#or more. but in a slightly different direction.

[artdcnaldson]

changeover || art donaldson x reader ; patrick zweig x reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: SMUT (p in v sex x2, fingering, f!recieving oral), drinking, pining after people you can’t have, a dash of reader x tashi, sprinkles of patrick x art, porn WITH plot

Summary: your ‘casual’ fling with art isn’t working for you anymore, which sucks because you probably love the guy. enter a freshly heartbroken patrick to take your mind off of things.

FALL 2006

You knew exactly why Art Donaldson refused to acknowledge that you were an item. You could see it clearly across the room— the way you were cast to the shadows while he followed Tashi around like a lost puppy.  

It made sense, even if it made your chest ache. Tashi was gorgeous, and was acing her classes, and was going to go pro soon and become a beautiful, all-American sports icon. And you were just some girl he’d met because he needed help understanding the reading for class. 

You’d known each other for months by then— hooking up, going on dates that ‘weren’t dates,’ spending most of your time together. And you stayed firmly in the no-labels zone. But you weren’t bitter. It was totally fine, being treated like a girlfriend in all but name. 

Art laughed and leaned into Tashi. It was totally fine.

You were nursing a beer in a red solo cup and trying your best to look friendly and approachable. The only reason you were even at the party was because Art had brought you, so you should’ve felt grateful. You should’ve been having fun.

But just as soon as you’d arrived, he’d slipped away with a promise to be right back. It had been over an hour, so it seemed like you had very different definitions of right back.

“Looks like your boyfriend stole my girlfriend.” You turned to see Patrick, tanned from his time on tour. He was only going to be at Stanford for the weekend before taking off for a challenger a state over, which meant he needed to capitalize on any chance to spend time with Art and Tashi. 

Unfortunately, you’d both been ditched.

“Art isn’t my boyfriend,” you said pointedly, maybe a little too quickly. 

Patrick knew better. The last time he came to visit, he’d interrupted a pseudo date night between the two of you (which was a nice way of saying he walked in on the two of you in Art’s dorm while his best friend was was knuckles deep in you). The rest of that night wound up being spent passing around mixed drinks made with cheap vodka and whatever you could get from the nearest vending machine. You overheard the it’s casual, nothing serious conversation they’d had through the ajar door while you bought more Powerade and Red Bull in the hall. 

But you were being so understanding and cool about that. 

Patrick narrowed his eyes slightly. “Really?” The corner of his mouth tugged upwards for a moment before he wrapped his lips around a beer can. He tried to hide it, but you saw. 

You chewed on your lip, stomach twisting with nerves and curiosity. He was probably just messing with you, trying to get your thoughts all muddled up about Art because it was fun. Still, you couldn’t help but ask the burning question echoing through your mind. “Did Art say something to you? About us, I mean.”

The question felt pathetic. A stupid, desperate girl begging to know if the guy she liked felt the same way. 

Patrick shrugged, leaning against the wall bearing the portraits of the ghosts of frat brothers’ past. “Not directly. But you’re here together, right? And he’s still seeing you.”

“I guess,” you replied with a huff, embarrassment burning hot in your chest. 

“If you’re worried about Tashi, don’t be,” Patrick said, sparing a glance in her direction. When you looked towards Art, and the way he was smiling and laughing and looked so natural beside her, a frown turned your lips. Patrick nudged your arm and offered a smile. “Hey, I’m serious. Nothing’s gonna happen there. Trust me.”

It should’ve felt nice. A total reassurance from the person who knew Art best. But it did nothing to quell the turmoil twisting in the pit of your stomach. Because if he really did feel that way, why was he over there with her?

Tashi Duncan. So beautiful, radiant, and perfect that she had total control over two men. Your paths didn’t cross much, outside of Art, and that was rare since he liked to keep you two apart. 

But there was a part of you that knew that Tashi would’ve been able to make you melt with one look, one smile, one word. You wanted to experience what Art did. You wanted to know what Patrick knew, and what Art was jealous of. Or maybe you wanted something of your own too, something to keep Art out of. 

“I need another drink,” you said suddenly, meeting Patrick’s gaze. “Do you wanna come with me?” Patrick’s eyes flitted quickly towards Tashi, where she bantered with Art and the rest of the tennis team. 

There was something in his expression you found incredibly familiar. That pang of jealousy. The ache of not belonging just right. The look was gone quickly, replaced by a toothy smile. “Sure. I could use something stronger.”

——

An hour later, Tashi left with Patrick, and Art quickly decided to take you back to his own dorm. 

His lips were insistent against yours, kissing you hungrily, completely dissonant to the delicate way he tugged down the zipper of your dress. His fingers were warm where they brushed along the line of your spine. His tongue brushed against yours, tasting of beer and mint gum.

“What were you doing with him?” He murmured against your lips just as he peeled off the cheap, bodycon dress you’d gotten from Forever 21. It was tossed across the room, to be lost in the mess of practice duffles and empty water bottles and dirty laundry. The only time he parted his lips from you was to lift you onto his bed and slot himself between your thighs. 

His tongue licked into your mouth possessively, claiming you as his from the inside out. You gasped as one of his hands kneaded your breast, panting open-mouthed against his lips. “Who?” You managed weakly, your mind completely blank except for Art, Art, Art. And maybe a tiny voice in the back of your head that was still thinking about the Tashi of it all.

“Patrick.” His voice was soft against the tender skin of your jaw. “I saw you two talk, then you disappeared for, like, an hour.” His teeth nipped gently at your pulse point as he nuzzled against your throat, awaiting your answer. 

So he had been watching? He was with her, but he was still thinking about you. It made your heart flutter. You moaned softly as his hand slid between your thighs, teasing you through your panties. “Getting drinks,” you managed feebly. “Fuck, Art, I can’t concentrate while y—“

You gasped at the feeling of his fingers slipping beneath the band of your panties, teasing you with delicate touches. “Just drinks? For an hour?”

A strangled gasp escaped you as fingers slick with your arousal met your clit. When your eyes opened in surprise, you found Art staring right back. His touch was relentless, flooding your senses with pleasure as he demanded an answer. “We were in the living room,” you managed between soft pants and moans. “He was telling me about the— god— about the tour.”

Art’s expression flickered slightly— a tiny furrow forming between his brows. Was it doubt, or possessiveness, or anger? Before you could figure it out, his lips were against your throat, your panties were pushed to the side, and he was easing two fingers inside of your cunt.

“Fuck,” you cried out, grasping onto his shoulders. French manicured nails scratched at the pastel-colored polo he wore— why was he still wearing his clothes? Soft, keening moans slipped past your lips as he fucked you with his fingers. Every thought of him preferring Tashi or him leading you on slipped from the front of your mind as his thumb rubbed at your clit.

With a free hand, you palmed him over his pants, relishing in the way he panted against your warm skin. You made quick work of the button of his jeans— you knew your way around him like the back of your hand. He was warm, pulsing in your delicate grip when your hand slipped beneath the band of his briefs. Slick at his tip with need. 

He moaned against your pulse point, nuzzling against you as you began to jerk him off in time with each pump of his fingers. 

“You smell like him,” he groaned, nose pressed to the spot just beneath your ear as his hips bucked into your fist with a new sort of desperation. You didn’t have to ask who he meant. His tongue slipped out, lapping at you briefly before sucking a bruise into the delicate skin there. 

His fingers flexed so they brushed against the sweet spot within you. Your eyes rolled back and a sob of pleasure clawed its way from your throat. “Need you,” you pleaded, equal parts a thoughtless cry and a demand.

And who was he to deny either of you that? A pitiful whine escaped your lips when he slipped his fingers from within you and moved your hand from him. He stood to clumsily pull off the rest of his clothes at the same time that you quickly shimmied off your panties and tossed them to the side.

”You’re so fucking sexy,” he groaned as he joined you back on the bed, slotting himself between your legs. You were so pliant and sweet beneath him, looking up at him with adoring doe-eyes and a pretty smile on your spit-slick lips. He should’ve been perfectly content.

As he parted your thighs, stroking his dick as he lined himself up with your entrance, he wondered if Tashi and Patrick were doing the same exact thing at that same exact moment. He could imagine it clearly— Tashi, splayed out on her bed, and Patrick right at home between her thighs; sinking in, faces contorting with pleasure. Before he could stop himself, a soft moan slipped past his lips at the mental image. 

Your nails dug into his shoulder blades as he sheathed himself within you, and he buried his face into your neck. Fuck. You really did smell like Patrick. The shitty Axe body spray that was supposed to smell like chocolate, and the lingering scent of cigarettes. 

You moaned prettily, pussy squeezing him like a vise. Manicured nails scratched against his back, delicate enough that the marks would probably disappear by that time the next day. He was so used to Patrick lounging shirtless around their hotel rooms after tournaments— severe-looking scratch marks looking like angel wings against his pale skin. He always wore them like a badge of honor the night after he snuck off with some pretty girl he’d set his sights on. That’s how you know you’re doing it right. 

Why was he thinking about Patrick?

He tried to lose himself in you— in how pretty you were beneath him, the sweet words falling from your lips with each thrust. Feels so good, Art. ‘M so close already. Gonna make me cum. 

When he looked down at you, your mouth hung open, lips shiny with spit, begging to be kissed. His mouth met yours messily and you both moaned into the kiss. He moved a hand between your thighs, rubbing at your clit as he bullied his cock into your inviting cunt. 

You came with a string of moans and expletives that made the person next door bang on the wall out of annoyance. Art had to pull out as soon as he felt you start to squeeze around him. All it took was a few clumsy strokes and he was spilling onto your stomach with an almost embarrassing whine. 

You both lay there catching your breath and cursing the shitty air conditioning in the dorm. He wiped the mess of cum off of your stomach with an old tee shirt that was hanging off the side of his desk and tossed it to the side to be dealt with later.

“You’re so gross,” you mumbled with a tiny laugh, reaching down to grab your underwear from your floor. After you pulled them back on, you watched him dig through a pile of clothes in a papasan chair for a passable pair of pajama pants. An amused smile played on your lips at the sight. “Do I need to buy you a hamper?”

He held up a pair of pajama pants to examine them, shrugged, and pulled them on. “I have one, it’s just full.” A boyish grin spread across his lips as he crossed the room towards his dresser. He tossed a random tee shirt from the drawer in your direction and climbed on the bed, grinning down at you. “See? I have clean clothes.”

You laughed as you pulled the shirt over your head, then turned on your side to face him. His eyes flickered from your face, down to the shirt, then back. You wrinkled your face in confusion and peered down at the shirt. 

“What? What does it say?” You asked with a laugh.  You held it out, squinting to make sense of the graphic— faded and upside down. Finally, your eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh! I thought you were more of a Maroon 5 and Justin Timberlake guy. I’ve never even seen a Blink-182 CD in your stuff before.”

Art cleared his throat and shrugged, thumbing the bottom of the tee shirt absentmindedly. “I went with Patrick a few years back.”

A smile turned your lips. “It’s sweet that you two are such good friends.” You reached over, brushing his curls from his forehead. He turned, pressing a kiss to the delicate skin of your wrist. “Did you and Tashi have fun tonight?” The insecurity in your words was palpable.

Art shrugged. “A party’s a party, y’know?” He leaned into your touch, letting you play with his hair. “Just lost track of time. I won’t run off on you next time.”

You chewed your lip shyly. “I think it’d be nice for the three of us to hang out sometime,” you said, watching his expression to gauge his reaction. 

“C’mere,” he said with a tired smile, effectively avoiding your suggestion. When he pulled you against his side, he nuzzled his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder. His breath tickled with each exhale, which made you squirm, but every so often he’d place a chaste kiss on the skin there and you’d forget why you wanted to ask him to move.

In the morning, when you woke up to his alarm clock blaring a local radio station, you realized it was the first time he’d let you stay the night. 

SPRING 2007

After your second drink, you decided that Art Donaldson had hung you out to dry for the last time. Well, probably the last time. 

Most likely not the last time. 

Knowing yourself, you’d be clinging to his side like a lost puppy in a few weeks’ time, if you even had the dignity to give it that long. The second his attention turned to you again, you knew you’d be absolutely relishing in the special affection he always gave you when he was experiencing Tashi-related withdrawal.

You were so stupidly in love (or in lust, or in whatever) with him that you’d accept just about anything he could throw at you. 

No labels, just casual? Fine. Ignoring you all night then conveniently remembering you exist when he’s horny and ready to go back to his dorm? Whatever. You’re game. 

You’d gone to every match, watched a few practices. Helped him study for exams, let him borrow the notecards you’d painstakingly written over the course of the semester. Jesus, you even wrote a few essays for him when his schedule got crowded and he just couldn’t manage.

All you asked in return was a date to a stupid formal, and he ditched you last minute for Tashi. Again. And you couldn’t even get pissed about it without feeling guilty, because she’d fucking gotten injured and it wasn’t her fault that the guy you were into was carrying a torch for her instead.

“You’ve been staring down the Reese’s Pieces for the last five minutes.” The familiar voice startled you from your sulking. The world filtered back in suddenly— the blaring music, the smell of cigarettes and pot, the chatter of people wandering in and out of neighboring dorms. When you turned, Patrick Zweig was leaning against the vending machine beside you, carrying a large Tennis bag and backpack on both of his shoulders. “Do you need five bucks?”

“Shouldn’t you be with Tashi?” You asked, brows furrowed with confusion. “I heard about her match. I just figured that you’d…“ You trailed off as you noticed the thinly veiled kicked-puppy expression he wore. “Oh.”

He swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, that’s… it’s over. Did you want the Reese’s, or not?” 

“No,” you shook your head and laughed. “I just needed…” you trailed off. What was it you needed, again?

You needed Art. A date to the formal. You needed to feel desirable and cared for. You needed him to get his head out of his ass and just fucking commit. You needed to tell Art to fuck off and find another groupie. You needed…

“Another drink?” Patrick suggested.

You nodded eagerly like that’s what you’d been thinking all along. “Yes. Another drink.” You paused, glancing at his bags. “Do you want to drop your things in my room first? My roommate is in Iowa, or something. She won’t mind.”

Your dorm was decorated in shades of pink and green, with a ruffled bedspread and faux fur pillows and blankets. You bent down to retrieve two bottles of Smirnoff Ice from a mini fridge. Patrick did his best to look away like a gentleman would. 

Well, he did his best. It wasn’t exactly his fault that his options were to look at your tight jeans or the bulletin board above your desk that was essentially an Art Donaldson shrine. 

Pretty pink push pins held up a photo of the two of you after one of his matches, both beaming at the camera. Then there were little notes he’d written you in his boyish scrawl. Tickets to movies you’d gone to see and tickets to his matches. 

“Here,” you said, drawing his attention back to you, thankfully in an upright position. You’d already popped the bottle caps off the radioactive blue drink you handed him. You were chewing your lip shyly, sweetly. “It’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it?”

“What?” He took a drink and nearly grimaced at the sweetness. After he finished it, he’d need to go find something stronger.

You sighed and took a long drink yourself. “I dunno, the whole… thing. Art.” You absentmindedly toyed with the hem of your shirt. “I mean, what girl with any self-respect lets a guy just screw her for months with no commitment?”

“Maybe self-respect is overrated.” He laughed and stepped closer. “Full disclosure? I only came here hoping that I could fuck someone and spend the night in their dorm. Free booze was a plus.”

“We’re in the same boat then,” You said, gazing up at him through your lashes. “We’re both jilted lovers who need a distraction.”

You tilted the bottom of the bottle up, chugging down the contents. When you were done, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and rolled your neck out. “Bottoms up,” you said with a coy smile. “Let’s find something stronger.”

——

An hour later, something by the Pussycat Dolls was blaring through a set of speakers in a darkened common area. You were the fun kind of tipsy, where you started to care less about everyone else and just found yourself buzzed in that light, easy kind of way. You danced to the beat without a care in the world while Patrick sat on the arm of a couch and nursed his beer. 

His eyes were glued to your body as you moved, almost hypnotic beneath the red Christmas lights that had been stapled around the ceiling. Your shirt had ridden up, revealing a sliver of stomach that you either didn’t notice or didn’t care to cover up. 

The only thought running through his head? Art was a fucking idiot. 

You glanced over at him and nodded for him to join you. He didn’t move, so, not one to give up, you joined him over on the couch. When he went for a drink, you tipped up the bottom of the beer can and forced him to finish it, even as it spilled past his lips and down his chin. 

“Thanks,” he deadpanned, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. 

With a pleased smile, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the middle of the room to dance.

He shook his head as you tried to make him dance— your hands on his hips, pushing and pulling and trying and failing to make him move. “No, no. I don’t dance,” he explained, as firmly as he could stand to be.

“Because you can’t? Or because you think you’re too cool?” You asked, raising a brow. He rolled his eyes, a smile playing at his lips. “C’mon, if you dance, I’ll tell you a secret.”

That did make him laugh. “What are you, five?”

With a shrug, you took his hands into yours and moved them to your hips. There was a hesitance in his touch, at first. But then his fingers splayed against exposed skin, and you were so warm. Your hips began moving to the beat beneath his hands. “See? We’re dancing,” you said, peering up at him through long lashes.

You looked genuinely victorious when he finally started dancing… kind of. It was less of an action and more of an acceptance. It had been abundantly obvious since the moment he walked into your dorm room that you wanted to end the night with him. Maybe it was because you thought it would hurt Art, or maybe it was because he was there and he was feeling the exact same things you were.

He’d done his best to resist out of some lingering sense that he could repair things with Tashi, and the hope that maybe Art’s spite would fade and they’d be friends again.

Despite skipping the whole college thing, Patrick wasn’t an idiot. He knew better. The second Tashi fell on that court, both of those doors slammed in his face.

And you were so close to him that he could smell the liquor on your breath. And Victoria’s Secret body spray. Mostly the liquor, though. He was barely moving, but you— you were something else. Hips moving against the thigh he’d slotted between your legs, arms trailing up his chest so you could sling them around his neck, pulling yourself impossibly closer. Even though you were grinding against each other like two horny middle-schoolers at their first dance, he’d had enough to drink that he didn’t really give a fuck. When he moved his hands from your hips to grab your ass, you gasped and laughed like it was the best thing in the world.

Your body moved so effortlessly that anything he could have possibly done would’ve looked clunky and clumsy. He groaned when you brushed against him just right, and he could tell by your smug expression that you knew exactly how you were affecting him. 

You leaned in, chest to chest. “Can I tell you the secret now?” You whispered, lips brushing against the line of his jaw. He swallowed hard and nodded. “I think it’d be a bad idea for us to fuck. We’re both in a bad place.”

“Mhmm. Bad idea,” he echoed. He wanted to reach out and grab your jaw, to tilt your face up and kiss you. One of your hands had slipped beneath the hem of his (Tashi’s) shirt, just barely teasing the skin there. It made him shiver and lean into the heat of your touch.

“But I still want to.” You sounded so earnest, so needy. Like you’d take anything he’d give you and thank him for it. “We can use each other to feel better, right? Just a nice, warm body and a rush of dopamine.”

It was exactly what Patrick had come to the fucking dorm rager for. To feel wanted and desired. For someone to look at him like he wasn’t actively failing at the one thing he was supposed to be the best at. 

But he was good at other things.

You guided him through the crowded hallway, way more packed than they had been before you’d started dancing. It was getting later, more people were falling for the siren song of R&B and beer. You were a siren of a different making— with much more dangerous consequences than a hangover.

It almost felt wrong to be back in your innocent, frilly little dorm with the intention of fucking your brains out. But the looks you were giving him were enough proof that he wasn’t the only pervert. Before you could get too far, he pinned you up against the door, displacing a dry-erase calendar in the process. 

