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shewroteaworld · 7 months

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I'll Hold Your Weight When You Can't

Premise: Brilliant sunshine!reader gets heat stroke on a case. Your best friend, Spencer Reid, is predictably worried about you. What he doesn't expect is to be forced to come to terms with his feelings for you.

Word count: approx. 3,200

TW: Brief mention of vomit and, perhaps, hospitals

(Y/N/N): Your nickname

Author's Note: Super excited to introduce brilliant sunshine!reader (aka, super smart sunshine!reader) onto my fanfic writing scene! Definitely willing to write more of her in the future if anyone is interested. Hope you enjoy!

“Does anybody have more water?”

“Where is the damn ambulance?”

Perhaps your job classically conditioned you to respond to Hotch’s “I’m seriously not fucking around” tone because your eyes crack open.

Someone put weights on your eyelids and cranked the sun to extra-bright. The harsh rays burned your retinas and washed everything in a white blur. Did someone set off a flash bang?

“(Y/N)? Can you hear me?” Miraculously, out of the screeching white, you made out JJ’s halo of blonde hair.

“JJ?” You groaned. Even though you could barely see, it felt like the whole world was spinning,

“Hotch, she’s coming around!” You recognized Morgan’s voice. “Welcome back to the world of the living, honey. We’re happy to see you.”

Your heart rate spiked. You never died. Did you die?

“Yes, we still need a medic!” Hotch barked.

You winced. “Wha?” Suddenly, your mouth couldn’t handle a one-syllable world. Even more alarming, your brain, the same brain that kept up with Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid, couldn’t understand what the hell was going on.

“What I do?” You whined.

“He’s not yelling at you, honey,” JJ said like a kindergarten teacher. “You’re just a little out of it right now.”

“Is she conscious?” Another voice entered. Your head spun. “I brought more water.”

You moaned to suppress a gag. Your eyelids drooped, and you relished in the break from the light.

“Hey, smarty pants, stay with us.” Morgan pat your cheek. “Let Emily get some water in you.” You couldn’t force your eyes open more if you tried.

Your friend Emily. That’s who the voice belonged to.

Suddenly, JJ pulled your hair from your face, Morgan lifted your head, and Emily forced a water bottle to your lips simultaneously. The blinding glare seared your eyes and your head spun. You wanted to sob and maybe vomit.

Your chest hitched with a shallow inhale. “Stop.” You whined.

“(Y/N), it’s okay. Take a deep breath.” JJ said.

“No!” You exclaimed.

“Honey–” Morgan tried.

You thrashed against his hold, but your exhausted muscles couldn’t throw Morgan’s gentlest grip.

“Maybe we should let her go.” Emily said.

“She needs water.” JJ countered.

“She’s disoriented.” Hotch cut in. “Let her get her bearings first, but don’t let her close her eyes.”

Gingerly, Morgan lay your body back on the grass. Your head swam, and your vision rippled as if you could see the heat waves in the California air. You tried to take a deep breath but choked.

You sputtered. Every inhale led to a series of dry coughs. In your delirium, you thought of Spencer. Your Spencer. Where the hell was he? Did he not love you anymore?

Suddenly, Hotch loomed over you. His tall frame blocked out the brutality of the sun’s glare, which eased your headache and nausea but not your cough. His eyebrows were so deeply furrowed they formed a trench of wrinkles across his forehead. “Check her airway.”

Suddenly, you stared into JJ’s blue eyes. Other hands tried to manipulate your body. You jerked.

“(Y/N), relax.”

“Honey, please–”

“Turn her on her side!” Morgan’s cut off by Reid, his voice sharper than you’d ever heard.

***

Spencer Reid has survived many traumatic situations.

He's cared for his schizophrenic mother. He’s been kidnapped. He recovered from a drug addiction. And those are just a few items from his dissertation-length “PTSD-Causing Experiences” list.

But many of his worst traumas were a by-product of being a profiler– a job which allowed him to utilize his intellect to help others. He was willing to accrue trauma like Pokemon cards in exchange for applying his genetic gifts to create a safer world.

Reid could have framed your heat exhaustion as another scare in the line of duty. But when Reid saw you, his brilliant girl, on the ground, his heart fell through his feet.

Then, he saw how his the team responded to your medical emergency.

When he witnessed you coughing and writhing on your back as the team leered over with water, he thought he might explode.

You could be asphyxiating, and the team could be letting you choke while forcing more fluid down your throat.

He shivered as he sprinted down the steps of the local precinct and onto the grassy field where you lay.

“Turn her on her side!” He yelled as diagnoses and courses of action fled through his mind on hyperspeed.

“We’re trying, she—”

“Spence?” You choked out through a coughing fit. He’s surprised his ears caught it.

Reid knelt next to you. “Let’s get you into recovery position.” He said, his voice suddenly soft as clouds. Reid gingerly pushed you onto your left side. “Off your back, there we go.” He bent your right leg and slid it in front of your body to prevent you from rolling onto your stomach if you lost consciousness.

“Did she faint?” Reid asked the team. He couldn’t take his eyes from your face.

“We think so. She was dizzy, so she laid on the ground. Then she was unresponsive for at least 40 seconds,” Emily said.

Spencer pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. Predictably, you were feverishly hot. “She’s burning up. Has someone called an ambulance?”

“Allegedly.” Hotch said, an edge to his voice.

“We have, sir. They’re on their way.” A local police officer responded, exasperated.

Spencer’s eye twitched. “How long has she been down?” You whined, and he stroked your cheekbone with his thumb.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He whispered.

“In total, 15 minutes.” Hotch supplied. “Emily, pour some more water on her.”

“This was for her to drink.”

“Use one bottle to pour on her face and neck.” Spencer said. “I ran and got Gatorade. She should start with sips of that when she can swallow. Heat stroke can also be caused by salt depletion.”

Spencer was conversing with a local officer over the safety protocols in the area when a pair of policemen walked into the precinct, gossiping about the FBI agent who “folded fast in the southern Cali heat.”

Spencer’s jaw had clenched. Maybe one of his team members was ill since they put in most of the grunt work to catch the unsub. He would’ve been more annoyed if not for the worry gnawing at his brain. What if they were talking about (Y/N)? She looked a little shaky right after her chase with the unsub, but Spencer didn’t get a chance to ask his friend if she was alright. And, stupidly enough, he forgot to text her to check if she drank any water post-case. Quickly, Reid excused himself, grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge, and rushed to the field where your limp body trembled on the grass.

“I’m going to pour some water on you, honey," Emily said. You flinched as the frigid water hit your hairline.

“Breathe, relax.” Spencer said, shielding your nose. The last thing you needed was some accidental waterboarding.

Seconds after the water drenched your forehead, your whole body relaxed into the grass. “That felt good.” You smiled weakly.

Spencer stroked your arm. “Let’s sit you up in a minute, okay? You should try some Gatorade before the EMTs get here.”

“EMTs? I’m fine.” You whined.

Spencer didn’t think it was possible for his eyebrows to crease further.

