of who they end up with.)

So either 1. Elain can wield them, 2. Azriel sent them to teleport her, or 3. His shadows left him and sought Elain out, meaning she would also have to communicate with them so she knows where they’re going.

But ALSO!!!!! OF ALL PEOPLE WHY ELAIN? IF HIS SHADOWS LEFT HIM OR AZ SENT THEM TO FIND SOMEONE TO GO UP TO HYBERN AND KILL HIM? WHY ELAIN?????!!!!!!! WHY NOT AN ACTUAL SOLDIER??!

Okay but I NEEEEED an Elain POV of this more than anything. More than I want the next book. I need to know how it went down, because it would answer a lot of questions I have.

Here’s how I’ve envisioned it happening:

Option 1: Elain anxiously pacing with Truth Teller when suddenly a familiar shadow flies toward her, tells her that her sisters are in danger and whisks her away to help after she doesn’t even hesitate.

Option 2: Elain receiving a vision of Nesta and Cassian dying, then calling out to Azriel’s shadows to take her to them.

Option 3: Azriel seeing Nesta and Cassian dying, so he sends his shadows to fetch Elain so she can help.

I find option 3 VERY hard to believe, because why on earth would Azriel send Elain, with no combat experience whatsoever, to walk right into the middle of a literal killing field. He would never voluntarily put her in that danger. So it had to have been a variation of options 1 or 2. Meaning Elain and the shadows communicated in some way.

His shadows sought her out on their own. To which I ask, WHY?!

Or Elain sought the shadows out herself, to which I ask HOW?!

I’m so mad everyone just glosses over this. Do you know how many fucking times the death of Hybern was brought up? Like every damn chapter. And yet no one talks about Elain and how she suddenly wielded shadows.

Like hello? How did Nesta not even question it at all? I guess maybe she didn’t see how Elain arrived in shadows, but she still didn’t question how she arrived period. Nor did Feyre. Feyre who was narrating. And I’m assuming she showed Rhys as well as everyone else how the Hybern died afterwards. And yet. No. One. Freaking. Cared. HELOOOO??!!! I smell an intentional diversion.

Ugh. So many thoughts. So many questions. I have more questions that I’d like to pose to anyone reading this far about Azriel’s shadows themselves, but this is pretty long already. If anyone wants to know my thoughts on shadowsingers and shadow magic itself, let me know.

#I have so many thoughts all the time #acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #elain archeron #kinda an elriel post but not really but also really because canon points at elriel and I’m only talking ab canon here #acotar thoughts #acotar thought exercise

51 notes · View notes

onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 1 day

Text

It's Too Soon, Too Fast, But This Could Last

Request: It was supposed to be a one night stand. Then it became a second night. A third - and suddenly they realized that they had never left.

Roy Kent x Reader 1k words Warnings: Language, mentions of a one-night stand

“I was thinking about getting a pizza for dinner. What d’you think?”

You looked up from your phone across the couch at Roy, who was gazing at you with raised eyebrows. Another dinner invitation? Was he expecting you to sleep over- again?

When you’d gone out with your girlfriends on Friday night, the only thing on your mind was dancing and letting loose. Sleeping with someone was not in the plans. And waking up on Saturday morning in Roy Kent’s bed was nowhere on your radar. But both of those things happened. And Saturday morning had turned into a lazy Saturday afternoon of movies and takeout, followed by another night in his bed. Now it was late Sunday morning, and you were lounging on his couch with a movie, wondering when the infamous womanizer was going to kick you out of his house.

“Pizza,” you echoed cautiously. “Uh, sure, pizza sounds great.” After a moment, you cleared your throat, fighting the urge to squirm nervously. “I might head home after that,” you added, keeping your eyes on Roy.

Instead of agreeing that yes, you should get the hell out of his house, Roy wrinkled his nose at you. “How come?” he asked plainly. “Something wrong?”

Not the reaction you were expecting, if you were being honest. “I think you might be running out of t-shirts to loan me, Roy,” you chuckled awkwardly, gesturing at the black shirt the footballer had handed you after the shower you’d shared that morning.

Those brown eyes narrowed playfully. “Just need a change of clothes, eh?” After a moment, he shrugged, the corner of his mouth beginning to curve into a smirk. “Why don’t I drive you by your place so you can grab a couple things while I go to the shop and get things to make a proper dinner?” Before you could formulate any sort of answer, he grabbed your leg and tugged you towards him until you were right next to him, face to face, noses touching. “How’s that sound? Stay over again?”

That tiny grin and those raised eyebrows were impossible to resist. “Alright,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’ll stay again.”

That was three weeks ago. Now, your toothbrush sat on Roy’s bathroom sink, next to your toiletry bag and hairbrush. Your duffel bag was settled in its spot next to his dresser, a spot it only left when you ran back to your place to refill it with fresh clothes. Even your laundry was done at Roy’s house, using the fancy-high tech washer and dryer in his washroom with just as much ease as you used your own. When you left work, you went straight to Roy’s house. When you popped into the shops, your groceries went into his kitchen.

It was a bit surreal, if you were being honest; you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything to your girlfriends, other than coyly tell them that you’d had a good time with Roy after he’d put his hand on the small of your back and led you out of the club you’d met at. But hell, if it wasn’t the happiest couple of weeks you’d had in a long time.

You were in the kitchen making dinner when you heard Roy’s voice. He didn’t call your name, the way he usually did when he walked through the door. Instead, it sounded like he was in the middle of a conversation with someone. Sure enough, when you peeked into the living room, you saw him with his mobile pressed to his ear.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” he was saying. With his back to the kitchen, he couldn’t see you lingering in the doorway, unsure whether to do something to get his attention. “Is it cool if I, uh, bring my girlfriend with me?”

Girlfriend. Your hand flew to your mouth to stifle your squeak and hide your smile. Girlfriend. Had Roy really said that? With two little syllables, he’d nearly stopped the breath in your lungs and sent your heart into the stratosphere.

Deciding to pretend you hadn’t heard a thing, you quickly turned back to the kitchen. Too quickly, apparently, because you harshly slammed your shoulder into the doorframe.

“Ow,” you hissed, rubbing your arm.

So much for keeping quiet.

When you glanced over your shoulder, Roy was looking at you, phone still pressed to his ear. His eyes sparkled at the sight of you, clearly fighting a smile. “Alright man,” he said to whoever he was chatting with. “I’ll see you later.” He hung up and offered you a small nod. “Hey there,” he hummed casually.

“Hi.” You crossed the room to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. The kiss he pressed to your lips was familiar now. “So, you’re taking your girlfriend somewhere, hmm?” You raised your eyebrows at him. “Do I need to leave before she finds me here or…?”

Roy’s smile turned from coy to bashful and so freaking adorable. “You heard that, yeah?” He chuckled and shook his head. “One of my teammates is having a birthday party tomorrow night.” He pressed his forehead to yours; you could feel the embarrassed heat radiating off his face. “I’d fucking love it if you came with me.”

“What about your girlfriend?” you teased, anxious to get him to ask him the question you were clearly digging for.

Sure enough, Roy rolled his eyes and gave you a little squeeze. “Fuck off,” he huffed with a chuckle. “I was talking about you, you muppet.” He leaned in for a kiss.

Refusing to let him off the hook, you dodged his lips and shook your head. “I’m not your girlfriend,” you reminded him pointedly. “Unless you asked me something and I completely missed it.”

Roy gave another eyeroll, paired with an affectionate groan. “Fine.” He squeezed you closer now. “Since you’re already half moved in, d’you think you want to be my girlfriend?”

It was supposed to be one night. One night in Roy Kent’s bed, something fun and casual, something that you’d giggle about with your girlfriends and slowly forget about. But now, with your things in Roy’s house and his arms wrapped around you, you knew there was only one answer to his question.