You glanced down, eyes flitting towards the hearts around tomorrow’s date, anticipating the formal that Art had flaked on. Without looking back, you kicked the dry-erase board out of the way, a problem for later. 

His lips met yours in a messy clash— teeth knocking slightly until you found a rhythm with each other. Patrick Zweig kissed like he’d been at war for fucking years and had just returned home. He kissed like he had crawled out of the desert and the only promise of water could be found on your tongue. 

You’d never been kissed with that level of need and desperation— that desire— and you fucking loved it. The taste of his tongue licking into your mouth, the rumble of a moan against your own lips.

His hands were moving beneath your shirt, pushing it up as he went. A pretty whine slipped past your spit-slick lips as he squeezed your tits over your bra. Your hands stayed busy undoing his jeans. He moaned into your mouth when your fingers barely brushed against the bulge through the denim. 

“That feel good?” You teased, practically breathing the words into his lungs as you slipped your hand into his boxers. He groaned in response as your hand wrapped around him and pumped slowly.  There was something addicting about his need— you relished in the pulse of him, warm and bucking into your grip. And you wanted more. You wanted to be the one to make him come undone. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

His head fell back slightly as you brushed your thumb along his tip, the movement accompanied by another soft groan. The way you peered up at him with an earnest need to please made hot desire thrum within him.

“You could start by taking these clothes off,” he said, fingers roaming to tug at the strap of your bra. You started to move, slipping your hand from his boxers. Then you stopped.

“You’re not gonna help?” You asked coyly, goosebumps forming where his fingers trailed along your side, teasing at the band of the bra. 

That made a tiny smirk turn at his lips. “Does Art help?” It shouldn’t have turned him on— that little flash of longing for Art in your eyes. But it did. You nodded, shifting slightly to encourage more of Patrick’s touch. “Lift your arms.”

As easy as anything, you obeyed. No banter, no push and pull for control. It was so different than what he had with Tashi (who he shouldn’t have been thinking about), and he couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how it always was for you and Art (who he shouldn’t have been thinking about either). 

He tossed your shirt to the side and moved a single hand to the clasp of your bra, undoing it with a quick movement that he’d perfected at sixteen. Painstakingly slow, he pushed each strap down your arms, until it fell at your feet and exposed your tits to the overzealous AC of the Stanford dorms. 

Your nipples pebbled in the cool air, and his mouth watered in a near-Pavlovian response to the sight. His hands moved back to your chest, so he could thumb over the sensitive buds and relish in the way you shivered.

The wood of the door was cold against your shoulders as you arched into his touch. Manicured nails fumbled with the button to your jeans— you twisted and shimmied them off before kicking them to the side.

Before you could react, he picked you up and carried you over to the bed. A grin played at your lips as he practically dropped you onto it, making a decorative pillow fall to the floor. 

“It was only, like, five steps,” you said with a laugh. Patrick shrugged and made quick work of his clothes. You sat up on your elbows to watch him shuck off his pants, then awkwardly hop on one foot at a time to remove his shoes and socks.

When he finally joined you on the bed, he was clad only in his boxers, which were sporting an almost comically large tent. He positioned himself over you, that shit-eating grin ever present on his face. “Can I go down on you?”

You laughed lightly in disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”

He nodded. “As a heart attack.” He nuzzled against your jaw teasingly. “C’mon, lemme make you feel good, okay? I live for this shit.”

You giggled, pushing his face away. “Yeah. Fuck. You can.”

He trailed his lips down your jaw, then your sternum. He stopped only briefly to suck each nipple into his mouth, making you squirm and arch into him. Your hand moved into his hair, and he moaned against your tit as you tugged slightly. 

You watched him kiss down your stomach and peel your panties down your legs with his teeth through half-lidded eyes. Your cunt clenched around nothing as he slowly kissed up one leg.

The sight made your stomach flip— the sheer desire of it all. Your mind flickered to Tashi, as it seemed to do more and more. Tashi got this same sight, felt the same lips on her skin, and heard the same groans and pants. You could’ve laughed at the sheer absurdity of it all. At that moment, with Patrick on top of you, you were closer to Tashi than Art could even dream of.

A tap on the inside of your thigh was his wordless way of telling you to open up for him, to get out of your head and come back to earth. Your tummy fluttered as you spread your legs more and he slotted himself there with an arm slung across your stomach. 

“Fuck,” he said lowly, peering up at you. “You get this wet from just kissing?”

Heat burned in your cheeks at his obvious amusement, but you could tell he loved how responsive you were. His tongue traced you from your hole to your clit, making you cry out and twist your fingers into his curls. Quick, teasing flicks against your clit made your thighs tremble and squeeze around his shoulders. You were so fucking sensitive that it made him want to tear you apart.

It was messy— a sloppy mix of his spit and your arousal as he made out with your pussy. His nose brushed against your clit as he nuzzled deeper into you, moaning as his fervor was rewarded with more of your juices spilling onto his tongue. 

There was no method or precision to it, even though you were quite sure he could’ve had you coming undone beneath his fingers in no time at all. Patrick relished in every tiny reaction— in feeling your thighs around his head and your fingers in his hair. Relished in the taste of you on his tongue and the feeling of your slick smeared across his face. 

Your back was arching off the bed, nails digging just shy of painfully into his scalp. 

He opened you up with one finger, then a second. Your cunt accepted the intrusion with ease, like you were made for it. For him. He crooked his fingers just so and you cried out pathetically. He pressed there, constant and firmly and your fingers tugged harder on his hair, moans increasing in pitch as your breaths came in pants. 

“I’m— I— fuck—“ words failed you as his lips formed a seal around your clit and he sucked, making spots dance across your vision. In the absence of words, all you could manage were fucked out sobs and pitiful little whines.

Slick walls fluttered around his fingers, and your clit pulsed against his tongue. You were so easy to get worked up— a toy for him to wind up and set into motion. You came with a moan that would’ve made a weaker man cum inside of his boxers, your cunt spasming around the intrusion of his fingers. 

When he sat back and cleaned his fingers in his mouth, you were watching through half-lidded, hazy eyes. Tiny pieces of hair were plastered to your face and forehead, and you gave a breathless giggle as you looked up at him. 

“Holy shit,” you said with a grin as he shucked off his boxers and kicked them off somewhere across the room. 

“Feel good?” He asked, and pressed a kiss to your hip bone. You nodded wordlessly, feeling dizzy with need. “Gonna give me another one?”

“Yeah,” you said breathlessly, peering up at him with wide eyes. The tip of his nose was shiny with your arousal, which made warmth spread across your cheeks. With a sheepish laugh, you reached up and wiped it away with your thumb. There wasn’t much you could do about the mess on his mouth and chin. “You’re all messy.”

He kissed you slow— leaving his tongue against yours, making you taste yourself mixed with his spit. It was less of a kiss than a series of slow laves of his tongue against yours. It felt dirty, and a little gross, but you couldn’t help but relish in it. You’d never kissed Art like that, would’ve never even dreamed of it. Patrick was an entirely different animal. 

You stayed like that for a while— just completely lost in the feel of him warm on top of you, grinding his cock against your cunt as he planted messy kisses to your lips. 

“Condom?” He mumbled the words against your lips when he finally grew impatient.

“Mhmm. Bedside table.”

He fumbled inside the drawer, grabbing glasses cleaning wipes two seperate times before he finally found a foil packet in the bottom of the drawer.  

He held it between two fingers, an amused smile playing on his lips. “You sure this’ll fit me? I’m bigger than Art.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not by that much.”

“Where it counts, though.” His smirk was smarmy as he tore open the foil with his teeth and rolled the condom down his length. He spat in his hand and stroked himself as he peered down at you, like he hadn’t quite decided how he wanted you yet. 

“Turn over,” he finally said with a pat to the meat of your thigh. You did as he said, almost hesitant as you turned over and settled onto your forearms, arching your back slightly. “Does Art ever fuck you like this?”

He held the head of his cock at your entrance, teasing you with the tiniest amount of pressure. You took in a shaky breath and shifted, eager for more that he wasn’t going to give you yet. “Do you have to bring him up right now?”

No. He knew he really didn’t, but he couldn’t help himself at the same time. The thought of his Art in this same bed with you made it all so much hotter for him. He wanted to know how Art had fucked you, he wanted every detail burned in his brain. He wanted to be better, or maybe just be there with the two of you. 

It had gotten close. Once. Art was definitely fingering you under a blanket while the three of you watched a movie on his laptop across the room. Patrick’s thigh was touching yours— he could feel the way your muscles tensed and shook as Art played with you. He was close enough to hear the hitch of your breath. 

And if that hadn’t been enough to give it away, Art’s stupid fucking smirk and the obvious way his arm was moving would have.

He didn’t do anything then, but maybe he should’ve. 

“I’ll take that as a no.” He was slow as he sank into you, inch by inch. It could’ve been the position, or maybe his cocky bravado was completely founded, but he did feel bigger than you were used to. A soft moan was punched from your lips when he was finally buried to the hilt— your breath came in soft pants as you adjusted to the feeling of him. 

With your face pressed into your pillows, each breath you took flooded your senses with the smell of Art’s cologne. You moaned softly, eyes fluttering shut as your thoughts were overwhelmed with him.

“Shit, you’re fuckin’ tight,” he groaned. His fingers dimpled your skin where he held onto you. He moved one hand to rub the base of your spine in a way that could probably have been tender, on another day. You moaned pathetically into the pillows. “What? You need something?” 

One shallow, teasing thrust made your toes curl. “More,” was all you could manage.

“Can you take it?” Patrick cooed, smugness was practically dripping from his tongue. “Because I can go slow if you need—“

“You’re such an asshole. Just fuck m—”

A rough snap of Patrick’s hips cut you off suddenly. You cried out, grasping onto the bedspread feebly as he began to fuck you in earnest. 

Each thrust made the cheap, university-provided bed frame slam against the wall. The decorations you had hung up rattled, threatening to tumble right onto the floor and shatter, but neither of you even noticed. The moans slipping past your lips were pornographic.

But the sounds escaping you were nothing compared to the noises Patrick was making. Art had made an off-handed comment, once, about how much of a slut Patrick could be. You hadn’t really seen why until you got to hear the desperate, debauched noises he could make.

You slipped a hand between your thighs to rub at your clit and the feeling stole the air from your lungs. Your eyes rolled back, ass jiggling in time with each thrust.

Through it all, the memory of Art in this bed clung to you. Art, burying himself in the soft, wet heat between your thighs, flushed down to his chest and panting softly. His hungry kisses, melting sweet on your tongue like cotton candy. The whines that slipped past his lips, better than the prettiest music you could imagine. 

With each brutal thrust of Patrick’s cock into you, he punched out soft ah, ah, ahs from your lips. In your head, you just heard Art, Art, Art. Maybe that’s what you meant to say. 

You were probably in love with him. You were fucking his best friend. And it wasn’t even that simple. Patrick and Art and Tashi and somewhere between it all, you lingered. It was a giant clusterfuck of feelings and lust that you’d somehow tangled yourself inside of. Wanting someone so much, you want whoever has them just as badly. 

Maybe everything would’ve been a lot cleaner if you’d just locked the four of you into a room and stayed until every bit of tension had been fucked out. The idea of it all made you moan softly into the pillows. 

Patrick pulled you up suddenly, back flush against his chest as he continued to fuck into you. One hand grabbed at your jaw, turning you so he could press his lips to yours again, and the other squeezed at your tits. His mouth did a perfect job of muffling your moans— Patrick relished in feeling your pretty whines vibrate against his lips. 

“You feel so fucking perfect.” His words made heat flutter through you. “Need t’ feel you cum again. You have it in you, yeah? I can feel it.”

You nodded, eager to please. Pleasure was lapping at every nerve, lightning-hot. Your fingers rubbed faster at your clit as he pounded up into you. The whines escaping you were pathetic as your body crawled closer and closer to the edge. 

“Close,” you gasped out. Patrick licked into your open mouth, kissing you sloppily as you set a punishing pace on your poor, oversensitive clit. “So close— f-fuck—“

Your orgasm hit you suddenly. You clawed at his arm with your free hand, desperately seeking purchase as euphoria pulsed through your veins. 

“That’s it,” he groaned, his breath hot against your jaw. “Fuck— squeezin’ me so tight I can barely move— god—“

Your eyes were half-lidded as he worked you through it, rhythm only just beginning to falter as his finish approached. He pushed you back onto your stomach, manhandling your hips so your back was arched just like he wanted. 

You were reduced to whimpers and whines by the time he finally came— buried as deep as he could get, grip bruising on your hips. A few shallow thrusts were all he could manage before he pulled out, collapsing on beside you. 

You were catching your breath while he disposed of the condom in the cute trash can beside your bed, filled with gummy snack wrappers and broken pencils and old class notes. It felt like sacrilege. He laid back down, and you pulled a throw blanket over the two of you. 

With his head against the pillows, you wondered if he could also sense the phantom of Art’s presence there in the bed. Somewhere between you, forcing distance.

“So, when do you leave for your next tournament?” You asked. Unconsciously, you reached out to play with his hair, the same way you did to Art in times like these. “Soon, I bet. You usually don’t stay long.”

“Trying to get rid of me?” He asked, a tiny smile playing at his lips. His chest was still heaving with exertion. 

You shook your head. “I don’t want to get rid of you, Patrick.” He melted into your touch, eyes fluttering shut. 

In the morning, you’d wake up squished against Patrick’s side with the taste of sugary alcohol on your tongue. When you picked up your phone to see three missed calls from Art, it was easier to pretend that you hadn’t seen them at all.

thanks for reading :) if you enjoyed, please lmk by sending an ask, or whatever you wanna do <3

#challengers 2024 #art donaldson #patrick zweig #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson fanfic #patrick zweig fanfic #challengers fanfic #my writing

[ashtheketchum]

●Just one night●

Daryl Dixon X fem.Reader

Era: Pre apocalypse

Summary: Merle and Daryl went to a bar to have a fun night. But then Merle found out that Daryl was still a virgin and he wanted to change that with a few "whores".

Warnings: +18 CONTENT, fem.Reader, against the wall, oral (f), Merle being Merle, mention of alcohol, mention of smoking, Insults, virgin Daryl, virgin Reader

Words: 3k

Masterlist!

_______________________________

PoV Daryl:

I had actually wanted a free evening, but of course Merle put a stop to my plans again. We had worked together all week because of his illegal business and I had to help him with everything. Now I couldn't even enjoy my Friday evening. We sat together in a bar, I had a whiskey while he had a cocktail. With a big grin he drank from his glass before looking after some women who were laughing and chatting at a table. "Well, lil' bro… how's your sex life?" "I don't know why ya should care." I just said coldly.

Merle laughed amusedly before leaning a little closer to me. His breath smelled of alcohol and smoke, it reminded me of the old man, but I constantly ignored this feeling. "Ya´re still a virgin, aren´t ya?" I didn't mind being a virgin, but I still didn't want to tell Merle. So I drank quietly from my glass while looking around the bar. But this only made Merle laugh again before he drank his glass completely empty and stood up. "Don´ worry, lil´ bro… I´ll help ya…" And with these words he walked away from our table.

Annoyed, I rolled my eyes briefly before I looked after him. He slowly walked towards the table where all the women were sitting. I somehow had a really bad feeling about this and when Merle pointed at me, I felt even more uncomfortable. Swallowing hard, I watched as the women looked in my direction, each one looking different from the next. After a few seconds, one nodded slightly and they all stood up. Only then did I see that there were three women. They were wearing very short clothes, you could almost think they were prostitutes. "Heyyyy, are you Daryl?" One then asked. Swallowing hard, I watched the women as they sat down next to me and in front of me. A few stroked my arms or leaned so far forward that I could see their cleavage. "Uh… I guess so?" I just said uncertainly. Damn it, I'm going to kill Merle.

The woman sitting next to me gently stroked my thigh as she moved closer and closer to my ear. Her breath gave me a cold, unpleasant shiver and I immediately backed away. "You're brother told us that you want some fun?" Ok, that question was definitely the reason to kill someone. I took a deep breath before shaking my head. "Nah… 'm good…" I said briefly. The women giggled quietly for a moment before tapping me again. Even though it was stupid, I looked at them again, but this time with an annoyed expression. "It's okay to be a virgin… just… how old are you again?" The woman sitting opposite me asked me.

Strangely, I felt a pressure building up inside me and I bit the inside of my lower lip. A stupid habit of mine. "Why?" I asked. The women looked at each other briefly before pointing behind them to their table. My gaze went there and I saw a woman there, about my age. She was staring at her cell phone and sipping a drink. She wasn't wearing such provocative clothes as the other women and she didn't seem as excited either. "This is (Y/N). She's a virgin too." The woman sitting next to me then said.

My confused look then went to her before I shrugged my shoulders. "'kay? And now?" The woman next to me grinned broadly before she stood up and went to this (Y/N). When (Y/N) sensed the presence of the other woman, she put her cell phone down and looked up at the woman. The woman who had just been sitting next to me pointed at me and made some hand gestures. Within a second, her cheeks turned bright red and she looked grumpily at her drink. "She's shy…" The second woman whispered to me. Grumbling, I looked at her briefly before looking back at (Y/N) and the strange woman. Reluctantly, she let herself be pulled towards us and the strange woman pushed (Y/N) onto the seat next to me.

PoV (Y/N):

Annoyed, but also unsure, I now sat next to this Daryl, who also looked at me annoyed. However, he didn't seem to be annoyed by me, but rather by my friends. We wanted a relaxed evening and suddenly they were talking about sex and relationships, even though they knew full well that I had never experienced either of them. "Hey…" I said quietly. Daryl looked at me closely for a moment before nodding at me and taking a sip from his glass. My friends laughed before nudging me lightly. "Merle, his brother, told us that Daryl wants some fun… this is your chance!"

I just rolled my eyes in annoyance before looking uncertainly at Daryl. His gaze was stubbornly directed at the table and he made no attempt to raise it again. "Merle, how much do we get?" My other friend suddenly asked. Frightened, I looked at all three of them grinning at the other man. This Merle also just grinned before walking towards us and putting his arm around one of my friends. "Well… for me it depen´s on how good ya ladies are in bed." He joked, which only made my friends laugh. I, however, looked at him annoyed and disgusted. Then his gaze went to Daryl and me. "And ma brother will pay her $200." Daryl just looked pissed at his brother before he stood up and grabbed my wrist. He roughly pulled me out of the bar, behind us we could still hear Merle and my friends laughing and talking.

"Where are we going?" I asked him when we were outside. Daryl rummaged around in his jacket pocket before he gave me $200. I looked at him in shock before he walked away. "Jus´ tell them, wha´ ya wan´." That's all he said. I should have been relieved that he just gave me $200 and that I didn't had to sleep with him, but somehow I was angry. I didn't wanted to be paid for sex and I didn't wanted to be paid for nothing. "What the hell? I'm not a whore, like other people." I snapped at him loudly. He stopped immediately and looked back at me, his blue eyes practically looking into my soul. "Wha'? Ya wanna sleep with someone, go an´ ask someone! I don' need this shit." And with these words he went to a motorcycle.

I immediately ran in front of him before he could even get to the motorcycle. My eyes stared stubbornly into his, but his eyes seemed much more intense. My knees went weak and my stomach tingled. "Wha'?" "Can you… at least bring me home…?" I asked quietly. Uncertainly, I pressed the $200 back into his hand, my gaze falling to the ground. Daryl looked at the $200 briefly before snorting loudly and nodding. Relieved, I watched him get on his motorcycle and then look at me impatiently. "Common." I stood quietly next to the motorcycle before climbing on carefully and slowly. Trembling, I held onto his shoulders until I was sitting behind him. Swallowing hard, I looked around briefly. "Don't you have a helmet?" "Nah, don' need tha' shit." And with these words he started the engine and drove off.

