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#keeping this relationship from Snow is costing them.......
nunyabznsbabes · 4 months
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Katniss is like Lucy Gray this, Katniss is like Sejanus that, and yes find that's all good and true and lovely but Katniss Everdeen is also a direct parallel to Coriolanus Snow and people NEED to start talking about this because it's driving me crazy.
Think about it: they both grew up poor and deeply vulnerable, losing parents at a very young age, with a matriarchal adult (Katniss' mother and Coriolanus' Grandma'am) who fails to provide for them emotionally and physically. They intimately understand the threat of starvation, even developing with stunted growth because of it, and their narrations in the books share a fixation on food. Throughout their childhoods, both experienced constant fear and suffered a fundamental lack of control over their circumstances. Because of this, they're inherently suspicious of the people around them. They resent feeling indebted to others, especially those who have saved their lives. They're motivated almost entirely by family and deeply connected to their communities. Both are used and manipulated by the Capitol, both are forced to perform to survive and despise every inch of it, both are thrown into the Arena and made to kill. Both have a self-sacrificial, genuinely sweet sister figure acting as their conscience. Peeta and Lucy Gray - performers and love interests with a fundamental kindness and sense of hope about them - fulfill markedly similar roles in their narrative. Both contribute to the development of the future Hunger Games, Snow throughout tbosas and Katniss towards the end of Mockingjay.
It's easy to ignore these similarities because, as mirrors of each other, they are exact opposites. Katniss is from District 12, viewed and treated as less than human; Snow is the cream of the Capitol crop, given the privilege of a name with social weight, an ancestral home, and the opportunity of the Academy despite having no more money than a miner from 12. Katniss has no agency over her life, and responds by being kind whenever she's able, while Snow justifies horrendous evils in order to continue his quest for complete control. Katniss does everything she can to protect her family; Snow does everything he can to protect his family's image as an extension of his own ego. Katniss loves her District and connects with its inhabitants on a meaningful level, but Snow is indifferent at best to his peers - the apparent "superior people" - and only engages with his community for personal gain. Katniss emerges from the Arena horrified at herself and the system, but Snow takes his trauma and turns it into an excuse to perpetuate the violence with himself at the top. Katniss cares for Prim until her death and then snaps at the loss of her little sister, while Snow survives on Tigris' blood, sweat, and tears and then torments and abandons her, presumably because she calls him out on his insanity. Snow actively adds to and popularizes the Hunger Games because of his vendetta against the Districts following his childhood wartime trauma - Katniss briefly agrees to a new Hunger Games in the pursuit of vengeance, but later stops them from happening by killing Coin and choosing a life of peace and privacy. Snow is obsessed with revenge, but Katniss empathizes with the Capitolites and does what she can to keep them from suffering. He exists in a cruel system and selfishly upholds it; she exists in a cruel system and works to dismantle it for the good of her family and community, at great personal cost. And Peeta and Lucy Gray are incredibly similar, but Katniss and Peeta forge a relationship of genuine love and understanding that shines in comparison to Coriolanus' obsessive projection onto Lucy Gray.
So, yeah, Katniss is Lucy Gray haunting Coriolanus. But I bet you anything that eighty-something year old President Snow looks at her, the girl on fire, bright and young and brilliant, emerging from a childhood of starvation with a relentless hunger for success, a talented and charming performer helping her win the Games, and he sees the ghost of his own past. And that's why he's so afraid of her! Because if he sees himself in her, then he's up against his own cunning, his own talent for manipulation, his own charisma, his own genius. He's up against the version of himself that he once wished to be, with the nightmare army of his childhood at her back and her star-crossed lover at her side, spewing Sejanus' truths in his own voice. This isn't to say that Katniss ever achieved the level of power and agency that Coriolanus did during her time with the rebellion, but it is to say that Snow was taken down by what truly terrified him - his own morality, come to finish the job.
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iovesia · 4 months
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𐑺 ˖ ࣪ ࿐ྂ little bit in love, coriolanus snow.
┆tags. toxic relationship. smut. pussy eating & slapping.
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toxic bf!coriolanus who feels insanely jealous when he sees you speaking to another person .. family, friends, coworkers. bumping into someone on the street? how dare they graze your skin! smiling at a friend? why aren't you smiling at him!
toxic bf!coriolanus who doesn't trust you at all. his underlying paranoia only lays the foundation for the frequent arguments and temper tantrums he throws. the vein in his neck often protrudes as he scolds you, with that condescending tone. he hardly believes anything that comes out your mouth .. which is why he's almost constantly lurking over you.
toxic bf!coriolanus who's clingy in the scary, unsettling way. he likes to "check up on you". in his peacekeeper days, he's often patrolling around areas he knows you frequent. or when he finally moves back to the capitol and the university, he has no qualms of finding someone to trail you all day and report to him. his icy blues always have an eye on you.
toxic bf!coriolanus who has become the master at gaslighting you. you can never tell when he's being earnest with you (spoilers .. almost never!). his venomous words are honey to your ears when he's got his hand cupping your cheek. his clenched jaw goes over your head as he presses you into his iron grip hug.
toxic bf!coriolanus who's into exhibitionism / voyeurism purely just to humiliate you. he loves being the dominant one in the relationship— from micromanaging every aspect of your life, to borderline giving you commands (.. mhmm).
his tongue pressed flat against your hot cunt, making you mewl, tears kissing your eyes. your bare back pressed against the cool window of the peacekeeper's barracks. anyone could clearly see you from the compromising position corio has you in.
his calloused fingers dig almost painfully into the flesh of your thighs, keeping them firmly placed over his shoulders. the only time he's ever knelt in front of you .. to put you in your place.
"c-corio— mmm— we have to stop—" you pant weakly, toes curling as his tongue plunges in between your folds, tasting your sweet essence. your hand rests over his buzz cut blonde hair and your nails delicately stroke the short locks. "someone's gonna see!"
your desperate pleas are silenced by a sharp smack to your wet cunt, the sudden strike vibrates against your aching bud. loud whimpers escapes your lips when his hand lays a few more smacks to your pussy. "oh my.. is someone embarrassed?" he mocks.
toxic bf!coriolanus who'll never let anyone else have you. no matter the cost.
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Coriolanus Snow's character is so fascinating to me.
At the movie's beginning, he is just this sweet boy, just trying to protect his family, keep them alive, and protect his tribute and keep her alive. And you adore him, and you're rooting for him; by the time you get to the end of the movie, he's slowly twisted everything around, until suddenly, he's not the person you thought he was, and even though you saw glimpses of that person, he's gone now, and you don't like what's left.
The thing I love is that you can see the inner fight that was there all along, the darker side is represented a lot by how Coriolanus is similar to his father and connects back to his past. He gives up pieces of that person throughout the games where Lucy Grey is his tribute, sacrificing them in the form of a handkerchief (a piece of his dad) that has the potential to implicate him in a crime that would cost him his life, but also the potential to grant Lucy Grey hers. You can see it in the way he gives her his dead mother's compact full of rat poison. In the way he cheats to save her, even with the knowledge that he won't gain anything from it. You can see it in the way that he lets her in on secrets he's guarded so fiercely from his capital friends. Living in a world where he has almost no control.
He also has close zero regard for the people in the arena with whom he has no connection. He convinces a classmate to help kill her tribute to save his, and he tells Tigress he felt powerful killing a little boy (a feeling she connected back to his dad). Things that grow smaller in comparison to his love for Lucy Grey, the affection he shows for Sejanus, the way he cares for his family, and the relationship he has with Tigress.
It's in the second part of the movie that things start to go awry. he gets his father's handkerchief and his mother's compact back. along with those pieces of himself. His hair is buzzed, and he's shipped away from his family, who were the original motivation for everything, most importantly the motivation behind befriending Lucy Grey. He has nothing. Seajanus ends up joining him and they go together to District 12, where he has even less control than he did before.
Coriolanus stands by while an innocent man hangs. He holds Sejanus back from stopping it to keep him safe. He gets in a fight with Lucy Grey's cheating ex. His best friend gets him out. He gives Lucy Grey the last piece of his parents he has with him. He gives the girl he loves all of his trust. He betrays Sejanus to the capital. He tries to protect his best friend. He kills a woman, putting them all in danger. He killed her to keep them safe. It's his fault Sejanus hangs for treason. His best friend cries for him right before he dies. He runs away with Lucy Grey to keep himself safe. He runs away with his lover so they can be together. He lies about Sejanus's death, so Lucy Grey leaves him. He lies about his best friend's death, to keep his love with him.
He abandons his friend and is abandoned by his lover because of it. He breaks trust, and so his trust is broken.
He gets all the pieces of himself back with his mother's shawl Lucy Grey leaves for him to find.
He had so many opportunities to be good, and you could see that he was fighting against the worst part of himself. And yet, you can also see him fighting less and less as time goes on, eventually, once he gets all of the pieces back he stops fighting. He goes back to the capitol, prepared to do whatever it takes to gain control. He's not a victim of circumstances or his childhood, Tigress proves that. But he is a victim of the choices he had to make.
Coriolanus Snow is such a complex character, who is shaped by his own choices, and the people in his life, who he can never really escape, the echoes of which will follow him throughout his whole life.
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alatusprinz · 2 years
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genshin men and their red flags in relationships . ( gn! reader . )
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●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○ fear not, dearest . for some dream of mortals are sunrise stained and spring warmth flavored, others find no purer solace than the serene melody of an everlasting winter blizzard. you are the bearer of the stars - the one ruler of thy fate .
characters : kaedehara kazuha , diluc ragnvindr , xiao , albedo , venti , tartaglia , scaramouche , kaeya alberich .
genre / warning : angst / view on red flags . mentions of controlling/manipulative behavior , yandere tendencies / traits mentioned .
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[ conflict avoidant personality ] - kazuha is a true pacifist- too much so. respectful is he, his love like the first snow, beautiful, gentle and graceful. everything would seem perfect for a seemingly long time until one day he starts avoiding you. no matter how hard you try, you couldn't fit within his reach. in reality, he had been avoiding every bit of negativity in your relationship under any cost to preserve the peace, hoping day and night for the problem to solve itself. each time he felt his space being disrupted, every single small discomfort or dissatisfaction he felt in the relationship because of you, kazuha was afraid to offend you and break your bond, so he had endured with a polite smile and a kiss on your cheek. but the limit has come in the end. whilst you were dancing, basking in the beautiful wonderland of the love he built for you all along, he found no energy to pretend anymore. even until the end, he couldn't tell you his boundaries, you didn't find out what you could've done better. really, like the scarlet leaves pursuing wild waves, he was gone. no matter how hard you ran, you couldn't reach his soul anymore. maybe if you'd noticed his strained smile, maybe if you tried harder to read between the lines... you would never know now, would you ?
[ possessiveness ] - diluc is a wounded, but gentle soul. life has turned for the worse too quick for the young lad, having lost so, so much for someone his age. because of that, he was guarded. once upon a time you were outside of his stone cold walls too, knocking gently for him to trust you, to return your everlasting warm love. and trust you, he did. your love was like a burning fire, passionate and endearing. everything diluc wanted, you were the embodiment, his dear loving angel. he loved you, so so much to the point he would feel fear and anxiety pumping in his veins all the time. are they hurt? are they feeling comfortable right now? are they hungry, feeling sad or lonely? every part of you, he wants to protect with each piece of his own soul. anything you needed him for, anything you desired, he was willing to tear himself down limb by limb if necessary. diluc fell deeper in love with you each passing moment, and with his suffocating love grew his possessiveness. of course that guy was flirting with you, stay away from him. of course she didn't mean well giving you that suspicious flower, didn't you look at her mocking gaze while she offered it to you? it might be harmful. turn to me. rely on me. use me. need me. i'm all yours, all you'll ever need. i'll protect you darling, i love you so.
[ overprotectiveness ] - xiao isn't well versed in mortals, relationships or anything of the sort. he warned you, pushed you away, avoided you, even almost threatened you (with no ill intent) countless times in fear of harming both you and himself and convinced himself that it was for the good. but did it work? no. with your persistence, he was later able to accept that even he with bloodstained hands and karma-wrecked soul, deserved kindness and love. so he embraced you, the fragile, delicate mortal who he wanted to keep by his side for as long as heavens allowed them. he was so careful, asking, affirming and making sure before doing anything at all from touching, holding, fondling and gently kissing. his love felt feather light like butterfly wings caressing your heart. however even a butterfly wing's flap could cause a storm. if left unattended, if not explained and communicated properly, xiao would spend minutes, hours, days worrying over your safety. he would quietly inspect every inch of your body with his piercing eyes to make sure there were no bruises, wounds or anything of the sort. if you fell ill, he would scold you that you were careless to have gone out in the cold weather with your overly skimpy pretty human clothes, not even noticing your eyes silently watering at his coldness. and if anyone dare hurt you, whether it be verbally or physically, he would be willing to tear them apart, have them taste the vigilant yaksha's blood-curdling cold fury. you closed your eyes and hoped, wished desperately for his wrath to come to an end. your beloved alatus, you whispered - you could fix this behavior, he is just not familiar with humans and your emotions... right?
[ knowing / unknowing manipulation ] - albedo silently prided himself in absorbing knowledge and social necessities quickly. he had spent a long time with humans and often even felt connected to the mortals already, so he didn't doubt his ability to be a loving partner to you and accepted with a gentle smile on his pretty face when you confessed your love. from the first touch of your hands to the first time you made love, everything was perfect- it felt like a fairy tale - your heart was safe in your beloved kreideprinz's delicate hands. but each day that passed, you just couldn't calm down the voices in your head whispering, warning you that something was wrong. you see, often time when you voiced out your concern or a small problem to him, albedo would listen to each of them with utmost undivided attention. he would ponder, comprehend, then accept your stance and apologize. after that, he'd decide to change and never do it again, molding into your desires perfectly. it had never been a problem before, but when he started subtly asking, demanding for you to keep your hair longer, to cut off your ties to some of your friends with "ulterior motive", to quit your current job and look for another because it "overworked you too much", you felt too much pressure. when you finally voiced this like your other problems though, albedo blinked and confusedly tilted his head in a questioning manner. he, for once, didn't see the problem. humans were give-and-take from nature, are they not? if you asked something of him, he would gladly change and make an effort for you. he's been doing so each and every time, it's only fair that he did the same to you whether it be with your knowledge or not. you were so happy with him, weren't you? you were happy when he said you looked more attractive with longer hair, and that friend of yours ended up badmouthing you to everyone after you cut ties, didn't they? see, he was right all along, he was doing just what was right to keep his love away from those... lowlives. he laced his fingers with yours with a charming, seductive smile, wrapping your tender heart with his tightly-woven red strings of destiny he weaved with you, as he liked to believe.
[ overwhelming affection and attachment issues ] - tartaglia knew he was a hard person to love. heck, he didn't even think he was ready for love but the first time he laid his ocean eyes on you, he swore his world stopped. you just had to be his. because of his certainty and determination, he courted you, bought you flowers and asked you out on a dinner date. brought you to lingju pass and opened your eyes to the beautiful view of jade moons over sea of clouds. he was a breath of fresh air, always leaving you wanting more, excitement and starstruck a part of your daily routine by now. but you were anxious that after a while, tartaglia's feelings would change. he was a fatui harbinger, it would be bothersome for him to remain committed, wouldn't it? oh, my sweet, sweet darling he laughed when you first voiced your worries. he held you in his hands, hugging you oh so tightly and pressed soft kisses on your shoulders to your neck. you see, he was worried to overwhelm you. from the moment he saw you, from your first encounter, he had already decided that you were his as he was yours. but if you were thinking such useless thoughts in your pretty head, you needed more validation, right? so he gave you just that. he spent millions, billions of mora to buy you expensive gifts, pretty things that reminded him of you. he would take you to snezhnaya to his family, showing you off and playfully claiming (or was he?) that you were his fiancée, the one he was promised to. he whispered words of love and promises of eternity each and every day, every moment you two locked eyes. the more you spent time with him, the fire in his eyes no longer seemed warm, it felt like it was burning you along inside. when his honey-laced voice confidently declared everlasting love, cuddling you and inhaling your scent that he would like to smell even on his death bed, you felt like his "eternal love" was more of a threat than you first assumed.
[ gaslightling / ignoring boundaries ] - venti has spent long, long lonely years in the physical form of his lost "partner". among those years in rapidly flowing time, he was not expecting to find someone possibly even dearer to him than his old friend. but oh his lovely, lovely muse, you were the embodiment of all the love songs he had ever heard in over his millenniums-long existence. but ah, just as he expected a relationship with a mortal came with many problems. he would hug you, kiss you, touch you any time of the day anywhere and giggle innocently in your ear- silently daring you to say no. if you did express your discomfort and voiced your problems with his overly-touchy behavior in the center of a blasting city in midday, he would just laugh and ignore your cute little protests. if you did emphasize and get angry or hurt over his little concern for your boundaries, he would be very confused. but this is what all lovers do, kiss, hug and all that! you're just being too sensitive, my muse. it's fine, no one cares what we do, i promise. he'd hum and hold you tight in his arms, just wanting to bask in your warmth as long as possible. he knew you wouldn't be by your side forever, he claimed. that's why he doesn't hold back, he explains further while holding your hands on his chest, that's why he never wants to be apart from you, because he loves you so much and wants to spend all of his time with you. it's fine love, i understand your boundaries! but you're just not used to receiving this affection dear, i'll teach you. it's fine, venti cooed in your ear with the softest, gentlest voice he can muster to tickle your fragile heart, to make you understand he is just doing this out of love, trapping you in his maze once again.