“You’re not fine.” Gentler, he said, “and it’s okay not to be fine, sunlight.”

“But, I’m alive.” You tried to roll onto your stomach, but your bent leg kept you safe on your back.

Some on the team members chuckled, but Spencer didn’t find your delirium humorous. “I know you’re alive, sweetie. But you’re way too hot. I think you’re a little confused right now.”

“I’m just…” You winced. “I’m alive.”

The knot in Spencer’s chest tightened ten-fold. This could be heat stroke. At the very least, you had heat exhaustion. You were dehydrated. You were delirious.

Best case scenario: you were ill for a few days. Worst case scenario: You had vital organ damage.

Just as he’s about to call 911 himself, JJ interrupted him. “Look–ambulance lights. Help is on the way, honey.”

“You hear that, (Y/N)? You’re gonna be fine.” Morgan said. If only Spencer felt that confident.

“Spence…” You blocked your eyes from the light with your limp right hand. “I’m scared. I don’t feel well.”

“Oh, (Y/N), I know.” He cupped your shoulder and hoped you could feel his love for you through his palm. That sent a jolt down his spine. He wasn’t supposed to comfortably think those thoughts about you.

You were sick. This wasn’t the time. He leaned over your body. He gave you plenty of breathing room, but his torso was parallel to your hip so his eyes could meet your watering ones. “Hey, take a breath for me, Smartie.”

Your nickname for him slipped from his tongue so easily it spooked him. Suddenly, he noticed his thumb stroking over your cotton t-shirt. He should stop. The whole team was watching. He was being was too intimate; he'd face stupid quips from Morgan for days. He kept stroking anyway.

He observed your chest rise and fall. Your breaths were shaky but deeper. He relaxed a tad. Vital oxygen was reaching your bloodstream.

“(Y/N), can we try something?” Spencer asked.

“Yes. Maybe. What is it?”

The knot in his chest loosened. You responded immediately and with more than two words; you were becoming more lucid.

“Can you sit up and have some sips of Gatorade? I got your favorite flavor. At least, if your favorite flavor hasn’t changed from three years ago.” It most likely hadn’t. Once your opinion settled, it was frustratingly hard to erode your verdict.

“I can’t…I don’t know.”

“I know sitting up is hard. I’ll help you. And I’ll prop you against my chest. I’ll hold your weight when you can’t.”

“KK, Spence.” Your childlike tone tugged at his heart strings.

Spencer and Morgan lifted your limp body from the ground. They manhandled you into a sitting position with your head propped on Spencer’s shoulder and your body tucked between his thighs.

One of his arms stabilized you while the other raised a cold bottle of orange Gatorade to your lips.

After nine sips of Gatorade, you spoke again.

“Orange.” You took another sip. "My favorite.”

He smiled into your hair. “When have I ever lied to you, (Y/N/N)?”

***

Spencer nearly created a crater in the linoleum floor of the ER waiting room with his bouncing heel by the time the doctor came back with an update.

“She had a mild case of heat stroke. We currently have her on fluids, and she’ll need lots of rest for at least the next week.” Doctor Bahamani concluded.

“No signs of metabolic dysfunction? Any respiratory distress?” Reid checked.

Doctor Bahamani smiled knowingly. “She’s going to be just fine, Doctor Reid.”

“Can I see her?” Spencer asked.

“Yes. Only two at a time, please.”

Spencer didn’t care who volunteered with him. He moved without thinking. An outpouring of gratitude for his eidetic memory flooded him. Through the thickest brain fog, he could trust his recollection of the hospital to bring him to the correct hospital room.

The security staff practically had to drag him away from your bedside after the ambulance ride. They might have thrown him out of the ER if not for the flash of his FBI badge.

Something nagged at him as he sped past the nursing station.

You were going to be fine. The ER doctor confirmed it. Yet his heart was still pounding and he could barely refrain from running. Even more odd, he wasn’t ashamed of his irrational behavior.

So what if a doctor deemed you were okay? It was you. And he saw you groggier and more out of it than you'd ever been. And who knows how thorough the doctors were with their examination? It was completely reasonable to worry for one of his closest friends.

He just couldn't believe you were alright until he checked you over with his own hands and his own eyes.

***

When you grinned at him from your cot, Spencer wasn’t sure whether to smile or cry.

Tears glazed your eyes. But, your gorgeous smile was back.

“Spencer?” You asked, brow raised and head cocked.

He’d been staring too long. He looked like an idiot, lamely standing in the doorway as if he were the one with heat stroke.

“Straighten your head. Your neck is probably tight.”

You smiled, but this time it was tight-lipped and painful-looking. “You’re too worried.”

He watched saline drip down your IV. “Of course I’m worried, (Y/N). You got heat stroke.” With a deep breath as a shot of courage, he sat in the chair by the head of your bed.

There was nothing odd about sitting with his best friend at the hospital.

His chest twisted at “best friend” and his resolve collapsed. He couldn’t deny it anymore.

He liked you. He really, really liked you. He actually might even–

“Luckily, I got out pretty unscathed.” You snapped Spencer out of his spiral. “A little dehydrated. Achy. Might feel sick for a few days.”

“Or weeks.” Spencer corrected.

“Trying to look on the bright side here, Doctor.” You smirked and Spencer swore his right ventricle tightened.

Then, your nose scrunched and Spencer's wiped clean of any concern about his cardiac health.

“What hurts?”

“Just a little achy, Spencer. I’m alright.”

He shot you a look. He knew all your excuses. He knew you went to self-harming lengths to not worry people.

“You’re not alright.” He reached for the red nurse-call button.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Okay…my body aches, Spence. And the IV burns. But they’ve already told me that’s normal. No need to take nurses away from an emergency.”

The nurses at the station desk didn’t appear to be rushing around for anyone, but Spencer feared this wouldn’t behoove his case.

“They can give you pain medication, if you want.”

You hesitated, and immediately Spencer pressed the button. When you smiled weakly instead of bickering, his worry grew tenfold but not without a rush of heat flooding his entire body.

In Morgan's words, he’s down bad.

“How are you doing, sunshine?” As if he’d been summoned, Morgan appeared in the doorway.

Spencer stepped back from your cot. The part of him riled from Morgan’s “sunshine” moniker wants to shove his hand into yours. Spencer thought he hid his annoyance well, but something about Morgan's smirk told him otherwise.

“Um…”

Morgan’s smirk fell. “You feel that bad, huh?”

You chuckled sadly. “Do I look that shitty or am I an open book today?”

“You never look shitty,” Spencer said. A tsunami of blood rushed to his face.

“Anyway,” Morgan said, “Do you want anything, Beauty Queen? I can grab you some jello.”

“Jello sounds nice.” You said, and something in your voice was so vulnerable and naive Spencer wanted to wrap you in his arms as tight as he could. Which was illogical. That would only hurt you further.

He shook his head as if that would remove the thoughts from his mind. “I’m gonna see if I can check up on your labs at the nurse’s station. I’ll make sure they’re giving you the good drugs.” He smiled.