Startled, I wrapped my arms tightly around his waist and pressed my body against his back. Only now did I notice how broad his upper body was and that his hips were a bit narrower. But I couldn't really concentrate on it, I had my eyes tightly shut the whole time and my whole body was tense. Sometimes Daryl asked me where we had to go and I would lead him to my house with only quiet words. Daryl then stopped in front of my house, but I hadn't noticed that we were already there. With my eyes closed, I just waited for him to drive off again at some point. "Hey… we're here." I then heard him say.

I opened my eyes slowly before looking around. We were standing in front of my house, it was quiet, only the motorcycle engine was still running. I nodded slightly, nervous. "T-thanks… uhm…" Daryl just remained silent before he got off and looked at me impatiently. His blue eyes made me nervous, they made me tremble more and more. So when I wanted to get off the motorcycle, my foot got caught and I felt myself falling to the ground. But before I even touched the ground, I hit Daryl's chest. He had stood in front of me and wrapped his arms around me so that I didn't fall any further. With bright red cheeks I looked up at him, my heart was beating much faster and I couldn't breathe.

Daryl looked down at me, his blue eyes sparkled briefly and I felt his rapid heartbeat against mine. Our hearts were beating in sync, or at least it felt that way. "S-sorry…" After many seconds that felt like hours, I finally managed to say this. Daryl just grumbled quietly, but his grip didn't loosen. He just lifted me slightly so that I was now standing normally on the floor. In front of him. So close. I gently placed my hands on his chest, but I didn't push him away. My eyes looked deep into his and I could have sworn that his eyes became darker and more intense. "You wanna come inside…?"

How the hell could this happen? I wanted to have a nice evening with my friends and suddenly I was standing against my wall, in my bedroom. My pants were off and my panties pushed to the side, with a stranger from a bar between my legs. With one hand he held my panties away and with the other hand he held my leg, which he had put on his shoulder. Breathing heavily, I had buried my fingers in his short hair to push him closer to my throbbing cunt. "Fuck Daryl~…!" I managed to say, breathing heavily, while his nimble tongue quickly flicked over my clit and then sucked greedily on it. His eyes were always focused on my face, which kept twisting with desire. Sometimes I tried to maintain eye contact, but it was very difficult, my eyes kept rolling slightly backwards.

"Ya like tha'?" He purred softly against my pussy. Whimpering, I nodded quickly, his lips were now sucking greedily on my clit again. My breathing was getting faster and a certain pressure was building up in my abdomen. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum…~!" My words only made him suck harder on my clit before he pulled away and bit my inner thigh. Whimpering, I looked down at him as he sucked on my skin until a dark bite mark was visible on my skin. Then he went back to my pussy and let his tongue flick over my clit again. He did this until a huge wave of excitement overcame me and I moaned his name loudly. Besides my rapid breathing, I heard Daryl swallowing and moaning quietly, his vibrating tongue pressed against my clit, which made me tremble. "Fuck~…"

Daryl pulled away from me again, his lips and chin were slightly shiny, they were full of my juice. I was somehow embarrassed, but when he licked his lips clean and wiped the rest from his chin with the back of his hand, my heart started beating faster again. Without another word, he stood up again and pressed me harder against the wall so that my body pressed against his. "Ya got condoms?" He then asked in a rough and deep voice. The tone of his voice gave me goosebumps before I nodded slightly and kissed his lips gently before I pushed myself away from him to go to my closet. From there I pulled out a pack of condoms. "I wonder if they fit?" I teased him, with a slight grin. Behind me I just heard him snort in amusement before I heard his belt. It made me sad that he didn't take off all his clothes like I wanted, but I didn't want to pressure him either.

"'m sure they will." He growled quietly behind me. Humoring, I walked towards him with a condom in my hand. At first I thought we were going to bed, but Daryl had other plans. He grabbed my waist and pushed me back against the wall, his cock pressed against my inner thigh. He ripped the condom out of my hand, grabbed one of my legs and lifted it so that it was wrapped around his hip. He ripped open the package with his teeth before pulling the condom out and putting it on himself. Then he positioned himself in front of my entrance. I wondered how he knew so much about this. "Ya ready…?" Again his voice gave me a pleasant shiver before I nodded and held on to his shoulders. He slowly pushed his cock into my pussy and a loud moan escaped both of us. Daryl laid his head on my shoulder while I clung tightly to his shoulders and laid my head back. It was painful, but at the same time, desire was building up inside me and I was breathing faster and faster. "Fuck, you're so tight…" He growled softly in my ear.

While I got used to this new feeling of fullness, Daryl took off my shirt and covered my skin with kisses. He waited until I gave him a sign that he could move, and I did, after a few minutes. "Please, Daryl…~" These words seemed to be enough for him, because he pulled his hips back slightly before pressing them firmly against mine again. At first he moved slowly inside me so that we could both get used to this friction, this feeling. His shaft rubbed my inner walls while my inner walls rubbed his shaft and sucked greedily on him. Daryl had his face pressed against my shoulder the whole time, his hot breath made me arch my back. "You can move faster…" I whispered softly in his ear.

A quiet grumble escaped him briefly before he lifted my leg a little higher and then thrust into me faster. Luckily his other hand held my waist tightly, otherwise I would probably have collapsed in front of him. I closed my eyes and groaned so that I could feel this feeling better, and a pornographic moan escaped me. Who would have thought that sex could feel so good? And then also for the first time. Daryl's voice also got a little louder, he growled loudly against my skin, sometimes he moaned quietly. "So tigh´~…" His voice made me arch my back further. The movements became faster, our skin slapped together faster, our breathing became faster and my voice became louder.

His tip was constantly pounding against a magical spot that made me see stars. Even though my eyes were closed, they somehow rolled back into my skull, my fingers dug into his shoulders, which were still covered by his shirt. Even though it had bothered me so much just a few seconds ago, I didn't care at all at that moment. I just wanted him on me, inside me. "Daryl~! So good~…!" He only responded to my loud whimpering with another loud growl before moving even faster. Somehow he managed to move his pelvis against mine so that his shaft rubbed deliciously against my clit. A tight knot formed in my abdomen, which made me howl over and over again. "I'm gonna cum~…!"

Daryl moved his pelvis even faster now, if that was even possible. But Daryl was making everything possible at the moment. My voice got louder and louder, I couldn't get any words out and if I did, I shouted them very quickly. "Fuck, yes~! Yes, yes, yes~!" I put my hands on his neck and pressed my lips against his. For a moment I felt Daryl slow down, but he immediately moved at his own pace again while he returned my kiss. His growl against my lips made my inner walls pulsate more strongly around his cock and his cock twitched violently again and again.

"'m gonna cum too~…" He then growled softly against my lips. Daryl had closed his eyes and now leaned his forehead against mine. His lips were slightly open and a loud growl or a quiet whimper escaped him every now and then. "Fuck~! Daryl~!" "Fuckin' god~!" We both moaned at the same time before we came. My head spun and my vision went black for a moment before I hugged him tightly and held onto him, trembling. Daryl had pressed me tightly against his chest while he slowly lowered my leg. He stayed inside me for a while before he slowly pulled out and kissed me gently.

I hadn't expected this gentle kiss, but I returned it briefly before burying my face in his shoulder. "That was good…" Daryl only grumbled once quietly before he picked me up and slowly carried me to my bed. When he laid me down, he took off the condom and went to a trash can, into which he threw the condom. "Are you gonna sleep here?" I asked hesitantly. I didn't really want him to leave, but he had every right to. It was just a one-night stand after all. "Ya wan´ me ta go?" His voice was deep and much rougher. Although I was still sensitive from my previous orgasm, I pressed my legs together.

After just a few seconds I shook my head and looked at him pleadingly. "You can sleep with me…" It sounded more like a request than an offer, but Daryl agreed. He nodded briefly before lying down next to me and staring at the blanket. Swallowing hard, I looked at him before carefully laying my blanket on top of him and then turning away from him. "This was just… a one-night stand… right?" I wanted to hear from him what it was like for him. I hoped we would do it more often, but I would be fine if he never wanted to do it again. "… I dunno… I guess not?" He sounded very unsure, but the fact that he didn't see me as a one-night stand made my heart flutter briefly.

Before I could say anything else, I fell asleep, my eyelids were heavy and my whole body was tingling pleasantly. I could just faintly feel Daryl taking my hand in his and gently kissing my fingertips.

#daryl #daryl dixon #daryl twd #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixion x reader #smut

[alwayscorvus]

A hug for a precious teammate

A hug for a precious teammate

malereader x Jiyan, fluff;

i already have an idea for a longer post ("normal" 4 my acc) but for now just a quick short. Jiyan can be a little out of character

He stood alone in the middle of a field, surrounded by emortia flowers. His green robes blew gently on the wind. With his back turned to you, he looked into a distance. Onto a horizon where an outline of Jinzhou city painted itself.

You approached him at a distance of few steps.

-I knew I would find you here.

Hearing your voice, chills went through Jiyan. But not the unpleasant ones, rather those of excitement.

He turned his head back, looking at you over his shoulder. Warm rays of setting sun gushed on both sides of his face, trying to escape past his figure. As a result, his face shimmered with a bright, yellowish glow of light. Messy strands of his hair (which, as always, managed to break out from not-so-perfect ponytail) flew in all directions. His facial expression represented surprise. You saw him taking a sudden gasp of breath after a spin. Yet, at sight of you, corners of his lips lifted slightly upward.

Even though an image in front of you was breathtaking, you put your focus on his eyes. They showed so many emotions. Sadness, grief, suffering. But also some sort of gratitude and relief.

A desire for touch, for warmth of another person.

You involuntarily spread your arms in an inviting gesture. And Jiyan instantly spun on his heel.

It took just a seconds. Jiyan immediately seized an opportunity. He ran into your embrace.

Before you had time to realize, your body was being squeezed tightly by a man's strong arms.

You looked down. Jiyan was stubbornly snuggling his head into your chest, avoiding eye contact.

-I'm sorry. I should be there with you.

You said with a genuine remorse. Now you deeply regretted not accompanying him today.

You knew that returning to the past by experiencing Riverside Games could be painful for your man. However, you hoped that if you let him go alone, he wouldn't be limited to only your company. And that he might be able to reintegrate with other rangers. On a different level -not only restricted to work and duties. Besides, this wasn't your festival.

That's why you decided to go to work.

However, after that decision, for a few good hours, you suffered with great guilt. You couldn't concentrate on your job. Especially after you found out that the festival got suspended. You were unable to complete any task properly. You were basically useless. To the point where your supervisor - Mortefi ordered you to leave.

Jiyan rapidly shook his head in denial. He didn't loosen his grip even slightly. You were slowly running out of breath. But you knew it was the only thing you could do for him at that moment.

-I planted a seed - he said quietly, slowly choosing his words - With Rover

-But I want to plant one with you as well - he added quickly, this time lifting his face up and looking directly into your eyes.

His golden orbs sparkled slightly with hope. Somehow like with an anticipation of approval.

-I know I know -you changed your voice to as calm and tenderful as possible- We are gonna do this

You placed your hands gently on his back and slowly began to make a circles on them. Trying as much as possible to soothe his nerves after today's events.

Jiyan dropped his head again and tightened his grip more. Even though, a second before you hardly believed that it was possible.

However, that gesture did awaken you. You looked around. And your eyes caught a glimpse of midnight rangers. Standing in the distance, guarding Knell Square. They weren't looking in your direction, not paying attention to you at all. Whether out of respect or ignorance.

But still, if this were to change, you had to do something.

Jiyan wouldn't want anyone to see him in such state. Especially his subordinates, to whom, as a general, he looked like a pure perfection. An example of someone unbreakable and with an unbelievable courage.

You were the first and last one to whom he deliberately showed his vulnerable side.

It wasn't often, because he mostly tried to play tough. Even outside of work, he felt a sense of responsibility. Though in this case, for the two of you. For your prosperity and well-being.

That just how his character was.

Sometimes, however, emotions took over him. Just like now. And Jiyan allowed himself to seek for a support in your presence.

With your right hand, you delicately grabbed his jaw and lifted his head up. His eyes were no longer glowing with ordinary sparkle. Shine came from a liquid that had accumulated inside them. Tears that he struggled hard to not let out.

-But we will get home first, okay?

Jiyan nodded and you leaned down to lovingly kiss his other cheek.

-Let's go - you said, moving away from him slightly and secondly putting one arm around his waist.

Jiyan tiredly laid his head on your shoulder and let you lead the way to your house. To your safe space.

#fanfic #fanfiction #scenarios #tmr #x reader #x male reader #wuthering waves #wuthering waves x male reader #wuthering waves x reader #x top male reader #jiyan #wuthering waves imagines #jiyan wuthering waves #jiyan x reader #jiyan x male reader #mxm #wuwa jiyan #top male reader #male reader

[randomfoggytiger]

Fight the Future Hallway, In-Depth (Part III): "No, Something Stung Me"

Resolution made, Scully quietly ruminates over ideas, raising an eyebrow when one sticks. Steeling herself for her own first undisguised overture, she closes her eyes and swiftly pulls back to face Mulder.

Mulder remains frozen in place, face hardened, afraid her withdrawal is his anticipated rejection. As Scully cups the back of his head and crushes her mouth to his forehead, his eyes immediately close: emotionally overwhelmed.

Prolonging the kiss, Scully presses her lips harder, scrunching her face and eyebrows in an attempt to translate the ardor of her devotion and awe and gratitude and love.

Mulder flexes his mouth and clenches his jaw, understanding her gesture, feeling its depths, and holding back a responding wave of emotion. When she finally separates, his jaw and lips remain tightly clenched.

Leaning her head against his, Scully attempts to center herself-- them-- with a slow, purposeful, breathy release.

Mulder’s eyes pop open at her exhale, an idea of his own taking shape; and closes them again briefly while his hands plunge forward for purchase on the back of her head.

Both pull back in sync; and Scully studies his face freely for the first time-- no pretenses between them, unashamed of the tear still clinging to her cheek.

The feeling of being precious to him, of seeing the proof of it in his eyes, nearly overwhelms her in a different teary direction; and she looks away to tamp down a giddy surge of joy. Turning back, her eyes glance at the one thing Mulder hasn't given her: his mouth.

Her expression drops slightly, becoming more serious as she weighs his present confession against his past retreats-- purposeful or not-- from more serious or passionate subjects (his sneer at her "date" in The Jersey Devil, his attempts to lighten the bent of her maternal considerations in Home, his idealized worship of doomed soulmates in The Field Where I Died, his blind run after monsters and initial avoidance of her cancer topic in Detour.) She looks back up from these unspoken observations… and finds Mulder openly eyeing her with want.

Scully freezes, shifting between his eyes in shock. What she sees is the truth; and, when his expression doesn't change, she slowly moves in a little closer.

Mulder’s eyes are hooded and tender, bearing his soul to Scully as he never has to a living soul-- to the one and only person who accepted his brokenness long ago, who trusts and believes in him regardless, and who, consequently, makes him wholly beautiful.

He is handing her his heart, complete.

His partner's undeniable, brazen reciprocation of his heartfelt confessions have stripped away the last of his halting considerations. Mulder begins to slowly pull her in, zeroing in on and maintaining laser-focus with her eyes for any signs of hesitation or rejection.

Scully, feeling his reciprocal move towards her, nearly loses control of her smile again; but lets it shine through her eyes as she keeps them locked onto his. Her eyebrows scrunch and her mouth tightens, powerful emotions tightening her chest: not only is she ready, she’s been hoping for this moment.  

Mulder continues to inch slowly forward, and she smooths out her face to further encourage him, getting lost in the moment as it continues to progress. 

He blinks, still moving at a snail’s pace, waiting and waiting and waiting for her to back away or tell him to stop. Expecting it. 

When she doesn’t he covers more ground, caressing her cheekbone as another small test before the kill shot. He gives her one last chance, catching her eye; and when she glances away only to look directly at his lips, they both prepare for his descent: Mulder closes his eyes, while Scully waits until completely certain he will follow-through.

Then the bee stings, and she startles away. 

Scully launches to the side-- “Ow!”-- while Mulder almost topples onto her, eyes still closed. He snaps back to reality as she clutches at the back of her neck, staring down at her hand in confusion before drawing away, misreading her quick reaction as the last minute rejection he’d been expecting. Again, he closes his eyes-- this time in chagrin-- and opens his mouth in disappointment and embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.   

“No,” Scully assures, indignant at the interruption, confused as she identifies its cause. "Something stung me."

Mulder takes in her reassurance; and as the rational part of his brain kicks in, he pulls his hand away from her neck, not wanting to get hurt by whatever injured Scully.

Scully extracts her unexpected passenger, staring at it, puzzled.

He examines it, too; then peels back her shirt collar to inspect the damage on her neck.

Risk assessment over, Mulder intuits, “He must got in your shirt.”

Disappointment and resignation pour from his voice as he rubs her neck and cradles her head, working his way back through the last minute mentally. Mulder's already accepted her assurance; but now has to process (and live with) the interruption of their first kiss.

And, of course: “Mulder…?”

“Yeah?”

“Something’s wrong.” 

Something's wrong, indeed.

CONCLUSION

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

#txf #Fight the Future Hallway In-Depth #Part III #“No Something Stung Me” #xf meta #mine #FTF #the hallway #In-Depth #analysis #meta #Mulder #Scully #xfiles #x-files #the x files

[redbatchedcumbermayned]

"I didn’t even know that there was the possibility of a romance option when voicing Heinrix" - Interviewing Chris Tester part 2

We're continuing our interview with Chris Tester, the voice of Heinrix van Calox in Owlcat's CRPG Rogue Trader. In this part we speak about insights into Heinrix's character, how the process of recording voice lines for a video game works, if Chris would romance Heinrix in game, and interacting with his fans.

Part 1 of the interview

I will publish this interview in three parts over the next week in text form and with the accompanying audio file (the audio quality is not spectacular but tumblr limits uploads to 10MB). If you quote or reshare, please quote me as the original source.

F: So, you already talked a bit about Heinrix as a character. What drew you to the character or what hidden depth did you find in the character?

CT: Well, I hope I found some depth to the character. That contrast between principles or values that you seem to be holding onto and lots of unprocessed trauma going on underneath. Sure, that seems interesting, that seems like a really interesting thing to find. Because you can understand, therefore, the appeal of an ideology, which gives you the answers and it tells you what to do. Essentially, it gives you a role, authority, it gives you status, you completely understand the appeal of that. Just like I find voice-over incredibly appealing and exciting: it gives me structure and authority and the illusion that I know what I'm talking about and what I'm doing. 

And then there's the flip side: you could make him heretical in some way, shape or form. And you know, I love, obviously, the fact that he belongs to part of that world which I'm sort of familiar with. Where a lot of the more interesting characters are the ones that have disavowed this God Emperor kind of like status in one way or the other, they tend to have a little bit more going on. They're not two-dimensional villains, not all of them, not all of the time anyway. Whereas on the one hand he's not going full chaos, there was just an interesting tension there to explore. Also, it kind of reminded me a little bit of the Eisenhorn series, which again, it's an Inquisitor that through his pursuit of different things starts to question and use the powers of the warp for his own purposes. A very different character, but still, there are those parallels that I really liked, that fallibility, that vulnerability to a degree, but I wouldn't say too much because I didn't really know how vulnerable or how much of a journey he was going to have in the early stages. I didn't know that until we were recording, I'll be honest. 