[ afraid of commitment / doesn't commit ] - kaeya was an enigma nobody could fully unravel, and he was all-too aware of it. he made sure to keep up that facade, after all. he had a lifelong mission, an unattended decision to make when the time has come. he had responsibilities, ones that would never ever end as long as he breathes, walks this godforsaken world but damn, he wanted you. he wanted you so bad, he wanted to whisper forever in your ear, he wanted to wipe your tears when you were struggling with nightmares (he was not a stranger to them too, the nightmares. but even that, even a trivial weakness like that, he didn't let you know.) , he wanted to wake up to you sleeping safe and sound next to him every single day. he didn't know what possessed him that day to accept your confession, maybe it was the liquor, maybe it was how beautiful the night skies were under the big tree of windrise combined with your pretty eyes avoiding his in embarrassment while uttering words of love- innocent, but truthful warm love for him, kaeya alberich. or maybe, just maybe because he truly loved you more than you ever knew, did he accept your confession with his signature coy smirk and teasing words. but kaeya was afraid now. he was afraid of how warm and fuzzy he felt around you, afraid of how all of his dreams (nightmares) were away for too long now. instead, each and every night he dreams of your featherlight kisses, your dazzling smile and your voice whispering i love you. if this keeps up, he knew all too well that his attention would be divided, that he would hurt you, him and everyone else around when the doomed time were to come. so he did you a favor, he convinced himself. kaeya smirked in that annoyingly fake, seductive way and declared that you were just not meant to be. he wouldn't say anything else and end your relationship with the same teasing smile on his lips. little did you know, the proud smirk fell the moment you left with teary eyes. he knew you wouldn't stay in mondstadt for long after that. at least for a while. he muttered to himself, at least for a while, you would be safe. safe from him. safe from the disaster he was cursed, obligated to cause one day.
[ anger issues / violence ] - scaramouche. where should you even start with him? oh the mighty harbinger balladeer, or should you even call him that? you scoffed, staring at the sunset in a mockingly beautiful estate he bought you on the land of inazuma- the one he was born- oh no, created in. he had multiple fancy estates, mansions bought under your name in each state of teyvat now, since you were to accompany him everywhere anytime he desired. you grimaced a bit at the stinging sensation when the servant girl wiped the lighting-shaped scar he had left you a while ago. it was still stinging, throbbing with tingles that made your stomach drop in uncertainty. a claim, a physical engraving over your body mind and soul, scaramouche claimed when he marked you with this... ugly scar. it might look like a normal lightning, similar to the electro vision shape if closely inspected. to some it may even look pretty, and that made you all the more upset. the o mighty balladeer was so flawless sometimes, apologizing to you in that sickeningly fake sweet voice, caressing your body gently with his "love" if he was even capable of such emotions. you silently cursed the day you fell in love with him and you felt forsaken now, since he claimed, and from then on miraculously "shared" your emotions. to him, he was doing everything to keep you, his pretty doll lover by his side. he didn't mind having your loving gaze on him, your pretty head full of his thoughts and most importantly, having someone who thought he was worth loving. someone who wouldn't abandon him. someone his. he would never let you go, he would love you, he would keep you by his side. that's what you agreed for from the start, didn't you? of course he sometimes lashed out, mildly harmed you mentally or physically from time to time and all, of course scaramouche understood that. he understood it well, he was not perfect after all- no one is! but if you try to talk to him about his flaws, he would laugh in your face as though you made a hilarious joke. who were you to say that to him? were you perfect? no you weren't - he would state each and every moment you defied his orders and made him dissatisfied, every single moment he remembered that you made the slightest bit of mistakes- but then in the end, stress that he kept you by his side even though you were such an ungrateful little "lover". he didn't abandon you, he didn't even harm you on purpose! he just left a physical engraving on you to wandering airheads who might think to touch what was his, what's wrong with labeling what is rightfully his? you offered yourself up to him, you said you loved him first, you started this. he was not going to let you slide so easily. his pretty, pretty little doll. all his, he murmured when he kissed your lightning scar on your thigh. love me, love me, love me more, my doll.
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simpingforthemm · 7 months
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being blair waldorf's girlfriend hc's
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bullets: 43
warnings: none
summary: dating blair waldorf would include / blair waldorf dating hc's
a/n: I love blair sm and I enjoyed writing this for her! I got inspired since I'm currently watching gossip girl while sick and it's a nice series though it has a lot of drama lol. anyways enjoy!
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⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚
blair loves to boss you around but not in the "oh do this and that for me" way but more in a "no don't touch that, y/n! y/n I told you to stay by my side!" way
blair is super protective of you and she's kind of like a helicopter mom whenever the two of you are together
she holds your hand the entire time when you're out at a party, acting like you're in danger and keeps you away from alcohol at all costs
if someone messes with you, she won't hesitate to dig up some dirt about them and expose them in front of everyone
she wouldn't do it anonymously on gossip girl though, she would make sure the person harassing you would know it was her, your girlfriend, and that they should stay away from you
or else
you two have sleepovers a lot, you love doing each other's makeup, watching gilmore girls together and cuddle a lot <3
she definitely brags about you in front of her clique and serena
"while you losers are out going to this stupid party, I'm going to the theater to watch a play, with my girlfriend"
she loves to spoil you (her love language is probably gift giving or words of affirmation + physical touch)
she knows exactly what you like so it's very easy for her to buy gifts for you
probably has a list in her room somewhere of things that you hate / love / dislike / like
she knows what beauty products you like, what smell is your favorite, your favorite colour, favorite author, favorite kind of clothes, gold or silver jewelry
when the two of you are in an especially good place she'll probably come to your apartment (or your shared apartment who knows) and just yell "Honey, I went shopping!" and then just have like 10 shopping bags in the living room, full of stuff just for you
she gets pretty easily annoyed with you when she's not getting what she wants or when she's frustrated with her friends (yes, sometimes she lets it out on you)
she's always very quick to apologize, knowing that you're her sweetheart and that you only want the best for her 🩷
you are one of the only people that can help her get through her mood swings and calm her down when she feels like the whole world is crashing down on her again
when her parents got a divorce, you were right by her side, holding her hand throughout the whole thing and being more her best friend than serena ever could
christmas or any other holiday is always so amazing because she puts in a lot of effort to make them special
will do romantic festive dates with you like go to the christmas market, take a walk through the snow in central park, got to festive little parties together
you probably have a lot of traditions
like on the first day of school you both will get donuts for breakfast or when there's a ball coming up, the both of you will go shopping together
I could picture that you're not that into shopping (which blaire thinks is a total embarrassment) so she will pick out a few dresses for you (since she knows what looks good on you)
she will let you choose the dress you want but will whine if you don't choose the dress she thinks is best
"but y/n!! the blue one looks so much better on you! choose that one!"
blair is very bossy and probably wears the pants in your relationship
she likes to be in control
but you make her step out of her comfort zone sometimes and "make her do crazy things", like she would call it
one time blair whined about her high heels hurting her feet and that she couldn't dance in those goddamn shoes
so the next day you took her to buy sneakers, so that she could dance properly and not be hindered by her heels (pic in the collage with the two girls in the red and blue dresses, they're wearing sneakers hehe)
"No, y/n, no! I won't be wearing this monstrosity of a shoe to a party! What if someone will see, huh?
"Come on, babe! No one will see, I promise! And if so, there's no shame in wanting to not hurt your feet and dance!"
She groans but puts on the shoes regardless
and the both of you have the best night ever, dancing until dawn
also, dorota loves you and thinks you're such a sweetheart
whenever you come over to Blair's apartment, she gets really excited, asking you how you've been and telling you how "Miss Blair missed you very much"
you're also probably good friends with Serena and Chuck, since these are the people she's closest with
also you and Blair love to gossip, especially about other people
you always have some kind of drama to discuss or some person to embarrass and take down
you're sort of "partners in crime" even though she hates getting you involved in that stuff
you're probably the most iconic couple at your school and there's a lot of attention on you two because on the upper east side, there aren't a lot of lesbian couples
but you're so in love and there's nobody that could not be jealous of your jealous of your relationship
because you're literally perfect together
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telemi · 2 years
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them as fathers — ft. childe, zhongli, diluc, xiao
𖣠 cw: established relationship, domestic fluff <3
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thinking about dad!childe coming home from work to his children swarming him like little ants. he who is covered in snow and his skin flushed pink from the freezing temperature. they’d cling to his leg and look at him with their cute puppy eyes, then they’d yell — “daddy’s home! daddy’s homeeee!” and “we missed you, dad.” all this along with their signature pouts that always gets childe to his knees and he gives each one of them a sweet kiss to the cheek.
dad!childe would bring home souvenirs like fur coats, scarves, and mittens !! he’d spoil his kids anytime, anyday 100%
not to mention the fact that he would tell you to leave everything to him and just relax. “thank you, you’ve done enough for us. now rest and let me take care of you.” he would leave a kiss atop your forehead and you’d nod in exhaustion and love for this man.
more utc !
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dad!zhongli is meticulous and strict as a father, but despite all that he’s actually very loving and is very soft towards his children. he would read them bedtime stories and offer to let them rest their heads on his chest while he keeps them in his warm embrace.
he would be that type of dad who says yes to everything his child says.
“papa, i want soup.”
“hm? wait a moment, i shall prepare it right away.”
you’d have to scold zhongli for being too soft but he laughs it off and replies, “apologies, they are my children so i want to give them the finest of things.” — seeing him with a sweet smile drawn on his face makes you want to hug him and tell him how he’s such a good father.
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dad!diluc is another man who would spoil his children 25/8. while diluc can be stern, yes, it differs from the fact that he’s weak to his kids’ adorable charms. most of the time diluc would say that they remind him of you, that’s why he could never go too harsh on them.
don’t be surprised if you suddenly wake up with cute, suppressed giggles coming from atop diluc’s chest without him even knowing. he’s absorbed in his deep sleep to even notice zzzzz
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dad!xiao is anxious, he’s never even held a kid once before! much less his own child TT he would be scared to approach his child and hold them gently, because gentle is not the word that is often used to describe him as. as long as you assure him that nothing bad will happen, he would be less reluctant than before.
he scoops them up and looks at them with curious eyes, and his child would do the same. noticing that this tiny, human being is quite adorable, he leaves a small kiss atop the child’s forehead and they would be elated in response to the warm gesture. at that moment, xiao realizes that he finds comfort in his child and vows to protect them at all costs.
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— totally didn't write this bc of the teaser yep nope 😚
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sylasthegrim · 8 months
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Cregan Stark x Jacaerys Velaryon - Chapter 1
Tags: male x male relationship, aged-up Jace, smut, slow burn, romantic tension, sexual tension
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gif credit @dailytlk & @kingsroad
Summary: Upon learning of the death of his younger brother while staying at Winterfell, Jacaerys seeks comfort in the arms of Cregan Stark for a night of passion that will haunt both men all throughout the Dance of the Dragons. As the war comes to an end and Queen Rhaenyra appoints Cregan as her Hand, both men must reconcile their feelings for one another and their respective duties.
Masterlist
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Blood Upon the Snow
Chapter 1 - Winterfell
We must remind these lords of the oaths they swore. And the cost of breaking them. It's been said that as Targaryens, we are closer to gods than to men. And the Iron Throne puts us a touch closer, perhaps. But, if we are to serve the Seven Kingdoms we must answer to their gods. If you take this errand, you go as messengers, not as warriors.
Thus, with these words from his mother Queen Rhaenyra, the Prince Jacaerys flew north to Winterfell, his first errand as a prince, as a man, hoping to prove himself worthy. 
The North was colder than he was used to, and although the weather on Dragonstone wasn’t always pleasant, as the island was overall windy and quite often humid and smothered in smoke, Winterfell was quite striking to him. The air was dry and cutting the skin of his face as he crossed the courtyard just after landing Vermax on the frosted ground. Waiting for him, a small party of severe looking men had gathered, gazing up at the green dragon —all except one, whose gaze was fastened onto Jacaerys. He was tall and the pelts and leathers he wore made him appear broad and older than Jace knew him to be; his hair pulled away from his face in braids, and his eyes the color of a winter storm, Cregan Stark was awaiting him. 
Cregan Stark is closer to your age than to mine. I would hope, that as men, you can find some common interest, his mother has told him, and a day later, he was convinced she had been correct, he and Cregan Stark were quite similar. They were close in age, and the other young man seemed duty-bound and serious, a temperament that agreed with Jace’s own character. Without even a second of hesitation, the Warden of the North, authority and respect etched on his face and in the line of his shoulders, had assured him the North would keep his oath and stand behind Queen Rhaenyra. 
There has never lived a Stark that forgot an oath.
It seemed this report from Lord Bartimos had been accurate, and behind the austere, bi-colored gaze of Cregan Stark, laid a strong desire to stand by his father’s oath and maintain the pristine reputation of his house and family when it came to honor and justice. And so House Stark had sent ravens to Dragonstone, confirming their allegiance and assuring they would gather forces while waiting for orders. Alas, the letter that came back had no orders, only the most dreadful news. 
Prince Lucerys was dead. 
Cregan could scarcely believe his eyes, or the words he was seeing on the piece of parchment —the penmanship was careful and the ink was as black as could be. It bore the seal of House Targaryen and it was signed by Prince Daemon’s name, on behalf of his wife, whose grief Cregan could hardly imagine.
Killed by Prince Aemond over Shipbreaker Bay.
It was not unusual for men to lose their lives around Storm’s End, in its choppy waters and treacherous winds, but the frightful image of the young prince and his dragon being torn to pieces by the monstrous Vhagar turned Cregan’s stomach. The death of a child was tragedy enough, but the fact that he had been murdered by his own kin made a righteous anger burn in the young wolf’s stomach, and along with it brewed anxiousness. He was to bring the letter to Prince Jacaerys, and even perhaps deliver the news himself, and he knew he would despise himself for being the indirect cause of the agony he would see on the young man’s face. 
The Prince’s deep eyes turned dark and dull as Cregan approached him in the courtyard, clutching the rolled-up letter in his hands. Without a word, the Warden of the North dismissed the men that had been in animated but amicable conversation with the prince, and there was an air to him that Jace instantly recognized —the man carried himself like the bearer of terrible news, and his thoughts immediately turned to his mother and siblings. Surely his mother had been out of the woods when it came to childbed fever, and there would be more urgency to Cregan Stark’s attitude if the Queen herself was dead. Fear swelled in Jace’s chest, clogging his throat and making his eyes water —almost by instinct, his mind was pulled toward Lucerys, and he desperately tried to conjure the last words he had spoken to him, ir the last image he had of his younger brother, as though the memory alone could be enough to overturn the tragic news if it was indeed about Luke.
“My Prince,” Cregan Stark started, solemn but dignified. He took a step forward, coming to stand a bit closer than he had so far —he smelled of pine, ashes and wet fur. He handed out the rolled-up letter he had been holding, but Jace did not take it. He glanced at it for a second, and upon seeing the broken Targaryen seal on it, shuddered with dread. 
“Is it my brother?” Jace asked sharply, the words leaving his throat raw. 
“I’m afraid so, my Prince,” Cregan took another step forward as he spoke, lowering his voice to a soothing rumble, as though he was talking to a spooked horse. “Prince Lucerys has been killed at Storm’s End.”
Jacaerys shuddered and bile rose in his throat as unbearable sorrow took hold of his body, freezing him down to the bone. “Lord Borros has betrayed us?” he asked feebly, needing his grief to take shape rather than be left wondering where his brother’s body now was. 
Cregan shook his head, his lips pinched, giving him a grim look. “Worse than this, I’m afraid. Your uncle Aemond is the perpetrator,” he started, then as Jacaerys’ eyes widened in a mixture of fright and uncomprehension, he added, “Their dragons took chase above the bay...”
“Arrax stood no chance against Vhagar,” Jacaerys murmured, his voice suddenly breaking on the name of the beast that had taken his brother’s life. All the air was pulled from his chest and he cried out, a breathless sound that tore out of him like a whistling wind. His insides felt as though they had just been ripped open by dragon’s teeth and his eyes burned with tears —he could not bring himself to take the letter, to see the words Lord Cregan had just spoken written in black ink, irrevocable.