You laughed– a genuine laugh– and Spencer’s heart soared. “Thanks, Spence.”

“I’ll go grab your jello,” Morgan said.

“Hold on, you should stay with her just in case she needs anything," Spencer said.

“I’ll be fine, Spence.” You said, but Spencer was not prepared to take "no" for an answer.

“If you boys wants to run her some errands, I’ll stay.” Emily stood in the doorway. “JJ is coming soon too– she just got a phone call from a very frantic Penelope.”

Your nose crinkled. “Oh no.” You groaned, but you were smiling.

“Oh, yes. Be prepared for some mother henning," Emily said.

“Garcia can’t be any more mother henning than Reid," Morgan said.

Before his face could turn redder than a baboon’s bottom, Spencer fled.

He’s only two yards from the nursing station when Morgan intercepted him at the end of the hall.

“So, you’re going to make your move, right?”

Spencer's body temperature plummeted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He tried to shoulder past Morgan, but he was no match for his grip strength. “Reid, c’mon. You like (Y/N).”

Part of him wanted to laugh. “Like” seemed too simple of a word to describe the symphony of feelings (Y/N) started in him. “It’s…” He’s too tongue-tied to lie. “It’s complicated.”

You’re brilliant. You’re beautiful. You’re brimming with empathy. You’re everything Spencer could want. And it scared the shit out of him. Because that meant there’s even more to lose. And if he lost you, there would be no one to blame but himself. It was better for his psyche to not go there with you– to step back from the line rather than risk what would happen if he failed to make it work in the end.

And what if you got hurt? What is you fell in the line of duty? Or worse, what if someone targeted you because of your romantic tie to him? Spencer's already experienced the pain of losing a soulmate-- a concept he wasn't even sure he believed in-- once. He wasn't not sure if he could survive it a second time.

There was too much unpredictability in his life. He chose a dangerous profession. He was gifted a ticking time-bomb of dangerous genes. He’d never forgive himself if he inflicted onto you the pain he’s been through; losing loved ones, whether through death or mental illness.

Morgan's expression turned sympathetic. “Reid, you should give it a shot. Our lives our hectic. And if anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you.”

Spencer blinked to block tears from welling. “I just want her to be happy, too.”

“And who says you don't make her happy?”

“His idiotic genius brain.” Rossi appeared from around the corner.

Spencer froze. “You heard?” His face flushed yet again.

“Just the tail end. But Reid…” He trailed off.

Morgan took the hint. “I’m going to get (Y/N) some jello. With my charm, I could negotiate for some whipped cream.”

“Don’t get whipped cream on it. She’s lactose sensitive,” Spencer said.

Morgan's stupid smirk reappeared. “Gotcha, Reid.”

Rossi took Morgan's place. Once Morgan was out of sight, he began his speech. “You love her. Don’t get in your own way.” Rossi put his hand on Reid’s shoulder. “And (Y/N) is an incredibly intelligent woman. Don’t insult her intelligence by thinking she can’t decide who is or is not worth taking a risk. And for what it’s worth…a man like you is worth the risk.”

Rossi left Reid staring at his back.

For the longest time, Reid convinced himself he refrained from asking you out to protect you from himself and his hefty baggage. And that’s not completely untrue.

But suddenly, he realized he was primarily trying to protect himself from exposing his vulnerabilities to you this whole time. There’s never been a person whose opinion affected him like yours. There's never been a life he's wanted to protect more except perhaps...Maeve.

But just like it’s up to you to decide who’s worth the risk, it’s up to him to decide as well.

And if today taught him anything, shit happens. And if you slip through his fingers, he doesn't want it to because he wasn't brave enough to make a first move.

And being your person was more than worth the risk of rejection.

Author's Note: Thank you to so much to everyone who stuck around through my hiatus! I appreciate every single one of you! You're super cool :)

Happy to be back! Inbox is open to chat about writing and take requests! Please check pinned "Blurb Requests" post before requesting! (Will update the post as my boundaries update!)

Have an awesome day or night, wherever you are in this crazy world. I am incredibly thankful you spent part of your precious life reading something I penned.

Forever grateful,

shewroteaworld

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derinthescarletpescatarian · 1 year

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Breakfast Time

My son’s stuck in a time loop again.

He thinks I don’t know, of course. He’s never told me that this happens to him (or that he can do this, possibly; I’m not sure which it is.) Maybe I’m a bad mother, if I haven’t proven myself worthy of that trust. But there is only so many times that one can watch their son trudge through a day with bored impatience, anticipating everything you say just a little too quickly and showing no surprise to even the most surprising event, and then come downstairs the next day disoriented but rejuvenated and with a new zest for life and a tendency to get blindsided by even the most predictable things, before one makes the obvious connection.

I don’t think he’s lived through this day too many times yet, because he’s not frustrated by my good morning joke but not surprised by the monster attack being announced on the news. He eats his toast makes polite conversation that sounds just a little too rote until his sister comes down, and he puts his toast down in that distinctive way that make her eyes widen in sudden realisation, a reaction I never would have noticed if I wasn’t looking for it. He told her about three time loops ago, I think, although it might’ve been earlier and I just never noticed the signal until then. I make sure to keep the smile on my face as I push a plate of toast towards her.

The thing on the news is some kind of flying beast, and my son’s eyes don’t leave the TV screen. I expect that calm, solid determination that I usually see in his expression on days like this, but instead he watches it only with a wary sort of calculation. I suppress a sigh – it looks like I won’t be remembering today, then.

The pair exchange glances and look to me. “Hey, mum, I figured we should go to school early. We’ve both got these big tests coming up and – ”

“Yes, fine, whatever. Go.” I know what you’re thinking – obviously they’re off to do something dangerous, and obviously they’re far too young for this sort of thing, and obviously I shouldn’t enable this, and I’m a terrible parent for letting them run off to maybe get themselves killed someday. But I put this to you:

How, exactly, do you expect me to stop them?

As my son heads for the door, though, I almost stop him. I consider, not for the first time, just telling him what I know, what I’ve figured out, and asking him to explain everything, to say where he’s going and what he plans to do about that thing and if his sister is involved and if they at least have help, to put my mind at ease. I don’t, though. Because, logically… I must have done that before, right? In at least one of the countless days that never happened. I must have gotten worried or angry or just fed up with this ridiculous charade and told him that he wasn’t as good at hiding as he thought he was. He has to know that I know, right? And yet, he still chooses to let it play out like this.

Or, perhaps, he told me once. That must have happened, right? I must have been there to help, to patch his wounds and dry his tears and listen to him confess his fears or his worries or his regrets about this big responsibility, about whatever he’s doing out there. He must have told me, at some point, at least once, in one of those nonexistent days. And afterwards, he chose not to tell the me that stuck around. Meaning that I must have given him some reason to keep this secret.

What did I do to him? What did I say to him? How bad a confidante must I have been, that he chooses instead to keep me in the dark?