And I didn’t even know that there was the possibility of a romance option, until we were like: Oh, these are romancing lines. And I was like, you what now? So, sorry, I appear to be saying some quite forward things, from his point of view anyway, that's slightly taken me aback. They were like: oh yeah, you're romanceable, you can have a romance. I was like, oh, okay, right. I'll just think back to the five hours or so of recording that we've done up to this point and pray that I've made the right choices. So that was a bit of a crazy ride, but thanks to Olga, the writer of my character, she gave really astute directions. She wasn't in all of the sessions, but the majority, especially when there were big plot beats to explain to me what the hell was going on, however, roughly. She was great. And also the technicians at 3B. I was working with a lot of different members of the group technicians slash directors as well. And they were great in terms of giving me not exactly the bare minimum details, but the bare minimum details that I needed in order to be able to make choices quickly, but strongly and relevant to the game. So yeah, it was quite a trip.

F: Thank you. Since you have been trained as a stage actor do you bring a certain physicality to voice acting? If you embody Heinrix, do you puff your chest? Are you rigid?

CT: Definitely. I think there's the reason why rather than having a small booth, I record in a room is, that I can explore those dynamics as much as possible. And the fact that I was able to record standing and very upright and taking that space was vitally important. Obviously, there's the action stuff that really helps when you're actually making fighting noises. That's one thing. But I think in terms of real subtle differences to be able to, as well as mic proximity when he's speaking under his breath and that kind of thing, that's obviously incredibly vital, but even the subtle things of being able to have that big open physicality because he is so often so imperious because he thinks he's absolutely right. That was a vital aspect to explore and just being able to be upright and expressive in that made such a huge difference. 

And also when, without wanting to give too much away, he's in more constricted circumstances, shall we say, trying to do that just purely through the voice means that it all becomes about the sound that you're making as opposed to the truth of the character's journey without wanting to be, again, too much of a cliche, but focusing on that rather than am I making the right gurgling noise?

F: Were you offered any other character to audition for Owlcat? Or if you could, which other character would you like to voice?

CT: I couldn't say any of the other characters. I do play a couple of NPCs randomly. I think before even I had Heinrix. There's some cockney London geezer in there that is immediately disposable. That was me. That was my kind of guaranteed role. I was like, great, fantastic, because I did the audition for Heinrix and then there was quite a few months before it was actually kind of confirmed. I thought the role had gone to somebody else. As with many of these things, you just don't hear back. If you don't hear back, you just assume it's dead and then suddenly it'll come back up or it won't or you'll see another voice actor posting on Instagram going “amazing session” and you slightly die inside and then you move on. 

But in terms of the other characters, I mean, I've met, at least digitally online, the vast majority of the principal companion cast and they're all lovely and amazing and I associate them with their performances. For better or worse, Heinrix is very much my kind of casting and I loved it. Not because he's pretty in a particularly posh kind of way, but that helps. Sure, I'll go with that kind of slightly emotionally constipated. I'm very well cast, very well done, but I think so is everybody else. Throughout the entire game, it's a bit of a who's who, they might not be all household names, but in terms of for myself, the actors that I know in some big parts and some really small parts, the actors that I know in the UK and in the U.S. voice-over scene, so much talent, so that it was just an honour to be included in that really.

F: So now I have to ask you a question from our discord server. Would you romance Heinrix if you were playing a female Rogue Trader? 

CT: I think that would be a bit weird. No, I'll just watch videos of other people romancing him slash me. Is that more or less weird? I mean, I'm 42 years old. I've spent far too much time playing with myself already. So, let's just draw a line under that, but other people are welcome to. That's absolutely fine. My only thing, without wanting to overstate it too much, is that I was very surprised that there was anything around any character that I've been related to but as with so many of the other companions as well, that's a testament to the writing. Credit to the whole Owlcat team in that respect.

F: Would you like to continue working with Owlcat in the future in another capacity?

CT: Oh, God. Yeah. They've not made me sign an NDA, so I can say, not name a thing, but there's DLC for one of their other titles, which I'm going to be in, and that's in a completely different world. There's that thing of once you've had one really positive experience with the developer and the type of games that they create. The ones that are very story focused, that's the type of games that I'm passionate about. I was brought up on these things like the Mass Effect Trilogy. You know, that absolutely iconic kind of stuff, and so to be a part of someone else's experience to facilitate that kind of longer storytelling stuff is exactly what I would be after. They've got a great process, amazing writers and I also think that the games themselves look fantastic. So yeah, I'm a fan of that.

F: So your fan base has certainly expanded since the release of the game. Do you mind having a female fan base now? Have you noticed that there is a bit of a shift because Warhammer 40k for the totally uninitiated looks like a male hobby and unfortunately some part of the male fans are very aggressive against female fans.

CT: Are absolutely ridiculous. Idiots, essentially. Because my relationship to the whole Warhammer 40k thing is like, I played it when I was really young, and then you put away your childish things. I'm saying that in inverted commas, that's kind of ironic or whatever, and then didn't really get back into it until someone gave me a book and I realised that the lore was actually quite good, quite interesting, and then actually really good and really interesting, and I therefore have done some novels for them and a couple of video games as well. 

But to your question, do I mind? No, of course I don't mind. I'm very happily married and well adjusted, so I definitely don't mind as long as it's all respectful, if that makes sense. Surprise, surprise, female fans seem to conduct themselves with that level of respect or if there is a server which is going into crazy, crazy character scenarios and that kind of stuff, no one's sending me a link to that. And even if it is, it's the character, it's not me, and so that's all quite healthy and good. And I think I'm definitely not in a position where I should be censoring any of that kind of thing at all. I think it's all positive and very, very healthy and everybody that I've interacted with has been incredibly respectful. So, I think that's great. 

And I think being able to portray these characters that offer that level of connection is great. We're in a post Baldur's Gate world, I suppose. Not that there weren't other games that did this, but on that scale and everything. I think the value that the games can offer in that. Rogue Trader is hugely valuable and I definitely wouldn't want to censure any of that at all.

F: Yeah, it was nice. I reconnected a lot with people who have this fandom experience again that I had in the Eddie Redmayne fandom more than 10 years ago when it was small, when you have a rather small group of fans and then a very nice person that you're a fan of, and you can interact with.

CT: So people have contacted me via Cameo, for example. And, you know, they've had a certain particular playthrough and then they say, well, I would like you to voice this letter from Heinrix or whatever.

F: That was me.

CT: There have been more than just you is what I'm saying, but sorry, not to say that I'm a whore and I'll just do anything, but you're not the only person who has come to me with that kind of thing. And that's great. That's a pleasure, because it's continuing to tell the story on a wider scale. But also the fact that you can personalise and make it your own. And that's the brilliant thing. 

That's part of the whole appeal of a video game, as opposed to it being a theatre piece or a film or something else is that it was very much your experience, your playthrough. You can have multiple versions of the thing that you kind of like one but you can really structure your own narrative. And that's a fascinating thing. You get to iterate on it yourself. You know, if one stage of that is also being able to call upon the voice actor to facilitate that, I think that's a cool thing, you know, as long as it doesn't get too weird or too whatever, but you know, whatever two consenting adults want to exchange money for or time, great, fine. I think that's less weird than getting an AI to do it personally. I think that level of storytelling is a great thing.

#chris tester #heinrix van calox #rogue trader #warhammer 40k #rogue tradercrpg #owlcat games

[corvidcrossbow]

~•♡•~ Total Eclipse Of The Heart

➳ Summary: You take Daryl to watch the 2017 solar eclipse (Daryl x GN!Reader)

➳ Setting: Southern Virginia, August 21st, 2017 (in the 6 year timeskip in season 9)

➳ Word count: 1.6k

➳ C/W: Nothing

➳ A/N: Simple thing cuz I hated Leah watching something as special as the eclipse w/ Daryl in the show cuz I DO NOT LIKE her ass so I rewrote it cuz I believe there's few things more bonding than watching an eclipse with someone. Whippin out the dad music reference on this one. (I am working on reqs! I just have training for my job which my boss very reassuringly dubbed “bootcamp” and health shit is beating my ass I need to call like 3 specialty clinics again um 🗿)

“Ya ever gon’ tell me where we goin'?”

“Nope. Almost there,” You replied, a cheeky grin on your face as you swiveled your head back to glance at Daryl who sat behind you on his motorcycle. You'd dragged him out of his guilt-ridden solitude in the forest and demanded he get on, saying you needed to show him something and would not be taking ‘nah’ for an answer. You'd been driving southwest for nearly two hours now, headed towards something specific.

Daryl had little sense of the date, having spent nearly the last 3 ½ years out in the woods, wrapped up in his search for Rick. You stayed with him from time to time, Carol checking in as well, but he was too stubborn to go home with either of you no matter how many times you urged it. Even if he knew the day, you weren't sure he'd even know why it was special.

You, however, had been tracking the calendar and lunar cycles, and kept one specific date and pattern in your mind for the last 7 years; August 21st, 2017. You remembered ages ago, reading on science forums and listening to programs on the television, that today, the paths of the moon and the sun would perfectly align and grace a total solar eclipse across the entirety of the United States.

Your lives were such shit in so many ways: flesh eating, rotting corpses snarling after you at every second, run in after run in with malicious and corrupt people and groups, the lack of food, water, shelter and security, so many people gone – and that didn't include everything from before the dead reawoke. And with Daryl unadmittably depressed after the bridge, you would've done anything to show him there were other things in life to focus on. To live for.

So you left Alexandria early in the morning, found Daryl's camp, and forced him to join you. At first he'd thought something godawful had once again disturbed the communities, so bad you couldn’t tell him. But when you started driving the opposite direction, he grew confused and repeatedly asked what was going on, yet you never gave him an answer. Still, he trusted it was important – trusted you – and let you lead him.

❥-》》—————➣

You pulled off the side of the road, powering down the engine and putting up the kickstand, sliding off and stepping to walk into the forest. You'd gone further down into Virginia, knowing that was closer to totality. It wouldn't be complete, but the distance made a difference. “Alright, c'mon.”

Daryl grabbed your wrist, tugging you back and catching your attention, his eyebrows narrowed. “Really? Tha hell's s’all this? Ya haul me'ah hundred miles away tah walk in tha damn forest?”

“Ya spend all your time in a forest anyway, Dixon.” His expression hardered a little, and you sighed. “Please just follow me. I promise you, it's worth it.”

He looked over the features of your face, judging the sentiment they conveyed, and after a moment let you go. You were already here, no point in going back now. As you spun back around, he begrudgingly trailed after you.

You scanned the environment as you went, stopping near an opening in the canopy of trees that gave view to the sky. You could tell by the slanting of shadows and the slightly abnormal shape of light above you that the process had already begun, all that was left was to observe. So you set your bag down and sat, motioning for Daryl to as well.

“Thi'sa picnic or sum?” He questioned, grunting a little as he unsurely slung his belongings off his shoulder to the ground and did the same, settling beside you.

“Could be, I do have some food.” He didn't seem amused. “But no, not a picnic. You know what the day is? Any idea why it's meaningful?”

“Ts'summer, kno’ tha’. M'ah supposed tah kno’?”

“Maybe, I don't expect you to. Here.” You twisted and opened your bag, reaching for a welding mask you'd brought along and passed it to him. “Look at the sun.”

The archer eyed the facial shield, then you, but listened and held it to his face before shifting his gaze up. He squinted, taking sight of the arc carving that ate into the historically circular form of the burning celestial body. And you explained; “It's August 21st… 2017.”

He had to think for a bit. “Tha eclipse?” He lowered the mask and peered back at you. Memories lodged deep in the layers of his mind sparked; learning about eclipses way back in highschool and hearing his teacher mention it, then the annular one in ‘94 and seeing pictures plastered all over the news where they discussed the future.

“Yeah, thought we should see it. It'll look better down here, not perfect, but still… and the lens on that is dark enough it shouldn't hurt our eyes,” You answered, taking your own look before laying back and using your bag as a pillow. It wasn't particularly comfortable, but that's roughly the last thing you cared about right now.

He couldn't help but just stare for a minute, studying how nonchalant you were about everything. How you'd so easily removed him from his rut when so many other attempts had failed, even with his cluelessness around your intentions – like some larger force took hold and finally willed him to break his destructive routine.

Daryl sprawled out next to you on the forest floor, trading the welding shield back and forth over the course of the next half hour, as well as a piece of paper to see the casted geometry. You both watched as more and more of the sun was etched away, taking mental images each time and comparing the new form to the old. It was mostly quiet, lost in similar awe but varying thoughts. You inched closer every time it was his turn, assuming he noticed but didn't point it out.

“Y'know… total solar eclipses are meant to be when the deities and energies fuse, just as the paths do. A window for opportunities and transformation… time for change,” You commented, recalling all people said about the symbolism of such an event. He gave an ‘Mm’, just so you knew he'd heard you, but paid more attention to the progression in the ethers.

The world around you began to rapidly darken, a sliver of orange glow visible in the makeshift glasses. Knowing it was close, you slid your left palm into his right, weaving fingers together, and he returned the hold, still remaining absorbed in the view.

The moon crossed over the sun – at least as best it would from your vantage point; golden rays illuminating around solid black. As Daryl's eyes locked on the sky, taking it all in, yours locked on him, choosing to watch him over a potentially once in a lifetime occurrence. He lowered the mask to briefly see it fully, now reaching for the sheet.

He looked at peace, maybe for the first time in his life: the constant storm of thoughts that persistently clouded his mind finally parting, even if for just a small moment. You witnessed the glitter of genuine emotion return to his blue's, something you'd feared was so long abandoned it may have been forgotten. Rich browns of his wavy hair glowed iridescent auburns when shimmers of sunlight peeked through the leaves, perfectly complementing everything about his being.

You knew you each needed that change.

“I love you.”

He took a second, making sure the sound of your voice was real and not crafted by his own imagination. His head turned, somewhat staggered to find your eyes already meeting his. It was impossible to rip away, your visions warping together as you seemed to merge, entranced by the little crescents that reflected on each other's irises. His free hand ditched the paper and reached over as he partly rolled to his side.

“For a long time.”

In fluid movements, Daryl's calloused fingers smoothed across the delicate skin on your cheek, leaning in and bringing you to him in a longing kiss. You didn't entirely expect it, although you didn't expect anything in particular at all, too unsure of how he'd react. But you pushed back against him, deepening the kiss and paying no thought to anything beside how it felt to finally overlap with him – till he broke away.

“I love ya too,” He mused, accent thickening in the confession. When you opened your mouth to continue, he shut you up with another peck and angled your face straight above. “Watch. M'not bein’ tha reason ya miss this.”

Words could wait, but the eclipse would not. So you obliged, cuddling closer to him and squeezing his hand as birds and insects sung in a concerned ensemble triggered by the daylight's disappearance.

The tranquility was eerie, a sensation mostly left in the rubble of society and replaced by prevalent chaos. You wondered if the feeling was shared elsewhere; at home with everyone in Alexandria, with survivors across the entire rest of the country. Maybe those who didn't know thought the holy spirit was returning to rescue your raptured souls. Did the walkers pause to look too? Everything so out of the ordinary it caught their attention?

But none of that mattered to you, because you had it here. And you basked in it with the one person you'd always hoped you would've.

©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon headcanon #twd #the walking dead #normanreedus #norman reedus #daryldixon #daryl dixon fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon fic #daryl drabbles #the walking dead daryl

[truedove]

melatonin

word count - 1,465

content warning - smut (minors dni), f!reader insert, porn with some plot, very tender, fluff, oral (f receiving), established relationship

synopsis - you can't sleep. your fave helps with that.

sweat clings to your skin, your clothes tangled and twisted as if they've been through a war. the cool cotton sheets do nothing to soothe the heat that has settled into your bones - the giant radiator of a man behind you certainly not helping any - and you let out another sigh for perhaps the hundredth time tonight.

the clock on the nightstand glows an accusatory red 3:17am.

removing the thick arm anchoring you to a broad chest proves more difficult than you expect. but somehow, with a wiggle and a grumble, you manage to slip free. you tiptoe across the hardwood floor and the faint glow of the moon through the window guides you as you pad into the kitchen, the cool tile underneath your feet a welcome relief.

the fridge hums softly, the light casting a warm glow across the shelves of condiments and forgotten leftovers. your fingers brush the cool plastic of a water bottle before lifting it to your lips.

the ice cold water feels like liquid silk sliding down your throat, and you close your eyes, enjoying the sensation for a moment.

today's been a long day, you think, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. it's been a long week, a long month, a long year. you feel like you're stuck in some sort of never-ending limbo, trapped in a cycle of work and sleep and work and sleep again. sometimes, you wish you could just press pause on your life for a little while, just so you can catch your breath. wouldn't that be nice.

you turn around, intent on getting back into bed and trying to get some rest when you notice a figure leaning against the door frame. a soft gasp escapes your lips, heart lurching into overdrive before recognition dawns. it's just him.

with his features softened by sleep, he looks almost angelic. a far cry from the way he usually looks - alert, intense, focused. now, his eyelashes are wet with sleep, his lips slightly parted, and his expression is one of tired confusion. you can't help but wonder how he manages to look so effortlessly beautiful even when he's at his most disheveled.

he's wearing nothing but a pair of loose sweats that hang low on his hips, revealing the definition of his abdomen and the trail of hair leading south. it's a familiar sight, one you've grown accustomed to, but tonight it strikes you in a different way. maybe it's the softness of his features, the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, or the way his hair sticks up in all directions. you find yourself unable to look away.

"what are you doing up?" you ask softly, unwilling to break the peaceful stillness that hangs between you.

a deep breath escapes him, crossed arms falling to his sides as he moves away from the doorjamb. as he steps closer, you're hit by the full force of his presence; the warmth of his body, the scent of his skin, the weight of his gaze. it's like being wrapped up in a blanket on the coldest night, and you can't help but feel some of your tension melt away.

one hand reaches up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear, the other grasping your hip and pulling you closer.

"come back to bed." he utters, voice still rough with sleep.

you want to, you want to so bad but…

burying your face into his warm chest, you whine, "i can't sleep."

he coos softly, nuzzling your hair as he does so and pulls you into a firm embrace. you can feel the heat of him through your pjs, and you don't resist the urge to melt into his hold. calloused fingers run up and down your spine, and you shiver involuntarily.

"c'mon, honey." he hoists you up and into his arms, ignoring your half-hearted protests as he carries you down the hallway. your head lolls against his shoulder and you feel his warm breath against your temple, making your stomach flip-flop. the bedroom is dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the sliver of moonlight streaming through the curtains, casting an ethereal glow across the room. he kicks the door shut with his heel before depositing you gently onto the bed, the soft mattress cushioning your weight.

your heavy-lidded eyes blink up at the ceiling, watching the shadowy figures dance across the surface as if they're part of some bizarre, midnight ballet.

when the warmth of him disappears, you frown, feeling the loss fundamentally.

you're not left solitary for long though; rough-tipped fingers dance across your abdomen and move to lift your shirt. delicate, featherlight kisses are pressed against your bare skin, making you gasp at the unexpected sensation. his lips trail lower, leaving a hot, wet path across your navel as he continues to nuzzle and nibble, causing you to arch into his touch.

your bottoms are about halfway to being pulled down when you finally manage to find your voice.