He turned around, his back to Lord Stark as he gritted his teeth and squeezed his burning eyes shut. Without a word for his host he made for the northern part of the courtyard, marching toward the Godswood. 
Retreating his hand and tucking the letter into one of the straps of his cloak, Cregan bowed his head in respect for both the Velaryon prince and his deceased brother. His feet planted in the frosted dirt, he stayed in silence, pondering what came next. Soon, cries of fury and heartbreak could be heard above the wind howling in the courtyard, but they were soon drowned by agonized roaring coming from the skies. 
Circling the fortress in the frost, Vermax was singing his agony. 
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For the rest of the day, and well into the evening, Cregan was anxious, angered at his own powerlessness. Prince Jacaerys had not left the Godswood for several hours, and every time Cregan sent a man to check up on him, he was told the prince was praying on his knees in front of the Weirwood Tree.
He only came back well after nightfall, having refused dinner or even a cup of wine to help his pain. Having prayed his heart out and exhausted all his tears, the young prince walked into the main hall of Winterfell, expecting silence and darkness to welcome him, but instead he found Lord Cregan, sitting in front of a large fireplace, staring anxiously into the flames. Jacaerys cleared his throat, both by necessity and to signal his presence —it was tender and a bit raw.
Cregan Stark turned and shot up from his chair when he noticed his guest, giving a curt nod of greeting.
“Prince Jacaerys,” he said in a carefully placed tone, both respectful and empathetic. Jace gave him a small smile, the presence of the young lord a comfort to him in this moment. As night had fallen and he had been faced with the reality that the castle had fallen asleep around him and that he was left alone, in more ways than one. 
He had grown up quite sheltered, he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. His youth was passed within the high walls of the Red Keep, after that the secluded island of Dragonstone, and he knew little of the world apart from his close relatives’ company and Prince Daemon’s tales. Now he was without the comfort of his home and of his loved ones, alone with his grief and pain, and the only comfort he could find was the kind glint of Lord Stark’s eyes.
“May I offer you a cup of ale, my Prince?” he asked, and Jacaerys gladly accepted. “Winterfell stands with you in your grief. We are gathering our bannermen. You can rest assured your brother’s death and the usurpation of your mother’s throne won’t go unpunished,” the man stated as he handed him the cup, his strong grip only relinquishing when he was certain Jace was handling the glass firmly. 
“Thank you, Lord Cregan. Your loyalty won’t be forgotten,” was all Jace could say as he looked up, and for a moment he was captivated by the two colors of the young lord’s eyes —one was brown, rich and warm, while the other was a cold blue, intense and penetrating. 
The young lord then invited him to sit aside him in front of the fire, and with the same patience and preciseness he had poured the ale, listened to the words of heartbreak a man could only speak when he had lost a brother, offering a wise sort of comfort that testified to his intelligence. 
Despite the cloud of sorrow that embalmed Jace, he was fascinated by Cregan Stark’s character. He seemed wise and reasonable, far beyond his years, with a kindness that seemed to be his strength rather than a weakness. For an hour or so, Jace found peace in the conversation with his host, observing his strong profile from the corner of his eye. Without his heavy pelts on, he looked less impressive than he had in the courtyard, but no less dignified. He sat and spoke with the assurance of a man who knew his value, but the humility of one who was aware of his status next to Jacaerys. 
For a few indulgent minutes, Jacaerys allowed himself to get lost in the way the flames from the hearth played on the other man’s face, and it took him longer than he would ever admit to recognize that it was more than mere admiration swelling in his chest, and he silently chastised himself for the way he wished to seek comfort in him. The desperate, empty pit in his stomach longed to be filled, and the man’s kind and calm strength was pulling him in, like the moon pulling the waves away from the shore. 
He was suddenly ashamed of himself —he was so desperate for a respite from the agony of his loss that he was entertaining impure thoughts, apparently not man enough to bear it with dignity. 
“I should go, I should be there for my mother,” Jacaerys abruptly said, shooting up from his seat and making his way toward the door, anger and shame crushing his rib cage like an invisible hand. Cregan followed suit, pushing himself up and calling after the prince.
“My Prince,” he called. “With all due respect, Queen Rhaenyra has asked you to stay here.”
Jacaerys stopped in his tracks, his back to Cregan. His shoulders were rising and falling quickly, his breath turned frantic. 
“I am certain she did so for a reason. More orders are coming,” Cregan added, and lowered his eyes in deference when Jacaerys turned to him. He worried he had spoken out of turn, offending the prince by suggesting he was wrong in his course of action and in his wish to leave. He knew it was not his place to question a prince, but the man was young and rash, and he was under the Starks’ protection.
“You are right,” Jacaerys finally said in a great sigh and Cregan looked up. His face bore a deep sadness, but a half-smile was stretching his mouth. “You are a good advisor, Lord Cregan.”
“I am here to serve, my prince.”
Silence stretched between the two men, but it was not as heavy now that they had had an honest interaction. Cregan felt more at ease now that he knew how the prince reacted to harsh counsel, and whether he was set in his ways or open to advice. It seemed Queen Rhaenyra had raised an intelligent, self-aware young man, but in the brightness of his eyes, Cregan could see a spark of something he could still not name —dragon fire, perhaps, or a wildness still unexplored.
“Would you mind calling me by my name, and not my title,” Jacaerys suggested as he made his way back to his chair, looking into the fire as he did. Cregan hesitated, then sat down again as well, his hands clutching the armrests as he pondered the prince’s suggestion.
“Very well,” he answered, and Jacaerys gave him a pointed look, to which he replied with an equally determined gaze. The prince smiled again, the sad shadow of a smile. “Only if you call me by mine.”
“Very well, Cregan,” Jacaerys answered, and it almost sounded like a taunt. Cregan nodded in approval and respect, and a glint of friendship sparked in the prince’s eye. It seemed the Queen had been right, they were alike in disposition and values, and they would make great friends and allies, Cregan thought.
“Is there a task you would like me to perform? A duty you would like me to attend to, while we wait for more words from Dragonstone,” Jacaerys asked, an edge of desperation to his tone.
“No, I don’t think so,” Cregan answered honestly, his brow creasing in slight confusion. “But you needn’t worry about that. We are in your service.”
“This is your home, if anything I should be of service to you,” Jacaerys answered, and Cregan appreciated the sentiment. The young man licked his lips nervously, a movement Cregan followed despite himself. “I feel that I will lose my mind if I do not do anything.”
Cregan nodded —he related to this feeling quite deeply. “I am sure you could be of great help in the courtyard and armory in the morning,” he  answered, and Jacaerys looked grateful.
“It was my fault,” the young man blurted. “Aemond always hated us —we weren’t kind to him as children, but all Luke did was follow us. Aegon and I. And then, I was the one who brought the blade, Luke only ever wanted to protect me.”
“I have heard the story,” Cregan murmured. The whole kingdom had heard of how a Velaryon prince, barely six of age, had taken the eye of his uncle, a Targaryen prince and drawn a wedge between the two sides of King Viserys’ family. Even as a boy, Cregan has always thought it was strange and unjust to blame a child for the tragedy of the divide among the dragons. 
“And now Luke has paid for my mistakes,” Jacaerys added in a mournful breath, then pushed from his chair again. Cregan had noticed an hidden impulsiveness in the young man, and was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop him from leaving this time. Grief was stronger than reason, he knew all too well. But the prince only paced about the room, his hands making gestures of frustration and agitation. 
“You must not let your guilt overwhelm you,” Cregan soothed, and the prince turned toward him sharply. 
“How?” he asked desperately. 
“You must seek justice, not revenge,” Cregan reasoned, and Jace made a noise that sounded like a repressed sob. 
“How did you become so wise?” he asked as Cregan poured them another cup of ale. 
“After my father passed, my uncle took regency as Lord Warden, but as I came of age he was reluctant to leave the seat,” he recounted as he held one of the cups to Jacaerys. “Eventually he led a rebellion against me,” he explained, and Jace made a soft sound that indicated that he was listening empathetically. “At some point I had a choice: justice or revenge. I chose justice, and avoided more bloodshed.”
“Where is your uncle now?” he whispered. 
“Imprisoned. His sons are at the Wall,” Cregan said solemnly, a touch of regret tainting his voice. 
“Just and fair.”
Jacaerys turned again, exposing his back to Cregan’s gaze. He was slender, with a trim waist and sharp shoulders that suggested he would grow broader with age. Cregan knew of the rumors of his birth, of his true parentage, and if they were true he would likely grow to live up to Lord Harwin’s reputation. 
“There would be nothing just and fair to what I would do to my uncle if he were before me,” Jacaerys spoke, but there was more grief to his voice than fury. 
“We do not know one another well, but it seems to me that you are not a murderer, Jacaerys,” Cregan spoke carefully, more gently than he would dare with anyone else that wasn’t his close relatives. He was allowing himself more familiarity than was appropriate, and yet the young man was taking it gratefully, and it made the young Stark lord wonder if the prince had ever known close friendship outside of his brothers. He almost came to regret that they had never met before, under more auspicious circumstances, as he knew they would have made fast friends and likely, devoted allies.
“I’m not…” Jacaerys replied, dipping his head, almost disappointed in himself. 
“Being reluctant to murder your kin is not a sign of weakness,” Cregan stated. 
“What would my brother think, if I’m not even able to avenge his memory?” he asked, shame tainting his voice, along with a smudge of anger that made Cregan shiver.
“That you are honorable and just.”
“Is that what you think of me?” came the quiet, almost hesitant question. 
“I do,”Cregan answered, then cleared his throat. There was an honest vulnerability to the Prince that called to him, a wish to comfort and appease, but it was more inappropriate than he would ever allow himself. 
"Wood will have been brought to your chambers, as well as hot water. Would you like to rest?" he asked, putting his cup down. The strange intimacy of the nightly setting was getting to him, and he needed to keep a firm grasp on his composure. 
“I won’t find any rest tonight. But don’t let me keep you from your bed,” he answered.
Cregan nodded and took a few steps away, but his retreat was interrupted by a desperate whisper. “He was good, and gentle. He must have been frightened.” 
“He is with the Gods now, and with your father,” Cregan replied as he turned, walking back to set a hand on the prince’s shoulder. The young man leaned into his touch, ever so slightly, but enough to make Cregan’s heart clench. 
“He was too young. It should have been me…” came the furious whisper, and when the prince gazed up at Cregan from between his lashes, his eyes were darker than the forests of the North. He knew them to be a deep, rich brown, but even in the light of the fire, they appeared to be as black as winter nights, when a man was lost in the woods.
“That is why you must keep your temper, and work in favor of justice. To avenge him, in the most honorable way you can,” Cregan whispered back, and for a second he swore he could see a spark of warmth in the Velyarion prince’s eyes. Clearly honor mattered to him, and Cregan could only appreciate his devotion to his family.
“He will never know war, and for that I am grateful, but he will never know life either. He was engaged to be married to our cousin…” Jace recalled with sadness. A life that would never be lived was playing out in his head, feeding his grief and anger. 
“You mustn’t allow your mind to go down that path,” Cregan said, gripping his shoulder tighter. The young man seemed eager for his company and his guidance, and he could not refuse him any longer. “You will only find ruin there.” 
“Tomorrow isn’t a promise,” came the lamenting whisper. “The Gods took my brother in their arms, they might take me tomorrow as well…” he trailed, and a sudden, breathless feeling took hold of Cregan. The nameless tension between them, which they had been careful to only graze, came back with the full force of a winter storm, and Cregan knew they were standing on the edge of a dangerous cliff.
A sense of dread fell over Jace, and suddenly it appeared to him there was only one option. They shared hesitant breaths, both men seemingly contemplating the other, searching in each other’s eyes a confirmation that they weren’t alone in their tentative desire. Jace’s gaze traveled from Cregan’s eyes to his mouth, while the other felt his chest swell as determination grew in the prince’s eyes. 
The tension within him snapped and he took a bold step forward, pushing himself on his toes and clumsily pressing his mouth onto Cregan’s. The older man exhaled a deep breath against the skin of his cheek and pressed back, accepting his attempt at seeking comfort. Hand clenched on the thick doublet his host wore, Jacaerys poured his heartache into the kiss, slotting their mouth together sloppily, and he felt his companion swallow his desperate breaths. 
For a delightful, suspended moment, there was nothing more to life than the crackling of the fire and the warmth of Cregan’s tongue curling against his. 
“I don’t wish to cause offense…” Cregan murmured as he pulled away, turning his head so that Jace’s breath fell on his cheek. 
“You are not. I am asking,” Jacaerys assured him. It was the most confident he had appeared since he had gotten the dreadful news. “Tomorrow will bring orders. War will follow, and perhaps death.” 
Jacaerys looked up at him with a mixture of determination and hesitation —it seemed he knew what he wanted, but was unsure whether his desires would be fully reciprocated. “Wood has been brought to my chambers as well…” Cregan trailed, leaving the door open for his guest to come into his embrace or retract. 
“A reprieve from the cold would be most welcome,” Jace answered gratefully, his lips grazing Cregan’s in the ghost of a kiss.
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Dividers by @sligheach-sidhe - Beta read by the fantastic @annikin-im-panicin
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bensolosbluesaber · 1 year
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In the Stars (Poe Dameron x Jedi!f!reader)
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Summary: It took all your strength to save Poe Dameron. As you lay unconscious in the medbay, his real feelings come out. (Happy ending, don't worry) (For this request) ~1,500 words
Angst
Pairings: Poe Dameron x Jedi!f!reader
Warnings: Mentions of death, Star Wars version of a coma, coworkers with benefits situation, allusions to sex, extremely unedited
A/N: When this request came, I was instantly in love with it. I do have a few song recs to go along with it if you like that thing: In the Stars (Benson Boone) - yes the story is named after this song, Chasing Cars (Snow Patrol), Somewhere Only We Know (Artist of your choice... personally I listen to the Glee version... don’t judge)
--
He should have told you the truth. That’s all Poe can think as he sits beside your unconscious form with his trembling hands and foggy eyes and struggles to keep himself composed.
When he’d seen the bomb with it’s red light blinking faster and faster, it was so close he knew there would be no escaping the blast. So he had thought of you. He’d thought of your quiet movements as you snuck out of his room, of that disapproving look you always gave him after he did something particularly stupid, of those fleeting glances you shared passing each other in the hallway. Everything about the relationship you two shared promised to someday be something more than casual fuck buddies. Poe Dameron was, quite simply, in love with you, and you, quite simply, were in love with Poe Dameron.
That’s what he’d thought about as the red light continued to flash - how much he loved you. And through the Force you had sensed his love and fear and had reached out across the planet with all your strength to contain the blast of the bomb. You had saved his life, but maybe at the cost of your own.
“It’s been more than a week.” Rey’s touch on his shoulder startles him from his vigil.
“I know,” Poe snaps back harshly, then brokenly repeats the words almost to himself. “I know.”
“They want to talk about taking her off the machines,” Rey broaches the subject empathetically, hating it nearly as much as Poe. You had been her training partner, one of her best friends, her fellow Jedi, and now you showed no signs of waking up.
Poe shuts his eyes and lets the tears come. The warm liquid spills down his cheeks. He hasn’t shaved in days, and the tears catch in the scruff of his beard until he swipes them away.
“The night before the battle, she told me she had feelings for me,” Poe whispers, again speaking mostly to himself as if telling the story again will make the truth hurt less. “We’d been hooking up for months, and she finally told me the truth. And do you know what I did, Rey?” His voice gets louder with each word. “Do you know what I did?”
Poe is watching you dress and gather your things. Tomorrow it all ends, one way or the other, and even as he’s sprawled lazily in bed, you are trying to work up the courage to confess the feelings that had recently surfaced. Well, not recently. They had always been there, swirling under that surface of a strictly physical relationship. You suspected Poe felt the same, and even if he didn’t, you could both be dead this time tomorrow. What was there to lose?
“Poe.” Your voice wavers slightly, and he cocks an eyebrow. He tucks his hands behind his head, unintentionally flexing his muscled arms and chest. “I wanted you to know, before tomorrow, I uh… I have- I caught feelings. And maybe um… maybe- maybe we could grab drinks? If we survive I mean.”
You laugh nervously to cut the tension, but it is as thick as it has ever been between you. Poe is just staring, his cocky, self-assured demeanor immediately disappearing. You shift your weight from one foot to the other and swallow hard. So he doesn’t feel the same, or at least, that’s what you imagine his silence to mean.
“I didn’t,” he lies right to your face. “Catch feelings, I mean.”
The last thing either of you need is to be thinking about each other in the midst of a battle. There’s a war on, a war that ends tomorrow, and it’s not the time for love. You’d be a distraction to each other, and he can’t have that. It will get you both killed. Instinct to keep you safe pours venom into his next words.
“I enjoyed the sex, but that’s all it ever was for me. You’re a good lay.”
Poe watches your face fall at his lie. Your lips turn down ever so slightly. You blink rapidly a few times. Your fingers tug nervously at the hem of your shirt. But even as he fixes you with an emotionless stare, you don’t feel any less in love with the handsome pilot.