They leave, they ‘go to school early’, and I start on the dishes. As I wash my daughter’s breakfast crumbs away, the plate slips from my fingers and shatters on the tiles at my feet. I sigh, and turn to get a broom.

Then stop. Pick up all the other dirty plates. And shatter them, one by one, on the tiles.

Then I leave the mess behind me, pull a full tub of rocky road ice cream out of the freezer, and resolve to spend the day eating junk and watching youtube videos. After all, it’s not like it’s going to matter tomorrow, right?

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luveline · 4 months

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hi, i’m not sure if your requests are open, forgive me if not, but i’ve been thinking about bombshell!reader and spence lately. not sure if you’ve written this already or something similar, but how about them sharing a room on a case? similar to alaska.

fem, 1k

Spencer predicted the outcome of the roommate situation fairly quickly. Ignoring whatever data he might have in his head about the team, Spencer was always going to end up sharing with you tonight, because the universe hates him, and because you quite like him.

It's nice to be someone first choice, if nothing else. “Me and Spencer will share, obviously,” you say, holding out your hand for a keycard.

Hotch passes it over without complaint. He doesn't have to say keep it professional, you will (ish), and he doesn't have to ask Spencer if he's okay with this arrangement. Despite endless exhausting teasing, everyone knows that you and Spencer are actually friends. Or, he thinks you are.

You certainly feel quite friendly as you hike your bag higher up your arm and sew the other arm through his. “Let's go. I'm so tired I might fall asleep on the way there.”

You don't look tired. Spencer struggles to understand how every emotion you wear suits you. How every time he looks at you, you're prettier. He read a book recently on human attraction, and less factual but perhaps his most strongly believed takeaway from the book was that a person grows more attracted to the person they're attracted to, like a loop, or an ouroboros snake eating its own tail, forced over and over to make the same stupid mistake. What is he doing? Does he really think this is a good idea? Is he in love with you? How couldn't he be? You walk arm in arm to a room you're going to share and you don't care that he smells sickly of arnica and deodorant mixed together. You ignore the dark circles under his eyes, dark circles you never seem to have, always so perfect, always so you.

“This one?” you ask, coming to a stop. “Room… 108?” He takes your bag and you smile gratefully, inserting the key, and legging open the door. “Tada. Home sweet home, Dr. Reid.”

The hotel room is small and stale. Clean, sure, but questionably, with yellowing furnishings and sparse furniture. There's a double bed, two nightstands, a cubby bathroom close to the door, and a single chair near a small free standing countertop opposite of the bed, hosting a microwave and cups with hot chocolate sachets.

“Wow,” you say, beaming, immediately breaking for the bed.

“Wait, wait! We have to check for bed bugs.”

You hold your hands up in surrender.

Spencer peels the sheets back and uses the little torch on his keychain to investigate the mattress while you sit on the floor, one leg crossed beneath you and the other stretched in front of you as you sort through your clothes. You hum as you fold a shirt cleanly and make a pleased sound that may prove to give him indigestion as you unearth your pyjamas.

“Spencer, can I shower first? Do you mind?”

“I don't mind.” He turns off the torch, satisfied. “Thank you. For letting me check without being annoyed.”He says the second bit quieter than he means to.

“Why would I be annoyed?” you ask, standing up in a whirlwind of pistachio perfume. Low notes of something sweet and caramelised haunt him as you drop your hand on his shoulder. “I'm gonna shower really fast, I swear. Should we get dinner? I bet we could order something to the front desk.”

“I'll see if they have any menus.”

Sitting in bed with you, later, showered and fed and drinking microwaved hot chocolate from paper cups together, Spencer has a strange flash of pleasure. Talking to you, seeing you with your hair in its protective style for the night, your skin shining with lotions and serums, and to have the revelation that you really do have dark circles under your makeup, it all feels private and special. Because you're still undeniably beautiful, and you act like he's worth sharing that with.

He feels overwhelmed, in all honesty.

You can sense it. You do your best to calm him down.

“Finish your drink, babe,” you say, knocking him on the thigh with your knuckles. “It was a really long day.”

“I'm fine.”

“Yes, you are.” You giggle at yourself. “Sorry, I'm being serious tonight, I decided.”

“Why?” he asks, puzzled.

“I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You don't.”

You put your hot chocolate on the nightstand and sink back into the pillows, looking every bit a movie star as usual despite your fresh face. It's your expression, the confidence behind them, that makes you so beautiful.

“What are you thinking?” you ask.

He looks down into his hot chocolate, swirling the drink around and around. “You're beautiful.”

It catches you off guard. You're quiet for too long, panic festering in his chest.

“You are too.” You put your hand on his thigh. When he brings his haze to your face, you've closed your eyes, a small smirk playing on your lips. “Wanna brush my teeth for me?”

“No.” You both laugh. “Sorry if that was out of the blue, before.”

“I say worse to you,” you say. “Lay down with me. We can snuggle.”

Spencer lays down. You don't snuggle, but your hand stays pressed to the side of his thigh, and the smell of your perfume lingers despite your shower. It must've been caught in your hair.

“It's weird,” you say, facing the ceiling, “I'm not tired anymore.”

“It's called learned arousal.”

Your laugh is a shock. “Oh, is it now?”

“Not like that. Are you thinking about work? If you think about certain things while you're in bed, it starts to make it so you think about those things on instinct. You've conditioned yourself.”

“I don't think so,” you say. “Well, maybe. Mostly I just think about you, Spence. And not like that.” You laugh again, so much laughter Spencer could conjure the sound from memory alone. “Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I promise I'm not trying to harass you.”

He stares at the side of your face. “I know what you mean. I think about you too.”

“Well, good to know I'm not in this torture alone,” you say softly.

It is the worst night's sleep of Spencer's life, but he thinks he might want to do it again.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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earthtooz · 10 months

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x : AVOIDANCE :*+ﾟ

in which: falling for blade was not on your agenda, so naturally you decide to distance yourself. however, the last thing you'd predicted was blade being upset with the sudden space.

warnings: 2.3k wc, FLUFF, ooc!blade probably bc i'm still trying to figure it out, kafka meddles with the two of you, gn!stellaron hunter!reader who has a past lol, NOT PROOFREAD, idiots in love bc i love that trope, bad writing

a/n: thank you to the anon who gave me this idea :D much appreciated, i had a lot of fun with this one when my angstier fics were draining me af. i hope you enjoy, apologies if it's a little low quality, but it's my child <3

when you first joined the team of stellaron hunters, you didn’t expect to get much out of it, especially since the team looked so cold, calculating, mischievous, and unforgiving, greeting you with vicious smiles and muddy eyes. preemptively, you assumed the most you would receive is acquaintanceship.

however, time has proven you wrong, because on the contrary, you have found comfort, friendship, and stability in the form of this mismatched group.

you never expected to find love either.

but you did, and it might be the worst decision your heart has ever made.

“y/n, there you are. kafka and i are thinking about going out to lunch. want to join?” silver wolf’s voice interrupts your train of thought, disrupting your peace in your private spot amongst the gardens.