“Sure, Roy.” You leaned forward and kissed his lips. “I think I want to be your girlfriend.”

#request ❤️#he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction

41 notes · View notes

anxiousdreamcore · 1 day

Note

May I humbly asks for your interpretation/opinion/view of the Spider & Quaritch as well as the Spider & Sullies relationships/dynamics ?

Sure! I’ve complained about how my opinion of the characters changed throughout the year of being engaged in the fandom so I might as well share! 🤭

Spider: An audacious, frat-boy-ish teen who stinks of dirt, sweat and will eat a live bug to gross you out. Kiri said that he bites and she was 100% honest because this kid will fling his mask off and tear into your throat if you mess with his baby siblings �� at the same time, he’s more than capable of being responsible and gentle, especially when it comes to Pandora, its wildlife and cultures, all of which are clearly very important to him. A menace with a heart of gold and an iron fucking will, untameable. Unbreakable. No authority scares him.

Quaritch: A man so damaged he can’t be repaired. He’s seen too many horrors, killed too many people, watched too many comrades die, has been infected with too much poison. It runs in his veins and destroys everything he touches…which is precisely why he is only likeable as a father. He has never been one before and that part of him is completely new, not yet damaged. The only part of him not yet tainted by the rotten creature that is the rest of him. A mangy, old army dog that will burn Pandora to the ground if its chain is broken, but will lie down and wag its tail for his child, and only him.

Oh, and he’s mentally ill too, at least to some extent, canonically. It’s not to say that his mental illness makes him a bad guy. No. It’s the lack of care he puts into coping with it that contributes to the dumpster fire that is Miles Quaritch. My personal headcannon is that he needs mood-stabilisers yet regularly skips them.

Spider & Quaritch dynamic: Two outcasts who bond over being isolated by their respective groups. Also, Lima and Stockholm syndrome duo! Quaritch gets an instant liking to Spider that soon grows into fatherly love, as Spider brings out the best in him; his most pure, childish and kind traits. Does the rest of him, the rotten, the poisoned, hate it? Oh, absolutely. But he can’t, won’t stop the wild-child from worming his way deep into his decaying heart. Spider meanwhile battles his own platonic feelings and holds onto his resentment as much as he can. He wants to love Miles but he doesn’t. He loves him but he wishes him an agonising death. He wants to be hugged by him and sink a blade into his chest. He wants Miles to prove him that not all grown ups are rotten and he can still be loved. He wants Miles to love him.

Spider & Sully siblings dynamic: “A family disappointment and local cool stoner to his siblings, who are more than happy to take after him because they think his utter freedom and lack of care for authority is cool” kinda vibe. Will play fight with his siblings and bite their noses before kissing them better and shoving them away. Calls Tuk a little gremlin affectionately. Brings Lo’ak back down to Pandora when he spirals into his insecurities or gets too bold and self-sacrificial. Is platonic soulmates with Kiri and feels a profound connection to her, as she does to him. Resents Neteyam for abandoning their little group to become a "respectable warrior". Wants him back. Wishes things could be like when they were kids.

Spider & Neytiri dynamic: She she sees him as a pesky, dangerous demon child that…that didn’t do anything but stay loyal, through all the torture and horrors. A lot of guilt is present between them after the final battle, and they will definitely have a horrible, explosive argument about it sooner or later, but for now they are content at silently sharing space, at time quipping and taking light jabs at each other, because that is their cycle. Playfulness, fear, resentment, until it all explodes and they scream at each other, then the cycle repeats, fuelled by guilt. Is there a chance to stop it? Will they ever be okay?

Spider & Jake dynamic: Hero worship turned disappointment. Spider idolised him for his status and incredible feats as a child but as he grew, and Jake consistently kept him at an arms length without establishing clear boundaries, the constant pining to have him as a father became a never-ending, aching pain in Socorro’s chest. Jake gave him an empty hope that they might one day be a family, without ever clarifying that it’ll never be true, confusing the boy until he was proved not once, not twice, but thrice, that he isn’t needed, isn’t missed, or loved by Jake. He’s a stray animal, and that is all he’ll ever be to him. He knows better now than to wish for something that can never be…doesn’t even want to. Quaritch might be a horrific monster, but at least he genuinely loves him. He doesn’t need Jake’s pathetic scraps of affection anymore. He doesn’t need him anymore.

•

43 notes · View notes

johnwickb1tsch · 7 hours

Text

Excessive Force : a Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE AMAAAZING @treedaddymcpuffpuff 😘😘😘) - Chapter FOURTEEN ---> (all chapters)

trigger warnings: mention of police shooting, child trafficking, past childhood trauma, abuse, etc. plz take care!

“Are you serious?!” You have to move the phone away from your ear to avoid a blown drum from Sheila’s screech.

“Yup.”

“Okay, why don’t you sound as excited as me?”

“I’m nervous. He’s really forward. And, I haven’t been on a date in forever.” That didn’t end horribly… You’ve decided not to count the fiasco with Julian. You’re in your room, fingering through the limited collection of nice clothes in your closet. You briefly debate wearing a turtleneck and thick linen pants just to piss him off. But, also, there’s that little sundress you bought at the mall that you’ve never gotten a chance to wear… The pretty, soft color would pair very nicely with your silky cream bra and panty set—that you also have never worn. You’re starting to re-think the whole not being a prude thing.

Plus, it’s hot outside.

Sheila pulls you from your search. “Listen, if he tries anything, just kick him in the dick. Works every time.”

“He’s like eight feet tall. I don’t know if I can reach his dick… with my feet.”

You both giggle.

“That’s why they make step stools.”

“Like, for that exact reason?”

Sheila’s one of those people that has proven to be supportive. You met her on a bus tour your first week in LA and have been buddies ever since. It works perfectly since you both have hectic work schedules and don’t really expect anything from the other one. She calls you for drinks, you call her for lunch. Sympatico.

“Obviously. So, he’s tall. Is he hot?”

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth when you think back to his bare, bruised body on your exam table, those mile long, strong thighs that caged you in and felt more like they belonged to an Amazon Boa rather than a man.

“Okay, that silence either means hell yes or hell no, so which is it?” You hear the grin in Sheila’s voice.

“First one.”

You end up telling her about his persistent hospital visits, him pulling you over, maybe omitting some—okay, no, a lot of the details just so she doesn’t want to kill him just yet. You also haven’t told her about the Julian debacle–or that Tom basically rescued you.

You also leave out that he just happens to be the new superhero on every news channel right now. You’re still processing that yourself, and it’s not boding well for you keeping your cool with this man.

As it turned out, it was the news that informed you of Officer Tom Ludlow’s whereabouts those lonely night’s you’d missed him harassing you on that lonely stretch of highway. He wasn’t ignoring you. He was rescuing two teenage girls who had been kidnapped and trafficked by a gang. According to the report, Ludlow had entered the house after hearing a cry for help, alone, and gunned down every single one of the gangbangers before setting the girls free.

Parts of this story should have alarmed you, but there had been a time in your past when you would have given anything for a person of authority to ride to your rescue, red tape be damned. How many times had the cops come to your house for a domestic disturbance between your parents, and left you in a bad situation because of some legal technicality or another? How had they seen you, scared and dirty, cowering in the doorway, and left you behind? The horrors you could have told them, if only they’d cared to ask without your parents there to overhear and threaten you, but every time until the last time, they’d just left you in the hellhole that had been your childhood home.

How different your life—your sister’s lives—would have been if you had a Thomas Ludlow back then.