Deep down, way far deep down, you know the rejection isn’t real, that he’s scared to love someone who might be dead tomorrow, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
“Right,” you whisper, a voice so meek and unlike you that it startles you. “Well it was fun, Dameron.”
“I told her she was a good lay,” Poe snarls the words out in a low voice, hating himself all the while. “I looked her in the eye and told her I enjoyed fucking her and that’s all it was.”
He looks away from Rey and back to you, hating that thrill of hope that shoots through his chest. Each time he looks away, that poisonous hope sneaks into his mind, whispering cruelly that maybe you will be awake when he looks back.
“You could tell her the truth now, Poe,” Rey offers the suggestion gently. She deflects Poe’s anger easily, knowing he’s not mad at anyone but himself. “Protocol says nine days. It’s almost time, so… think about saying goodbye.”
She leaves before Poe has time to respond, leaving him alone with you again. It feels pathetic to confess his love to your unconscious body, but maybe it’s the best opportunity he’ll ever get. Or the last opportunity he’ll ever get.
He takes your cold hand in his and gazes down at your face. Motionless. Beautiful.
“I lied,” he starts with his voice shaking. “I mean you are a good lay,” he laughs sadly, knowing you’d appreciate the joke if only you were awake to hear it. “But I caught feelings too. Actually, I always had feelings. That first night? I had feelings before that. Kind of pathetic, huh?”
Poe presses a long, soft kiss to your cheek then another to your temple.
“I used to watch you train with Rey. Not in a creepy way,” he laughs again, and the sound is garbled through tears. He’s sobbing openly now. “I was in awe. And when I saw you fly the first time, I think I fell in love right then. I should have told you. I should have told you.”
He repeats the word over and over as he presses his face into the curve of your neck.
“I’m sorry. I love you, and I’m so sorry. I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”
Someone is touching the back of his head, their hand tangling in his dark curls. He hardly feels it.
“Poe?”
His face is uncharacteristically scratchy. How insane that your first waking thought is about his beard.
“I love you,” he repeats again and pressed closer. “How am I supposed to say goodbye to you? I don’t want you to go. Please don’t go.”
Your skin is damp. He’s crying, you realize as you bring your other hand to his cheek. Maker, he’s tickling you with that beard. How long have you been out that he’s let it grow out so much?
“Poe.” You try to push his head back, but he only holds you tighter. “Poe Dameron. For fuck’s sake. I love you too you absolute idiot.”
That silences him.
Poe sits back. There is it again, that hope. But this time, it’s not poisoned. This time when his bloodshot eyes fall on you, your own eyes are wide open and staring up at him.
“You idiot!” He nearly shouts. “Don’t you ever do that again! I thought you were dead!”
“Sorry,” you offer with a shy smile.
“Don’t sorry me! I’ve hardly left this room! Finn literally dragged me to the fresher yesterday! I haven’t shaved! I thought I’d never get to see you again.
“All that for a good lay?” You smirk.
“That’s-” Poe’s jaw drops as you make the same joke he’d made earlier. Somehow it isn’t funny from your lips. “That’s not funny!”
“Okay, hey.” You reach for him and take his face between your hands, brushing that familiar escapee curl from his forehead. Maybe this wasn’t the time for a joke. “Poe, I’m alive. Look, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Poe leans his head down to press your foreheads together, wrapping his strong arms around you as he does.
“I-” he starts.
“It’s okay,” you interrupt as he hesitates. You spin a curl around your finger. “I heard you. It’s what brought me back.”
“I want to say it again though,” he says and locks your gaze together so you’re drowning in his warm eyes. “I love you.”
--
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**This is a mess. Some people won’t tag. I’ve definitely missed people. I’m so so sorry!
Poe Taglist: @ay0nha @queenie-rebel @aduckinpain @huitzilinthebudgie3 @rellasnowheenim @sparkythefallen1 @knopewyattworld @littlenosoul @maplemind @splashofbi
General: @janebby @chaoticevilbakugo @roseqzpd​ 
People who won’t tag: @welcometostayingawake @marvelescvpe  @weirdo125!
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weepingchronicles · 4 months
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yandere coriolanus snow headcanons
oop you know what time it is! just watched tbosas today and it was soo good and i have such a love hate relationship with snow. he's pretty much a canon yandere with the way he acts but i do think he'd be a little bit different!
first off you'd have to be very striking to catch his attention
maybe you dont fall for his charms like everyone else which intimidates him but he also wants to know more or you're so kind and caring compared to everyone else he knows who are so self-centered, you remind of him of tigris and his mother in that way and that makes him interested in you
he'd start appearing everywhere and if you question him he'd play it off so casually, always ready to have an excuse in his head
if he's your mentor it's almost worse. he'd bend as many rules as possible just to talk with you, he'd already have an excuse as your mentor- but no other mentor has gone through this much for their tribute?
this includes sneaking into the zoo again to talk with you at night, bring you food. he'd only leave when you'd fall asleep from exhaustion.
he knows its wrong to fall in love with a district but he cant shake this overwhelming urge to protect you, no matter what cost.
maybe you helped save him during the bombing attack in the arena, tribute or not. this is when he knew he had truly fell for you.
over time, his jealousy would grow and he'd have darker thoughts.
he couldn't help but think how much easier it would be to protect you if he kept you locked up in chains. he'd win the plinth prize and afford a nice enough penthouse to keep you locked away forever.
no one would suspect the cause of your disappearance to be the proper prim snow.
but for now he'd slowly isolate you. taking each friends down, one by one.
he'd usually pick off the male ones, saying they're just into you or how a girl like you shouldn't associate with animals like those.
soon, you had no one but your closest friends. now this was tricky for snow, he couldn't just talk bad about them enough so they'd disappear, that would make HIM look bad.
so he'd go to them himself. threaten them, with his money and power. if they were to ever to speak and come near you again, they'd be dead.
and snow keeps his promises.
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softpascalito · 6 months
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Pedro Pascal Kinktober Day Seven
Wax Play - Joel Miller/Reader
Summary: Joel and you are paired up for patrol. There are a lot of things unsaid, a snowstorm rolling in and some candles. Go figure (or go read i guess).
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Relationships: Joel Miller x Reader
WC: 1900
Tags/Warnings: Smut, Explicit Content, Genderneutral Reader, Wax Play, Nipple Play, Infected, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Temperature Play, Snowed In, Two decade old ravioli
AO3 LINK
notes: hi babes! another joel piece today, one that is actually one of my favorites! if you enjoyed the first week on kinktober, lmk in a comment <3
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The day is cold.
It's a normal patrol and you stomp through the snow that's been blown into the abandoned house, still high on the success of taking out two runners all by yourself. It's a split moment of distraction as you miss the noise coming from the open bedroom door next to you and that split moment is all it takes as the clicker shoots out of the doorframe and slams you into the nearest wall.
“Fuck!” A yell escapes your throat as you try to keep the Infected out of arm's reach, your fingers digging into the fungal plates on its chest as you stare into a face that has lost all its resemblance to the human it must've been years and years ago. 
Its mouth is wide open and for a split second you think the agonizing scream you hear is coming from the creature in front of you. Then you realize it's your own.
The moment seems to stretch on endlessly, the fear in your chest starting to be replaced by a dreaded feeling of being doomed, of the realization that this may really be it, when he appears in the hallway. 
The gunshot rings in your unprotected ears and through the fog you hear the dampened noise of the clicker falling to the ground next to you, a thud before its body finally goes still.
The grip on you is gone but you can just stare blankly into the thin air in front of you. A few moments later, likely after making sure there's no more Infected around, he's there, in front of you. And now the grip of terror that the Clicker had on you mere seconds ago is replaced by one of tenderness as Joel gently pulls at your shoulders, helping you steady yourself. 
His lips are moving but you can't make out the words. You can tell he holds his breath as he lets his hands roam over your body for a few seconds, turning your hands and bending his own neck one way and the other to check for bites. His touch seems to linger slightly longer too, but this time you're thankful for it.
His rough fingers glide over your neck, pulling at your thick winter jacket slightly to make sure there are no scratches on the delicate flesh of your throat. After a glance at your back, he finally seems to let out a small breath of relief and nods as he steps back, allowing you to take a shaky step of your own into the middle of the room.
He kicks the fungal plate on the floor that is now splattered with blood. ”Jesus, this place is overrun with them.” His gaze only lingers on the body for a few moments, then he turns to check the surroundings once more. It pauses on your form, still shaking, your gaze not meeting his.
“Come on, we're done for today.” Joel mutters and he gently nudges your elbow, staying closer than usual as he leads you back to the horses.
The patrol stop on this route is a cabin in a small resort by a lake, a few miles over from Jackson. It's quite scenic, but also harder to reach and unfortunately, more prone to attacks from Infected.
“It ain't too far now.” Joel calls to you through the snow blowing around your horses. 
It takes a little longer than usual to get both of you into the saddles with how shaken you still are and the abandoned house has cost even more time. The wind has picked up while you have been inside and now the storm seems to be getting closer by the second, inevitably making the way back to Jackson that much harder.
“Should we turn back?” You pipe up, speaking again for the first time. He shakes his head, ”No, I reckon it's best to just find shelter. Cabin should be stocked up.” 
During the winter months, it's not unusual for patrols to stay out overnight, especially if running into bad weather or blocked paths. Noone will worry if you spend the night here and go back in the morning.
Just as the wind starts to get really uncomfortable, you spot the large wooden sign marking the entrance to the small resort and Joel leads the way to the cabin frequented for the patrols. You lead the horses into the attached garage and shovel some snow into a tub to make sure they have some water while Joel secures the area.
After he declares it safe to stay, he locks the front door, ”Ain't like anyone gonna make it out this far in the storm either way.” He mutters under his breath but he is rather safe than sorry. 
You stay quiet, huddled into a corner as you wait for him to give you more instructions. He doesn't.
Instead, he gets out some cans and stirs up a quick dinner for both of you. The two decade old ravioli taste like nothing to you and you struggle to even finish the small portion he has handed you.
Darkness has fallen when you're both done eating and Joel finds the candles spread around the small cabin and starts lighting them, glancing through the curtains as he does. Then, his gaze wanders back to you, still in the same position you've been in since you arrived.
“You're awfully quiet over there.” He mutters.
“Sorry, just- It's been a long day.” You reply quietly, staring at the empty cans in front of you. You can practically feel his gaze on you as he speaks, ”Yeah, reckon it has been.”
You both stay quiet for a moment and he returns to your side, pushing the half-empty cans away with his boot before he sits down, his gaze never leaving your form. His voice is quiet and gentle when he speaks.
“It didn't get you.”
“I know.”
He pauses again for a moment. And then-
“I wouldn't let it.”
“I know.”
Your own voice is shaking and suddenly, you feel like crying. He stirs next to you and a split second later you're cuddling into him, your face resting against the middle of his chest, the leather jacket he refuses to stop wearing framing your head on both sides.
Time doesn't matter as you stay enveloped in him, taking in the scent that smells like safety, the voice that sounds like a distant lullaby and the arms that feel like home around you.
You can feel yourself falling asleep and eventually, Joel nudges you a little. He has pulled your can of food back towards you and sighs, ”Come on, finish dinner and then you can go to sleep, hm?” 
You whine into his chest and he sighs. ”Look, I'll warm it up for you again.”
He does, turning the small cooker back on to generate a little more heat, all the while keeping one arm securely around you. When he's satisfied, he turns the small flame off again and pulls you back a little. 
You gaze up at him and he sighs softly before grabbing a fork and, one by one, bringing the leftover ravioli to your mouth. You know you would never admit it, but you do feel a little better once your stomach is actually full and you yawn a little as he cleans up while you reach for your sleeping gear.
Not wanting to attract attention, you don't start fires unless absolutely necessary so tonight it's staying warm in your thick jackets and sleeping bags. You huddle into the corner of the cabin, crawling into the bag as Joel brings a candle over. He reaches for a shelf above you but the wax is already quite melted and a small drop falls down onto your exposed arm. You yank it back, hissing a bit before it turns into a whine. ”Watch it,” You mutter under your breath and Joel almost instantly stops in his tracks.
Not because he's worried. But because he knows that whine. 
It's the same noise you make when he's buried deep inside of you, when you beg him to finally move.
Slowly, careful not to drop too much, he repeats his motion, this time on purpose.
“What are you- Joel!” The hot wax hits your arm again and the combination of the warmth in contrast to the coldness that's surrounding you draws another whine from your lips. He smirks at his find and places the candle next to the makeshift bed, kneeling down so he can place both hands on the top of your sleeping bag, waiting for permission. You nod quickly and he pulls it down until it pools at your hips before tugging on your sweater:” Why don't you take that off for me, darlin?”
You comply, raising your arms as he helps you out of the thick piece of clothing. He carefully places it next to you before his hands return to you, fingers ghosting over your chest and tracing the lines and curves of it. The cold immediately gives you chills and Joel rubs the palms of his hands over your sides and your stomach for a moment to warm you up before leaning down to kiss each side gently.
Then, he carefully reaches for the candle and you watch the flickering light of it dance over his features as he tilts it very slowly right above your chest. Your gaze wanders to the source of light and you watch as the wax slowly begins to flow towards the edge until eventually a small drop falls down- and the hot sensation it creates on your skin travels through your body and from your chest right down to your middle. The whine is a breathless gasp this time and a curse escapes your lips, ”Fuck-”.
Joel chuckles lowly, clearly enjoying himself. He repeats the motion in different spots, letting a few small and then larger drops of wax fall to your skin until one hits your nipple and you gasp loudly in response, your legs clenching together as the heat from the candle seems to transfer to pool in your lower abdomen. Your hand darts out from under the covers to grab at Joel's shirt, fisting it in your hand. ”Joel, please ,” You whimper.
“Please what?” He hums, a soft tone of amusement in his voice.
“Please touch me, please, it's too much, it feels so- I don't know, I just need- I need you-” You blurt out, unable to contain yourself any longer. 
He chuckles again, a little softer now and shushes you as he puts the candle away, placing both hands on your chest and scratching at the hardened wax. It stings a bit as it comes off but it's just the right amount of pain and this time, he catches your whimpers with his mouth as he leans down to kiss you deeply, occupying what feels like every inch of your body.
He crawls over you, mouth never leaving yours as he shifts into the sleeping bag with you, his hands beginning to wander lower.
You spend the night entangled, limbs mixing under the thick fabrics of blankets and jackets and sleeping bags until you no longer know where he begins and where you end. He kisses your neck as you drift off to sleep hours later.
The night is warm.
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elizabethemerald · 5 months
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A Shade Darker than Red: Part 10
Masterpost
Dick felt like his already fragile hold on his family was slipping through his fingers. The death of the clown of Arkham had gone cold and no new clues were appearing. The stress of a possible new killer in Gotham on top of everything else was driving the Bats apart. He could almost feel the delicate threads fraying. 
Damian and Tim never had the best relationship and were now constantly at each other’s throats. Tim had been caught placing explosives around Gotham and Damian had been caught with a fast acting poison on his person. Which worried him even more, if he had caught them, how much had they managed to sneak past him before he noticed? 
The tension was most noted between the two younger members of the family, but it was still felt by the others. Duke looked like he wanted to pull away before the chaos turned to bloodshed and Cass was staying in Gotham only for her family and Steph. If the infighting with the family exploded into actual conflict, Dick just knew the city would pay the cost. He couldn’t imagine how terrible an idea it would be to have some kind of Gotham war or a fight for Batman’s cowl. 
As with any problem with the heroes, the citizens of Gotham were the ones who suffered. There had already been another breakout from Arkham, Black Mask and the other criminal gangs were getting more violent and pushing more drugs onto the streets, and the number of unsolved murders on their docket kept rising. The city of Gotham was reaching a boiling point, and Dick was afraid the only way to stop it was for someone to ask Bruce to return to his role as Batman, but so far none of them were willing to give him a second chance after what he did. 
He had, barely, managed to get his family back together at the Clocktower in an attempt to mitigate the damage, but even here it looked only moments from bloodshed. Tim and Damian were snarling at each other, Duke was putting more focus on his homework than his cases, Steph and Cass were withdrawn, leaning against and crouching on top of Barbara’s computer respectively. Babs was doing her level best to track down what little information they had and to keep ahead of the rising tide of chaos. Dick himself was caught between pacing and pulling at his long unwashed hair and getting between Tim and Damian before one of them did something they would regret. 
“Tim! Damian! Both of you need to calm down!” Dick snapped. 
“Tt. I am perfectly calm Grayson. It is Drake who is acting irrationally.” Damian replied immediately, crossing his arms over his chest. 
“Hardly. You’re the one desperately holding onto the Robin title, as if it means anything without Batman.” Tim shot right back. 