“oh, hi silver wolf,” you murmur, shutting your book after shoving in a bookmark. “who else is going?”

“kafka asked blade and he agreed.”

the genius hacker doesn’t notice the way you tense upon hearing a certain swordman’s name. instead, you play it cool by opening up your book again, scanning the pages in hopes of ignoring the racing of your heart.

“i think i’ll pass on this one. thank you though,” you mutter.

“really?” the silver-haired asks, popping her gum before shrugging. “whatever you say. i’m off!”

“bye!”

hearing her footsteps fade, you slump in your seat, your memories with blade hauntingly eminent in your mind. you don’t recall when you fell for him, or why exactly, all you have in your recollection is a series of moments that you look back fondly upon with a full heart, love slowly seeping in to you and causing your affections to grow to the size that they reside at now.

when you had realised, the love had already grown too big to deflate, and dejection struck moments after; a big bang of butterflies in your stomach that all disintegrated straight after.

how brutal- perhaps this was an indication that blade was rubbing off on you too much, and you need to cleanse yourself of his influence.

love, although fickle, was not something that you avidly rejected. despite having lived like a hunted deer, your experiences have been fleeting, building your delicate heart for a life of meeting, falling, then leaving when you least wanted to, needing to run before an arrow pierced you- and certainly not cupid’s one.

but with blade, everything is different. there is no arrow to run from, not in the life that elio has foreseen for you. for the first time in your life, you can stop running away and try fall into the arms of love with little remorse.

it's just ironic that you fall into the arms of a man who should not be touched.

“y/n’s not coming with us today,” silver wolf reports after meeting up with the other two stellaron hunters.

“oh?” kafka hums, “usually y/n’s always willing to hangout, why’s that?”

“busy or something, i don’t know, i didn’t care to ask.”

the slight scrunch of displeasure in blade’s expression passes by the keen eyes of both kafka and silver wolf. if either of them had noticed then perhaps it would have been a topic of interest, but for the time being, the pair move on (faster than the third member), your unusual absence dismissed in favour of where to get food.

as the days turn into nights and elio issues more missions and mumbles more futures, blade feels as though he sees you less and less.

it’s not intuition more than it is you purposefully ignoring and evading blade in your everyday, though.

“good morning,” kafka’s voice greets when she walks in to the cafeteria, where you were eating breakfast alone. setting down your phone, you regard her with a mouth full of bread. “gross. at least swallow first.”

“screw off,” you murmur. “how did you sleep?”

“fine fine, i woke up in the wrong position though and my neck is killing me, but what about you? seems like you’ve been up a while.”

“i’ve been up since asscrack of dawn.”

the purple-haired regards you with amusement. “why’s that?”

“body clock or whatever,” you lie, staring down at your glass of water.

“i see,” kafka hums half-heartedly, as if seeing right through you. “well, i’m going to get some coffee, i’ll be right back.”

“mk.”

you’re left on your own for only a few minutes, waiting patiently in silence for kafka to return. the morning is cool and pleasant, and the smell of rain is still heavy in the air as the morning dew lightens the atmosphere. the weather will surely get hotter as the day matures, but for now, you enjoy the gentle caress of sunlight on your back.

or rather- you were enjoying the gentle caress of the sun, but the methodicalness of it all is ruined when you spot a certain figure with dark, long hair beside kafka.

suddenly the last thing you know is peace and calm, and the abrupt, painful scraping of your chair against the floor symbolises that.

“going somewhere?” kafka asks.

picking up your scraps, you avoid blade’s gaze. “yeah! i- uh, realised that i have some documents to drop off for elio by twelve or whatever.”

“won't you stay to keep us company for breakfast,” the purple-haired tempts, “it feels like it’s been so long since we’ve spent some proper time together.”

“has it?” you laugh nervously and kafka easily picks up the pitchiness of your tone. “i’ll make it up soon, i promise, i’ve just been overflowed with things to do.”

“alright. you be off then. don’t work too hard.”

“i won’t. my head is remaining tight on my shoulders, don’t you worry!” you reassure before scrambling away, feeling like your legs could not be any slower as you retreat away from blade’s scrutinising gaze. when you round the corner, you sigh a breath of relief.

it’s laughable and simultaneously admirable how dedicated you are about dodging every interaction possible, but for the record, you think you’re doing quite well. not that space was doing many favours for your heart, but persistence is key.

whoever believed that distance makes the heart grow fonder just clearly didn’t try enough, because yours feels like it’s about to hammer out of your chest with how fast it is racing, and the sensation is equivalent to something like pain rather than fondness.

“i’m worried,” blade mutters, gaze lingering on where you’d just disappeared. “and why does y/n talk like i’m not right here?”

“aww, are you upset?” coos kafka, taking a seat. the swordsman mimics her.

“why wouldn’t i be? it feels like y/n has been ignoring me as of late.”

kafka hums thoughtfully, swirling her coffee cup around.

“do you know anything about that?”

“nup. nothing at all,” she answers, feigning ignorance to the many suspicions that are bubbling around in her mind. the last thing kafka is, is blind, your unusual behaviour has not bypassed her perceptive eye at all, but she believes she has uncovered the reasoning as to why; said reasoning being a certain swordsman.

the revelation is definitely interesting, and she might just be able to give the push you both need.

“y’know what, bladie? if it concerns you that much, i’d say you go check up on y/n later,” kafka suggests.

“why not you?”

“i’ll be busy, but i think some support in dire times is just what y/n needs.”

“okay. fine.”

when blade gathers the courage to check up on you, like kafka recommended, the time is nearing 5pm. the sun is beginning to cool, the animals are retreating into their nests, and the big, bad, intimidating stellaron hunter is roaming around the archives, where you’re situated to work, hoping to locate you.

it takes a few laps around to finally find your placement because you’re fast asleep, only identifiable to blade by the jacket you hung on the back of your chair.

the sight of you hunched over your desk over a multitude of forms and papers causes a wave of concern (however much he can feel) to wash over blade, and suddenly, he does something completely foreign to him: dote over someone.

gently lifting your jacket to cover your shoulders, he stills when you shift a little, your eyebrows furrowing in your sleep. deciding to leave you alone, all blade spares is one lasting look at your vulnerability before leaving.

he wonders what it is that could be making you so frustrated.

(if only he knew).

a few days later, kafka confronts you about the suspicions that’s been creeping to the forefront of her mind.

“did you do something to piss a certain bladie off?”

kafka’s saccharine voice is laced with mischief as she leans towards you, chin resting on the palm of her hand. she certainly does not miss the way you tense up at the mention of the swordsman’s name and her smirk widens when you shuffle away, subconsciously turning away, as if avoiding the subject.

“i can’t think of why i would have,” you murmur, crossing your arms. “why?”

“oh, nothing, he’s just been complaining and crying a lot recently.”

“he does that all the time.”

“so he does,” your fellow stellaron hunter hums. “except he’s mentioning your name a lot more nowadays.”

you freeze. “what?”