The twin girls’ MISSING posters and billboards were all over the city. Most anyone with the power to do something had given up on them as a lost cause, just another sad story, written them off as tragically probably dead in a gutter, but not Ludlow. Ludlow had risked his neck (and possibly his badge, because you’d heard of the old “I heard a cry for help” trick to gain entry, and it was almost always code for “I didn’t have a warrant, what are you going to do about it?”, to get them out, and goddammit if that didn’t just warm you to your toes and soften your heart.

Worse yet, you feel like the biggest asshole for calling him a fraud, to his face, the night after it all went down. He’d just taken it on the chin, and he still asked you out.

Ok, he technically extorted you, but it just doesn’t feel as sinister now as it had last night. He’d been bold, and borderline needy for some human tenderness, and fuck if you didn’t understand all too well why now.

Now, rather than having to keep yourself from tearing him a new one, you were afraid you were going to have to restrain yourself from crawling into his lap at the first opportunity, and fucking his brains out for being such a goddamed hero.

“Oh, he’s a freak!” Despite saying this, she sounds like she’s twirling her hair and kicking her feet.

You snort. “He’s got..uh…nice hands.”

You decide on the sundress and the bra-panty set, but you don’t bother laying them out in preparation, because you’re still telling yourself that this isn’t that big of a deal and you’re not that invested and that if Tom Ludlow kisses you, you won’t burst into flames.

You want to take a bath, leave some scent of those seldom used lavender lemon oils lingering on your skin, but decide against it.

No. Actually. You’re doing it. Taking a nice, warm, spiced soak, rubbing lotion over every piece of you except the very sensitive bits, shimmying into the undergarments. The panties end up being cheekier than you like, but your butt looks cute, and the dress covers everything pretty good, anyway—well, everything that matters.

After putting your hair up in a messy bun and throwing some mascara on, you’re ready for—actually, who the fuck are you kidding, you are the opposite of ready. Borderline panicking at the thought of this man coming to pick you up and taking you out and putting on his lewd charm and ruining this cute underwear.

By the time he buzzes downstairs, it’s too late to decide on another pair of shoes. You have to live with sandals—with the fact that he might just look down and get a full, unfiltered view of your toes curling when he opens his pretty mouth.

You’re totally fucked, here.

You think it again when you open the door, finding his lean form all in black, leaning on the wall with his hands in his pockets and his full bottom lip between his teeth, like he’s already thinking about eating you up. You literally feel it as his eyes look you up and down, from your messy bun to your pink painted toes. It’s been two seconds, and already you are soaked between your thighs.

Doomed. You are just fucking doomed, and a part of you is just ready to surrender, because it takes so much goddamn energy to fight your attraction to this man. You can feel it like live electricity crackling over your skin.

Of course, there’s that other part of you that wants to run right back up those stairs and lock yourself away from this gorgeous devil.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Your mouth opens to reply, but your brain takes a few seconds to catch up, utterly short circuited by how ridiculously handsome he is in his black button down, his dark pants belted low on his hips, those big feet in black boots. It’s a little strange, seeing him without his badge or his gun on his hip–but you can work with this.

“Hi,” you answer, scathingly clever as ever.

“Ready to go?”

You’d brought down your purse, to avoid inviting him into the private sanctuary that is your little shoebox of an apartment, but now you almost regret it.

“Yeah. Where are we going?” You step out the door, but he doesn’t move back, relishing your close proximity with a smirk. But there is a new softness in his brown eyes as he looks down at you that makes you a little weak in your knees. He reaches up to touch your cheek, feather light, and it boggles your mind how this man can be such a beast, and yet so gentle when he wants to be.

“You’ll see.” You narrow your eyes at him, but for once, it’s more playful than fueled by annoyance. “Relax,” he says, his shapely mouth dancing as he suppresses a smile. “You’re in good hands, honey.”

You don’t even flinch, as he drives this final nail into your coffin, the wave of desire inspired by the thought of those oh-so-capable hands and what they just might do to you tonight buzzing down your spine. This is how you die–you are strangely, almost, ok with it.

When he has you safely ensconced in the passenger seat of his sleek black Charger you look over at him, his long arm draped over the wheel as he navigates the hostile environment of LA traffic like a shark patrolling a reef. “So…I saw you on the news last night.”

He lifts one of those dark brows, though his expression remains otherwise unreadable. “Haven’t really looked at what they’re saying,” he admits, like he’s used to the media getting the details wrong towards their own ends.

“They said that you saved two underaged girls that were being traffiked?”

His mouth turns down, and you wonder if you’ve killed the happy vibe of the evening so soon with your nosy questions. But then again–you need to know. It’s a gnawing curiosity in your gut not just for the events that transpired, but the man who orchestrated them. Who you are currently alone in a car with, so you reason you have a right to know.

“Yeah,” he simply answers, not keen to crow his own praises.

“And you…killed all those guys?”

He gives a sigh that seems to come from the bottom of his soul. You sense a weariness in him that he’s never shown on the outside before.

“Yeah.” A long silence draws out between you, before he adds, “They were very bad dudes, y/n. Please don’t be afraid of me.”

You can’t exactly say that you’re not–but ironically, the news of him shooting down those gangsters really has nothing to do with it.

“I’m not. I mean–if they were abusing those girls, then they deserved it.”

He looks you over then, an appraising look as though you’ve given him some new information about your character. Maybe information you didn’t exactly mean to give away, but it’s out there now. He’s going think you’re a kindred spirit–or a blood thirsty gremlin.

Either way, you don’t really want to discuss why you sympathize with those girls, and with him.

“Are you okay?”

This question seems to take him aback, like he truly wasn’t expecting it. He’s surely used to being a pillar of stoic manhood, but you know this shit takes its toll. “Yeah. I’m fine, sweetheart. Thanks.”

You eye his hand resting on the center console, and a part of you very badly wants to reach out to him and take it. Almost as though he can sense it, or maybe because he wants it as badly as you do, he holds out his hand palm up in invitation. It’s possible you stare at that hand for a beat too long, his wide calloused palm and long blunt fingers. Long enough that he tries to play it off, starting to take it back, before you quickly lace your fingers with his. The way he smiles to himself sends warmth blooming all the way to your toes, and you’re glad he’s driving because they do, indeed, curl in your sandals.

You give him a little squeeze, relishing the way your hand feels so tiny and protected in his own, and say, genuinely, “I’m sorry. For calling you a fake cop.”

He clicks his tongue. “I’ve heard worse from people that aren’t half as pretty as you.”

You want to fight with him on that—scoff, roll your eyes—but you just can’t, because as much as that small, whiny part of your brain tells you he’s lying, the bigger, rational part absolutely knows just by the sincerity in his tone that he thinks you really are a pretty, sublime creature.

“But I still kinda think you’re a jerk,” you half tease.

“Mmmm, what happened to that feisty little thing I know? She change into a cute sundress and suddenly become sweet?”

You are loathe to admit the real reason for your change of heart.

“You wish.”

He chuckles. “Bet I can make you sweet.”

You’re a total idiot for what comes out of your mouth, and your underwear is the one that will more than likely end up paying for this mindless insolence. “How?”

He brings your hand up to his mouth, lips brushing over the thin skin of your knuckles, sending a spear of desire through your arm and into the rest of your body. You make a tiny choked noise when his tongue peeks a taste of your skin, going unfocused and fuzzy, radio static and full throttle cavewoman.

He kisses the center of your hand, then murmurs, “With sugar, silly girl.”

It's not only the panties that pay a high price, but also your throbbing heart, pleasantly tense and hot and full of desire.

He must find your slack jaw and blank stare immensely entertaining, because he’s laughing low and soft, rumbling in delight.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“I’m fine.” There has never been a more heinous lie uttered in this entire state.

You’re fairly new to LA, but you soon realize from your surroundings that he’s taking you to the Santa Monica Pier.