Dick had to physically pull the two of them apart after that. It was like all of their greatest strengths were coming back to bite them. Damian had inherited so much of Bruce’s characteristics, which unfortunately included his poor emotional intelligence. Plus Tim’s genius in crime solving could be turned to finding the emotional vulnerabilities in those around him, which he was always quick to exploit. Damian pulled a knife and Dick had to wrestle his youngest brother to keep him from impaling Tim with it. 
A crackling tear opening up in the air of the Clocktower stopped the fight before it could escalate further. The tear widened and filled with green, swirling light. Damian slipped Dick’s hold and flung his knife into the hole in reality.
“Hey! What kind of hello is that?” 
The family all tensed in confusion at the voice that sounded from the portal. The voice didn’t have anywhere near the gravitas they would expect to come from a Lazarus green opening. Two hands stuck out of the portal, one of them clutching the knife. 
“I don’t mean you any harm! Please keep any further weapons to yourselves. See I have my hands up!” 
After a moment a head covered in snow white hair, with a floating crown made of stars stuck itself out of the portal and looked around, seeming to gauge how likely it was to have to dodge more weapons. 
“I’m keeping this by the way!” The being said as they emerged fully from the portal into the center of the Bats. They shoved the knife into their own arm and it vanished before their eyes. “Normally a good instinct, but less effective because your weapon can’t harm ghosts.”
They were even more confused as Damian was being praised and encouraged to attack first. The being, that appeared to be a male in his twenties, with a cloak made of the Aurora Borealis then smacked themself on the cheeks twice as if trying to wake themself up. 
“Right, right, talk like a normal person.” He looked at them all with eyes that glowed a bright, toxic green. “My name is Danny Phantom, High King of the Infinite Realms, and Ancient of Space. I’m the Ghost King! I swear on my throne, my core, and the power of the Ancients that I mean you no harm.” 
Cass relaxed and waved causing Steph to cheerfully wave as well. At her computer Babs was typing rapidly trying to find any information. 
“What brings a High King to our little Clocktower?” Steph asked, trusting her fellow Batgirls to know whether this guy was a threat or not. 
“Oh! You’re Spoiler!” Phantom turned to her with a broad smile. If it’s slightly too broad, broader than a human should be able to do, none of them mentioned it. He then waved back to her and Cass. “And you’re Black Bat. Oh I’m so excited to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you.” 
“All good things I hope.” Steph said with a cheery smile before it dropped off her face. “Wait, how did you hear about us? You said you’re the Ghost… King…” 
The realization hit the room like a tidal wave. Jason. The Ghost King had heard about them from Jason. Phantom allowed his face to fall to seriousness as well. 
“It is true. Jason Todd, known as Red Hood, is currently one of my subjects.” Phantom allowed his head to hang for a moment before lifting it and fixing each of them in turn with his steady gaze. “However he is more to me than just another one of my subjects. I have adopted him into my family, so in a way, you are all part of my family. And as family I wanted to facilitate a conversation. Are you ready?” 
The members of the Bat Clan were used to world shaking news but in the past couple of minutes they had been hit with a lot of curve balls even for them. The confirmation of an afterlife, that there is a monarchy that rules said afterlife, that Jason had somehow earned the favor of that monarch and that they might be able to have a conversation with Jason from the afterlife were all individually things that could shatter the foundation of their worlds. So they did what they did best and compartmentalized and put all that information to the side to freak out about later. 
When he had received nods from everyone he gestured to the still swirling portal and… after a moment… out from the portal came the ghost of Jason Todd.
 Jason immediately had to turn intangible as another blade zipped through his body while the rest of his siblings screamed and made far too much noise. Fortunately Danny had closed the portal after Jason was through and the knife embedded in the wall behind him. He pulled the blade free and tossed it back to Damian. 
“Good throw Demon Brat.” He said with a chuckle, before he gave the rest of his siblings a sheepish look. “Uh. Hi, everyone.” 
Dick immediately threw himself at Jason and wrapped him up completely in an octopus style hug. Jason floated with his brother in his arms then had to catch Cass who flung herself on top of the pair, almost bringing them all to the ground. Steph was only a moment behind and even Damian came and leaned against Jason, though he kept his arms crossed as if he was too cool for a hug. His stoic affection was ruined somewhat by Duke wrapping him up in the group hug. 
“Are you all insane?” Tim shouted from where he was standing back with his bo staff in his hands. “You can’t just trust an entity this powerful’s word! This could be an illusion or a method of mind control!” 
“Do you have any idea what would happen to me if I broke an oath on my own core?” Phantom asked with a raised eyebrow. The Ghost King was currently floating over the hugging Bats with a warm smile on his face. 
“Yeah, I’m sure it’s awful. Even if we could trust that a core is a real thing, much less capable of holding you to an oath, there is so much flexibility in what you swore!” Tim argued, his staff shaking in his hands. “Jason! If that’s really you, what is verification code Alpha, Sierra, Tango!”
Jason rolled his eyes for a moment before he began rattling off a reply. 
“Sierra, Uniform, Kilo, Mike, Yankee, Kilo, November, Uniform, Tango, Zulu.” 
“See! That’s not the proper reply at all!” 
“Yeah it is Replacement.” Jason said with a laugh. “I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what I would say if you asked me to do some stupid coded verification phrase.” 
“No it's… wait a minute. Hey!” Tim looked offended for a moment before he finally decided to set paranoia aside for once in his life and dropped his bo to the side. He took a running jump and landed on top of the pile, finally overpowering Jason’s flight and bringing the whole family to the ground while Danny laughed uproariously above them. Barbara wheeled her chair over to join them, wiping tears from her eyes. 
The happy, tearfilled reunion was interrupted by one of Barbara’s proximity alarms going off. She turned back to the computer, the Bat pile slowly breaking up, though still staying close to each other to see a woman with long red hair and a pile of pizzas in her arms at the bottom of the elevator. Babs turned on the intercom and they could hear her talking. 
“Hi? Oh Hello! My name is Jazz, I’m with Danny and Jason, fully human person just here to help break up the tension of a very stressful conversation. I swear on the Infinite Realms and the grave of my brother that I don’t mean any harm.”
Babs looked to Jason and Danny to see them both nodding and keyed in the control for the elevator to open for Jazz. They waited in almost total silence, all of the siblings with at least a hand on Jason as if he would disappear if they took their eyes off him for the elevator to come up. As soon as the door opened to Oracle’s control room Jazz took a bold step out, then immediately ducked and lifted the top pizza box to catch a flying knife from Damian. 
“Jason, you were right, Robin absolutely would greet all three of us with a knife.” Then she turned to address Damian. “Please remember, I’m human and I won’t heal like ghosts do, so be more careful in the future.” Damian actually looked slightly guilty, though maybe that was for being so easily predicted. Then Jazz pulled the knife free of the box and pocketed it. “Also I’m keeping this.” 
Soon enough the entire family was eating, pizzas spread around the room. They had remembered that Damian was vegetarian, that Steph was an animal and liked pineapples on her pizza and that Cass and Tim would eat anything so long as it wasn’t moving. Danny had summoned a ghostly pizza from a smaller version of his portal for him to share with Jason. Even one of the pizzas being slightly stabbed didn’t inhibit their enjoyment any. 
Dick wanted nothing more than to enjoy just eating pizza with his family again, he loved being able to see them all smiling, all together, but he knew this wasn’t all there was to this. He might not be as paranoid as Tim or Bruce, but he still had his own moments. A king of a different dimension didn’t orchestrate a reunion like this for no reason. Once everyone had a bit of their food, he wiped his mouth and sat forward, drawing the attention of the others who all settled as well. 
“Not that I’m not happy for another chance to see my Jay-bird…” Dick said, trying to fight down the grief of seeing the ghost of his brother in front of him. “But I’m sure there is a real reason you’re allowing this conversation.” 
Danny nodded and flicked his wrist causing the remains of his ghost pizza to disappear. He floated lower and drew the attention of the entire room, living and dead, before he began. 
“It’s time to talk about the Curse of Gotham City.”
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comphy-and-cozy · 1 year
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Glittery - Andrei Svechnikov
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Pairing: Andrei Svechnikov x Reader (f)
Summary: The holidays are an important staple in your relationship, and this year, you’re at the top of Andrei’s wishlist.
Word Count: 4.7K
Author’s Note: This was originally inspired by another hockey, but fits everyone’s favorite Russian winger all too well. Title by Kacey Musgraves, but definitely listen to this song for additional inspiration (s/o to @suitandtys for this discovery). Feel free to use your own imagination for the necklace/lingerie, but if interested, here and here are the links to what inspired them.
Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY) & fluff. Hastily (and poorly) translated Russian, Christmas-specific celebrations/themes (minimal but still referenced), swearing, unprotected sex, choking, oral sex (m + f receiving), brief size kink, creampie. A few very poor holiday-themed puns that I will not be apologizing for.
Masterlist / Moodboard
December in Raleigh isn’t quite as magical as in Russia, or even further north in North America. There’s no snow, and the air is a balmy 60 degrees, which makes it very difficult to get in the holiday spirit.
Naturally, Andrei is busy, but when you started dating he’d made it a priority and a tradition to deck out his (now your shared) apartment to make it feel like more festive, even if it didn’t feel that way outside. Every year, he brings out the garland, the tinsel, the festive snowmen to place around the house, and, of course, going to pick out the perfect tree — and decorate it — is an all-day affair. He does it for you, to keep things feeling warm and cozy even while he’s away, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t remind him of home with his family and brother.
Gifts quickly became a staple for the holidays, too. He’s a giver, always purchasing small little souvenirs for you from his travels, and he loves to shower you with gifts for holidays, birthdays, and really any celebration. Growing up with very little, Andrei knows how it feels to receive next to nothing, and now that he has the means, he wants to make sure that none of his loved ones ever have to go without a gift ever again. 
So, it’s safe to say that your gift exchange day is all but sacred within your apartment. He insists on both of you wearing matching pajamas, with holiday music playing through the speaker and the only light in the house coming from the string lights hung up all over the place.
This year, he’s gone all out, purchasing you a lounge set, a new purse, some books, and no shortage of skincare from your Sephora wishlist. He never fails to make you feel completely pampered — something you’ve long since insisted isn’t necessary, despite the fact that he is a multi-millionaire now.
The hot cocoa on your coffee table has gone cold, the marshmallows floating in the liquid melted into what’s left in the bottom of your mugs. There’s a trash bag full of torn open wrapping paper, an equally large stack of boxes of each of your open gifts beside it.
“I have one more for you,” Andrei smiles, reaching for a small box tucked away underneath the tree. It’s neatly wrapped – certainly not by him – with a small white bow on top.
The package is light, and while your fingers carefully tear the paper, not wanting to damage the elegant design, your mind is running with the possibilities of what could be inside the box.
Your brain registers the dark navy of the box before the gold ‘HW’ that’s stamped into it, and you gasp when you realize. Inside the box is a gorgeous diamond choker, sparkling brighter than anything you’ve ever seen, and you are helpless to do anything but gape at the jewelry sitting in your lap.
“What do you think?” Andrei probes, a smile flitting on his face as he watches your reaction.
“Andrei, this is — a Harry Winston is —” you swallow, suddenly nervous to even be holding the box in your hands lest you damage the necklace inside. The box alone surely costs more than what you pay in rent, and you shudder to think how much he’d dropped on this. “It’s so expensive.”
“Don’t worry about the price, baby,” he says. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s the least I can do to show you.”
You can feel the tears welling up before you see them on the rims of your eyes, watery and emotional and overwhelmed. Carefully, you set the box on the table before lunging at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He chuckles, the sound deep in his chest, rumbling against your own as the gratitude falls in droplets down your face.
“Andrei,” you whisper. “This is so… so generous. You — I — it —”
There’s a pause as you let out a sob, letting his hand rub soothingly on your back.
“I love you so much.”
“I love you, too, kisa,” is all he says back, his arms pulling you in to squeeze you tighter. 
He’s patient, allowing your sniffles to subside before he pulls away, smiling warmly at you as he wipes your happy tears away. Leaning to the table, he picks up the box and looks at you as he picks the necklace up out of the grooves to keep it in place, holding it toward you. “Want to see it on you.”
“Drei, I have my pajamas on,” you remind him, gesturing to your flannel set, far from complementary to a diamond necklace that’s worth a small fortune. 
“I don’t care. You’re still beautiful.”
With a bashful smile, you turn and gather your hair, allowing him to place the piece around your neck, fastening the hook in the back. It’s heavy as it rests against your chest, and when you look down, all you can really see is the brightness from the way the Christmas tree lights reflect in the diamonds. 
When you turn around to show him, Andrei’s lips curl into a grin, wide enough that you can see the missing tooth that you love so much. His eyes are warm, falling to the sparkle on your neck, before he looks back up into your eyes. “You look so beautiful, dorogoy.”
“Thank you,” you whisper, shy, your fingers gently touching the diamonds. Leaping up from the couch, you dash into the bathroom to look in the mirror. It feels entirely out of place in your regular bathroom and your dinky pajamas, but the sparkle makes everything else around it less vibrant. It’s beautiful.
“I thought you could wear it to the holiday party,” Andrei’s voice says from behind you. He appears in the mirror before his arms slip around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder as he admires your reflection.
“Of course, Andrei,” you agree with a smile. “It’ll be perfect.”
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Soon enough, the party day arrives. Your dress is hanging neatly on a hanger in the closet, carefully steamed by you the day before. It’s green, satiny smooth, falling at your mid-thigh and hugging your curves in all the right places. When you step out of the bedroom all done up, Andrei has to stop in his tracks to stare. 
“Malyshka…” 
Heat rises in your cheeks under his gaze, his eyes roving over your legs, up your body, over the deep red on your lips, finally coming to the Harry Winston necklace laying beautifully on your décolletage. The sound that leaves his throat is a combination of a groan and a whimper, speechless at the sight of you.
“You are fucking stunning,” he finally manages, his own cheeks tinged pink. “You look so beautiful.”
You step forward until you’re standing in front of him. Your hands find his tie, Windsor-knotted neatly around his neck, the deep green matching your dress almost perfectly. His breath hitches in his throat when you run your hands along the material, feeling the softness beneath your fingertips, admiring your man and how nice he cleans up.
Ghosting his lips with yours, you dodge him when he presses forward to kiss you, smiling when you hear his whine. “My lipstick is still drying, Drei. Don’t want you to get red all over.”
Andrei’s grumble is low, murmuring something like, ‘want you to get red somewhere’ that has you stifling a giggle. 
Eventually, though, you do grant him a kiss, a chaste one against his pretty lips to ensure not smudging your lipstick or getting it on his face. And as much as you’d love for him to smudge it and take off the dress you’d just put on, duty calls, and you begrudgingly put your desire to the side as you follow him out the door.
The party itself is festive and fun, string lights decorating the room that’s filled with a softly-playing Christmas mix. After a few drinks, Andrei does finally take his hands off of you, though he never strays far, finding your eyes over the sea of heads and offering a wink or a dimpled smile that never fails to melt your heart.
Before long, though, the gathering dies down as the consumption of alcohol increases. You and Andrei bid your goodbyes, unable to deny the desire to get home and take off your heels — along with all of Andrei’s clothes. 
When you step back into your apartment, he helps you shrug your coat off to hang it in the closet. Before you step too far into your living room, you turn to him with a smile.
“I have one more gift for you,” you purr, enjoying the intrigue in his eyes, lit up like the Fraser Fir standing in the corner of your living room. “Wait here.”
The way his eyebrows furrow is endearing, confused at your mystery, watching you disappear into the bedroom. The look on his face when you emerge a few minutes later is even more priceless, jaw dropping in shock at seeing your body encased in red silk, the lingerie doing very little to disguise your curves. Ribbons wind up your torso, culminating in a large bow that’s nestled between the swell of your breasts. On your neck lies the necklace, glittering against your skin while you’re wrapped up like the best present he’ll ever receive.
“Merry Christmas, Drei.”
Andrei exhales slowly, breath caught in his throat at the sight of you. He doesn’t know where to look, can’t get enough of your skin and your curves and the way the diamonds look sparkling underneath your smile. His breath is shaky, broken, as he rises to his feet to meet you, swallowing thickly against the collar of his dress shirt.
“Malyshka, you – wow.”
A large hand extends out to you, and you slip your own into his palm, allowing him to twirl you around for a full view of your backside that’s barely covered by cheeky lace and more silk. You can hear the growl that leaves his throat before you return to face him, his eyes darkened as he watches you.
“All for me?”
Your lips, painted red, curl into a smile. “Always just for you, Drei.”
His hum is a satisfied one, and suddenly the anticipation is fully palpable, practically tangible in the air, as he pauses and waits for your cue. It isn’t until you gently tug at his hand, pulling him away from the door, that he smirks, backing up until the back of his thighs hit the arm of the couch.
His smirk grows even wider as he watches you sink to your knees, your eyes never leaving his. The twitch he gives as your gaze moves toward his belt is involuntary, as is the groan that he emits as your hand runs along his length through his dress pants. 