“hm? did i say something peculiar?”

inhaling a deep breath, you steady yourself. you know what kafka wants out of you and you’re not going to give it to her despite how innocent and pretty she spins the web to look. after all these years together, you hope to have learnt a thing or two about how to avoid her snare.

“what is blade saying about me?” you quiz.

she blinks at you. “why so curious if you haven’t done anything?”

“can i not ask about something that involves my name? besides, he’s my friend, i want to know what he’s saying,” you lean against the back of the couch, trying to calm the involuntary shake in your legs. you despise that the slightest mention of blade can cause a bottomless pit to form in your stomach and it’s not because of how intimidating or threatening he is.

no, it’s because you’ve fallen for him, hook, line, and centre.

and blade would have to die before you ever tell him.

“mostly just grumbles about wondering where you are,” kafka expands, waving her hands about to match her words. “he asked silver wolf and i if you’ve been talking to us and when we said ‘yes’, he looked pissed! when i asked why he was being a sourpuss, he just stormed off.”

“so temperamental, that man,” she sighs. then, she looks back at you with those half-lidded eyes that have always gotten her what she wants, and in this case, they’re answers. “so tell me, y/n, what did you do to our bladie to have him all riled up like this?”

“nothing. absolutely nothing.”

“are you sure?”

“positive.”

“positive?”

you avoid her curious gaze. “positive.”

“maybe i phrased the question wrong. has bladie done something to you instead?”

panic settles within you. “no,” you lie through your teeth. “he hasn’t.”

“so if i asked you why you left breakfast so abruptly that day, you wouldn’t say that it’s because of him?”

“i had work to do, kafka, you know how busy my job gets.”

“i know, i know,” she persists, “then why weren’t you in a hurry before blade arrived that morning?”

you don’t know how to refute that, letting silence speak volumes instead.

“and why did you skip out on lunch with silver wolf and i? was it because we also invited a certain someone?”

“okay! fine, you’ve got me. what do you want to know?” you explode, tossing your phone on the couch in frustration.

“so it is about blade?” questions your coworker.

“yeah. it is.”

“what about him? did he do something to hurt you? you know he’s accidentally mean sometimes-”

“it’s not that, he’s nothing but a sweetheart.”

“so what’s the problem?”

“that is the problem! he’s just… he’s him.”

“is that bad?”

“for my heart, yes.”

“oh my- so you like him?”

you exhale exasperatedly, “don’t act like you haven’t already figured that out, kafka.”

the cheshire smile she then flashes sends shivers down your spine. for whatever reason, an oppressive feeling grows in your gut, resembling something like a warning.

“you’re right, i knew,” she flaunts. then, her gaze cuts to look behind you. “but i don’t think blade did.”

your heart lurches out of your chest with enough force to pull you off the couch and you stumble around to see that, lo and behold, blade was indeed standing in the hallway. the expression he wears tells you enough; he heard you, he knows.

kafka somehow sneaks her way out of the room, leaving you alone to deal with the face of rejection. it’s daunting being in the same space as him after so long, you almost forgot about the intimidating pressure that blade naturally exudes and projects in every space he enters.

“hi,” you start, looking away.

he stalks over to you, footsteps soundless before stopping a feet in front of you. instead of saying something, the swordsman merely gazes down at you whilst you keep your eyes glued to the side.

“can you reject me already? the silence is kinda killing me,” you snap after a few seconds, crossing your arms protectively.

instead of obeying to your request, blade does something completely unexpected; he very gently lifts your chin with his hand, and red eyes bore right into yours. is it odd to feel seen in your demise? because blade is looking- no, surveying you with such immense focus and clarity that your heart stills, frozen in position because it wants him to see the most picturesque part of you.

(he sees it, but he wants to know more of you. the pretty, the ugly, the likeable, and the unwanted.)

“would you like to go on a date?” he asks.

#this was awful </3 #blade x reader #blade hsr x reader #ren x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x gn!reader #blade x gn!reader #blade fluff #blade x reader fluff

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coralinnii · 7 months

Text

❋ You said what now? ❋

↳ He accidentally found out your feelings

feat: Ruggie ⭑ Chenya ⭑ Lilia ⭑ Epel

genre: fluff (uhh for the most part), humour,

note: no pronouns used with the reader, no explicit spoilers for book 7 in Lilia’s section, reader is referred as human in Lilia’s section, reader is implied to be a first year in Epel’s section, bad cat-related wording in Chenya’s section

Fun fact: while not obvious in the English translation, if you listen to Chenya’s Japanese voice lines, he likes to say “nya” at the end of his sentences.

Will I keep that fact in mind anytime Chenya pops up? Absolutely.

Also, I just started my college classes again last week (which is why I didn’t post last week). All of my classes are dense with text and quizzes so…I need to study real hard which will most likely eat up my time for writing. Good ol’ inconsistent me~

Although, I’m taking History and we focus a bit on the age of nobility and old kingdoms…so maybe some inspiration for my villain/ess!au series (or maybe not cuz history is weirder than one thinks…)

How it happened

Perhaps a little sneaky, Ruggie is someone reliable, resourceful, and fun to be around. You started to fall for him and even that sneaky side of his became endearing to you.

But bigger, financial priorities occupy the hyena beastman’s mind more than anything else. Unless he can make a madol from it or get a freebie, his interest in anything else is seemingly non-existent. It was rather easy to keep your feelings to yourself when the topic of love rarely, if ever, comes up.

So it came to a surprise to you when the shaggy-haired sophomore mentioned his coworkers at a part-time job he picked up in town.

He started ranting about how a duo at his workplace started an unlikely relationship a few days ago. According to him, the two were from two different worlds and didn’t appear to be either of their types.

“Doesn’t make any sense if you ask me” he mumbled, scratching his fluffy head by the sudden revelation at his job.

You nodded and hummed as he recounted his workday with you, but in all honesty, you didn’t share his confusion over the so-called sudden pairing. By the way Ruggie described the couple, it does sound like their personalities wouldn’t mesh well and would theoretically clash too much for anything to bloom between them.

But attraction follows no simple formula. No one can stop themselves from falling for someone. You yourself were an example.

“Love is never predictable, Ruggie.” you commented without thinking, perhaps too distracted by the cute love story of Ruggie’s coworkers or it could be that you’re drowning in the warm feelings from being so close to your crush that your mouth is running too comfortably on its own. “I mean, I never thought you were my type but I still ended up-“

You shut your mouth before you could finish but looking at the wide-eyed expression on Ruggie’s face, the effort was moot.

“You still ended up?”

…Shoot.

What happens now?

Colour him shocked. Ruggie never entertained the idea that you would like him, out of all people.

He could’ve pretended not to figure it out, or convince himself that it was a misunderstanding. But he knew when he saw your flustered embarrassment and your cute stuttering trying to come up with an excuse, there was no misunderstanding. You like him.

Ruggie has a good amount of ego and he wouldn’t downplay his boyish good looks (odds are it got him out of a few close calls), but in a school of celebrities, royalty, and guys with money coming out the wazoo? He knows when he’s outmatched.