"wh - what are you doing?" you manage to stammer out, your voice a soft, breathy thing.

when you look down, you see his eyes fixated on you, the intensity of his gaze making your stomach flutter.

he's quiet for a long moment as he goes back to removing your pants, sliding them down your legs and discarding them absently onto the floor. he mouths at your hip, tongue swirling around the dip there and he sucks a pretty bruise onto the delicate skin.

"you said you couldn't sleep, right?" he looks up at you, fingers now slipping beneath the hem of your panties and tracing lazy circles on the soft skin of your thighs. "just tryin' to help you relax."

you succumb to his ministrations, head falling back against the mattress with a soft thump as he finally removes your panties. the cool air of the room tickles your bare skin, making you shiver pleasantly. his mouth finds you again, tongue dancing against your slit in a way that sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body. a whimper rushes out of you, your hands scrambling to find purchase in his hair.

his tongue flicks out and swirls around your clit, the pressure building as he sucks softly on the sensitive bundle of nerves. one hand slides up to cup your breast, thumb rolling over the peaked nipple. the whole of your body feels as if it's been set aflame, every nerve ending tingling with desire. your back curves and you whimper his name as your hips unconsciously begin to rock into his eager mouth.

he sucks harder on your clit, teeth grazing, and you cry out. his free hand squeezes your hip, holding you down into the bed as he devours you with his mouth. he'd said he was trying to help you relax, but you're far from relaxed now. you're on the edge, the tension coiling tighter and tighter with each stroke of his tongue, each rumbled noise of pleasure he makes against your cunt. his fingers find your entrance and begin to slide in and out, slick with your wetness, stretching you in a way that feels both wonderful and uncomfortably full.

stars dance behind your closed lids as the sensations wash over you, each touch sending sparks of euphoria throughout your body. his tongue swirls and sucks, teasing your clit as his fingers slowly thrust in and out of you. tightness coils deep in your belly, and you feel the familiar tugging at the base of your spine. you're not sure what sound you make, but it must be something hoarse and needy as you feel the beginnings of your release. your hips arch up into his mouth, desperate for more as he continues to work you into a frenzy.

one of the best things about him is that; even after he's wrecked you completely, rendered you an incoherent mess of limbs and pleasure, he always puts you back together afterwards. because of that you don't resist the urge to sink back down onto the bed as his tongue leisurely laps at your folds, cleaning up the mess he's made of you. you feel strangely tender, almost sore from how thoroughly he's touched you.

your head is pleasantly empty of thought and you feel yourself drifting away, sinking deeper and deeper into the comfort of the mattress. a final kiss - the finishing touch - pressed to your slit is the last thing you remember before sleep finally takes you.

it's the most restful sleep you've had in weeks, and then next morning you'll wake up feeling refreshed, freshly brewed coffee and simmering eggs awaiting you in the kitchen.

#f/o x reader #fave x reader #reader insert #aki hayakawa x reader #jjk x reader #smut #x reader #geto suguru x reader #nanami kento x reader #genshin x reader #frank castle x reader #joel miller x reader #cod x reader #haikyuu x reader

[odasantiago]

Unexpected Warmness

Synopsis: Xanthus always swore he never wanted to indulge himself in warm feelings such as love, until the incubus manages to charm the vampire.

By Oda

The iron smell of cages rattle in Dontis’s head, he’s been here for a while, sighing against the dark wall, wondering if he’ll ever manage to find a way out. Which it always does, but the situation seems bleak. He looks around to the windows shining a shred of light into the cells.

But, suddenly, the cells start shuddering and shuffling, the other mythics locked up look around in confusion. Small sighs and gasps can be heard around the rows of cages, echoing through the halls.

Dontis runs up to the cell bars, the ginormous double doors open, light, cool air flows through, and from afar, he could see a thin but built blond man with blood on his face, Ruby eyes that could catch the hearts of anyone, a cold but expression full of Justice. Dontis holds his breath. He could smell the seducing bloodlust from a mile away.

That’s when he met his first unexpected bond, Xanthus Claiborne.

After Xanthus freed everyone, he finally got to Dontis, unlocking the cell doors, Dontis stared at his face and his slight smile. He’s felt love many times, and appreciation, but towards a vampire? It couldn’t be put into words. He said while running out,

“Hey, thanks for freeing me, vampire!”

Xanthus yells back, turning around to face him,

“Don’t thank me! run over here! You’ll be safe!”

“You’ll be safe” what an odd thing to hear from a vampire with such bloodlust.

After they all got to a place where no one could see them, everyone ran in their different directions after Xanthus made sure they were indebted to him, only dontis stayed.

Xanthus said, looking straight at him. “Why are you still here? You can leave, you know.”

Dontis perked up, “I am aware, I just.. wanted to get to know you better, you did save my life. You seem very interesting to me, Xanthus, I want to see what’s ahead.”

He said as he smiled softly, green eyes looking loving and kind.

Xanthus' face softened, and raised his eyebrows. He smiled back.

“How curious, then, I guess I’ll entertain you. What was your name again?”

Even though the vampire knew his name due to him looking at all the records before feeling them, he wanted to see what Dontis would say.

Dontis paused for a second, and he said,

“I am Dontis, but I’ll guess that you already knew that, Claiborne.”

Xanthus swore that this guy couldn’t be an incubus. Catching his gasp with his pride, he chuckled and nodded.

After a couple days or so, they meet up at the bayside, the ocean waves pounding against the wood of the walkway they stood upon. It was barely sunrise, but it was safer than being there midday with everyone around. They’ve been talking here and there, ever since dontis got released, he’s been growing more fascinating to Xanthus,

Sometimes the vampire's thoughts would be filled with him, and he hated it. Not wanting to get charmed.

“Why are we here, Dontis?” He asked, in a cold tone, while looking at the sea.

“I don’t know, really, don’t you just want to admire the bayside sometimes?”

Xanthus chuckled, he never thought about seeing nature with someone else. Especially an incubus, or someone he thinks about often, or someone he thinks is interesting, has a cute face, his scent drives him crazy at any time of day… you get the point.

Dontis cut through his thoughts with his smooth voice while half laughing, “What? Nature is nice when you're with someone else.”

“I’ve never felt so safe with another mythic in a long time.” Xanthus suddenly said, and his eyes widened, realizing what he just said.

Dontis' lips parted, looking like he wanted to say something. Xanthus looked gorgeous, his hair slightly floating in the wind, a smile on his face, the jewelry on him, his wide eyes that made his soul warm.

“You know, honestly me too.”

A few silent moments went by, of them walking along, seeing the ocean waves wash against the wooden bridge. The cool air made their hair slightly flow in the other direction, everyone was gone, it was just them.

An incubus and a vampire, wait, no, two people just reconnecting trying to figure out if their love is real.

Every single night, The taller man thought of that day, when he met Xanthus, it was unique, different. Xanthus felt a warm, electric feeling with a tinge of safety, he hasn’t felt that in a long time. Both of them haven’t.

The two mythics needed someone to feel safe with, to laugh with, and to relate with, without being used or threatened.

Dontis, always used for his kindness and comfort.

Xanthus, always threatened for an “uncontrollable” bloodlust his kind had.

Both of them understood.

They had both walked to the Ferris wheel, near the ocean, basking in each other’s presence.

“It seems we’ve made it.” Dontis chuckled

Xanthus looked over, “Made it to what?”

Dontis looked over with loving eyes, “To a new beginning.”

Xanthus sighed. “I’m assuming that you're using one of your charms on me.”

Dontis laughed, “You know I don't do that to you, Xanny.”

Xanny? The name was silly, but it made the vampire's heart fill with an embarrassingly electric feeling.

“Don’t call me that.” Xanthus turned away.

The taller man reached out to hold the blond haired man's hand. Xanthus looked at his hand for a second. Sighed, and took his hand, laying his head on Dontis’s shoulder.

They could both hear each other's heartbeats. They were slow, but it seemed like they felt safe for the first time being a mythic.

The vampire and the incubus spent years together, kissing each other, holding each other, both attending to their normal lives, but every few moments. They both thought of each other.

Numerous memories were made,

“for however long forever lasts for them.”

A/N: god I fucking love donthus they need to kiss

#sakuverse #zsakuva #xanthus claiborne #xanthus #dontis #zsakuva dontis #donthus #asmr #fanfiction

[lokiondisneyplus]

Sophia Di Marto [sic] knows why the Marvel Studios breakout series “Loki” was so successful creatively. It was partially due to the casting. Much of it was in the writing and the direction, but mostly, it was about the dynamic between the title character, played by Tom Hiddleston, and Loki’s multiverse doppelganger, Sylvie, portrayed by Di Marto herself.

“Some of it’s in the writing, some of it’s in what Tom does, a little bit of it’s what I do, but that it’s how these two characters rub each other up the wrong way,” Di Marto says. “They’re so similar but so different. And I think that fine line between the two is what’s really entertaining to watch because they know exactly how to wind each other up. Sylvie knows exactly how to wind Loki up and audiences love watching Loki being wound up. So, it’s just really entertaining and that’s part of the chemistry because they sort of hate each other, but love each other and will always be connected now. So it is this really specific dynamic, which is a massive gift to be able to play with.”

Over the course of our conversation centered on season two, Di Marto reflects on whether Sylvie found peace at the end of season two, how the stunt choreography keeps her in shape, what new directors Justin Benson & Aaron Moorhead brought to the series, and much, much more.

____

The Playlist: First of all, I have to tell you, that even though it aired last fall, “Loki “is still one of my favorite programs from the past 12 months. I just thought it was so well done.

Sophia Di Martino: Thank you.

When you found out you were coming back for season two, did you have an idea already of where Sylvie’s arc was going to go?

No, I had absolutely no idea until I read the script and then I had to read the script like three times because it was quite confusing.

Did Eric Martin, who was the head writer, sort of sit you down and give you a heads up, this is where we’re going, this is how we see her?

I’m trying to remember exactly what happened. If anyone sat me down, I think Tom might have given me because an executive producer as well, so he’s more involved in the writing and all the behind-the-scenes stuff. I think he may have given me a little headline sort of idea of what the second series was about, but I didn’t really know what would happen until I read the scripts. And then as we’re shooting, it’s changing all the time as well. The main structure is the same, but it’s really a moving beast and a big collaboration. So we’re rewriting it all as we go with Eric.

After reading the initial scripts, did you at least think to yourself, “O.K., we’re going to get to a point at the end of the season where Sylvie is at least at peace?” Or do you think part of her is still out for some sort of revenge”

I dunno if she’s at peace at the end of series two. I don’t think she goes back to Oklahoma. I don’t think she tries to get that peaceful human life again. I think she’s on another adventure, but I dunno. I feel like she just keeps casting an eye over what’s happening with Loki and with Sylvie. I don’t think she’s ever going to be truly at peace. I think she’s a sort of natural-born fighter. I think she’s only ever truly herself when she’s fighting for something. So she’s perhaps gone to look for the next fight.

Do you think that’s the big difference between her and her alternate timeline version of Loki played by Tom? That’s the inherent difference because Loki doesn’t seem to always want to fight.

I don’t think he wants to fight, but he has something within him that’s unfinished and he’s always searching for his glorious purpose. And I think they’re both doing that in slightly different ways.

And I know every member of the media that you’ve spoken to has asked you this in some way, but have you been given any tea about whether Sylvie will continue looking for her glorious purpose down the road?

I have no idea. They’ve told me nothing.

Do you like that in a way?

Yeah, I mean, because if you can just get on with your life until you get a phone call that says you have to be somewhere at a certain point, do something. Yeah, it’s an exciting part of it.

Was there any scene or moment in particular where you were like, “O.K., this is a moment that I’m going to have to dig deep into. This is a tougher scene than maybe I might’ve expected this day”?

The scene that was most interesting to play was that moment in McDonald’s when Loki and Sylvie meet again for the first time. I don’t think there were hardly any lines in that scene. Maybe she says, “Are you going to order something or not?” And it is very sparse the dialogue, but there’s so much unsaid, there’s so much acting going on and they look at each other for the first time. And that was really, really cool to get to play that. It’s bumping into your ex for the first time.

And I’m guessing there is not a lot of rehearsal time correct? It was mostly working it out on the scene on set.

Oh yeah. Yeah. The only rehearsals that we got were some choreo or some fight stuff. Yeah, we didn’t get much rehearsing for the actual dialogue scenes, but I like it that way.

Do you feel like there’s more spontaneity?

For me? Yeah. I like to rely on my intuition and my spontaneity.

Well, I always heard that when you put good actors together should get good results. But this cast in particular had such great chemistry. Even in season one. Do you think that that was just luck? Is it just the talent of the actors?

I think it’s also the characterization. Some of it’s in the writing, some of it’s in what Tom does, a little bit of it’s in what I do, but that it’s how these two characters rub each other up the wrong way. They’re so similar but so different. And I think that fine line between the two is what’s really entertaining to watch because they know exactly how to wind each other up. Sylvie knows exactly how to wind Loki up and audiences love watching Loki being wound up. So, it’s just really entertaining and that’s part of the chemistry because they sort of hate each other, but love each other and will always be connected now. So it is this really specific dynamic, which is a massive gift to be able to play with.

I know you had stunt doubles for a lot of it, but you did do a lot of your own action choreography, correct?

Yeah, yeah. We learn it all and then they sort of swap it and change it when they need to make it look better.

Was it fun? Is that stressful as an actor to have to do that stuff compared to just regular scenes?

I love it. It was a really great opportunity for me. I mean, I was like three months postpartum on the first [season]. It was a great opportunity for me to get fit. I don’t go to the gym. I was the most unfit person when I started, so it really kicked my ass into gear. But I really enjoyed it. And it’s watching the finished product, it just makes you feel like an absolute badass, even though it’s not me. Some of it is not me. It feels great to be a part of it, and it really helps me get into character as well as Sylvie because she’s such a brawler. She loves fighting so much. I’ve realized that I do too. And I’ve carried on. I box a couple of times a week, and I really enjoy the feeling of being able to channel my aggression somewhere. And as a woman, I think it’s quite rare to be able to be given the opportunity to be able to be aggressive and I love it.

At least for season two, do you recall one sequence or set piece that was tougher than any of the others?

There was two of the fighting stuff. I’m trying to remember. The stuff on the Ferris wheel was quite tricky because the space was quite small and there were wires. We were doing wire work, so that was tricky. And a lot of it gets changed last minute. So, you learn the sequence and then they figure out how they’re going to shoot it, and then they realized you can’t do the sequence anymore, so you have to do a different sequence. And so a lot of it is learning choreo on the fly and changing it up and doing something different that works for the camera. So, that was challenging. And I remember I had to throw the TVA guidebook and I couldn’t get it in the right place. Things like that, take ages to try and do. In the first series, there’s a sequence where a knife lands right next to my face, and one of Loki’s daggers stands right next to my face. Little things like that take hours.

In the final episode, you have a great moment when Loki continues to go back to sort of the workroom area where you guys all keep getting killed again and again. And Sylvie sort of imparts on him one last time about what he needs to do. Do you remember that scene that I’m talking about?

Is it in Key’s workroom or the Key Lime Pie?

It’s the last time that we see that version of Sylvie. The spaghetti is coming to sort of wipe her away. It’s before he goes back and realizes that he has to go into the…

Oh, yeah.

I don’t know if you remember that scene, but it seems like such a rich moment for Sylvie. I was wondering, did those moments at least sit with you at all about how emotional Sylvie’s connection had become with Loki?

Yeah, definitely. And I think she’s the spokesperson in a way for his friendship group. It becomes a real ensemble by the end of series two. It’s not just Sylvie. He’s made quite a few friends and they’ve become almost like a little bit of a team and he’s watching each one of them disappear. And I think Sylvie’s the last one to be turned into spaghetti. And that’s the moment where he realizes he needs to figure out how to control this time slipping so he can change what’s happening because otherwise, he’s going to lose everyone.

The drop-off between season one and season two from Kate Heron to Justin Benson & Aaron Moorhead was almost non-existent. They certainly have their own directorial style, but the quality is just so good. Can you talk about what they’re like to work with as directors on set and what you thought they brought to the series?

They are so relaxed at times. I was like, “Why are you so relaxed? It’s making me feel nervous. Why are you so confidently cool and calm?” They just know exactly what they want and what they’re going to do. And they have their own style and they’ve done a bunch of indie films, so they’ve done their time and know how to do it, and they know how to work with each other so well. I dunno if it’s about something to do with being two of them so they can share their stress or something just so chilled out and so open and collaborative and funny and just so easy.

I know you recently wrapped “The Radleys” with Damian Lewis. It’s a horror vampire comedy, right? Can you talk about it at all?

Honestly, I dunno when it’s going to be released, but it’s a vampire movie about a family of vampires trying to live in suburbia and not drink blood.

And it’s funny. It’s hopefully funny.

Hopefully. Yeah.

#sophia di martino #sylvie #loki season 2 #Youtube

[feyburner]

chicken tikka masala recipe?? 👀👀

Sure. This is compiled from a bunch of different recipes, primarily Swasthi’s Recipes, Bon Appetit, and personal recipes from curry enthusiasts on a reddit post.

I use chicken breast bc I prefer the texture for curries, I don’t like non-crispy chicken fat (not a fan of chicken fat/meat fat in general, I know, it’s my toxic trait). Thighs are of course also great.

Spice measurements should be considered a baseline minimum. Add more to taste.

CHICKEN TIKKA MASALA

1 head garlic, minced

2 Tbsp minced ginger

1 heaping Tbsp turmeric

1 heaping Tbsp garam masala

1 heaping Tbsp coriander

1 heaping Tbsp cumin

+

1.5 cups plain full fat yogurt

1 Tbsp kosher salt

1.5-2 lbs boneless skinless chicken breast (or thighs), sliced in half lengthwise

+

3-4 Tbsp ghee or butter + oil

1 large yellow onion, chopped

10-12 cardamom pods, crushed (or 2 tsp ground cardamom)

1 Tbsp red pepper flakes or chili powder

1 x 6 oz can tomato paste

1 x 28 oz can tomato puree

1.5 cups heavy cream (or less cream + make up remainder with water or coconut milk/cream)

1-2 Tbsp brown sugar

DIRECTIONS

1. In a small bowl, mix together garlic, ginger, turmeric, garam masala, coriander, cumin.

2. In a separate bowl, whisk together yogurt and salt. Whisk in 1/2 spice mix; reserve the rest (covered and chilled). Pat chicken dry and add to yogurt marinade, coating fully. Cover and chill 4-24 hours.

3. Heat ghee in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add cardamom and red pepper flakes. Bloom until fragrant, 20 seconds. Add onions and tomato paste. Cook, stirring, 5 minutes until tomato paste has darkened and onions are softening. Add reserved spice mix and cook, stirring, another 4-5 minutes until darker brown. Add extra ghee if needed.

4. Add tomato puree. Bring mixture to a boil, stirring and scraping bits from the bottom. Simmer 8-10 minutes until slightly thickened.

5. Optional (but highly recommended): Carefully transfer sauce to a food processor. Pulse until smooth and blended. Transfer back to saucepan.

6. Add cream and brown sugar (and leftover yogurt marinade if desired; it’s a raw chicken marinade but you’re cooking long enough that it’s fine). Simmer, stirring often, 30-40 minutes.

7. Meanwhile, heat ghee or vegetable oil (not butter or olive oil) in a nonstick pan or well-seasoned cast iron on highest heat until smoking hot. Sear the chicken 2-3 pieces at a time, 3 minutes on each side, to char. Chicken will still be pink inside.