You are thanking the universe and the gods when you arrive at your destination. Five more minutes—hell, seconds—trapped in that car with him and you would have climbed into his lap and started barking.

When he swings into a parking space designated just for Law Enforcement you turn to him with a lifted brow, as though to say, Abuse your authority much?

But you already know the answer to that. This date is a product of it. And so far…it’s not so bad.

“Do you like fish tacos?” He asks, keeping your hand and massaging that bulky thumb over your wrist.

“Shouldn’t you have asked that before you made a reservation?” you taunt him.

“No reservation,” he informs you with a quirk of his mouth. “But the manager owes me a favor.”

He waves around the busy avenue and beach walk bustling with people, peppered with colorful shops and restaurants of every kind. “Pretty sure we can find you something you like, if Mexican food with an ocean view isn’t your thing…” He says it with a smirk, and you’re seriously not sure if you want to kiss this man or smack him. Maybe both, but save it for later, sings out the little devil on your shoulder before you can tell it to shut the fuck up.

Good lord.

You’ve heard of the restaurant–and that it’s famously hard to get into. You wonder if his connection is a product of a favor for a good deed, or a bit of blackmail. Maybe a little bit of both. You’re finding more and more that it’s hard to put this man in a single box.

“Honestly…?” You make him wait for it, and you can tell your effort to put this confident man on the spot only half succeeds, his dark eyes sparkling with mirth. “That sounds pretty amazing.”

This evil, evil gentleman. He opens your door for you, helps you out of the car, stands patiently while you fix your dress, only half looks at your exposed thighs before you pull the hem down and cover them up again.

Then, he threads his arm with yours and leads you onto the pier. You can’t believe you’ve never taken the initiative to come here before. It’s beautiful, lit up like a modern carnival of neon lights.

“Oh, can we go on the Ferris wheel?” You ask, looking up at him.

“Let’s get some food in you, and then we can do whatever you want.” He really needs to stop being so…caring. It’s seriously starting to mess up your insides.

You turn into a fascinated kid as you walk down the salt coated slice of wood built out over the ocean, looking this and that way, pointing things out, mentioning possible after-dinner activities. You feel like you’re getting annoying, but Tom just seems amused by your sunburned tourist behavior.

You pass by a little shooting booth with huge stuffed bunnies hanging from the rack, and he must see the way you’re ogling them, so he leans down close to your ear. “I could win you one of those?”

You grin back up at him. “I can win you one.”

“Oh? Little sharpshooter?”

It sounds like he doesn’t believe you, so you stick your tongue out at him between smiling lips.

He pokes your forehead in retaliation. “Anybody ever tell you how fucking cute you are?”

The restaurant lives up to its popularity and then some. It takes a while to get here, but you just know it’s worth every foot blister when they sit you down and immediately serve a popped bottle of iced sparkling water and delicious, warm salsa and chips.

You made it just in time to catch the purple orange sun sinking below ocean level, and the front row seats really just make the view that much more spectacular. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if a dolphin jumped from the water, illuminated by the dying sun, just like in the movies.

“This is… amazing.” You grab some tortilla chips to munch on while he pours you both glasses of the fancy water. “Have you ever been here before?”

“Once.” He doesn’t elaborate, so you don’t want to push the issue, but you can tell there’s some kind of ache behind that simple word.

“Okay, so you’re obviously not from LA—where are you from?” He leans over the table a bit, curious.

“Kansas.”

He opens his mouth, but you stop him because you already know what he’s going to say.

“Don’t do it.” You point a warning finger at him, giggling like an idiot.

“God, but I really want to,” he groans.

“So,” you say, taking another bite of chip. “Why did you become a cop?”

“You start with the heavy questions, huh?” he teases you. “Thought I was the one who was trained in interrogation?”

You suppose he’s right, considering your earlier line of inquiry in the car. But you shrug in response. Considering how you ended up here, you see no reason to tiptoe around things. “Just curious.”

He offers up an easy smile, letting you know you didn’t offend him. “Well, I actually always wanted to be a dentist.”

You snort with disbelief, trying to imagine this man’s bedside manner. But then, dentists do get to cause people a lot of pain… “Ok. Maybe that tracks.”

“I’m fucking with you,” he informs you with a smirk.

You do your best to appear annoyed, and fear you fail at it badly. “Guess it’s not hard to imagine you pulling teeth, is all.”

He huffs at that. “I always wanted to be a cop, since I was a kid. My old man was a detective. Killed in the line of duty. I guess I felt like I needed to pick up his unfinished business.”

You blink at that. You and your big fucking mouth. “I’m sorry,” you say, reaching for his hand across the table. He curls his fingers with yours, playing with your aqua painted fingernails with his thumb.

“It’s alright. Happened a long time ago.”

“How old were you?”

“Eleven.”

You squeeze his hand in yours, saying nothing.

“What about you? What made you want to be a nurse?”

You don’t really feel comfortable enough to tell him your whole coming-of-nurse story, so you give him the cut version: “when I was young and felt like I had no one, a nurse comforted me.”

“How young?”

“Ten.”

He winces. “Maybe I’ll get the full version of that story one day?”

There’s an epiphany, here, in this little restaurant with the comfy blue chairs, and it’s that Tom Ludlow scares you because he makes you feel something deep, deep inside your chest that you can’t even remember being there before he came along. Julian was easy, child’s play; although it stings, you’re writing him down as just another failed fling. You know if Ludlow gets his hands on your little sensitive heart, it will be a very different story.

You take a big drink of water to wash down the salty crunch. “Sorry.”

“For?”

“Being so…cold.”

He chuckles. “Oh, you are so cold. Gonna have to make it up to me.”

Warmth floods the top layers of your skin. “I already said I’d win you the bunny.”

You’re amazed at how easily he can transition back into a smooth, carnal beast. “I don’t know if that’s enough for me to forgive you.” The fake hurt in his tone should not make you squirm in your seat.

You bite like a dumb, good little fish should: “okay, then, how do I make it up to you, Officer Ludlow?”

You’re hoping to faze him with the sultry innocence of your tone, but it just fuels his devilish aura instead. “We can start with me turning you over my knee.”

You don’t have a retort, but your vagina absolutely does, and she gets you squirming in your seat.

He leans forward, knowing smile sure to be your undoing one way or another. “Would you like that?”

“Thought you didn’t want to hurt me?” You challenge, trying to keep cool despite the blazing Ludlow heat.

“Who says spanking has to hurt? Dr. Bitch?”

You can’t help the giggle that rolls out of you, and he seems to find it entertaining that you have to cover your mouth to hide it. “No, Tom, believe it or not, I am a grown woman who has lived an experienced life.”

“And how was it?”

You tilt your head. “What?”

“You know, when you asked one of your vanilla boyfriends to swat that gorgeous, plump ass a little bit? Just to see how it would feel.” He leans his chin on his palm, listening intently for your answer, and you think you might be on your way to spontaneous combustion.

How in the fuck can he just hit the nail right on the head like that? Know about parts of your life that you haven’t shared with anyone—not that there were many to share with. Are you really this readable?

Once again, he has your sharp tongue dulled with arousal and embarrassment, and you shift in the chair. “He did it, like, once and then stopped.”

“And did you like it?” He presses.

“Yes.”

He takes a little sip of his water, raising both dark brows over the glass at you. “Good to know.”

Tom recommends the margaritas and fish tacos, so you let him order for the both of you while admiring the view. You can’t decide which one you like better, his handsome face or the ocean scape.

As you are finishing your delicious dinner the last rays of the sunset are putting on a five star show for you, the sky painted that impossible deep blue and purple, the water shimmering like color-changing opals.