To be honest, his brain froze for a moment at your slip up. He clutched his heart which stuttered out of beat, his ears and tail stood in attention like a meerkat. Jack was worried watching his upperclassman in such a daze while folding laundry, heck it even got Leona raising a brow over the uncharacteristic clocked out look on his shorter dormmate.

But, Ruggie is a workaholic hyena. Always planning his way to work up the ladder to earn some good madol. Even if he likes the idea of making a family of his own, romance wasn’t in his peripheral vision at the moment. Not while he’s working multiple jobs at once. He would honestly feel a little bad because he knows he’ll end up ignoring any poor soul stuck with him.

As bad as it is, he might at first think to pretend he heard nothing about your feelings. He couldn’t bring himself to make you go through that, to be in a relationship where work takes precedence over you.

But then he thought it wouldn’t be so bad…snuggling up to you during one of his rare free time. Maybe you’re the type to surprise him with lunch and he could rest on your lap while you brush his hair. Would you maybe rub his sore muscles after an arduous club training session? Having boyfriend privileges means no one can complain when he slides up to your side, keeping your attention to himself without having to share…

Screw it, he’ll figure something out. He’s a greedy hyena through and through

Shyeheehee! Better be ready for what you’re asking for. Once I’ve set my eyes on something, I’m not lettin’ it get away!

How it happened

This man is a literal magic trick, appearing and disappearing to revel in the shock of his unsuspecting audience. As elusive as he is, the times he does show up brings a shock of joy and excitement to you.

It seems that the purple-haired student has made it a habit to join the Heartslabyul’s unbirthday parties from time to time, enjoying the occasional chaos and keeping you company to your conflicted delight.

You didn’t know why but Chenya made it his mission to fluster you every chance he gets, with cheeky comments and sly touches as he leads you away from incoming mishaps such as a stray splash of paint or a flying slice of cake. You don’t know why but the cat-like menace has taken a shine to teasing you out of the blue. Sometimes he would suddenly whisper nonsensical riddles into your ear, or tap your shoulder to then poke your cheek as you turn. Small silly pranks that should annoy you but your body becomes filled with butterflies when he smiles that charming grin at you.

How maddening, you thought as you fell for another sneaky surprise from the impish beastman. Once again, Chenya appeared right behind you, smiling just over your shoulder which gave you and your friends a fright (for different reasons) to which he took pleasure in, judging from the mischievous grin on his lips.

Your shouting caught the attention of the other Heartslabyul students and recognizing the white jacket and castle emblem, their eyes boiled with competitive rage. An RSA student? On Night Raven territory?!

“Ah, looks like fun time is over. I’ll just show meowself out~” and like a mirage, Chenya’s figure disappeared as the NRC students failed to catch even a strand of his fur. Not even when he took a second longer to fade out just so he could teasingly tickle the tip of your nose with his fluffy striped tail.

The students kept on making a fuss, eager to teach the mischief maker a lesson for trespassing on rival territory. You sighed at the wasteful effort, assuming that Chenya would be smart enough to have left long ago.

“Why must my crush be such a frustrating person?” Angry hollers and Riddle’s commanding cease-and-desist orders overwhelmed your tired voice, and your soft words ended up softly carried off into the wind.

But your words caught the interest of a curious ear before it disappeared.

What happens now?

Curiouser and curiouser. He was not expecting such a confession. Though to be fair, he supposed you didn’t mean for anyone to hear it.

Chenya found joy being in your company. The shock in your bright eyes followed by your cute laugh sends a warm, giddy feeling in his heart that he just could not stop. He had a feeling he knew what these feelings could be but he was content with what he could get in the rare moments he can see you.

But now, when he realized what your cute reactions meant? That sends whole new exciting feelings within him. It’s fuzzy and warm as usual, but now also shocking and thrilling. The sneaky beastman is grinning for more than one reason now.

He won’t immediately confess back. Considering this wonderful predicament where you don’t know he knows of your affections, his playful nature compels him to milk the fun of this situation for all its worth.

If you thought his cheeky antics were bad enough, you haven’t seen his flirty side till now. Playful taps on the shoulders become sneaky grabs by the waist, and just when you think he’s gone, his signature grin would grace your vision as he fades into view, a little too close to your own face. Sometimes when he feels emboldened, Chenya would sweep you off your feet for a spontaneous walk along the sweet breeze.

When you’re finally at your wit’s end, when all his teasing and heart-fluttering gestures fills you to the point of combusting in flustered frustration, that’s when he’ll finally tell you his reciprocated feelings, perhaps while stealing a quick kiss when you least suspect it. All to see that terribly adorable look on your pretty face.

Every adventure requires a first step. I’m excited to see where we’ll go together from meow on~

How it happened

See, you thought he already knew. You swore he did. Why else would he tease you so much with his sweet compliments and flirty jokes? The mysterious senior spoke to you as though you were a naive child crushing on their older peer, which you supposed wasn’t entirely wrong.

The way he treated you with so much care and love that you wondered if he already suspected of your feelings and was being considerate to you. He listens to your rambles as though he has all the time in the world for you, compliments you on your achievements as though he’s genuinely proud of your hard work, and he jokes with you with that boyish charm of his. But the scarlet-eyed fae never pursued further with advances with you, which made you think that perhaps this was just who Lilia was, a strange but friendly man, unwilling to hurt your feelings. Were you grasping at straws and misconstruing his intentions?

With a heavy heart, you tried your best to give up your hopes but maintained a cordial bond with Lilia, not wanting to avoid the jovial fae so suddenly (well, without having to explain why anyways)

But one day, when you were walking with the smiling senior, he started talking about a souvenir shirt that Kalim had given him during their club meeting. It was a shirt patterned erratically with various colours and pictures of tiny bats littered about. It was an eccentric visual of fabric but it strangely fits the equally eccentric man.

“What are your thoughts? Would I not look absolutely adorable in this?” Lilia asked, holding the shirt in front in his uniform with a boyish smile, his fangs peeking out slightly. But you rolled your eyes as you sighed exasperated by this man’s antics.

“Don’t you think that’s unfair for you to ask me?” You looked at him with a pout, somewhat irritated at the mature fae you’re trying to get over. “Of course I’d said you would, considering how much I like you”

For a rare moment, Lilia turned wide-eyed at your words. “Pardon? Do you by chance… harbour feelings for me?”

Turns out, he didn’t know at all

What happens now?

Guess you can still surprise this old man. He had his suspicions but for all he knew that was how the youth were these days. He was fond of your shy expressions whenever he was around and he could hear the quickening of your heartbeat, but he didn’t want to assume. Perhaps you were just more on the skittish side.

In the centuries he lived, he saw love in many forms. In the recent centuries he lived, he got to experience some of those forms of love he’s seen, with the pain and joy that comes with it. To him, it couldn’t ask for more as he lives out the last few centuries he has left.