8. Cut chicken into bite-size cubes. Add to simmering tikka masala sauce and stir until cooked through, 10 minutes.

9. Garnish with fresh cilantro (coriander). Serve with rice and/or naan, paratha, etc.

#feyburner ask #food #recipes

[wanderingsoul6261]

I'm Here Now

Credit for gif goes to mauraeyk

James Beaufort x Reader

synopsis: follows the plot of a few requests, mostly pregnancy, angst, etc. In this one, Reader finds out she is pregnant. She tells James and he gets cold feet. Events in this fix are probably unlikely, but Y/N had been understanding, considering who his parents were. And then they meet several years later.

warnings: none, I don't think? If I'm wrong, please let me know and I can change it. My brain isn't working right now.

expect two more within the next 24 to 48 hours.

-------

The plastic stick stared hauntingly at her. This was it. The next nine months of her life and everything that came after, already laid for her. Ultimately, she had a different route, but she couldn’t do it. She would never do it. 

Her parents stood in the doorway of the bathroom. Silence filled the air and Y/N felt like she could suffocate in it. She picked at her fingernails, her eyes on the floor, looking everywhere but at her parents. It was already known how disappointed they were in her. How they had expected and hoped that she would get through the first few of her life after Maxton Hall before anything like this happened. She knew that they hoped that she would get through college and make a life for herself. 

But here it was, all thrown back in their faces. And it wasn’t just her parents. Y/N expected something completely different, and this was definitely not it. 

“Does he know?” Her mother finally spoke, breaking the silence. Y/N casted her eyes briefly in her parents direction. Her father leaned against the door frame, a hand on the bottom half of his face, and her mother stood a few steps closer, her eyes focusing solely on the pregnancy test. 

Y/N was silent for several seconds. 

“No.” She averted her eyes back to the ground in front of her. “He doesn’t” 

“Do you plan on telling him?” Her eyes snapped her father this time, who now stared back directly at her. 

“Yea. I just don’t know how. It’s not exactly an easy subject to talk about. Especially at your ages.” 

“It’s definitely the right thing to do.” He agreed. Her father let out a heavy sigh. “But… you might not like the response and actions that he might have.” Her mother nodded.

“This will be just as hard for him as it is for you at this moment.” 

“And you’re sure you want to keep the child?” She had been asked this question twice already minutes before. Y/N turned her gaze back to the ground, swallowing thickly as thoughts ran through her mind. 

“Because if not, we can pull some strings, and-” 

“Stop.” Y/N cut her father off, and he went silent. He had almost surprisingly looked dejected, and it was likely genuine. Y/N should have known. Her parents weren’t like other parents of rich kids. They meant well and actually cared for her well being. She knew that no matter what she decided to do, they would have her back no matter what. “I’m sorry.” She apologized. “But yea, I’d like to keep the child.” 

—

“What?” James was pale, and if Y/N hadn’t known any better, she would have thought him to be sick. She swallowed thickly, picking at her fingernails, a nervous habit of hers. He had seen and slapped her hands, telling her to stop it. Then he took a step back. 

She stared at him. James had obviously not liked the news, shock and fear written all over his face. Y/N had been scared that this was going to happen. In fact, she had almost expected it. But she had been surprised when he still showed enough care to stop her from picking at her fingers until they bled. 

Maybe there was a potential for hope. 

“I’m pregnant.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. 

“Mine?” She nodded. 

“Yours.” James mumbled under his breath. Y/N watched as he paced back and forth in front of the pool. Y/N watched him, growing slightly more stressed with each stride he took. Her eyes followed his feet, repeating her mannerisms from the other night. She refused to look in his face. She had let so many people down by allowing this to happen, and in the end, she still wasn’t sure what she would lose or keep. “Can you stop pacing please?” Y/N asked quietly. “You’re stressing me out.” 

“Stressing you out-” James paused, finally stopping to stare at Y/N. She had shrunk into herself and despite his attempt at stopping her from picking at her fingers, she still continued to do so. His breath got caught in his throat. What was he to do? His parents, especially his father, would not allow this. He would see it as a scandal and do everything in his power to separate Y/N from him and keep it that way. 

James had to do something first. 

He stopped his pacing, and sat on the opposite end of the bench that she sat on. James hunched forward, running his hand down his face as he ran through different possibilities in his mind. 

“You don’t want this right now, do you?” Y/N asked. His head whipped up and towards her. She was staring at him, tears pricking the corner of her eyes. James opened his mouth, trying to think of something to say, willing himself to say anything, but nothing came. He closed his mouth, but kept eye contact with her. Y/N searched his eyes for anything, anything that might tell her what exactly it was that he wanted. 

“I don’t know.” He finally said. 

Even if it wasn’t a definitive answer, those three words still punched a hole in Y/N’s stomach. She swallowed thickly, turning her head away from him and looked towards the pool. Her eyes flickered over the waving surface, suddenly interested in the way that the sun showed on the ripples created by the slight breeze, watching as the sun rays bounced off the bottom floor. 

“I mean. You have to understand, Y/N.” James went silent again for a few seconds. “This is a tough thing at our ages. And your parents might be more accommodating, but mine-” 

“Are you basing your decision off of what you want, or what they would want?” Y/N turned back to him. He didn’t even have to answer it. She knew the answer before he answered it himself. 

“Y/N, you know how my parents-” 

“And that’s enough to potentially think about walking away from me and your unborn child?” She asked. James went silent and averted his gaze. His eyes peered down at his shoes, taking note of the scuff and dirt marks that he had never really noticed until now. They were dirt and scuff marks that his father wouldn’t stand for. 

His father. 

He turned back to Y/N, who now had tears streaming down her face. A sigh escaped her lips and James was almost expecting more to come from her mouth. He had already felt bad enough that he was leaning more towards the thoughts of his father, but the more he thought about it, he was almost protecting her. If his father ever found out, he didn’t know what would happen. 

“I won’t be mad.” She finally spoke, and James was beyond surprised. He had indeed expected more from her. Not this. He didn’t expect her to be as understanding in this moment that she currently was being. A child was supposed to have their father in their lives. And this one wouldn’t. 

James was silent for several moments. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“No. I’m sorry.” Looking in her face, James knew she was being genuine. “I should have done more.” 

“No stop.” He said. “We both had a part to play in this.” 

And with that, both went silent. They remained on opposite ends of the bench, until enough time had passed and James had decided it was time to leave. He itched to hold her one last time, knowing that once he walked out of the front door, things were going to change. However, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

But she did. 

As he walked by her, she grabbed his hand, staring up at him. He stared down at her, but couldn’t offer her a smile, not that she had one to give back.

“Can I find you in a few years?” He asked. ‘When I don’t have to answer to my father?,’ he almost wanted to say, but he stayed silent. 

“Maybe.” Her heart broke some more. 

And then he was gone. 

—--

After finding out that she was pregnant, Y/N had opted to continue her classwork remotely, only making visits to Maxton Hall in the first few months of her pregnancy. After she started showing, she had stopped, not wanting to raise questions or a potential scandal amongst the students there. 

When the children were born, Y/N knew that things would be okay. 

Twins. She had twins, and the only thing that she could think of were the Beauforts. A boy and a girl. The baby girl definitely had the looks of James more than the baby boy did. Y/N figured that she might be the troublemaker of the two in the coming years. The baby boy was quiet and good, the opposite of his sister, which was ironic, considering it was the other way around for both Lydia and James. 

Raising the twins though had actually been easier than she expected, especially with the help of her parents. Certain moments had been a bit tougher, like when Y/N had to take them in for vaccinations and doctor appointments. Listening to them cry their little hearts out because of being poked had broken her own heart. Many moments, she had wished that James was around to witness his kids grow up into the young children they were growing up to be. 

Even as they grew up, even if James wasn’t there, she still acted as if he was. Y/N told the kids stories about their father and what he was like. After all this time, she still loved him.She loved him enough that she wished that he had been around to witness their first steps, to experience their first words, etc. In general, Y/N had just wished that he was there. 

Especially now, walking through the park. The twins were a little over the age of four. They stomped around Y/N, giggling and laughing. They brought a smile to her face, making her happy when she thought that things were turning for the worst. She now knew that things weren’t going to turn out as bad as she had expected the day she found out she was pregnant. 

She came back to earth after hearing one of her kids let out a surprised shout. Y/N looked around, seeing her son on the ground, seemingly unhurt and okay. D/N had hurried over in an attempt to help him up, but the man S/N had ran into had helped him up first. 

“Sorry kiddo. Didn’t see you.” The man looked up and around, seeing Y/N. 

Her world stopped at that very moment, for the man that stood before her, she never expected to see again. 

“James.” 

“Y/N” The two a few feet apart and S/N and D/N were now next to their mother. James had already put two and two together, his eyes now focused on his kids. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing was spoken. His eyes moved to look at Y/N, who only smiled softly at him. It almost seemed sad. 

“What are you doing here?” He finally asked. 

“On a walk with the kids. Wanted to give mom and dad some peace and quiet.” Y/N explained. “What about you?” she asked. 

“I was just at a business meeting. I decided to cut through the park to get to my car.” His eyes were focused back on the kids, who stared up at him with large eyes. They hid partially behind Y/N. He could definitely see himself in both of them. 

“What are their names?” 

“D/N and S/N” Their names rolled off James tongue easily. Y/N followed his gaze to the kids, before shooing them away. “How about you two go play on the slide? I’m right here, I’ll be watching you.” The two ran off towards the slide without any hesitation, their giggles could be heard as they raced. 

“How are they?” he asked, watching their movement. Y/N watched James, taking in his appearance. He really hadn’t changed much. James still looked like himself. 

“They are good kids. Healthy. Take after us, that’s for sure.” She laughed a little, took a step closer to James as they now both watched the kids. 

“Do they know about me?” 

“Yea.” Y/N spoke softly. “I tell them stories about you. From school, what you’re like, just a bunch of things about you.” She said, “They’ve been coming up with their own questions lately.” James turned his attention to her. His eyes trailed over her form, taking her in, before looking back at the kids. 

“Like what?” He hesitated in looking back at her, before finally turning his head back towards her, but their eyes didn’t meet. She watched her children, a sad look in her eyes. Like she wanted to give them so much more than they already had in that moment. “Y/N.” She turned to him. 

“Hmm?”

“Would you be mad or upset with me now, if I asked if I could be in their lives?” he asked. Her smile looked a little less sad. 

“Never. You have every right to be in their lives. I can tell you right now that they want you in their lives. I can guarantee it.” Y/N turned to face him. “We can do whatever works. We can set up visitation times. Or you can take them whenever you want. We can work something out.” James nodded along, listening to her and the suggestions. He was silent for several seconds, and he knew that she was waiting for something from him. 

“Could we, maybe. Perhaps…could we try things over again?” Her smile seemed even brighter. 

“I think so.” She said softly. “I understood why you didn’t want anything at first. Yea, it took some time to adjust and get used to. I missed you terribly, but I want to work on things, especially between us. And that’s not only for us, but for them.” The two turned their attention back to the kids, who were running around, their high pitched giggles filling the air as they laughed. 

By the end of the night, after being invited for dinner with Y/N, her kids, and her parents, James had started to wedge himself back into their lives. His son and daughter were latched to him, never really letting him out of their sight. They told him everything that they could, as James stared at them, love apparent in his eyes and he listened to what they had to say. 

This was it. This is what he wanted. After everything that he already had, this was it. 

And as he looked up and his eyes found Y/N’s, already staring at him with the kids, and he had seen the smile she had adorned her face, he knew already that he was willing to give up anything to keep this. 

And she would let him. 

------

@sillyfreakfanparty @honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @wheredidmyeyesgo @imasimptoowth @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @benbarnesprettygurl

#james beaufort #maxton hall #james beaufort x reader #maxton hall: the world between us

[flowerbetweenfangs]

To The Wolves

This was written as an entry for a contest. The theme was "masquerade" I played fast and loose and just focused on the "mask" part. It was a lot of fun. This is a Red Riding Hood retelling.

CW: Attempted non con, (Not by the narrator) Knot, beast form.

Originally On A03

Every year, once harvest was done and winter was about to begin, the village I watched over would perform a ritual. With the crops now reaped, they would sow the seed of their unions, in the hopes that their pack numbers would increase. 

I was an ancient One. Older than the fields I roamed. Larger than the village itself. While such a form would be cumbersome, I took up space elsewhere.

I was a whispered prayer. The howling of wind. A burnt offering. A scratching at the shrine door. A carving on a wall. A shadow moving across the ground. An image in a scroll or book. A sight just out of the corner of an eye. 

They called me “Hunt” and “Harvest”. But the few who had laid eyes on me called me by another Name. I answered to all of them. For what is a God without believers? 

As Winter’s chill settled in, I could see the villagers tirelessly working. They carved wood into masks. Many used the pictures of me in ancient texts as reference, but each one had their own unique form. A symbol of their devotion. Once they wore it, they would be acting on my behalf. While not as powerful as a direct offering, it was a gesture I preferred. 

They had chosen a woman to don the vestments this year. Not a maiden, nor a crone. Young enough to run and be free, but old enough to know what she was getting into. Unclaimed and untethered.

She worked with the matriarch of the shrine, creating cakes that could fit into the palm of her hand. Each one was prepared and placed in a wicker basket. They called the older woman “Grand Mother”, for all her work in keeping up with the myths and offerings. 

Those who weren’t taking part had to be shut inside, threats of me gobbling up any one who disobeyed. Sometimes a bit of fear was necessary. While I had never harmed a human under my protection, no one wanted to be the first. 

As darkness fell, Grand Mother went on ahead. She vanished into the treeline, the light of her lantern bobbing up and down until it faded from view. When she arrived at the shrine, she would wait there until morning.

The Mask Makers followed shortly after her. Some howled, some sang, many simply panted and grunted with the effort of the sprint. Soon, their voices also vanished into the night. 

The woman had been stripped of all her earthly belongings and name. She was given the basket and a crimson cloak. It fell over her shoulders, and hung just above the ground, but did little to preserve her modesty when she walked. 

Bare feet kicked up dirt as she walked to the edge of the village, the basket hanging from the crook of her elbow. She would not even be allowed sandals for her journey, only her faith to protect her from what lay within the woods. 

A howl in the distance signaled that she was to start her journey. 

At the edge of her home, she paused. The light of the moon illuminated her path. While she had grown up near the forest, it was a different thing entirely to see it at night. 

Once she got to the treeline, I could see her resolve waver. While she didn’t slow, her steps became more cautious and calculated. Shoulders slightly raised, jaw clenched, she listened. 

Clutching the basket close, she allowed herself to shiver. The chattering of her teeth filled the empty night. 

Bringing her hands to her lips, she held them close and continued to walk forward. A harsh wind whipped the cloak around, nearly ripping it from her shoulders. The force made her gait more serpentine, but she managed to right herself. 

The first one came from the trees, his eye holes slightly too big. I could hear his panting as he stalked closer to her, taking care to not snap a twig or step too heavily.

She saw him in time, her body going stiff. One hand snaked into the basket. 

When their gazes locked, he stood upright, eyes greedily studying her form. He took a few steps closer to her. 

“Lady Red, Lady Red,” His voice was muffled by the mask, but it was clear enough. “What have you to eat?” 

Slowly, she withdrew her hand from the basket. A small cake was in her palm. 

Holding it out to the man, she cleared her throat. 

“Dear Wolf, Dear Wolf. Here, have something sweet.” Her whole body was shaking. Whether from the cold or fear, it was hard to tell. 

The cake nearly fell from her grasp before the man finally took it. Clutching it tightly, he ran off back toward the village. I could taste its sweetness as he gobbled it down. My power increased slightly, tethering me further to the land. 

She watched him run, before rolling her shoulders and pulling the hood of the cloak up. Back straight, she began to walk again. 

Her steps, no longer cautious, were still slow. Calculated. The gait of someone determined but not reckless. The residue from the cake still clung to her hand, but she didn’t seem to care. Now that it was over, she allowed herself to feel relief. 

But it was short lived. 

I could hear the whispers as the others began to move. Some closer to her, some toward the shrine. Plans being made. I followed their words, and I could tell they knew I was listening. Shivers went up spines, some slapped the back of their necks when they could feel my breath on it. A few jerked their heads in my direction when they caught a glimpse of my shadow. 

One sprung forward, jumping into her path. The ears on his mask were slightly too large, making him look more like a coyote.

She slowed to a stop, eyes wide like a doe. Breath came from her lips in a foggy cloud. Goosebumps traveled across her flesh as she stared. 

“Lady Red, Lady Red,” The voice rumbled from behind the mask. “What have you to eat?” 

This time, she stood firm and didn’t hesitate. Once more, she pulled out a small cake from the basket. While it didn’t shake in her grip, there was a bit of reluctance as she extended her arm out to the man. 

“Dear Wolf, Dear Wolf. Here, have something sweet.” 

The man stared at her a moment longer, then leaned forward, shifting his mask up. She averted her eyes, holding the cake out insistently. 

He took the cake directly into his mouth, lips brushing against her hand. A few strands of drool remained on her palm, which she discreetly wiped on her thigh when he turned away. I could taste it again, and found my own mouth watering further. 

Once he had devoured the morsel, he stared at her once more, before dashing off back to the village. 

She put a hand to her chest and let out a sigh of relief. Her stride picked up again, and she seemed more determined than before. The light of the moon seemed to shine brighter than before, bathing the entire area in a silvery glow. 

I had been watching her so closely, I almost didn’t see the man in the bushes. But I did see the chips in his mask, where the mouth would have been. The jagged edges poked into his lips, a few drops of crimson welling. He followed behind, not announcing himself like the others had. 

Putting a hand over his mouth, he stifled his breath and continued to keep pace with the woman. Every so often, he would reach out, his hand brushing against the cloak’s fabric. I knew a hunter when I saw one. 

We all stopped at the same time. 

Craning her neck, she looked for her pursuer. Her eyes widened. Clutching the cloak tight, she attempted to draw it closed around herself. I could tell she wanted to call out to the man, to get him to come into view. But the words seemed caught in her throat. 

I saw him shift his form, starting to rise, and for a moment I felt relief.  

However, rather than announce himself, he pounced on her. The action was so sudden she didn’t have time to draw in a breath and scream. I don’t think she realized what was happening until he was on top of her. 

Armed with only her faith, she finally cried out the ancient name I’d been known as: 

Warg . 

The basket snapped in two, cakes spilling all over the forest floor. Steam curled off the top, and they blackened. 

I hadn’t taken on a physical shape in years, but I found myself coming out from behind a tree. To not frighten her, I took on the body of a human male in a rather intricately carved wolf mask, furs wrapped around my torso. Amusingly, the pelt’s tail dangled between my legs where one would be in my other form. 

The tree groaned as I rested a hand on the trunk, nails far too long to be human digging into the bark. A growl rumbled in my throat, tearing through human muscle that hadn’t used it before. It became more of a death rattle, and I worried I wouldn’t be able to breathe. Compressing my being down to a form so small had me ready to come apart at the seams. 

But I wasn’t one to ignore an offering. 

Pausing, the man looked up at me. I could see beyond the mask, the thoughts racing through his mind as he attempted to place who I was. Muscles went taut, and I could see flight or fight warring as he weighed the options. 

I strode closer, jaw clenched to prevent another snarl from escaping my lips. Even though I was around the same size as him, he seemed to notice the power rolling off me. 

Slowly, he slipped off the woman and scrambled away apologetically. The words became curses as he scurried away, the Grand Mother’s title on his lips. 

The woman stayed on the ground, eyes still wide. Each action that followed seemed to be a struggle with how much she shook. Finally, she turned on her side to face me. Attempting to stand, she sucked in a breath when her knees gave out. 