“Is this my last Christmas present?” you ask cheekily, and he can barely choke out a laugh at your cheesy joke. He’s almost too focused on the warmth of your palm to give his own cheeky reply — almost. 
“This package is too big to gift wrap.” 
If it wasn’t for the way he throbs in your hand, you’d smack him playfully for the stupid pun, but instead you just laugh and roll your eyes before returning to your task at hand. After all, he isn’t entirely wrong. 
Andrei doesn’t breathe as you work on his belt, the smooth sound of the leather slipping through the belt loops, the buckle clinking as it falls to the floor. Your eyes glitter when you tug the zipper down, allowing him the space to hastily kick the slacks the rest of the way off. Before long, his sweater joins the pile of clothes on the floor, and his white dress shirt is unbuttoned, green tie hanging loosely over the cut lines of his abdomen. 
You can’t help the way your hand itches to run along the firm muscle, feeling each ridge beneath your fingertips and admiring his body. While you’ve certainly done your fair share of complaining when he’s up at 6am to workout in the summer, you can’t deny that there’s a very clear benefit that you take plenty of advantage of. 
When your hand trails back down his stomach, your fingers hook into the waistband of his boxers, pausing with a teasing smile. His erection is tenting in the front, more than ready for you to touch him, a small wet patch on the fabric that you yearn to kiss. So, you do, seeing the way his hands clutch at the duvet out of the corners of your eye. 
Eventually, though, your need outweighs your desire to tease, and you shed his boxers, too, feasting your eyes on your favorite appendage of his. It’s tall and proud, weeping at the slit in a silent beg for your mouth. 
The sounds Andrei makes when you take him between your lips are always otherworldly, usually a strangled groan or a sharp intake of breath. Today’s no different, with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth when your jaw hinges to take him deeper. He’ll never know how he got so lucky, to be able to call the beautiful woman who gives the best blowjobs on planet earth his. 
Your lips close around his length, working up and down in a practiced rhythm. If you like the sounds he makes, he loves the sound of you gagging on him, the wet sound of him hitting the back of your throat and the way he slides against your tongue. It’s sinful and sexy and never fails to make his balls tighten.
It takes all of his willpower to do it, but Andrei eventually nudges you, pulling you off of him with a grunt. He can’t afford to finish early, not tonight, when you’re looking so sinfully beautiful and dressed up just for him, literally wrapped underneath the Christmas tree.
When he shifts to sit on the couch, tugging you quickly into his lap, his eyes are hungry as they gaze up at you. You’re so close to where he wants you, and you can feel him — and yourself — throbbing at the proximity. 
His expression quickly changes, though, when your arms reach up behind your neck to remove the necklace, not wanting to damage it before the real fun begins, but Andrei’s voice stops you. “Leave it.”
Freezing, your eyes shoot to Andrei’s, frantic. “Andrei, we’ll damage it —”
He pulls you closer to him, closing the gap between your bodies and suddenly you’re distracted by the heat radiating off of his body and the darkness that’s swallowed his normally beautiful hazelnut irises. His hand moves toward your neck, fingers brushing delicately against the diamonds, feeling the way the glittering stones glide beneath his fingertips. Then, he repeats, “Leave it.”
Swallowing, you lower your hands obediently, sensing the shift in the dynamic with just two words muttered around a thick Russian accent.
Andrei’s hands continue their path over your collarbones, down your arm, sliding over your sides before coming to rest on your hips, a trail of goosebumps following. He’s gentle, like you’re a sculpture made of porcelain, a stark contrast to the rough hands he knows you love.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs. His hands move over your neck, coming to cup either side of your jaw, and you shiver when his lips ghost over yours in the same way you’d teased him earlier. “M’the luckiest man in the world.” 
When he finally presses his lips to yours, you can’t help the sigh that escapes your throat, the feeling of relief almost overwhelming as he kisses you hungrily. His tongue is quick to find the seam of your mouth, delving into it with the passion you awoke in him as soon as you stepped out in your party dress tonight.
His arms hold you, hands roving over your curves, feeling the smoothness of the silk in his hands. Painstakingly, he tears himself away in favor of looking at you. His eyes dart over your body, admiring the piece one last time, committing the sight of it to memory, before one hand reaches forward to slowly tug at the end of the bow on your chest. The material is soft, slippery, sliding apart with ease to reveal your cleavage.
Andrei grins, tipping you backwards gently until you’re on your back on the couch. The vibration in his chest transfers to yours when he hums, his lips pressed to your sternum. He plants kisses all along your chest, dotting along the hem of the bra — if you can even call it that — reveling in his ability to make you squirm. 
Warmth, followed by goosebumps, floods your skin in the path of his lips, your nipples pebbling. His lips itch to touch, torn between continuing their path south and attaching themselves to your breasts. He opts for the latter, wrapping his lip around a nipple while his tongue flicks at the bud, his hand massaging your other breast gently. 
Andrei’s mouth explores your chest, paying equal attention to each bud, before trailing his lips over your rib cage, your stomach, your hips. He leaves a wet trail, coolness overtaking each spot on your skin where the air touches it, a sharp contrast to the fire that burns inside of you.
The next thing you know, Andrei’s hands are roughly flipping you around, tugging you into a kneeling position with your hands resting on the arm of the couch. You’re exactly where he wants you, bent over, your lingerie half undone while he stands behind you admiring the view. 
His lips work their way up your calf, thumbs stroking the muscles in your legs until he finally reaches the place where your ass meets your thigh. He grips your ass in both hands, fingers running along the seam of the lace that barely covers your modesty. His mouth returns to his hands, pressing more kisses along the globe of your ass, and you whine impatiently. 
“Patience, kisa,” he murmurs. “Aren’t you going to let me unwrap my gift? My pretty little vixen.”
It’s only when you feel the bow at the base of your back loosening that you whine again. Both of his hands holding tightly onto your hips make you deduce that he’s using his mouth to tug at the fabric, teeth pulling the satin smoothly until the ribbons fall at your sides. He’s torturing you now, his warm breath cascading over your back causing a heavy throb between your legs.
All that’s left are the strap of your bra and the flimsy lace of your panties before Andrei gets to the gift he really wants: your molten center, dripping just for him. He can’t help but salivate as his fingers drag the material down, slowly, giving himself a last show before he gives into his desires.
Your pussy is glorious, he thinks, perfect and glistening as it’s revealed to him. He swears he can see the reflection of the lights on the tree in the wetness of your folds, and his dick twitches at the sight, itching to be sheathed inside it. 
“So fucking gorgeous,” he whispers, tongue darting out to taste.
“Andrei,” you moan. Your brain is fuzzy, trying to find the words to desperately beseech him to keep going. 
He does, because he always knows exactly what you need, and being the generous boyfriend he is, never fails to provide. It is Christmas, after all.
The sounds of his mouth slurping against your core are nothing short of filthy, grunting into your center at the taste of you. His tongue delves into your folds, probing you with the perfect amount of pressure, never forgetting to grant your clit the attention she desperately craves. Large hands grope and pull at the globes of your ass, holding you open for Andrei’s face to make its home between them, groaning against you.
It’s like this that he makes you come first, aided by two fingers that he plunges into your sopping core. Your cries are muffled by the cushion of the couch, which he doesn’t like, so once he’s let up, he’s quick to flip you around and pin your arms over your head.
“I want to hear you,” he murmurs, the remnants of your orgasm glistening on his chin. You taste it when he kisses you, messily, his tongue covered in you as he pushes it into your mouth.
Andrei shifts on the cushion, his large hands pulling apart your thighs so that he can gaze at his handiwork. Part of you thinks the rest of your tryst would be better suited in bed, but the seconds wasted moving into the bedroom are not worth sacrificing the opportunity to have him inside you now.
You can’t help the moan that falls from your lips when he lines up with your center, dropping a heavy wad of saliva onto your aching clit. His eyes are glittering when he looks back up at you, smirking. 
“Don’t even need it ‘cause you’re already dripping for me, Malyshka,” he breathes roughly. The swollen head of his dick probes at your entrance, teasing you, before he’s rutting between your folds with a groan. An obscene squelching noise sounds from the contact of his skin against your soaked slit. “Hear that, dorogoy? That’s how sloppy your pretty little cunt is. All for me.”
A whine bubbles in your throat at his words, your hips rolling to try and catch him, desperate to have him inside of you. His muscular forearms strain on either side of your head, silver chain dangling loosely on his chest, and you grip the cool metal in your hand to tug his mouth to yours in an attempt to goad him. He plays your game, kissing you back, humming into your mouth when your tongue desperately seeks him out, but he ignores the way your body rolls.
“Andrei, please,” you whisper, your eyes looking up into his, the warm brown in them now a molten chocolate. “I need you.”
“You want it, kisa? Need it?”
“Please, Drei.”
“Say it,” he demands, his voice firm but soft. It’s velvet, almost soothing when he runs the pad of his thumb over your lip. “Tell me what you want. You know I’ll give you whatever you want, malyshka. You just have to tell me.”
Your voice is shaky, though the ardor in his eyes gives you the courage to speak confidently. “Fuck me, Drei.”
Andrei smiles then, handsome in a way that would melt your heart if you weren’t throbbing for him. He presses his forehead to yours, a sweet gesture despite the lewd position he has you in, his breath puffing out over your lips while he runs his length over your entrance one more time. 
When he presses into you, all air in your lungs is quickly pulled out. You’ll never get used to the feeling of him, thick and throbbing, stretching you out in the most delicious, toe-curling way, one inch at a time until you’re stuffed completely full of him. He loves it, too, muffling his grunt in the crook of your neck as he holds himself still for a moment, like he’s hanging on by a thread.
You’re patient, taking the time to wrap your arms around his broad and muscular back. Savoring the feeling of his muscles beneath your fingertips, you admire how big he is – in all aspects of the word. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, warmed by Andrei’s love and heated under his touch.
Andrei begins to move without warning, your walls gripping him tightly as he pushes in and out. The action alone is enough to render you speechless, your entire body fluttering when his thumb brushes your cheek, his lips ghosting against yours. His breath is warm, as are his eyes, pulling moans from you with the finesse of his hips.
One of his hands slides down your body, his steady rhythm never ceasing. With ease, he tugs at your legs until they’re resting over his broad shoulders, then presses forward until you feel the stretch deep in the back of your thighs. He’s deep, almost deeper than he’s ever been, lodged completely within your snug walls.
Soft murmurs in Russian are whispered against your jaw, nonsensical fragments of a sentence that drive you wild. He knows you’re close by the way your hands clutch tightly onto his shoulders, leaving marks for you to admire tomorrow. 
He says something in Russian, then chokes out his own translation. “Come for me, Malyshka.”
You do, his words the final bit of permission you need to fly into your own bliss. Andrei grunts, feeling the way you contract around him, working you through it like he does every time. He grins, pleased with himself.
“So pretty.”
“Drei,” you sigh, not ready for him to part from you just yet. “More.”
For once, he doesn’t argue or make you beg, probably too desperate himself to bother. The way he can maneuver your body so easily will never not be hot to you, his muscles barely working to tug you back into his lap. He twitches against your center when his eyes latch onto the diamonds onto your neck. 
“Ride me, dorogoy.”
He doesn’t have to ask twice, your body scrambling to sink down onto his waiting length with a sigh. His hands flex on your waist, encouraging you to keep going, though his eyes never leave your neck. 
Your body moves up and down, hips moving so that his tip strikes just the right spot that has you throwing your head back. A low growl leaves Andrei’s throat, his hand moving to wrap around yours. Though you can’t see it yourself, you know the contrast between his large hand next to the dainty necklace is powerful, judging by the darkness that has seeped into his eyes. He’s never been particularly possessive, but he does show small flashes — particularly in the bedroom — that drive you wild.
“You’re so beautiful,” he mutters under his breath, accent making him barely comprehensible. “So perfect. All fucking mine.”
Andrei’s other hand grips your hip while his mouth latches onto your breast. He’s all over you, completely invading each of your senses and surrounding your body in everything Andrei. He curses in Russian, the vibration of his voice shooting through your body as you ride him harder, seeking out your crest that’s just over the horizon.
“Touch yourself,” he commands, unwilling to move his hands from your body to do it for you. “Make yourself fall apart all over me, kisa.”
You’re helpless to obey, hand falling between your legs and brushing at your clit. His grip on your throat tightens, and it’s the squeeze of his fingers that send you flying over the edge, vision going fuzzy as your body shudders on top of him. 
You’ve barely had time to recover before he’s finally moving his hands to grab onto your sides, holding you in place while he thrusts his hips upwards, rapidly, seeking out his own release. The red silk ribbons dangle from the bra that’s haphazardly tugged around your middle, forgotten as they ripple from his forceful movements. Involuntarily, moans fall from your mouth as he pounds into you, wordlessly encouraging him.
With a loud, forceful grunt, he stills when he’s buried completely inside of you, twitching as his release floods your center. His hands are still holding tightly onto your sides, forehead resting against your chest as he catches his breath. In an effort to soothe him, you allow your hands to run through his hair, earning a purr against your sternum.
“Ya tebya lyublyu, dorogoy,” he murmurs, the words falling from his mouth like he can’t be bothered to speak or even think in English. You’re still learning, Andrei teaching you when he can, but you know enough to know what he’s said, and you smile softly as you gently pull his head backwards in favor of pressing a kiss against his lips.
“Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu, Drei. Merry Christmas.”
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Everlark (Mockingjay, Ch. 2)
(ready for more pain? here we go!)
(not everlark but it's interesting that when katniss says her and gale end up holding hands, she says it's them "holding fast to a part of 12 that snow has somehow failed to destroy" which is interesting. more proof that her relationship to gale is something from her pre-games world she tries to hold onto. and sad that it is 'a part of 12' that will end up also being destroyed)
when she finally sees peeta again: "a sound escapes me. the same combination of gasp and groan that comes from being submerged in water, deprived of oxygen to the point of pain" - such a vivid description of the pain she's feeling.
her hands resting on the screen, looking into his eyes to see if he's been hurt.
"i drink in his wholeness, the soundness of his body and mind. it runs through me like [morphling]" the fact that seeing peeta (seemingly) healthy completely dulls the severe pain she's felt for the last few weeks.
i can't believe they let peeta say that murdering innocent people costs everything you are on capitol tv
peeta killing brutus is something that is so overlooked. like i need to know what went down
"peeta's on his feet, leaning in to caesar's face, hands locked on the arms of his interviewer's chair" - insane. my poor boy
"'you're alive,' i whisper, pressing my palms against my cheeks, feeling the smile that's so wide it must look like a grimace. peeta's alive" - her elation at this, when at the end of catching fire she thought she'd be able to kill him to keep him from the capitol's harm. not a chance she could have done it.
shoutout to gale for standing in front of boggs so katniss could run away to process what she'd seen
peeta still protecting katniss while captured in the capitol. i can't explain to you how much i love peeta and how he is the best book boy ever
the detail of katniss scattering the pencils and struggling to get them back into the box. her quick elation at seeing peeta ruined by the reality of the situation and peeta's capitol-influenced words
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1d1195 · 2 years
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Made to be III
Part I Part II
Warnings: shitty boyfriend, toxic relationship, signs of abuse, lots of crying and anger
Of course, in a time when she should just be worried about herself, she was thinking about someone else--Harry at that. Harry wanted to scream into a pillow. He wanted to gather her in his arms and squeeze her until she begged for him to let her go. She needed to be protected at all costs. She was too much but in the sweetest most wonderful ways. “Kitten, I’ll set myself on fire for you.”
November/December
“Hey there,” he said as she entered through the gate. He smiled at her brightly holding a hot cup in each hand. “I got you hot chocolate,” he said. “Keeps the hands warm,” he told her. He looked like a model for a ski magazine. A warm pea coat, a beanie hat, a pair of gloves. She was glad it wasn’t snowing because if she even saw a flake in his hair she probably would have died—spontaneously combusted at the sight of his pretty eyelashes fluttering with snowflakes. Plus, she didn’t realize how cold it would be at the football game and she didn’t have enough layers.
“There’s a staff section,” he shrugged. “I...I usually find a spot down by the fence,” he explained tilting his head toward the fence. She grinned and nodded at him eagerly. She would much prefer to spend time with just him and chat while they watched their students.
Some kids stopped and interacted with them. They were excited to see the pair at an event together. Wondered if they could have an extension for a paper since everyone and their entire family was at this game—Harry said ask him again on Monday (when the paper was due, so they groaned), she was too gracious to say yes or no either way and just said “do your best to get it done on time, but I won’t hold you to it.”
One brave pair even asked them if they were on a date. Harry just rolled his eyes, but the sweet girl didn’t miss a beat. “You’re here with him, are you on a date?” She asked with a smirk. Harry chuckled and the poor girl’s cheeks burned bright red. Harry was nearly certain they were on a date and the teenage boy looked awkwardly at his teachers.
“Er...they’re about to start in the student section,” he said grabbing her by the upper arm.