“It’s so beautiful here,” you sigh, and you catch him looking at you out of the corner of your eye with a softness you haven’t seen from him before. You get up the courage to meet his eyes, and he smiles at you, but for once not like he intends to eat you.

“You’re not in Kansas anymore, sweetheart.”

“Goddammit.”

He laughs at that, a real belly laugh that makes you warm all over even without the aid of your two nursed margaritas. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah. I’ve got to out shoot you for that little bunny now.”

This wins you more genuine laughter. “Alright, Annie Oakley. Lead the way.”

#tom ludlow #street kings #tom ludlow x you #excessive force street kings fic #tom ludlow x reader #tom ludlow x y/n #keanu reeves #keanuverse #keanuverse fic #julian mercer x reader #julian mercer x you #keanu reeves x you

30 notes · View notes

half-oz-eddie · 15 hours

Text

One More Night Before I Turn Myself In

18+, Graphic Depictions of violence, mentions of abuse, fetishizing

Steve Harrington has had it up to his ears with Hawkins. He lost Nancy, his parents divorced and all anyone ever cared about was dumping their kids on Steve, with the big house and all the free time—no, fuck that. He needed to be somebody that could enjoy life somehow.

In the middle of the night, he got in his car with every intention of quietly disappearing from Hawkins for good. Not like anyone would miss him anyway—

He screamed when a dark figure slammed down on the hood of his car. He trembled as it made its way to the passenger’s side.

Oh. He sighed in relief. It’s just Hargrove.

Hargrove?!

Steve rolled down the window. “Whaddya want, Hargrove? I’m not in the mood for a fight.”

“Not here to fight, Harrington. Where ya headed?” He asked, leaning into the open window.

“Dunno. But I’m getting outta here.”

Billy pulled the door handle. “Open up.”

“Why?”

“C’mon just—“ he struggled with the door handle until Steve unlocked it and allowed him in. “Take me wherever you’re going.”

“What? No—“

“C’mon! Please? I need to get outta here for awhile.”

Since when was Billy the type of guy to say please?

“Ugh, fine.” He groaned. “But I don’t wanna hear any complaints.”

“I’m not gonna say shit.”

Steve took off in the silent night, driving past the Now Leaving Hawkins sign before Billy glanced over at him in the dim moonlight.

“No radio?”

“I thought you weren’t gonna say anything.” Steve snapped.

“Touchy.” Billy tusked. “Just saying. It’s too damn quiet. It’s creepy.”

“Fine.”

Steve turned on the radio, just as a breaking news story was broadcasting.

“—was shot and killed in his home—“

Billy reached over and changed the station, letting Hungry Like The Wolf play.

“You like this song, right?”

“Yeah, it’s…one of my favorites.”

“Cool.” Billy muttered.

They drove in silence for another 10 miles before Billy asked Steve to pull over so he could “take a piss in the woods.”

“Can’t you wait til we reach a gas station?”

“I can’t hold it.” Billy insisted.

“Fine. Go.” Steve pulled over and Billy jumped out.

He went behind the closest tree and Steve turned up the radio slightly, none the wiser to the sounds of Billy discarding something in the woods.

He returned to Steve’s car and the drive continued on.

Eventually Billy had fallen asleep, slowly waking up before sunrise.

“Where are we?” He asked in a groggy voice.

“Pittsburg, Pennsylvania.”

Billy stretched and sat up. “Why here?”

“It’s far from home and I saw an ad for a job here. I’m checking into a motel. What do you plan on doing?”

Billy shrugged. “Whatever you’re doing.”

“Hey, I said I’d drive you. I’m not carrying you along and taking care of you—“

“I didn’t ask you to take care of me. I can take care of myself. I have money for my own fuckin’ room.” Billy said matter-of-factly.

“Whatever, fine.”

They walked into the motel together and Steve requested two separate rooms.

“It’s cheaper if you double up.” The desk agent suggested.

They looked at each other then shrugged, agreeing to split the fees for a double room.

They each received keys to room 206 and stepped inside. Neither of them had any luggage on them so there was no need to settle in.

Billy claimed the bed closest to the bathroom, tossing his jacket on the chair and lying down on the bed. He turned on the TV and found an old movie to watch.

“It might be cheaper if we split for breakfast too.” Steve presented the idea.

Billy passed Steve a $5. “Get me a six pack.”

“You’ve gotta eat—“

“No. I don’t know how long I’m gonna be out here, or what I’m gonna do next, so I gotta save my money.”

Steve sighed, leaving the motel room without another word.

Billy fell asleep once more, springing up when Steve returned.

“I got your six pack, but I also got you some food.” Steve passed Billy a sandwich.

“…Thanks.” He reluctantly accepted.

They ate in awkward silence. They didn’t exactly like each other, or know what to talk to each other about. Deep down, they were both scared because of how foolish and impulsive they were being, but they didn’t want to discuss it at the moment.

“I’m gonna go and, uh…try to find a job. Want me to drive you anywhere?”

“No, I’ll just hang out here.”

“Suit yourself.”

Once Steve was gone, Billy decided to take a shower and go for a walk to clear his head.

But his head would never be clear after what happened. It still felt like a hazy nightmare. A nightmare that would never end.

He was so in his head, he didn’t realize that he’d been walking around aimlessly for hours.

When he returned to the motel, Steve was already there, this time, with lunch.

“Stopped at a KFC. Want some chicken?”

“Just a little.”

Steve passed Billy some chicken and a biscuit. They enjoyed it with some beers.

“So, uh…where’d you go?” Steve asked. “Sightseeing?”

“Something like that.” Billy answered vaguely.

“I um…I got a job. It’s at a uh…bowling alley nearby.”

“Congratulations, Harrington.”

“Thanks…”

The awkward silence returned. Steve felt like he had to tread carefully with Billy. He still didn’t understand why they were playing survivor in a motel room, or why they both decided to run away the same night—or why he agreed they’d do it together. Was Steve this desperate to not be alone?

Maybe so.

“Hey, do you like—wanna go to a club tonight or something? Get drunk, meet some hot girls, I dunno.” Steve laughed.

Billy glared at him before his expression softened with a snicker. “Whatever, sure.”

“Yeah?”

Billy shrugged. “You’re cooler than I thought, Harrington.”

“Sucks we got off on the wrong foot, right? But it’s not too late to start over.”

Unbeknownst to Steve, it was far too late for that. But just for tonight, Billy wanted to enjoy it.

Steve took Billy to a thrift store and they bought something affordable to wear for their night out, then found a nightclub.

They opened a tab, got some drinks in their systems and mingled with some girls, but oddly enough, felt more comfortable clinging to each other instead.

“You two look kinda cute together.” One of the women they met mentioned.

Steve emphatically shook his head and Billy waved it off. “O-oh we’re not—“

“We’ll pay you a hundred bucks if you let us watch you dance together.” The second woman proposed.

Was this like…some sort of fetish to them? Do they get off on seeing guys dance together?

“I mean, for a hundred bucks…”

Steve snapped his head in Billy’s direction. “What the hell? You serious?”

“What’s the problem? It’s just a dance. You scared?”

“I—no—whatever, c’mon.” He acquiesced, taking another shot before allowing Billy to drag him onto the dance floor.

They glanced over at the women who watched them, expecting a good show.

Billy pulled Steve close by his belt loops. “Just close your eyes and pretend I’m somebody else.”

“I don’t mind dancing with you.” Steve admitted. “It’s not like you’re—ugly—or something.”

Billy smirked and leaned into Steve’s ear. “Hey, Harrington…”

“Yeah?”

“Are you fuckin’ flirting with me?”

Steve pulled back to get a read on Billy’s expression, relieved to see a smile on his face. Maybe he’s just joking.

Steve began to shake his head, before smiling and shrugging.