I stood back, debating whether or not to offer her my hand.

Shivering, she managed to struggle to her feet. 

Upon seeing the ruined basket, she covered her face. Suppressed sobs shook her, and I felt a pang of sympathy. Through no fault of her own, the ritual had been halted. 

While she had no idea that she had summoned me prematurely, it was obvious something had gone wrong. If the next harvest failed, she would bear the guilt. Although I knew her attacker would be punished, by myself or by the other villagers.  

Picking up the remaining pieces of the basket, I offered it to her. Once she took them, I could feel a shift in the wind. The scent of the approaching men. 

They’d heard the commotion and came running. They went to call her old Name, but stopped themselves. 

Despite my better judgment, I snarled. It ripped through my very being, and I could feel myself starting to become undone. I debated on changing my form right then and there, but I didn’t want to frighten her more than I already had. Instead, I began to walk. 

I could smell the fear. The confusion. The worry. 

Who is this stranger in our woods? What has he done to Lady Red?

In the light of the moon, I could see the shadow of my true form. A fierce wind howled, and I followed it, vanishing from sight. 

I could hear her running steps. No longer afraid, or maybe more so than ever, she sprinted for the shrine. All that needed to be done now was for her to make it inside. Hopefully the broken basket would be explained away and the night could come to a close. 

I could hear her voice call out for the Matriarch. 

“Grand Mother? Are you there?”  

Silence answered. 

I saw more fear take over her face. Confusion. This was clearly not the way things were supposed to go. 

Peering inside the shrine, I saw the cushion, where the elder had been kneeling, was empty. Sniffing, I followed the scent out the back and into the woods. The smell of gold was strong. The scent of the Broken Mask clung to it. 

Sneaking through a window, I slunk through the Holy Room. Masks from previous years lined the shelves, along with baskets, cloaks, and old recipes. The hearth was still warm, the embers from the fire still glowing. 

Growling, I resisted the urge to run out of the shrine and chase down the pair. 

Once more, Lady Red called from outside the gate. 

Behind her, I could see the approaching silhouettes of the masked men. 

I felt my form shift again, taking on a smaller, more delicate shape. I’d only seen the Matriarch a handful of times, but I hoped darkness would conceal me better. Taking one of the vestments, I wrapped it around myself.

Kneeling on the mat, I faced the front room. 

“In here, dear!” 

The door opened and she came inside. Through labored breaths, she attempted to tell the events of what had just transpired. Before she could get to leaving the village, I saw her stiffen at the sight of me. 

The longer she stared at the disguise, the more it seemed to fall apart. I could feel the power rippling off me, filling the room. I fought between compressing myself and holding up the illusion, or giving in and letting my true form come forth, consequences or not. 

“My, what big eyes you have.” She said, voice shaking. Still, she took a step closer and squinted at me in the dark. 

“The better to see you with.” My throat was scraped raw from the words 

“What big ears you have,” She continued, teeth chattering. 

And yet, she came to the side of the mat. Close enough I could smell her breath and fear. Kneeling next to me, she rested at the edge of the cushion. It was just enough to tilt me, ever so slightly, in her direction. 

“The better to hear you with.” Once more, the voice coming from my form was not made for a human throat, and I could feel it becoming raspy. 

“... And what big teeth you have.” 

We stared at one another. I could feel her warmth, despite the shivering. 

A knowing smile tugged at the corner of her lips. I expected fear, anger, worry.

But there was none. Her eyes were wide as realization of what I was dawned on her. Lips parted slightly as she took in a shallow breath to steady herself. 

I allowed the form to unravel. While I still would have been bigger than the shrine in my truest form, I allowed myself to appear as something closer to my nature. Wind whipped through the air, stoking the embers back to life. As the orange glow mingled with silver, I saw my lupine shadow dancing on the wall and carvings. 

My tongue lolled out of my mouth as I inhaled her scent. White fangs flashed in the dark, saliva dribbling onto the floor. 

Despite the warring emotions, I managed to keep my mind. 

“Lady Red, Lady Red, what have you to eat?” My true voice rumbled from deep within. 

Her eyes went down to the ruined basket, then the old offerings lining the shelves. However, she quickly made up her mind. Untying the cloak, she let it fall to the floor. 

“Dear Wolf, Dear Wolf. Here, have something sweet.” 

The hands that had been trembling only a moment before were steady as they cupped my jaw. Fingers buried themselves in my fur, nails far too short to ever be a threat scraping against my skin. 

I wasn’t one to ignore an offering. 

I licked her palms, tasting the residue of cakes and dirt. Making my way up her arm, I stopped at the crook of her elbow, the scent of the town still clinging to her. I moved across her waist, leaving a glistening trail. 

I made my way down to her navel, letting my breath roll over pebbled skin. Condensation formed, a few drops mixing with forming sweat and rolling down. 

Parting her thighs, I lapped at the growing wetness between them. Fingers tangled in the scruff of my neck as her breath caught. She fell back on the mat, legs splayed open for me. Trickling folds invited me to devour them further. 

Massive paws were on either side of her, claws tearing through the fabric of the cushion. I continued to lick, fangs ever so slightly teasing at flesh. Despite my best attempts at being gentle, I still left marks. Nothing a human could ever leave. Soon, she was covered with them.

If she felt pain, there was no sign. In fact, her legs wrapped tighter around my head. I growled a warning, but the noise only seemed to excite her more. Moans and sighs echoed off the wooden walls. 

Such a tribute wasn’t one to be devoured in a couple of bites. I paced myself, drawing out each roll of my tongue, pressing a paw onto her when she attempted to make me speed up once more. 

Once more, she was quaking. As she shivered around my tongue, I could feel a need rising inside both of us. The seeds of harvest needed to be sowed. 

She must have noticed me dripping, because I was finally released. I stared at the dripping wet, panting heavily. My tongue was close enough to tease it, making her back arch and a shuddering groan escape her. 

Without a word, she rolled over onto her stomach, presenting herself to me. Once again, instinct threatened to take over, and I forced myself to remain in control. The literal earth shattering strength I had would make short work of a delicate human body. 

No sacrifice had ever been put through such a trial of faith before. 

Despite all the preparation and her resolve, she was tight around me. Almost too much. Fists gripped the cushion as she gasped in surprise. This was no human male rutting while wearing a mask. And if I had my way, no hands but mine would ever touch her in this way again. 

Once I was inside, my body moved of its own accord. Thrusts were punctuated with grunts and pants, paws covering her hands. I could feel myself being drawn back in when I attempted to pull out, almost like a game. 

The motion seemed to help her regain the ability to speak, and soon she was calling out my name over and over. Her hips rocked back, taking me in deeper than before. Initial resistance turned to eagerness, almost too much. 

As she came back onto me, I met her with a rhythm of my own. My name was called more times in those few short moments than it had been whispered that entire season. 

Such piousness should be rewarded. 

I leaned down and licked her cheek in an attempt to be tender. Salt tinged my tongue. Although I knew she wasn’t weeping from sorrow, I still forced myself to slow. My efforts only made her more wild, and she hilted me. 

My head shot up toward the moon, and I had to resist the urge to call out and stake my claim. I was glad she was facing away from me, because I worried what would happen if she realized that she could make a God see stars.

The thought of her becoming more bold made me shudder. With fear or excitement, I couldn’t say. It was a line that was easy to to blur. 

I ground my hips against her, and felt the release. As it filled her up, I felt a clench that held me fast. I swelled as she did, knotting. Our cries of ecstasy became labored gasps. The sensation sent another shock through me, spurting more into her.  

As she came down from the act, I took her into my arms. Despite being slick with sweat, she was all too eager to huddle up against me while I was still inside her. My hand went down to her stomach, and she shivered at the touch, still tender. 

I knew the villagers would be coming to the shrine in the morning, to see the result of the ritual. 

The seeds had been planted. The sowing had begun. 

I wondered what they would reap come next harvest. 

Something told me that my own pack would be growing soon. 

#monster lover #monster love #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster x human #monster fucker #monsterfucker #terato #writeblr #werewolf lover #werewolf #werewolves #wolf #shapshifter #warg #red riding hood #little red riding hood #fairy tale retelling #fairytale #monster smut

[niphredil-14]

EEEEEEEE your writings make me roll around happily!

May I request a Donnie x reader where they communicate via asl during his non-verbal episodes? So we all know that Donnie knows asl and binary code, and it's theorised that his eyebrows are also important to express what he wants to say non-verbally (I heard that your expressions are also important in asl).

So imagine Donnie, during his non-verbal episodes and talking seems more tiring than usual. Unresponsive to reader's words and he'd just nod and his face is more expressive. Noticing this, reader pat Donnie's shoulder and starts to sign, and that's how their conversation went.

Cue Donnie falling hard.

I know that this has taken absolute ages to get out, so thanks for your patience! Also, if the quality of this is less than great, this is the first thing I've written (aside from school writing) in ages.

TSL- Turtle Sign Language

Don never had been very good at acknowledging his own feeling and needs, which, although he would deny it even in the face of torture, did frequently cause him many a problem. Such as the common occurrence of Donnie denying and ignoring his sensory issues, exhaustion and stress, which when all put together, caused him to shut down. That was where they found him, on the floor by the foot of his bed, knees pressed to his plastron, with a weighted blanket replacing his battle shell. The lights were all off, except for the tablet propped up a foot or so away from him, soft sounds of someone whispering, most likely an ASMR video, playing from the device. After a quick knock on the door, they cracked it open and peeked inside, not bothering to wait for an answer. His eyes glanced up from the tablet to meet their gaze.

"Is it okay if I come in?" They said softly. He nodded, and watched as they walked in and closed the door behind them, making their way over to him. They pointed to the open space on the floor next to him, and with their voice low, and just as soft,

"Do you mind if I sit?" Donnie raised his eyebrows and gave them a small smile, giving a small shake of his head before jerking it sideways, to motion for them to sit with him. After getting situated, they asked another question,

"Are you okay, Dee? Leo said you left really suddenly." Donatello gave a light shrug, pulling the weighted blanket more around his shoulders, before finally giving them a small nod. Upon not receiving a response from his companion, he let his eyes wander back to the video. The screen displayed a dim background with fairy lights and a woman holding her index finger up and slowly drawing patterns in the air in front of her, asking after each one what shapes and images she had traced. The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, following the woman's directions and answering her questions, until Donnie's attention was grabbed by his friend, who leaned forward and was staring intently at him. He turned his head to gaze at them, and raised the muscle over his browbone, causing the faded, drawn-on eyebrow on his mask to raise almost as drastically. They seemed to take a moment to think before they raised their hands a bit and began to motion, forming signs familiar to Don.

'Is there anything I can do to help you?" Donnie's eyes shot wide open, and he released his grip on the weighted blanket to raise his hands and sign back to them.

'You know sign?' He questioned them, one thick, marker-made eyebrow raised comically higher than the other. His signs looked slightly different, which they assumed was just an adaptation made due to his distinct anatomy, but they could understand him regardless. They smiled wide at him, a proud glint in their eyes, and began to sign their affirmation to him. A smile formed on his face, his bad-boy image being challenged by just how heartwarmingly sweet the look in his eyes was. Their hands began to move again.

'So, is there anything I can do?' His own hands flying in response, his excitement and joy apparent with the speed at which he moved his hands, and the expression shining so brightly on his face.

'Just being here with me is really helpful, thank you.' Their smile grew to match his.

'You don't need to thank me, Don, there's nowhere I'd rather be.'

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #tmnt donatello #tmnt donnie #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #tmnt x reader #rottmnt x reader #tmnt donatello x reader #tmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #rise donatello #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rise donatello x reader

[front-facing-pokemon]

gmax sandaconda is the DEFINITION of snootirific. i'm not the nose rater but i have to say gmax sandaconda might have the best snoot in the whole franchise

i saw someone in the tags of one of the posts where i used the word "snootiferous" say that they added that word to their vocabulary. as though it was a word i didn't make up. i totally did make it up and now i keep saying it, specifically in posts on this blog. i have not said it anywhere in my real life but if i can make other folks say it then i think that's the ultimate funny

not getting their models, but rendering the eyes properly. there are two competing and likely theories for why the eyes are so fucked up in gen 9: number one being that the eyes are rendered dynamically in-game as shaders instead of as flat textures like they typically were in past pokémon games so that pokémon can look around, have reflections in their eyes, have more dynamic eyes, et cetera, which means they're much more difficult to render authentically for quick silly tumblr screenshots; and number two being that game freak renders them dynamically as a "security measure" to keep folks online from ripping the models as easily to use them for… whatever they want. such as blogs like this, which are of course extremely harmful to the pokémon company's bottom line and destroying their business et cetera et cetera (sarcasm). either way, the eyes are fucked up, and i either have to find a way to recreate the eye textures from what i am given in the texture files, or i have to find a way to recreate the eyes to the best of my ability using shaders in something like… blender, which is what i've been using for more recent models since gen 7. that puts more work on me for every individual model, and isn't exactly easy for models that i have to rip and convert myself when there are dozens of nodes in the shading panel that i don't know what to do with. for example, here's what quaxly (famously, a pokémon with pupils that can look around, as it appears in a whole cutscene in-game) looks like out-of-the-box when i convert it myself from the model format used in-game:

if you can't tell what's wrong, here's what it's Supposed to look like:

notice the white pupils? those aren't rendered properly in blender, notably because no texture exists for them. no texture even exists for anything you see in the eyes there, but it's all somehow magically appeared in the shading section, by magic. and i am not that kind of wizard

this means very little to me. i just played around with some of the nodes by looking at the strangely-colored textures that were given to me with the .trmdl conversion, and i managed to get something close enough:

but they kinda look like they're looking in two different directions (possibly fine? we'll have to see how they look front-facing) and the colors are slightly off (can anyone tell but me? possibly not); not to mention it likely won't be this easy with every pokémon. pokémon whose eyes are much more complex or have colors i can't easily match, for example, or pokémon for whom multiple parts of their eyes are missing… not to mention i don't necessarily have the time or willpower to be spending hours tinkering with these models every morning to make sure the eyes look right. ideally i can take what i've learned from fucking with quaxly right now to hopefully move forward a bit smoother, and eventually i'll refine a process. but until then, this is what worries me

right, but it's also less funny. the initial concept for this blog, inspired by pokémon like snivy, is that some pokémon look really funny when they're up in your face staring at you. it's a concept everyone loves. but if they're facing away from you, there's considerably less to work with there. they're all Kinda just gonna look the same. they lose a lot of that personality. i suppose i'll consider it if i ever run Really low on options, though

nah. i don't do visual art anymore. that time has passed—now if i do it, it's usually a one-off thing and i never want to look at what i've created again afterward

#this was a long one! #not pkmn #nose ratings #but i had a lot to say. hopefully that clears some things up about the seeming nothing that i've been complaining about

[aereasrage]

Notes on The Favorite

summary: a little more insight into the relationships princess reader holds with her family (when ur circle small but all yall crazy). (links: part 1 /part 2/part 3)

cw: platonic!yan, allusions to religion, cheating, open relationships, mentions of pregnancy, crazy is running through this family like the tomb raider, baela and jace saw you from across the bar and liked your vibe

notes: everyone in this family is like save me princess reader princess reader save me

Helaena is often regarded as simple but she knows her family well. She is well aware of her mother’s preference for you but she doesn’t mind. At least it isn’t Aegon. You’re actually kind to her, she knows her words sometimes go over your head but you listen patiently with a smile. And though her children love her, it is sometimes overwhelming to care for them so you often offer to mind them for her while she has some time alone. Helaena doesn’t just enjoy being alone, she requires it and ever since she’s been wed it seems as though it is forbidden for her to simply be alone. She appreciates you for simply knowing what lines to tread lightly across, for never making her have to reject you and your touch. She’s more willing to accept your touch, it feels careful, intended for her rather than for yourself. It feels truthful to your heart.

When you were pregnant with your third child, she gave you an emerald beetle brooch and she embroidered a cap for the baby with little lady bugs. She seemed to be enamored with the child even before her birth, in a way she hadn’t been with her own children. It made her smile to rub your belly and speak to her niece. “Did you know that a beetle’s shell shines many colors under the sun? Sometimes even I cannot be certain which is true. It can only be supposed for some time, at least. It is much like our fate…to be pulled into different lights, made to show the colors others want to see,” she murmured as she felt the kicks of your daughter in your womb. Her words sent a shiver down your spine. Although Helaena was the sibling whose company you’d now enjoyed the most, it was sometimes a bit eerie to be with her when she was in such a state of preoccupation. Even so, you were glad she seemed so interested in her little niece. She was better with your children than her own, it wasn’t her fault, it was just that sometimes it was difficult to see her own children. To know that their sorrows, their little lives were hers was frightening, it was too confronting.

It was easier to look to you. Alicent had always held you as an example for her and even though she had long since given up thinking her eldest daughter would learn to behave like you, Helaena had never stopped wanting to emulate the way you navigated the world. Even though you were the little sister, you had an ease about you that never came to her. Such a thing as being a princess came easily to you, she had understood the difference between you two from day one. When anxiety rattled her system as she carried her first child, she looked to you and thought that if her little sister could be well even married to Aegon, even after giving him a son, she would too. She had been relieved that you had married first, to give her some direction, your mother was really no example in her case.

Once when you two were small, she had woken from a dream and went to your chambers but as she stood outside the door, she heard your mother’s voice and paused. She felt an indelible urge to eavesdrop though she never had before, she wanted to witness this moment, one stolen between her mother and sister. One she was not meant to be part of. She eased the door open slightly to peer in. She had not broken the moment. You two were at the vanity, Alicent behind you, brushing your hair gently, cooing such flattery. Helaena had thought to envy you but truly, she wished to be so close to you as your mother was. She wished to soothe you as your elder sister and say the right things to make you smile instead of leaning on you so heavily. That moment made her feel so ashamed of sneaking off to your bedroom to curl her body around yours for comfort from her horrid dreams. How small you were next to your mother, how young you behaved. Was she forcing you to grow up just for her sake?

You and Aemond seemed years older than her, from her point of view. She was only just coming to understand what she’d already seen before. She was just coming to understand the world and how her cryptic dreams fit into it. She had only been vaguely troubled by her dreams before, only so much so that listening to her baby sister breathe would soothe her back into sleep. She was wrong to be so calm then, even so, she felt wrong to be so overly anxious now. She didn’t know what to feel. Sometimes she was like a newborn, red all over and crying from the rush of sensation all at once. She turned to Aemond for protection, to you for guidance. You were her only template, when she felt the fear rising up in her, she need only turn to you and mimic as best she could.

In contrast, Aemond was a little guard dog for your sake. What Criston was to his mother, he’d be for you, he’d long ago decided. When your egg hatched and his didn’t, he was humiliated. Before you, he only wished to appear strong and capable and he’d even been undermined by Aegon’s egg hatching, the sibling he deemed least worthy. How were you to take him seriously? How were you to believe he could protect you from Aegon— from anyone? Part of the reason he was so desperate to claim a dragon was to show off to you. To appeal to you. Back when he thought he’d marry you, he had even thought doing so would make you think more of him as your future husband. Obviously, it hadn’t happened that way and Aemond was silently crushed. Yet another bitter reminder that the order in which Aegon and himself had been born superseded everything else.