“That was brutal,” Harry said softly to her with a low chuckle.
“Someone had to do it,” she shrugged but the mischief in her eye was adorable. Harry smirked as he leaned against the fence as the kickoff started. Harry leaned against the fence with one arm and smiled.
“I don’t even understand this sport, I just show up t’support the kids,” he explained.
She giggled as she sipped her hot chocolate. “Well, don’t worry. M’quite the football fan,” she said to him.
“Yeah?”
“It was either learn to love football or you couldn’t watch TV on Sundays at my dad’s house,” she explained.
Harry smirked. “S’not even real football.”
“Oh, shut up,” she rolled her eyes.
“Y’don’t even play with your foot!”
She shrugged. “Just...would you?” He was quiet for a few moments. Watching the high schoolers on field yell, tackle, and the students in the stands shouting like their life depended on it. After a couple plays, she listed off some of the more basic moves and strategies. She told him the goal and how some of their students were actually quite good. She had heard several were up for scholarships.
“Your boyfriend is a very lucky guy, kitten,” he said sweetly.
She felt her face burn of his assessment and she nodded. “My dad says the same thing,” she smirked and rolled her eyes. Harry thought she was too adorable. She looked so warm despite cold. Her nose was a bright pink from the chill in the air, her eyes glassy because they kept watering from the freezing breeze that skimmed over them every few minutes. It just made them shine more—practically magnified how beautiful they were, and Harry couldn’t look away. Her hair flowed around a headband that kept her ears warm and Harry wanted to take her to a ski resort and have hot chocolate in peace, and maybe--just maybe if she was up to it--find a way to keep each other warm.
They weren’t really near anyone. A few parents lined the fence as well chatting with one another and they simply enjoyed the game and each other’s company while they watched their students live their best lives. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and took a deep breath as she responded to a text. She put it back in her pocket for only a moment. Then she took it back out, slid her thumb across, and pressed it to her ear. “Hi,” she said. She stared straight ahead, sipped her hot chocolate. “School...School football game,” her voice was bordering on irritated. “Well, I texted you about it. And I promised the kids,” she said. “I don’t know...an hour? An hour and a half?” Her eyes were searching in front of her, and her eyebrows pinched together. “I didn’t know you were going to be home. You’re never home,” she reminded him. “Look, I’ll...I’ll be home in an hour and a half, okay? Okay...” she sighed. “M’sorry,” she whispered quietly. “I lov—” She blinked as she pulled the phone from her ear. Clearly it had ended, and she dropped it back into her pocket without a word.
Harry tried not to eavesdrop, but he would have killed someone for her to say she loved him. For him to not even let her finish her declaration of love—even if it was just the end of a phone call—was ridiculous. He wanted to say it to her right then and there. Wanted to profess how much he adored her, and he was writing poems upon poems about her in his free time at home in between grading student papers. He wanted to tell her he would make her happy and wouldn’t even let poor reception stop him from hearing her say the three most beautiful words he wanted to hear from her. “Everything okay, love?” He asked quietly.
She nodded. “Just peachy,” she answered softly. There was no bitterness in her voice.
Harry nodded in agreement. “Do you want another hot chocolate?” He asked.
She turned to face him. The phone call was already forgotten. The smile on her lips, the cold nose, the shiny eyes...Harry was so lucky he had self-control because he just wanted to kiss her and maybe never stop kissing her. He wished he knew her when he was a teenager so he could have been as love drunk as his students were about each other. He would have pretended there was nothing else in this world but her and her beautiful smile and even going off to college wouldn’t be a problem if she was around.
“I will never say no to hot chocolate.”
*
Harry was aching to see her. There was even less time than usual between the last time he saw her on Friday night and that Monday morning. Somehow it managed to feel worse than it usually did. Maybe it was a tease getting to see her outside of school (but not really) and getting her hot chocolate until her heart (and stomach) were content. It was only 50 some odd hours without her this time. But after the game he went the whole rest of the weekend without a single text from her. He sent her a couple: a picture of the food he made that she liked, the recipe to go with it, and one just telling her about the book he finished that he thought she’d like. Along with an email of the schedule for the week since there was an assembly planned and he wanted to know if she would be interested in having her students collaborate with his on an inter-disciplinary project.
So, when she replied to nothing all weekend, Harry felt a little frustrated—not at her...not really. He only felt frustrated because he adored her so much and wanted her attention. He was definitely not worried. However, that Monday morning, he didn’t see her in the parking lot, didn’t see her in the hall before first bell, nor the next bell. He was getting more and more anxious, and he didn’t know why. His pulse thrummed rapidly in his wrist, and he was tapping his shoe against the tile while he took attendance on screen at his computer during the third block still not a peep from the woman he adored across the hall.
“Mr. Styles,” it was the boy who ate the snacks in his room back in October. He didn’t have Harry as a teacher but that didn’t stop him from coming into his room. “Can...can you sign this pass for me?” He asked. Harry squinted at him in confusion and grabbed the piece of paper from him.
His eyes scanned it, his stomach dropping at the words.
Something’s wrong with her.
He had to play it cool, so he just blinked in surprise before scribbling on the pass for the student to get back to his class.
“Is... everything okay?” The teen wondered. Harry could tell he was worried. And he knew why: it was his favorite teacher after all. The only one that knew his secrets and made it better. She got him snacks every day he needed them and made sure he had food for the weekend. She promised him that everything would be okay, every single day. The teen was very preceptive to her mood. He could tell it crushed her when students were discouraged or sad. He yelled at his peers when they gave her a hard time and she seemed to be having a bad day. He hung to her every word—he never thought he would love school, but he loved being in her class. Knowing that everything she did was to help him. She was the best teacher he ever had. He felt strangely protective of her—not in a weird way. He wasn’t in love with her or anything, she was just a good person. She was too good to be a teacher. And he didn’t know why, but he could tell from her voice that she was lying about something. It felt like he had to do something. Even if it was nothing. He wanted to be sure. He also knew that Mr. Styles would know what to do for her.
“It will be,” he said definitively. The boy nodded, thanked him, and scurried off to class. He was relieved.
Harry glanced at his class working on their journal before he hurried across the hall. He just had to see her, just for a minute. He poked his head in and saw her staring at her computer screen. “Hey,” he said.
She turned before she could stop herself. She froze when she realized she did. Harry’s heart leapt to his throat and his blood boiled through every vein in his body. “Hey,” she said softly.
He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Hadn’t seen you yet today...just...saying hi. I’ll...see you at lunch,” he said.
She nodded. She did a good job of hiding it. If it wasn’t for the note the boy gave him, he wouldn’t know to look, and she might have even gotten away with Harry not noticing. However, if she planned on avoiding him all day, that wasn’t going to happen. He would have noticed surely by the end of the day. He wondered what she was telling students because obviously someone noticed.
But even a Hollywood makeup artist couldn’t hide the black eye she was sporting.
*
The minute the bell rang he waited patiently for her to enter her classroom. It was the longest ninety seconds of his life. As her foot crossed the threshold, Harry shut his classroom door, pulled the shade over the window, and put a desk in front of the door leading to the next classroom. “Lemme see,” he said hurrying back to her side. He couldn’t stop himself. He cupped the sides of her face with both hands, letting his fingers brush her skin and he massaged small circles into her scalp just behind her ears. He brushed his thumb along her swollen cheek. She shivered involuntary at the feeling.
Harry pulled back a little, his fingers untangling from her hair. He dropped them to her shoulders, so his hands could lightly press massaging circles against the curve of her neck. She nearly gasped and whined when released her face. “M’sorry, did I press too hard?” He asked. His heart was aching at her injury. Never had he ever been so mad. Harry wanted to scream.
She shook her head. “No...” she closed her eyes, and her voice was shaking something awful when she spoke. “Feels nice...haven’t...” she swallowed. “Haven’t been touched like this in a while,” she said savoring the feel of Harry’s hands on her shoulders. She felt so delicate, and Harry was so gentle. It felt like heaven.
Harry felt shattered, his face crumpling. “Oh,” he said simply. She didn’t say anything for a moment. Harry’s hands resting on her shoulders. Her breathing slow. Her lips parted slightly. “Oh, kitten,” he said gently.
“I feel so safe with you, Harry,” she whispered. “When it happened...I just wanted to...” she shook her head not wanting to relive the weekend. “I wanted to call you, so bad,” she admitted. “That’s so not fair. I...I haven’t seen any friends because of him...I don’t...I feel like I don’t...it’s like there’s no one else but you. You’ve...you’ve changed my whole life in such a short time, and I feel like you’re... you’re just made to be in my life...but I’m too much. I just have all these problems and baggage and I can’t possibly put any of that on you—” She rambled so much in one minute it broke his heart over and over. Every word she said made his heart break.
“Fuck, kitten,” he pulled her toward him carefully, pressing her good cheek to his chest. He wound one arm around her waist, and he cupped the back of her head with his other hand. He was being gentle with her. He was terrified to hurt her even by accident. “I wish you did; I would have gotten you in a heartbeat,” he promised. “You’re not too much...you are...you’re everything, kitten.”
“I’m sorry.”
Harry winced as if she just slapped him. “Please, please, please, do not apologize,” he whispered. “Not about this...not ever,” he begged. “You...” he sighed deeply. “You are so important to me,” he whispered.
“...yeah?” She asked.
“Yes,” he nodded firmly. He wanted to say more. Maybe she knew that. Part of her wanted to say it to him but she couldn’t. Not like this, all battered and broken. “Very much so.”
*
Harry was helping her gather as much of the stuff as she possibly could that was hers. He made several trips to their two cars in the parking lot. Her hands were shaking as she watched the clock on the stove anxiously. Harry assumed that she knew he would be home soon. But Harry wanted to be out of here before they had the chance of running into him. He was certain he would kill him. Immediately. But even still, he would do anything to protect her. And there wasn’t a chance he would let him near her. He certainly wasn’t going to leave her alone in the next hour.
“Kitten,” he said softly. He tried to look at the apartment as a home. All her things that made it homey. But it was hard. Her stuff was there; it was easy to decipher which items belonged to her and which didn’t. The “woman’s touch” was evident in the room, and he wished with everything in him that this was theirs. He would never let her feel inadequate or worry. She was everything in his eyes and she made everything in life so beautiful and he had barely scratched the surface of having her in his life. So, when he looked at the apartment that was supposed to be home, the one place she was supposed to feel safe, he felt filled with rage, worry, and it made him feel sick. “M’not going to let him hurt you,” he said as her eyes darted back to the clock.
She swallowed nervously. Tears filled her eyes and threatened to spill over. “I... I don’t want you to get hurt,” she closed her eyes as a pair of tears rolled down her cheeks.
He shook his head and grimaced. He was glad her eyes were closed. Of course she was worried about that. Of course, in a time when she should just be worried about herself, she was thinking about someone else--Harry at that. Harry wanted to scream into a pillow. He wanted to gather her in his arms and squeeze her until she begged for him to let her go. She needed to be protected at all costs. She was too much but in the sweetest most wonderful ways. “Kitten, I’ll set myself on fire for you.”
She opened her eyes to look at him. Her eyes searched him, and her face just looked so broken, her eyebrows pinched together and her eyes, her beautiful eyes so sad but still so lovely. “I don’t deserve you,” she said simply.
“Oh, love. You...” he shook his head. “I adore you,” he reminded her.
“M’scared.”
He couldn’t take it. He couldn’t stop himself. He slid his hands around her waist, and he pulled her to him just like he did in the classroom today. It was getting easier to touch her. But she kept sighing with relief so evident in her body language. It crushed him. He knew she hadn’t been caressed like this in so long. She said as much, and it was clear the way she nearly melted into his touch. “Kitten,” he said above her head. “You can be scared, but I’ll do anything to protect you. I promise, you’re...”
“I’ve never needed to be protected before,” she interrupted softly She looked pained, and Harry wanted to smooth away the discomfort on her face with his thumbs, but he was still nervous to touch her face. “I... always took care of my sisters, my mom, my dad even. I take care of kids and I took care of my friends.”
“So just let me protect you. Just for today,” he whispered. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
It was silent for a moment. Then she spoke. “He never hit me before.”
They had been avoiding it out loud up until this point. She was quiet and waited for Harry to speak. “He’s never going to. Never again,” he said firmly.
“Harry...” she trailed off nervously.
“Kitten, respectfully. I’ll kill him,” it was a promise. It was simple. His voice was even. He didn’t even flinch. Her words died in her throat with a squeak. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and squeezed around her waist gently. “Let’s get your stuff and get out of here, angel. M’gonna keep you safe,” he promised.
*
In the least demanding way possible, Harry watched her submit her absence for the following day. He was insistent even though she didn’t want to. It took nearly an hour of convincing as she stared at the laptop writing in notes about lesson plans and she thought about just sucking it up and going. It would help her avoid anything she threatened to feel, but it was the only thing Harry felt he would demand of her.
He promised to keep an eye on her classes and make sure all the copies were done. Unfortunately, he would have to go in. It was a small price to pay knowing she was safe at his apartment. Harry was sure to block her location from his view and made sure he had no way to contact her. But heartbreakingly, she said he probably wouldn’t try to reach her anyway.
Once all of that was settled, she changed into a pair of leggings and an oversized t-shirt. She looked so small and broken and he knew she was, but it made Harry’s chest ache anyway. They watched a doctor show, mindlessly, not really paying attention for a little bit. Her eyes kept drooping shut and Harry watched her from one end of the couch. There was so much space between them, he wanted to cry. When her head finally bobbed to one side, and she woke up with a start he smirked at her. She blushed shyly and shook her head with a small grin on her lips. “I... I think I should sleep,” she whispered.
Harry nodded and he got up to show her to the bedroom. Quiet as she was, he didn’t realize she wasn’t following. He shook his head returning to the living room where she was snuggled in the corner, tucked under a blanket that was previously thrown over the back of the sofa. “Kitten,” he admonished.
“What?” She asked innocently.
“Please sleep in the bed,” he begged.
“Harry,” she rolled her eyes at him.
“Kitten.”
She sighed looking too tired to argue but she didn’t know what else to say at this point. “Harry, I would feel more comfortable on the couch.”
“M’mum would shoot me if she found me in bed and a lady on the couch,” he told her. “I don’t—”
“Harry, I’m really overwhelmed, and I’d like to sleep on the couch,” she said closing her eyes nervously.
Harry swallowed the words on his lips. He nodded, of course she was. He should have known. He shouldn’t have pushed. “Course, kitten. Of course...I just want you to be comfortable,” he said.
“I know,” she shook her head. “I’m—I’m sor—”
He shook his head. “Don’t apologize,” he said gently. He meant it too. She never needed to apologize for what made her comfortable.
She looked physically pained to not say sorry. To not take his bed. He could see the sadness in her eyes. “I should just take the bed; it was so nice of you to offer,” she whispered. “M’just...”
He grimaced knowing she was trying to appease him. But he knew she would try to be overly-accommodating. He stilled her, one hand on her knee as she shifted to get up. He squeezed softly. “Whatever you want, angel.”
She thought for a few moments. “I’ll...just stay here,” she said.
He nodded. “Sure, love,” he busied himself setting up the couch properly and making sure she had everything she needed. “Are you comfortable?” He asked when she was standing in front of the couch. She looked anything but comfortable and Harry knew it. She nodded anyway. Harry nodded back once and then took to the bedroom to get a pillow, another blanket, and then to the kitchen.
“Harry?” She whispered.
“Yes, m’love,” he murmured getting her a glass of water. He put the remote and the book he finished over the weekend on the coffee table. Whatever she wanted to do, he wanted to make sure she was comfortable and had everything she needed. It was pretty early, even for a Monday. But she had to be exhausted emotionally. Harry was devastated for her. It saddened him he would have to go to school without her tomorrow, but some part of him was glad he would arrive home and she would be there.
“I might cry,” she whispered.
“I would expect nothing less, kitten,” he said. He bravely leaned forward and pressed a kiss on her forehead that lingered for a moment longer than he should have but it felt so right, and he could feel the tension leave her body as he did so. “M’down the hall. You are not a bother. Come shake me awake if you need anything. Even if you want to talk,” he told her.
She nodded but didn’t say anything. Harry turned the lights off and let her be alone. He kept his door cracked maybe a centimeter. He could hear her sniffle a few times and it made him want to throw up. His stomach knotted and he closed his eyes trying to breathe deeply through his nose. He wanted to march up to her apartment that he forced her to leave and pummel him until he couldn’t move. He laid there in near agony, dying to scream, listening to her cry while he tried to fall asleep.
Fortunately, it only lasted a few moments, “Harry,” she croaked.
Harry tossed the covers back and nearly flew out of bed and came back to the living room. He turned on the small table lamp rather than the overhead light. She was draped in a warm yellow glow thrown from the bulb. “What do you need, angel?” He asked and sat in front of her on the edge of the coffee table. He wanted to just pull her into his arms and hold her for the rest of their lives.