Maybe Steve’s just joking too, Billy considered.

They let themselves relax and enjoy each other’s company, invading each other’s personal space, swaying and gyrating to the music, half hard cocks obviously felt against each other’s.

There was electricity coursing through them, and they found themselves liking this far too much. It had to be the alcohol, they both believed.

Billy leaned into Steve’s ear again as Steve’s hand made its way onto Billy’s ass.

“I’m horny.” Billy confessed.

“What do you want me to do about it?” Steve asked.

“Do you wanna do something about it?”

“Kinda, yeah. Is that weird?”

“No. You wanna go back to the motel?”

Steve’s cock was throbbing at this point. Of course he wanted to go back to the fucking motel.

Billy pulled Steve in the direction of the women, hand out for the payment.

“We’ll double it if you kiss.”

“Oh, that’s no problem.” Billy grabbed Steve, leading him in a sensual tongue kiss. Steve couldn’t resist the urge to grab Billy’s cock while Billy grabbed the back of his neck.

Fuck. He didn’t know what was in the air, or those drinks but Jesus Christ did he want to bring Billy back to the motel and fuck his brains out.

The women paid them their $200 and they took a taxi back to the motel.

They didn’t think, they didn’t discuss, they didn’t reconsider. Clothes were simply flying off at the door before they landed on Steve’s bed, Billy’s hand wrapped around both of their cocks as they kissed.

The night felt like a fever dream but the feeling of their cocks touching and the sensation of their tongues darting against each other’s reminded them both that this was real—for whatever reason it was happening. It was fucking happening.

“Have you ever done this before?” Billy asked, lips still pressed to Steve’s.

“Had sex? Mhm. Of course.”

“With a guy, Harrington.”

“No, but a hole’s a hole, right?”

Billy tusked. “You make me sound like a cheap whore.”

“Not cheap.” Steve corrected. “You’re definitely worth $200.”

They laughed against each other’s lips before their kissing resumed.

Billy continued to jerk their cocks until they were painfully hard. He loosened his fist and spat into his hand, rubbing it all over Steve’s cock.

“Fuck me.” He exhaled. “Don’t be a pussy.”

Steve positioned himself between Billy’s legs and slowly slid his cock inside.

“Oh fuck, you’re so tight.” Steve moaned, thrusting in and out and in and out. Faster, harder, rougher.

Billy had done this before, and didn’t mind that Steve was being so rough, but shit…his cock was massive, and he could feel every inch as he thrusted.

Steve didn’t understand anything except the feeling of his cock drooling inside a man’s tight asshole. And the man happened to be Billy Hargrove, who was as pretty as ever writhing beneath him.

He slowed down his thrusts, savoring their kisses, relishing in how incredible sex felt.

“I’m gonna cum.” Billy moaned out.

“Me too, holy shit. You feel so good.”

“Cum in me, if you like it that much.”

Billy’s invitation was just enough to send a rippling feeling down Steve’s spine as he came inside Billy, emptying himself inside his hole.

Billy soon followed, spilling out all over himself.

They stared into each other’s eyes, still in disbelief that they acted on their sudden attraction to one another.

—

They got cleaned up and slightly sobered up, then sat at the table, eating some chips.

“So…uh…I wasn’t sure—“

“Wanna hear something crazy, Billy?”

“I guess.”

“I think…” Steve chuckled. “Maybe this was meant to be. It just—all of it felt so right, didn’t it? I’m not saying we have to jump right into anything, but—“

“I can’t, Steve.” Billy deflated. “I can’t…we can’t.”

“O-oh I—“ He nervously laughed. “I wasn’t trying to be weird but—“

“It’s not that. Tonight was…great, but…I can’t because…I need to…turn myself in.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Turn yourself in…for what?” He warily asked.

“I got so fucking sick of…him…beating me and treating me like shit so…I went in his room…I got his gun, and while he sat at table reading the paper and waiting for dinner, I raised his gun to his face, and...” Billy pointed a finger gun at Steve “blam.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Y-you…killed your father?!”

“And tossed the gun in the woods when we made that pit stop.”

Billy didn’t seem remorseful at all, but if he was indeed a victim, well, then Steve was willing to defend him.

“Hey, you’re a victim in this.” Steve comforted, holding Billy’s hand across the table. “I’m sure they’ll understand—“

“I shot him right in front of Susan.” Billy replied emotionlessly. “She would never speak up for me.”

“What about Max?”

“She’s just a stupid kid. It doesn’t matter what she says.”

“I don’t want—I don’t want you to go and spend the rest of your life in prison over someone who abused you.”

“Doesn’t matter. I can’t be on the run for the rest of my life.” He frowned.

“Let’s go to sleep and sort it out together tomorrow, yeah?”

Billy noticed how desperate Steve was for him to stay. Why, though? It didn’t make sense. It’s not like they were in love or anything. Sure, he liked the guy and felt this insane connection to him. And maybe Steve felt like Billy was the only familiar piece of Hawkins he had with him.

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter.

Billy couldn’t stay.

But for the night, he humored Steve. They talked, they cuddled in bed, and Billy let Steve fuck him one last time.

But this time, he was gentler, slower, and it felt like, maybe, Steve knew he’d leave in the morning, whether he wanted him to or not.

Which was true.

When Steve woke up the next morning, Billy was long gone. All he left behind was his watch and a note.

“Put some money on my books, pretty boy.”

#this has been in my drafts for like #a year idk #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #ivy.doc #caliscoops.doc

35 notes · View notes

elspethdekarios · 1 day

Text

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

Just a short little fic about comforting Gale in the middle of the night.

Pairing: Gale x Female OC (named)

Rating: SFW

Word count: 1137

I woke in the middle of the night from a soft paw tapping my face.

“Mrs. Dekarios,” Tara whispered, the moonlight glinting on her fur and feathers.

“Tara?” I looked to my right, instinctively reaching for my love, but he wasn’t there. The bed was still warm where he had pushed the sheets back. Panic rose in my throat as I bolted upright, expecting something horrible to have happened. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, dear, for waking you, but I think you should check on Gale,” she said. “He’s in the library.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked again.

“I’m inclined to believe him when he says he had a nightmare,” she said. “I am less inclined to believe that he is ‘fine,’ as he insisted.”

“Thank you for waking me. I’ll go to him,” I said, swinging my legs out of bed and my feet into a pair of slippers. “Tara?”

“Yes, Mrs. Dekarios?”

“Why did you wake me? You’re always worried about me taking your place.”

“I’ve come to realize that there are certain times where Gale doesn’t need a tressym, but a wife,” she said, curling up on the foot of the bed. “This is one of those times.”

The library door was cracked, and it creaked as I pushed it open. In the dim candlelight, Gale sat at his desk, hunched over. He didn’t look up as I entered the room and walked towards him, the room completely silent except for my footsteps and a soft sniffling.

“My love,” I said, crouching before him. “Talk to me.”

As he raised his head to look at me, I could see that he was holding something: an idol of Mystra. His fingers were loose around the statue’s curves, as if he might drop it at any moment.

“Just a bad dream,” he said, looking back down at the idol. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, darling.” I rested my hand on his knee and sat down in front of him.

“Yes, I do,” he said, sitting back in his chair and placing the statue back down on the desk. His eyes were rimmed with red. “I’m sorry I woke you. I’m sorry that you’re wonderful enough to come and check on me only to see me brooding over my ex-lover. You don’t deserve that.”

His gaze was fixed on the floor, and I could tell he was having a hard time looking me in the eye. I rubbed comforting circles into his thigh with my thumb, each one a silent assurance–I’m here. I love you. I’m here.

“It’s much more complex than that, Gale. You have a lot to work through, and it’s going to take time.” He put his hand on top of mine, his fingers cold from the cool stone of the idol.