Something strange began to happen inside his mind as soon as you were wed to Aegon, it was as though you became a lady from a song. You were out of reach, permanently, you’d become his brother’s queen. More than flesh, you were now almost mythical to him and more than that, dealt a tragic fate and needing of protection as your mother had been. A saint-like figure for him to ground himself in all his violent, envious thoughts on. Keeping his sword for you made him feel better than he was, it turned his yearning for bloodshed into something like honor. For any drop of blood spilled in your name had to be the highest will of the Warrior. Someday, the realm would tell your name in stories alongside his. He would be remembered as the knight who so loved his sister, so protected her that he became a standard of devotion and love. You were like your mother in purer form, devoid of her violence, of her envy, of her malice and sadness. He longed to protect that version of you. He longed for you to look to him as your protector. It would be something, at least. If he was always fated to covet his brother’s bride, it would do nicely for you to save a place in your heart for him.

Criston was as much of a father to you as he could be without risking too much. Indeed, he was the perfect father for you, one that would not disturb you and your mother. He could spare you kind words, a story or two, his arm when you rose from your seat tipsy on wine after a feast. In private, when you were in your mother’s chambers, he’d tolerate all sorts of silly behavior from you with infinite patience that he lacked with others. He was not just slack about caring what you did, he simply enjoyed you too much to be upset at you even when you had a bit of fun at his expense. You enjoyed unearthing his unbridled care for you by pretending to be hurt, even more so because no matter how many times you did it, he always believed you. Even when he got upset at you for pretending to fall or cut yourself on something and pouted, he was just as susceptible to falling for it again simply because if there was half the chance you were hurt, it was worth looking foolish.

Criston was easy to fluster, it was cute of him. Fun was in short supply in your life and you appreciated him allowing you to make a fool of him every now and again. He understood what you meant to Alicent and that in and of itself required him to care for you more but he himself harbored a certain care for you as well which was separate from her. He was overprotective of you, in a way that could come across as condescending were it not from his lips; “Princess, I beg you not run, you must walk carefully and be careful not to hurt yourself.” When you were pregnant with Aemon, it was; “Princess, I beg you not exert yourself, I wish that you would call on me when I am needed,” when all you were doing was walking down the stairs, “Princess, it is unwise to eat as little as you do,” when all you had done was say you weren’t hungry after spoiling your dinner with sweets. When you were little it was him scolding Aemond for taking you by the arm and tugging you about the keep to go play. “My prince,” he’d said sternly, stepping in front of the two of you. “The princess is but small, I do not believe my prince wishes to see her harmed. You must not handle her so roughly.” Most recently, it was; “My princess, I beg you not to move with so much vigor while with child, you must preserve your health as best you can.” Gods bless his heart.

For Jace, his love for you seemed primordial, the touchstone of his life. His memory of you went back further than his memory of realizing he was different. He gravitated toward you even as the years went by, unable to simply forget what it was like to just be children together. If ever there were anything to make him feel as though he wanted to stay in the keep, it was you. Before your eyes, he’d show no insecurity, admit no uncertainty as to his place. In doing so, he feared he would lose you. As long as he held himself as a prince, perhaps he would be worthy to wed his aunt, the princess. Your affirmation of him was something that held him together even in the face of the most egregious mistreatment. Even as whispers caught on the wind, he kept his mind trained on you, on the first time you ever admitted — alone in the dragonpit, that you wished to wed him and be his queen. He would have you for his queen, he decided long ago. He had not forgotten. And he had oft thought of what would become of whichever man your mother tried to foist you off on.

All men endeavor to find their gods on earth, Jace was no different— except that instead of finding them in service to greater purpose, he found divinity through serving you. He dreamt of having the strength to reach out and truly take in hand what he had wanted all along. You were dreamy, in love with the songs of brave knights, ever anxious, ever seeking a perfect love and protection that none of your potential suitors would ever give to you. He was born to be that gallant knight for your sake, to take up his sword and anoint himself to you. You were as the living embodiment of a fertility goddess to him, a goddess of abundance and pleasure. Some divine will, he thought, brought him to your feet. He would not be convinced that his place was not at your side. Even if you demanded sacrifice as all goddesses do. Let blood be spilled for your sake, if it was the price of a man to seduce a deity. To him, the war between houses would be a holy war, a war of faith. If he could vanquish all the hands that sought to separate you, hurt you, hurt him and his mother; only then he would be worthy. Only then would the pain be turned to virtue.

You once asked him why he was so trusting of you, why he was so willing to give you his complete devotion. He hadn’t known how to answer at the time in a way which would not reveal his madness to you. He had been born with a sword hanging over his head, born with a cross to bear with him from the moment he was conscious of himself but when he was in your presence, a divine fervor came over him. A ritual madness bloomed in his heart that felt to him as he thought kneeling to pray in the sept should. It was only when he saw you that he was reminded that the gods bless even the morbid in their own strange ways. You were the reason he understood why some devout of the faith were called to self flagellate. There was a divinity in pain, too. He found it in his yearning for you.

He participated in a tourney for your name day once, it had left him with a broken rib but he’d fought hard to be able to name you queen of love and beauty. Truthfully, he had not even noticed the near black bruising of his skin until he was out of your sight. And even then, he’d delayed sending for a maester because you’d followed him back to his chambers to look after him. That was where it begun, the crux of your divine affair. The carnal part of it, anyway. In his lap, his armor spattered with blood and a sharp pain singing through his body, you took his face into your forgiving hands and kissed him timidly. His eyes were reverent as they looked up at you. His breath had sped up, desperate, near hyperventilating as you pulled away. He was aching but he was in ecstasy as well. Trying to savor the moment between you two despite his disbelief, his agony and his hunger for more and ever more. That was the way in which he became a man, in his pain, his restraint and his immense pleasure.

Aegon visited brothels and had countless romps with random women even after your marriage but he never saw it as being untrue, at least he tried not to. He only sought whores who reminded him of you. He only sought whores in the first place because he knew well you were a chaste sort of woman, the kind that your mother had expected you to be and to lust after him was not in your nature no matter your love for him which he believed ran deep. Besides that, he was also somewhat aware of the burden of his needs for affection in general. Your mother already scolded him for how he had stolen much of your time away from your children so that you might comfort and reassure him in his weakness. When he stumbled into your chambers drunk and covered in vomit, you peeled off his clothes and bathed him, washing his body so tenderly that it made him hard. Such a touch, such an affection. He did his best not to push his luck and pressure you into bed but how could he resist not stealing your time as he did? How could he resist trying to make his needs greater than that of your children? Still, he at least tried not to do anything to lose your affection completely like treating you as a whore. You were his sister-wife, the things whores that did, exerting themselves trying to keep up with his desires, he understood that it was not the work of a princess. It was not for you to give more of yourself than you already had (though he’d gladly have all of you were it not for his mother’s voice stuck in his head) nor to debase yourself like a peasant girl might for a few coins. So he vented his sexual desires onto ‘lesser women’ who should have no qualms about lowering themselves to his desires. Your mother would surely have had something to say about it if he did keep you in bed as often as he sought to, anyway.

Baela, having seen her betrothed name another woman Queen of Love and Beauty, should have been devastated or otherwise furious. If she were a conventional lady with a conventional lord husband, she surely would be. But she and Jace shared an understanding that was beyond the comprehension of the traditional gentry of Westeros. She had no cause to be possessive of Jace, she had no desire for him to do the same for her. Jace had wanted to be betrothed to you first and Baela was not unaware of this but that was not to say he resented her for what could not be nor that he cared to punish her for not being you. After becoming siblings sharing the burden of their losses, the two shared a love and connection different than that of most betrothed couples, a love hewn in sorrow and in growth— they never restricted each other, never suspected or accused because they had grown parallel to each other in all the years of tragedy after tragedy. They each knew what the other was, what they saw of the world and what they wanted from it. They would not bar each other from pleasure nor from love, not from each other and not from potential others either just so long as the two of them remembered each other as future man and wife. They were the only ones who understood the profound loneliness that had been born inside both of them, the restlessness and the helplessness. They could not deny each other, not when they were each other’s grounding forces in a world that changed so dramatically each moment in tragedy. It had been that way since the day they first joined hands before Daemon and Rhaenyra.

Baela had been seen as a scandalous lady who’d loved many girls and many boys and been free to do so by her father’s leave. Perhaps to the lords of the realm it didn’t make sense that such could be the case while she also loved Jace with all of her heart but the fact remained. Thus, she had been the first to recognize Jace’s feelings for you, he had not hid them from her as she had never hid anything from her. She knew he loved the green princess. She didn’t take that personally, nor was she jealous not even when she grew into a young lady and began to understand what it entailed. After all, she had perhaps a keener eye for women than even he. Perhaps if she’d been close enough to you, she’d have had you around her fingers like she’d been with ladies in the past. She knew from experience that the demure kind such as you were the most delightful on the tongue. The only thing which concerned her was the inherent political risk you carried as Alicent’s precious daughter who went almost nowhere without her— which she made clear to Jace. “If you’re going to fuck her, make sure you’re certain she has loyalty to you— to us,” she’d told him and she was pleased that he’d listened. It wouldn’t do for the Queen to have more reason to insist violence on him. When you gave birth to brown haired children which were obviously Jace’s, it served as proof of how tightly wound everyone was around your little finger, for no one said a word about bastardy. You kept your reputation squeaky clean somehow and that eased Baela’s fears somewhat but still there was the urgency to have you at their side for the certainty of her betrothed’s children, the need to have more certainty of your loyalty that didn’t come from being utterly enamored with Jace’s cock…and even still there was the underlying need to experience you herself. Many a night, Jace had slipped into her chambers and regaled her, as she demanded, with the details of how you tasted and felt to him as his cock pressed up against her clothed cunt in a slow rhythm of strokes and a desperation for the delicious friction that made her clit throb under her small clothes.

It was a delicate balance of caution and desire. She hadn’t minded you having Jace’s children on a personal level, (she cared little for the thought of going to her birthing bed so quickly and likely her children with Jace would be wed to yours) so much as a practical one as it presented an obvious dilemma even with the acceptance of everyone in the keep. The fact that these children were considered Aegon’s posed a great obstacle. She might have faulted Jace for who he chose to fall for but she knew better, life had denied them much comfort, exploration and pleasure. Jace had not denied her curiosities, her tests of pleasures and plays for the love of foolish boys and girls. But she also knew just as well as Jace did that tensions were being built around them all the time and had been since they were but small. She had faith that the opportunity to solve the problem would present itself. Aegon would die, soon or late but probably soon. And then, you’d be taken to wife along with Baela like the conquerers. If they were lucky, his and the rest of the greens’ hubris would do them in without interference, if not…she and Jace were both no stranger to the heft of a sword.

#hotd x reader #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #house of the dragon x reader #jacaerys x reader #jace x reader

[xsister-serpent]

Earbuds & Intrigue- Part 3

Summary: Goth!Reader is a supporter of a spicy audio content creator CraftedClassic on Patreon. Her routine office job takes an unexpected turn when she discovers that her new wealthy CEO is none other than CraftedClassic, the infamous spicy audio creator she admires. Kylo's username is: CraftedClassic and Goth!Reader username is DeathMajesty.

Warning: 18+ MDNI, cursing, spicy audio, sexually explicit,

Your mind was still returning to that discovery you had made. There was no way, no way you could get fired from it. At least that’s what you reassured yourself. Thankfully the desk on the opposite end of Kylo’s office was empty. You immediately set up there and clocked in. You placed on your headphones switching to darkwave radio and began your daily tasks. Soon enough that discovery named Kylo was walking through the door. You figured causal wasn’t in his dictionary as he wore a fitted turtle neck and black slacks. He always looked so well put together it made you wonder if he ever owned a pair of jeans. 

 Your eyes went back to work as that queasiness entered into your system. You prayed to any Gods that would care to listen to let this day go smoothly and you would go unnoticed. But alas...Gods loved their pettiness.

“Hey,” Spoke Kylo in a smooth dark voice that made your toes curl. 

 Your eyes snapped up at him as he leaned against your cubical wall. It didn’t help either that he looked..very very good with that black turtle neck.

“Morning,” You cleared your throat trying to push back those audios you had listened to countless times you were alone.

“Rey told me you guys were looking for a new apartment?” He questioned as he folded his arms.

“Yeah that’s the plan, her dad’s gonna drive us around on Saturday to see what’s available,” You answered.

 Internally you were so grateful this conversation focused on your friend than him awkwardly liking those old photos on your social. 

“Rey wanted me to tag along with your little endeavor. I- I hope you don’t mind,” He shyly admitted as he rubbed the back of his neck, “I just didn’t want it to be awkward since I’m the CEO or whatever. Whatever happens outside of work will stay out of work.”

 You couldn’t help but feel a slight tightness in your chest as you saw his shyness towards you. It was begrudgingly cute. Before you could speak he added on.

“I don’t want you to feel like you gotta be a different person ‘cause I’m a CEO more or less,” Kylo added quickly, “I’m strictly there for my cousin, no- that sounds insensitive. I mean, I can be there for you too, but not in a weird stalker way??-” 

A slight laugh escaped your lips as you saw Kylo trying to gather his thoughts in front of you, “I get it Kylo. It won’t be weird, you’re her family.”

Kylo let out a sigh of relief, “Great. Cool! I’m glad we got that out of the way. Have you met her dad?”

“Yeah here and there,” You spoke, suddenly a call came in from the company phone, “Excuse me for a second.”

 Kylo nodded as you greeted the caller. There was an older man’s voice on the other line. 

“Oh hi, I think I got my son’s extension wrong,” the man spoke with a nervous laugh.

“That’s alright, what’s your son’s name?” I asked looking at the phone screen.

“Ben,” he answered, “Ben Solo.”

Your eyebrow rose slightly as you glanced around the office. Kylo picked up on your confusion and quietly mouthed, “Who?”

Your shoulders shrug, “Ben Solo is that the name sir??”

 Kylo’s face slowly dropped as he stopped leaning on the cubicle wall. Immediately his aura changed causing you to be a little apprehensive. Immediately he wrote on a sticky note: Ask whose calling.

Kylo began folding his arms as his brows furrowed. He looks disappointed, you thought to yourself. 

“Whose calling?” You asked the older man on the other line.

“It’s uh…Han Solo his father,” the older man reluctantly answered.

“Han Solo,” I repeated loudly enough for Kylo.

 Kylo rolled his jaw and nodded pointing to his office.

“I’ll direct him to you now bare with me for a few minutes,” you replied as Kylo briskly made his way to his office.

“Great thanks,” the older man spoke before placing him on hold.

Kylo entered his office and shut the door behind him. Although you didn’t know all of the family drama through Rey, you had heard that last name a few times. But, you couldn’t entirely remember her mentioning anyone by the name of Ben. 

You reminded yourself to ask Rey when you got back to the apartment. The next few hours dragged on. Kylo every once in and while entered and exited his office as you kept to your far corner cubicle away from everyone else. Before he left the building he paused near the doorway on his phone. He was typing out something and suddenly your phone vibrated in your cardigan. 

 You turned your back to the doorway and pulled out your phone. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you saw it was from CraftedClassic tagging your username.

CraftedClassic: I can’t wait to give you an early release of my new audio, I hope this strikes your fantasy @DeathMajesty and other loyal followers. 

As if your heart rate couldn’t go any higher you saw the title of the new audio. 

Come Into My Office. CEO fantasy.

 You swiped the notification away as your stomach dropped. Kylo was still hanging by the doorway and his eyes were glued to his phone along with a smirk. 

He had no idea..no fucking clue…

 Kylo walked outside as a food delivery person came towards the door. Your eyes went back to your phone and messaged him back.

DeathMajesty: Can’t wait <3

 You heard a chime and as discreetly as you could manage you glanced at him quickly. A proud smirk came on his face as he returned to his office making you feel butterflies in your stomach.

“No fucking clue,” you muttered with a chuckle going back to your work. 

 The hours dragged on once more and soon enough it had reached your 8 hours. Let’s be honest 15 minutes before you could clock out you were mentally over today. You gathered your things and began to clean your desk. You softly played your music aloud as it was just you in the corner with no one else around you.

 You hummed to Bauhaus as you scrolled through your Tumblr feed your brain already in weekend mode. You saw a few employees leave waving bye to you as you did the same. A sudden movement caught your eye as Kylo exited out of his office. 

“Can you come into my office?” He asked you as he looked at his phone before looking at you.

 Wonderful choice of play on words, you thought to yourself as you paused your music. As you walked by him you could smell his cologne of mahogany and soft musk causing a slight warm feeling in the pool of your stomach. You entered the office while Kylo followed behind you. You wonder if he used this layout in his audio. 

“You can take a seat if you want,” he offered as he sat on the edge of his desk folding his arms. 

 You quickly glanced at his arms seeing how chiseled they were along with a slight veins, “I’m alright with standing..”

“Has Rey told you about Han??” He questioned as he slightly leaned on one foot then the other.

 You shrugged, “I’ve heard his name tossed around from her and Luke but that’s about it. Why?”

Kylo let out a small breath, “That’s one way of putting it I guess. Okay, family lore time since you’re already familiar with names. Han Solo is my dad, I changed my name when I got older. Long story short, Ben is me.”

 There was something deeper there, you could tell by his reluctance to speak further on it. And you weren’t one to press on it.

“Alright, that’s cool with me,” you answered nonchalantly.

“If Han ever does call back, I am not here,” he stated.

“You got it.”

 You were relieved a bit that he didn’t have that oversharing like Rey. It was alright because it was Rey, your best friend, but with Kylo. You weren’t entirely sure about him.

“I can see why Rey likes you, you’re easy to talk to,” Kylo admired, “I’m curious..what else has she told you about me?”

 A subtle grin came on his face making your stomach flutter. You went over to the chair in front of him, and for a second you could’ve sworn you heard him hold his breath.

“You want the good or bad?” You offered as you placed a palm under your chin.   He seemed a bit taken back by your stance now. 

“Bad of course,” he smoothly talked as he watched you with that cute smirk.

 Your mind went to that title for that hot audio. Desperately you pushed that thought back into the dark space in your mind. 

“The Christmas party, the family reunion, and something about someone’s party, I think Poe’s birthday party?” You listed as Kylo’s face dropped once more as a pink came on his cheeks.

“My God…” he whispered in disbelief as he pinched the bridge of his nose, “So she spilled to you of all my drunk endeavors.”

“Basically,” you laughed with a shrug, “You guys are like the Kardashians in my book, everything I know about you guys I know against my will.”

 Kylo seemed to beam when you laughed, “You have no idea Y/N. I’m surprised how we managed to last this long.”

You both shared a slight pause. Although he had a commanding aura around him this side was different. It was..fairly attractive along with that relaxed grin.

Before he could say something your alarm rang off in your phone. 

“I should probably clock out,” You muttered tapping your screen as you got up from the chair.

“Oh, yeah,” He cleared his throat, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

 You paused in your steps as you remembered that he was tagging along with you and Rey. 

“Right, tomorrow,” You acknowledged as you went out of his office, “Have a good night Kylo.”

“Goodnight Y/N,” He spoke gazing at your form. 

At home, you sat in front of your laptop with your mouse hovering over the link to Kylo’s newest audio. 

Come Into My Office. CEO fantasy

A pool of anxiety was swelling in your stomach as your hand slightly became sweaty. Before, you used to be so excited to hear what CraftedClassic had created..but now..

Now you knew the voice. You knew the face. 

With a deep breath, you clicked it. 

A/N: I finally got around to fixing this chapter up. I figured why not add some more tension, more accidental gazes from across the room. I hope you guys enjoy it! 🖤🖤

Tagging: @novausstuff @1dk-anym0r3 @b0xerdancer

#kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren AU #Modern!Kylo Ren #CEO Kylo Ren #ben solo #ben solo x reader #goth!reader x kylo ren #kylo ren smut #I hope you guys enjoy this #cause i sure as hell did