She had a teary face, but she looked like she was trying to hold back most of her emotions for Harry’s sake. “This is so horrible of me to ask you...but...”
Harry shook his head quickly. The way he looked at her made it seem like he was looking right into her soul. Her heart fluttered. “Kitten, you can ask me anything...I will do anything for you. I...” he swallowed before he said something ridiculous like he loved this poor girl who just lost her boyfriend, her apartment, and a good chunk of her dignity, he’s sure that was how she felt—even if it wasn’t true. “I adore you, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Y’said I was made t’be in your life... kitten, you were made t’be in mine,” he breathed.
She was so quiet, her face twisted in sadness. She looked down at her hands in her lap. Harry waited for what felt like hours but was only seconds. He could see her thinking over her question. “I...” she started and took a deep breath. It caught on a small shaky exhale that made his heart sink. “I haven’t been...touched so gently in so long...it...it makes me...” she shook her head and Harry had trouble making sense of her thought process, but she cleared it up immediately with her next question. “Could you hold me?” She asked so quietly. Her voice so small. Like he would ever be able to say no to her. Like he would ever deny her of being held like the most precious gemstone he had ever been lucky enough to find.
“Oh, angel. Yes.”
He took nearly no time at all to carefully wiggle himself into the corner of the couch behind her. He placed her between his legs and then scooted her up, so her head was against his chest. He wrapped his arm around her back and threw the blanket back over top of them. She sighed pressing her face right over his erratic heartbeat. Harry sighed as well. It was like she was made to fit in his arms like this. “Wow,” she whispered.
“Wow?” He repeated. “S’matter, kitten?”
She took a shaky breath in. “I dated him for seven years...” she said softly. “Never once felt like this...”
He frowned and gave her a gentle squeeze. “Good?” She nodded without a word. He was silent too, he let his fingers dance across the length of her arm. He felt so much more at ease having her in his embrace if it wasn’t such a sad reason, he would have told her it felt like she was made to lay with him like this. “Kitten,” he said softly.
“Yeah?”
“I will never hurt you. And I will never let anyone hurt y’like this ever again,” he promised into her hair. He kissed her silky locks and reached behind him for the table lamp, clothing them in darkness. She was still silent, but Harry could feel his shirt dampening beneath her eyes. He let her cry as long as she needed to.
It would be the last time she ever would while he was around.
*
The next morning was tough to get off that couch. It was a good thing he left his phone in the other room because without his alarm going off at 5AM he really wouldn’t have left the comfort of his couch with her in his arms. Even still, it was nearly even harder to leave his apartment with her staying on her own. He gave her the spare key, told her he would call her every chance he had and text in between all the chances he didn’t. “Should sleep some more,” he said quietly.
Despite being cramped together, it was easily one of her best night’s sleeps. She didn’t want to leave his arms, but she did when his alarm sounded, he had to move from behind her to shut it off. He showered quickly and she helped herself to making tea and coffee while he did. He was back in the kitchen before he knew it.
His heart softened as she poured the hot water into his mug with the tea bag. She looked so...perfect. Right at home in kitchen—he didn’t even tell her where the mugs were or where to find the tea. She just helped herself. Turning carefully with the hot beverage she presented it to him nervously. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He shook his head at her taking a sip of the warm drink. “Thank you,” he said. “Y’could’ve gone back t’sleep,” he reminded her.
She shrugged. “Maybe later.” She seemed a little more herself this morning. “I...I feel bad you’re going to work and I’m not.”
“Don’t think anything of it, love,” he said softly, he tilted her chin up with one finger. “Y’okay?”
It was too domestic in here. It was making her woozy. Harry going off to work. Her making tea even though the sun hadn’t even crossed the horizon yet. She nodded. “Much better,” she whispered.
“Can...” his eyes flicked to her lips, but he wasn’t ready for that yet. He didn’t think she was ready for that yet. “I should have asked last night to do this,” he shook his head quickly. “M’sorry I did it without asking,” he said nervously. And yeah, he had pecked her cheek twice before last night, but that was before he knew what happened after the football game it was different in a lot of ways and he wanted to be more gentle with her than ever. “Can...I kiss your cheek?” He asked his eyebrows furrowed together, hopeful look in his eyes. Her heart fluttered and she nodded. She didn’t trust her voice to say it was okay. No one had ever asked to kiss her cheek before. “Good,” he said quietly, a relieved breath escaped his lips. He gently turned her bad cheek away and he pressed a slow, warm kiss to her soft skin. He pressed another one a beside the first one, edging toward her nose, then he kissed the bridge of her nose, the tip of her nose and carefully with the touch of a feather, he kissed her still swollen cheek. He cleared his throat pulling away.
“You,” she said a bit breathlessly. “You don’t have to ask to kiss me,” she said looking at her feet. “Not...not like that,” she amended.
He smirked, grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips as well. “I’ll always ask, kitten.” he explained and let his lips drag across her knuckles and skimmed across the back of her hand.
She sighed dreamily as she watched his lips move over her skin. “I’m really glad I met you, Mr. Styles,” she murmured in a daze.
He chuckled not moving his eyes from her hand as he kissed the length of each finger. “Me too, love,” He repeated.
“Harry,” she whispered. She wondered if it was possible to pass out from a kiss on her finger. Somehow this felt more intimate than sex and she immediately shook her head to get that image out of her brain. She just left her boyfriend of seven years and she couldn’t stop thinking about Harry’s pink lips.
“Yes, kitten?”
“Thank you for saving me.”
His eyes looked up at her and she was already gazing to meet his eyes. His heart fluttered. “Kitten...I...I think y’saved me,” he whispered. “I’ve got t’get t’work,” he said. “Make yourself at home, go through m’cabinets, trash the place,” he smiled. She giggled at him, and he felt so relieved at her happiness.
Nodding, she said the sweetest words he thought he ever heard. “I’ll...be here,” she smiled.
And despite everything—despite how angry Harry was, how heartbroken he was. Despite how much he wanted to kill the man that hurt her and how much he didn’t want to go to work—he was really looking forward to coming home and seeing her in his apartment waiting for him.
*
“You okay?” He asked at lunch. He tried distracting her from her thoughts by telling her about her classes, her students said they hated the substitute and missed her. He checked over the notes so far from the sub to be sure nothing too crazy had happened. He was seated at his desk scribbling down a few notes to make sure everything was in order.
She nodded and then realized Harry couldn’t see her nodding. It was only a few short hours before he would be home. “I’m okay...Um...my mom is coming to see me...I hope that’s okay,” she said. “M’sorry. I should have—”
“Kitten, of course your mum wants t’see you. Of course, s’okay,” he said easily.
“Yeah?” She asked a breath of relief sighed from herself.
“Love, yes, it’s...m’sorry, I haven’t cleaned in a while—don’t even think about it,” he said knowingly. She giggled in response, and it made the relief from this morning continue. It was already getting easier and like before, but also better than before. “There’s...m’not sure what’s in the fridge. Need t’hit the grocery store soon,” he said. “I’ll stop on the way home. Jus’...can you text me when she gets there so m’not...freaking out if you are with her and don’t have time t’answer?” He asked. “Not in a possessive way!” He said quickly as soon as he thought about how it sounded. “Y’can do anything y’want...m’jus’... I’ll be—”
“I will text you when she gets here,” she whispered easily. “I promise. Thank you,” she said sweetly.
Harry sighed with relief. “You’re okay?”
“I’m very okay, Harry. Thank you,” she said. “You’re...a knight in shining armor.”
“Yeah?” He couldn’t help but grin. His cheeks felt warm, and he felt like an idiot, blushing like a lovesick fool on the phone during lunch talking to the girl of his dreams.
“The very best,” she promised.
And he felt he really was a lovesick fool.
*
Harry returned home about an hour after school let out hidden by a bouquet of flowers from the grocery store along with the other bags of groceries.
Harry, it’s so nice to see you again. Thank you, thank you, thank you, her mother was nearly crying when he entered the apartment and gave him a big hug. His sweet girl—and it felt so stupid to say his sweet girl in his head...she wasn’t even his—busied herself with finding a vase and Harry noted that she did clean...at least dusted or something. He quirked an eyebrow at her and ran his finger along the counter and then looked at her knowingly. She grinned.
“I couldn’t just sit here all day doing nothing.”
“She would’ve done it even if you told her not to,” her mum said her eyes bleary and a little red around the corners, as he expected. He pretended to not focus on the crying woman and noted that while her mum was a mess, her eyes lacked the same puffiness and redness—a good sign. But part of him imagined she didn’t want to cry in front of her mum and worry her more.
Rolling his eyes at her inability to sit still, he started to put the groceries away. “Do you want to come home with me?” Her mom asked. Harry didn’t pause putting the items away, but his heart nearly stopped thinking about being separated by a two hour car ride.
“That...wouldn’t really work for my work schedule, Mom,” she said softly.
“I know...but...you could...I don’t want to say quit, but if you can’t stay—”
“Uh...” Harry perked up quickly. “Y’can stay here,” he said quietly. “I’ll...m’happy t’have you,” he promised.
Her face looked so grateful, but she clearly wanted to say something about getting out of his hair. Fortunately, her mom stared at Harry for a long time and then turned to her daughter before she could protest. “I liked him more from the get.”
“Mom!” She covered her face with her hand. Harry chuckled with relief but couldn’t help the way his cheeks burned under her mom’s praise.
She glanced at Harry nervously and smiled sheepishly. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Always, love,” he winked at her and continued with the groceries, the smile warming his face while he thought about how much he would love living with her and coming home to her every day.
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blakeswritingimagines · 6 months
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Dating Sigurd would include:
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Dating him is a thrilling experience. He is an adventurous and passionate man, who will take you on wild adventures and sweep you off your feet. His confidence and drive are contagious and his charisma can be alluring. He is a true gentleman who will treat you with respect and dignity. However, he is also a fierce warrior who will protect you at all costs.
On one hand, he has the experience and wisdom of over a thousand years to draw upon. He's also confident and bold, which can be very attractive. The downside is, he has a lot of baggage. He's been through a lot, and he can be a bit unpredictable. All in all, it's an adventure to be sure, but one that is worth it!
He is a fair and loyal person, and people know nothing but peace and happiness if you don't cross them. He would be a good husband to you, with many children and with respect towards you. In short, he wouldn't hurt you even if his life depended on it.
He will protect you as his queen and protect you and your kingdom. He will also be a great father to your children, to mold them into honorable and great men. And also, he will also respect your decisions and he will keep your council private at all times.
He brings you flowers just because he thought you'd like them.
He would always make sure that you're happy and safe, that you don't have to worry about anything. You both would live a simple life in the heartland of Norway and spend the winters together, sitting in front of the fireplace and watching the kids play outside in the snow. That's how he would imagine it.
He would be faithful to you, your beauty would only increase his love towards you, and the best part, he would only have eyes for you.
He would never leave you for another, he already knows that no one is more special than you, and every other person would appear dull in comparison, he would not be a jealous person, but if someone started talking and looking to you for too long and made you uncomfortable, he would let them know to keep their distance.
He would write poems and songs for you, with his most cherished memories of you, and your future plans. He would write you songs and poems every day with the most sacred feelings within his heart. He would also always be there for you, no matter how small or big the issue, he would comfort you, and assure you that he is there with you in every step you take. His biggest joy would always be being with you and seeing you smile.
He would be gentle and loving towards you, always having your needs in the first place. He would show his love in many ways, he would hug you when feeling bad, kiss you randomly, hug you from behind while you cook, and caress your hair. He would give you little attention like bringing you snacks and small gifts.
A very exciting and interesting experience. Being with a man such as himself can be quite a privilege. He is strong, capable and he commands respect. However, this is not to say that he is without flaws. He can be stubborn at times and he often finds himself in situations where his decisions leave others frustrated or angry. But, on the whole, being in a relationship with him is an experience you will never forget.
He's kind and strong, but also passionate and intense. He's always ready to take on new challenges and he never backs down from a fight. Being with him means never knowing what adventure might come next.
Dating him is like dating any other person. You go on dates (walks, picnics, etc.), you cuddle, you laugh, you have intellectual conversations, you cook, you make love. It's just that when dating him, you're dating a legendary Viking warrior, and that changes the dynamics a bit.
He is a gentleman in every way, he treats you with respect and compassion. He will never be unfaithful to the loved one he is with. He is strong and courageous, but also sensitive and vulnerable. His heart is true to the one he is with. He is honest and faithful, loyal and devoted. He is strong enough to protect his loved one, but also kind and protective. He can be fun and lighthearted, but also serious and thoughtful. He is a real treasure.
He has a thing for teasing and loves it when you take over and tease him in the bedroom, making sure he begs and pleads for it until you let him finally release the tension.
He also has a thing for exhibitionism and loves the idea of being watched or having sex in front of a mirror.
He likes to switch it up and be the submissive one sometimes, letting you take control and lead the way.
He also enjoys having you perform for him and put on a sexy show, including showing off your body for him and seducing him with your moves.
He likes you to be a little possessive and jealous, wanting him all to yourself, like a cat marking their territory with a soft bite or a gentle scratch.
Most of all, he likes knowing his partner is enjoying themselves and that he's making you feel good.
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howlingday · 23 days
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Alright second lore dump same warnings as before. So his name is Bishop Purple(Up to other last name suggestions). Also know as Sir or Agent Boss after he faked his death. He/him pronouns. Bisexual with preference towards men. He still likes girls but leans more towards men.
So in a village of Vale a boy was born with eyes of grimm. Eyes that were pure yellow and the boy seemed to be born with Aura weak as it was. The boy would not hide his eyes even when made fun of.
At age five he would meet another friend who he would quickly grow a crush on which seemed to be recupriated. Everyone was sure they would grow up and be Childhood sweethearts. Bishop would learn at age 9 that his semblance let him command the Grimm itself. He would tell his best friend and get so excited he kissed him on the cheek. His parents took photos of him doing it.
The boys would grow up and start training to be huntsman and even start dating. But at age 16 his boyfriend and most trusted person Ozpin started acting strange. He would start talking about a greater mission to help all humanity and how his powers could change the world. The more time past the more he stopped looking at Bishop as a person and more of Ally of war.
Before he left for Beacon Ozpin would break up with him and tried to stay friends. Bishop heart broken would lock himself in his room for days. 2 years would past until Bishop saw Opzin on the news with a statement about his dating life and that he was straight and he knew that he lost the man he loved for good deep in his soul.
He ran away to forset where most figured he died but he actually met a old snow leapord fanuas man who called himself the Keeper. He saw what the man was capable of and wished to train him. He would even let the man have magic to use.
As the they traveled Bishop (hes about 20 to 22 now) would work at many strip clubs to make money to buy things he wanted since his teacher only payed for living cost. He make many friends and have plenty of future connections.
At age 28 he would be told the whole story of what happened and what Ozpin was. At first he blamed Omza, then Salem , but quickly realized the Brothers were to be blamed. The Keeper offered him to be the next Keeper but Bishop said no and left the same day. He sat alone in a taken and decided right their that he would destroy the relics so humanity would never suffer by the brothers hands again and maybe end this war. Theirs more but I think will let that be another ask. Thoughts? Questions? Criticism? Let me know
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I'll start with my biggest gripe with this, just to get it out to the way because the rest of this is very interesting. When you were describing Bishop, it felt like you were putting to much emphasis on his preferences over what he does or where he's from. I feel like coming right out and describing him "he/him pronouns" and "bisexual with male preferences," it felt less like you were telling me about a person and more like you were trying to sell me a product. My personal opinion is that when you introduce a character, you let their actions speak for them, rather than have them or you say it from the start. Have him show us that he's more interested in men, then explain it if somebody asks, like "Oh, is he gay?" "Actually, he's bisexual with male preferences." Or heck, wait until you explain his relationship with Ozpin so that we get the gist of "Oh, he was dating Ozpin before he changed."
Also, speaking of Ozpin, I find it weird that Ozpin would be asked about his preferences, and he just straight up answers with "I like girls". It feels very disconnected to me. Like, Ozpin is being interviewed about his plans for Beacon, somebody asks what he likes, and it just makes me think of either tabloids or a daytime TV show like The View or Dr. Oz.
As for Bishop's semblance and eyes, it feels very weird to me that Ozpin, or rather Ozma, wouldn't try harder to keep him close if his semblance is controlling the Grimm.
I do find Bishop's backstory very tragic, though, in that the only man he ever loved was taken by the spirit of Ozma, and for that he swears revenge on The Brothers, but it kinda... I dunno, feels very light to me. Like, Ozma took Ozpin from him, I agree that he should hate him. Salem creates and controls the Grimm, which I can understand his hatred there. But seeking the relics to destroy them doesn't really make sense to me if he's trying to end the war. Wouldn't destroying the relics only make the situation worse?
I dunno, but I do like where this world you've built is going, especially since you've added a fourth faction from Ozma, Salem, and the Keepers. Might need a little polish, but until then, KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK!
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