“I know,” he said. “But it’s my burden to bear–not yours. It’s not fair to you.”

“My love,” I said, matter-of-factly, and took his hands in mine. “I’m your wife. Your burdens are my burdens. Let me help.”

He relented, squeezing my hands gently before opening up.

“Sometimes it just comes rushing back. How much she hurt me. How much she allowed me to suffer. And after I met you, and all these new people who were beginning to care about me, she–” he paused for a moment, swallowing a lump in his throat. “she asked me to die for her. To kill all of you in the process, no less.”

The room was silent save for the soothing lull of the waves just outside the window.

“I am beyond thankful that she cured me of the orb,” Gale continued. “But why let me suffer for so long? I was so alone, El.” His voice dropped to a broken whisper. “So… despondent. And although I am fully, utterly devoted to you–sometimes it still hurts that I loved her so much and she… discarded me. So easily, like blowing out a flame.”

I settled into a cross-legged seat on the floor between his legs and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. All these months later and he was still dealing with the repercussions of Mystra’s punishment. I couldn’t blame him. I couldn’t even imagine what it must have felt like to be in love with a god. To have an ex lover–an all-knowing, all-powerful ex lover–condemn you to die.

“I know, darling,” I said. “And you’re allowed to be hurt for as long as it takes for you to heal.”

“I don’t know what to do. Do I continue to worship her, all the while housing this resentment she caused? Do I try to find a new god? Do I let my soul wander the Fugue Plane while yours is at ease, away from me?” His breathing quickened, his fingers fidgeting in hers like they did when he was feeling anxious. “It’s all too much,” he said quietly as tears began to pool in his eyes.

“You will find the solution for all of those dilemmas, my sweet love. I promise.” I held his gaze as tears fell gently into his lap. “But not all at once. And not tonight.”

He nodded and wiped his tears with the back of his hand, inhaling and then pushing out a deep, steady breath. “You’re right. You always are.”

His eyes lingered sadly on the idol of his forsaken goddess before moving to the portrait that hung above his desk. It was a painting of our wedding day, the moment perfectly capturing the sheer joy I felt; the soul-shattering devotion in Gale’s eyes; the glee in both our smiles. We had several paintings from that day hung up around the tower, but Gale insisted this one be hung above his desk. He raised his head and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“That painting is my favorite, you know,” he said.

“I figured as much,” I said, rising to sit in his lap. “Why that one?”

“Just look at you,” he said, gesturing to it. “You’re radiant. It captures you perfectly. One look at your face in that painting and I remember all of it. The love you’ve given me that I’ve never had. The will to live you inspired within me. Hope, I suppose. It gives me hope.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him tight to my chest, the tension in his shoulders dissipating as he melted into me. I kissed the top of his head and ran my fingers through his disheveled hair, loose from its usual half bun.

“I love you,” he mumbled against the fabric of my nightclothes. “I’ll never understand how I got so lucky.”

“I love you,” I replied, not wanting to contest his statement, but knowing full and well the truth: I was the lucky one.

#bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #gale #gale fic #bg3 gale fic #gale x oc #gale x tav #gale fluff #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #elspeth #galspeth

43 notes · View notes

wrathofrats · 1 day

Text

Day 19: confessions - mist and aether talking about dews transition. Aether thinks she hates him, she doesn’t, and they talk about their feelings

It helps to read this piece and some of the stuff in #wrath’s ghost lore before hand, but it’s not necessary. Just know aether did dews transition.

Thank you to @forlorn-crows as always for this month <3

Warnings for small talks of mortality, it’s kinda angsty but I made it better so.

“How did you-“

“Dewdrop” aether interrupted.

Mist sat under one of the old concrete arches that decorated the back of an abandoned chapel. One of the little ones that primo had used before the clergy grew out of it. Let sit to gather vines and moss. Leaves decorated the pillars, the walkway was full of cracks and so overgrown that it was almost hard to follow.

There was a sense of tranquility in the chaos. The fresh smell of plants and old water that had seeped into the grooves of the concrete made mist feel at ease, nothing to order her around, nothing to remind her of the strict order she was to follow when in front of the other siblings.

“He’s such a snitch” mist snorted. She patted the ground next to her, motioning for aether to join her.

“He told me what happened” aether sighed, leaning back against the structure. He jumped slightly at the cool feeling on his back, before settling in completely.

“How much?”

“Said you went off on him. That you were upset he actually changed his element”

Mist cringed. She brought her knees tight to her chest as dewdrops jacket now felt shameful around her shoulders. Part of her almost wanted to just get up and walk away to avoid the confrontation. She knew dew probably told aether what she said about him, that she had partially blamed him. Words spat in the heat of the moment begging dew just to look at her.

“He told me what you said”

“I’m sure aethers real pleased with his work this time” mist bit

“If omega of all ghouls can fuck up did you really expect me to trust aether?”

“Aether I-“ mist choked. She cringed remembering her own words, bitter tasting in her mouth now that the target of her anger sat next to her.

“Don’t, I understand why you’re upset,” he sighed. The air felt thick around them, a heavy cold that encapsulated them both as the sun went down.

“Yeah but I’m not upset with you”

Mist doesn’t know who she’s upset with if she’s being honest. Maybe herself for feeling betrayed even if dew didn’t pick pride over an animalistic fate like she did. Maybe papa for letting her choose her own reality of not transitioning. Maybe whatever sick divine being cursed them to be like this. None of her feelings seem correct. She couldn’t pick an answer on what’s appropriate to feel about this even if she tried.

“No one seems to be. I kinda hoped you were the one to actually see through this bullshit " Aether threw his head back to rest against the wall, staring up at the dark patches of algae on the top of the arch.

“What do you mean? No one should be mad at you aeth”

“I did that to him, I ruined him”

“You saved him.” Mist turned to face him, a concerned look on her face. A gust of wind cut against the tears in her eyes, making her realize that she had once again started crying.

“He’s not himself anymore mist, so does it even matter?”

Aether sighed, chewing his lip in frustration. The lingering light of the sunset cast a cold shadow on him making him shiver as he moved to stand up.

“He’s more himself than he ever was” mist practically whispered. She gave him a pleading look, motioning him to continue to sit with her.

“He won’t even look at you mist”

“But that’s always been dew. He’s had a fiery personality since he was summoned. I could’ve used his favorite cup and he would’ve ignored me for hours over it”

Aether stopped to stare at her, a puzzled look in his eye.

“I would give anything for him to just talk to me, but that’s my fault anyways. He’s always been a volatile bundle of emotions, it’s just fitting he now has the element to match” she laughed.

There was a rare crack in her pride that made her feel solemn. Asking if she herself made the right decision to stay a water ghoul. The choice between staying true to herself and succumbing to a natural fate or potentially becoming a botched version of herself that was barely mist anymore.

Dew was thriving. He had his scars and sudden outbursts that weren’t exactly there before, but he was happy, and that’s all mist needed to care about.

“I just don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself” aether mumbled, sitting closer to mist while she wrapped the small jacket around his shoulders.

“You will. One day you’ll see how bright his smile has gotten and you’ll realize it was worth it.”

#mushy may 2024 #mushy may #the band ghost #ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #fanfic #wrath writes #mist ghoulette #aether ghoul

27 notes · View notes

loudstan · 3 days

Note

hiii i was wondering if you would be down to do a small drabble based on that part where soobin had managed to pull yn out of the circle but with a twist? taeyong did not manage to arrive in time causing him to take advantage of her? i mean, let's be honest she would probably allow it, it's soobin after all

joke's on you because I have wanted to write this for a long time! So let's do it right now!

Warnings: manipulative soobin, cheating, dubious, not a happy ending.

You let out an exhausted sigh.

“Soobin,” you said when his grasp on your arms tightened. “let me go.”

For a few seconds, he only stared back into your eyes.

“No,” he finally murmured, sneaking his arms around your waist and pulling you even closer.

“I’m not in the mood for your jokes,” you warned him, squirming in his arms.

“Good, because I am not joking.”

“You can’t–”

“Can’t I?” he purred. With a rapid movement, he had you with your back pushed on the wet grass, hovering over you. “Silly little human,” he teased. “Look at the time.”

Your heart stopped when you noticed the faint moonlight illuminating the fae prince’s fair skin. It was way past dusk.

You gulped. “S-soobin, please–,” your voice broke when you felt his fingertips caress your face. “Don’t hurt m-me,” you begged.

“Hurt you?” he echoed. “You know that is not what I want,” he trailed off when his thumb made contact with your lower lip.

Realizing what he was referring to, you turned your head to the side, breaking free from his touch. “Don’t– Soobin, please, we’re friends!”

He grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him again. “Friends…,” he scoffed like you had just insulted him. “Do you let all your friends court you?”

“I never–When d-did I–” you stuttered.

Soobin raised his eyebrows. “For someone who is writing a book about faes, you know absolutely nothing about us,” he sighed, using his free hand to reach for one of the berries that were scattered on the grass. “These are the sweetest berries you can find. I picked them myself,” he said casually, placing it over your lips. “Did you think I kept bringing them to you because I am a good neighbor?”

You were about to reply that that was exactly what you thought when he pushed the small fruit past your lips. True to what he had said, it was incredibly sweet, but now that you were aware of the implications of his gift you knew you shouldn’t accept it. So you spit it out.

His expression remained calm, but the slight twitch in his eye told you he didn’t appreciate the attitude you were giving him. He pretended he didn’t feel you squirming under him to get free, as he unhurriedly grabbed another fruit and offered it to you.

You kept your lips sealed and scratched his arms stubbornly. He was equally, if not more stubborn, and he kept trying to feed you no matter how hard you made it for him.

“WHY?!” He finally snapped after the 10th wasted berry. “You have been enjoying my courting for weeks! Why refuse now?!”

You stilled at his outburst. You had never seen him lose composure like this. He was panting heavily on top of you, his brows furrowed in anger and confusion. He looked so…human.

“I have never met someone as insolent and infuriating as you!” he continued. “Do you not understand the position you are in?! I reign over the entire forest and every single creature that inhabits it. That includes you. I own you!”

“P-please–” you tried to speak but you started sobbing quietly.

“Shh…,” he tried to soothe you, immediately regretting the way he had spoken to you. What was it about you that kept making him lose his cool? “I apologize,” he whispered, resting his forehead on yours and wiping your tears away gently. “That was very uncivil of me. No more tears, Y/N, please,” he begged you.

“Y-you have to let m-me go…,” you insisted.

He shook his head urgently. “No,” he whispered, kissing your tear-stained cheeks. “Anything but that.”

“But–...T-taeyong–”

“Does not deserve you,” Soobin growled against your lips. “Keeps disappearing and leaving you all alone. He makes you sad, Y/N.”

“No–” your protest was interrupted by the prince’s soft lips pressed firmly against yours. He moved his lips softly, but his hand on your jaw held your head tightly. He took advantage of your surprised gasp to lick and taste every corner of your mouth, moaning at the realization that he was finally tasting you. And you tasted better than he imagined.

A loud noise took him out of his daze and he quickly lifted his head to search for the possible threat. The last thing he needed was alpha showing up. Not that he would give you up now that he had finally had a taste of you.

But there was nobody out there.

He tilted his head and then he felt a slight tingle on his left cheek.

He turned to look at you and saw you holding your right hand and wincing. Your palm was reddened.

His own hand reached for his cheek as his lips curled into a wicked smirk. You had slapped the fae prince.

“Did you really think a weak human could harm an immortal?” he asked you incredulously.

“I… I just w-wanted you to s-stop—”

“Do not lie to me,” he warned you.

“I’m not–”

“You know I can feel everything you feel,” he reminded you, caressing your face lovingly. “I can feel your guilt, your fear… but you do not feel repulsed by me.”

You tensed and blushed.

“And now you are embarrassed,” he continued, chuckling and kissing your neck. “Oh, you love it right here,” he sighed, nibbling on a spot of your neck that had you gasping. “You exude such intense desire when I do this…” he breathed out shakily.

“Soobin–...” you whined, trying to push him away by pulling his hair. “I r-really c-can’t…”

“Y/N…” he whispered, rutting his hips experimentally and savoring the pleasure that consumed your body. “I can feel how much you enjoy this. Let go…” he meant for it to be a command, but he was practically begging you.

He could easily feed off this for eternity. He planned to.

But you were being so unnecessarily difficult. He was giving you what your boyfriend refused to give you and you were enjoying it. So, why were you rejecting him? Because you felt guilty? Because you were confused? Because you loved that bastard?

He felt a pang of jealousy and decided to try a different approach.

“This is your f-fault, you know?” he continued, trying to keep his voice even as he rocked his hips and you gave him the cutest little noises in response. “You have been so miserable these days…all you have been feeding me are gloomy feelings,” he pouted.

“I–,” you breathed out, biting your lip when he pressed his hips against yours harder.

“I spent all my afternoons here with you,” he taunted. "All to help you write your book, but you only give me insipid negative energy in return…”

“I d-didn’t mean–…”

“I’m starving, Y/N,” he growled, suddenly stilling and looking into your eyes. “You did this to me.”

You gasped for air and pressed your legs together, embarrassed at the stickiness between your legs. You were horny and embarrassed.

“I’m s-so sorry,” you whimpered.

“Then do something about it,” he commanded. “Feed me something appetizing.”

You gulped. “T-tomorrow–”

“Now.”

“I…I can’t just feel good out of n-nowhere,” you complained.

He scoffed. “Useless human. I have to do everything myself,” he muttered, unbuttoning your blouse and pretending to be annoyed.

“Soobin!” you objected grabbing his hands nervously.

He glared at you. He wasn’t actually mad at you. He wanted to hug you and tell you that he didn’t think you were useless, that you were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, and that he would take care of you better than your stupid boyfriend. He wanted to treat you gently. But right now he had to stay in character. You were so close to giving in.

“We had a deal, Y/N,” he reminded you. He omitted that he had never specified what type of emotions you were supposed to give him in exchange for his help these past weeks. You had honored the deal by letting him feed off whatever you were feeling in those moments.

But he was hoping you were too lust-drunk and remorseful to notice.

“I know,...I’m s-sorry,” you whispered as another tear slid down your face.

He fought back a victorious smirk. “I will make it good for you,” he promised, kissing your chest and caressing your trembling body.

You felt terrible for not listening to your boyfriend when he told you to stay away from Soobin. You felt remorseful for taking so much time from Soobin without giving him anything in return.

But what was worst was that you liked Soobin’s touch. How could you be such a terrible girlfriend?

“What you feel is natural, Y/N,” Soobin suddenly said, sensing your guilt. “You are loyal to a man who does not tend to your needs. Your body needs this,” he assured you, massaging your breasts gently.

You covered your face with your hands and Soobin chuckled.

“W-will you–,” you gulped nervously, feeling his lips traveling further down. “Will you l-let me go when you are satisfied?”

“Of course,” he mumbled, kissing your navel and making you shiver.

He would let you go when he was satisfied. Which would be never.

“A-and I can go home after?” you asked while he pulled down your shorts

He paused and looked at your conflicted face. He kissed your thighs lovingly and, as usual, chose his words very carefully.

“You will go home,” he declared before diving in.

He never said whose home.

26 notes · View notes