You however, were still vibrant like a freshly bloomed flower in its prime. Was that why he just couldn’t take his eyes off you? He couldn’t help but watch in admiration as you lived with almost enviable vigour. He felt pulled, entranced to be by your side for even just a moment, just to see that beautiful gleam of life (and love, he realized) in your eyes.

But Lilia felt a beat of guilt in his heart. Your life is so short in comparison to his own. You should be sharing your youth with someone as brilliant as yourself, not pining over an old soul like himself. Humans are fickle creatures but he supposed with such short lives, it’s best to be curious and experience all one can without regrets.

He would be honest with you, sharing his thoughts with you as though warning that your affections were better spent with someone that suited you better. It would be up to you to convince the stubborn fae that he was your choice, that you already decided he suited you just fine. All you’re asking from him is if he shared the same feelings as you did.

“I may have tried to get rid of my feelings before, but I’m choosing not to run away this time,” in your eyes, Lilia sees that same vibrant gleam that mesmerized him, almost breathing a new sense of life into him. “All I ask is if you feel the same way”

And he does. He’s lying to himself if he hasn't thought of a life with you where he could steal surprise kisses throughout the day, where he could bring you to soar through the night skies as he takes you to explore the world with him. He imagines a life of silliness but also a life of blissful content as he gazes at you like a beacon of light in his life, a new reason to live a bit longer.

Lilia feels ensnared by love once more, but the burning warmth in his soul is just too invigorating. He’s looking forward to this new chapter in his life, with you.

I do hope you’ve prepared yourself, my dear. Eternal love with a fae should not be taken lightly. But rest assured, I look forward to our new adventure

How it happened

You were Epel’s close friend and confidant, someone who he can share his achievements and woes with. Being so new to the college, the two of you depend on each other through thick or thin and along the way, you grew to see the lavender-haired freshman as more than just a companion.

He has a bit of a temper and is quick to the jump at times, but he was always there for you and even though he doesn’t always see eye-to-eye with them at times, he respects his seniors and takes their lessons to heart.

When he talks about how much he dislikes his height or his feminine features, you nodded along for his sake but you couldn’t tell him that you were actually in disagreement. You adore his fluffy locks that you occasionally got to touch with his permission and his light blue eyes felt like calming waves of the purest lake. Epel constantly swore to you that he’ll have his growth spurt and will even tower Leona in height, but you like how you could hold him close to you without issue.

You love all that he is, even if he’s not too keen on some parts himself

But you kept this all to yourself. You thought Epel had other priorities on his mind and you were scared that confessing would ruin the friendship you’d built with him. For now, you were content to be by his side for however long you can.

You were dead tired during a particularly harsh Flying class with Coach Vargas and you were barely conscious enough to keep your eyes open. It took everything you had to just nod along to whatever Epel was saying, something about some Savanaclaw students?

“Who they think they are, callin’ me cute like that? I outta rip off their yapper for underestimatin’ me.” You weren’t helping his point when you thought how cute his accent was as he grumbled about his day. You were falling in and out of consciousness but thought you should at least reply back to your friend…anything at all…

“I’m sorry…that happened…even though…I think…you’re really cute…”

You were already out cold to notice your friend frozen in place as you finished your drowsy comment, your head landing on his stiff shoulders.

What happens now?

ALDFIUAHLBWAIGLH

Congratulations, you broke your friend and you don’t even remember it. When you woke up, you couldn’t figure out why Epel was as bright red as his hometown’s apples. Epel couldn’t even bring it up without getting too tongue-tied, his accent sputtering out incomprehensible words.

The blue-eyed freshman was raking his brain for an explanation. You thought he was cute…really cute to be precise, but what does that mean? Did you like him? As in like-like him? Is it normal for non-countryside folk to just say something like that? But most students around here tend to mean it like an insult but you weren’t like them, you would never do that to him. So what did you mean by it??

Left without a choice, Epel thought about who he could ask about this, maybe one of his seniors. But he immediately reconsidered when he realized who his seniors were (Vil and Rook will never let this go and there’s no way Leona would entertain this conversation) and turned to the only adult he can trust, his meemaw.

In his letter, he asked his grandma what it means when someone you cherish calls you cute (not mentioning who) and after a few days of fidgeting and awkward encounters with very confused you, he finally got an answer from her.

“STOP SITTIN’ ON YOUR KEISTER TWIDDLIN’ ‘ER THUMBS! GO AND ASK, DAGNABBIT!”

And that’s how you were confronted by a flustered Epel about your cute comment one random school day. To be fair, you probably didn’t fare any better when you realized you let your thoughts slip out.

You may have confessed your attraction to him but Epel can still be the first to make the first move. Relationships and dating are all new to the petite freshman and honestly he felt a little weak in the knees, all the nerves wracking his body like his first broom ride. But the past few days, he couldn’t stop thinking about being with you, sweeping you off your feet, impressing you the only way he can, to have your eyes solely on him like he does when you’re around. Heck, he thought what it’d be like to grow old with you, holding you like no one else can as you spend day and night by each other’s side. All these thoughts and more is what spur him to take the next step.

I ain’t too great on love and romance, but I’ll work hard to show ya how much ya mean to me. I promise that!

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ma1dita · 3 months

Text

said he likes crazy

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 2.1k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where only he can help you with a bad day, even if he's been avoiding you since your first kiss. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: SAID HE LIKES CRAZY GIRLS, BUT HE HATES WHEN I ACT CRAZY guys i didnt sleep for this pls tell me its ok

(posted 1/29/24, beta’d by the lovely ellie @lixzey )

—

He’s been avoiding you.

To be specific, Luke’s been running away from you. Typical son of Hermes, and a typical teenage boy at that. But if anyone’s asked you what’s up (which, they all have, after almost 4 years of seeing you two not go a day without bickering), it’s just easier to say you’ve been busy.

Okay, so perhaps you’ve been avoiding him too.

Annabeth clocked you as soon as you turned tail after almost bumping into him after archery practice. Damn children of Athena; it’d be nice if they weren’t so perceptive sometimes.

“What did he do this time?” she pipes up, filling the silence of the Big House. It’s late now, and the cabin counselors’ meeting just ended.

“Seeing as you’re the one helping me with the paperwork tonight and not him, you can take a good guess, Annie,” you sigh.

Honestly though, who the fuck kisses someone senseless and then runs away? (Luke Castellan, that’s who.) You weren’t sure what to make of it. You’re a daughter of chaos, after all, not love. But if there’s anyone who can read your emotions better than yourself, it’s him.

Annabeth stares at her idiot brother through the window as he wanders in the grass outside the Big House.

“That bad, huh?”

“He’s just…being Luke,” you say, blinking slowly as you shuffle through the last of the files you need to put on your dad’s desk before you mutter, “I’m just having a bad day.”

A noise of concern makes its way up Annabeth’s throat. You haven’t had a bad day in a while, in all honesty, not one that makes you act like this, admittedly not one that makes you act like you— the daughter of Dionysus, god of insanity, and not the daughter of Mr. D, camp director.

It was just a bad day until it turned into a bad week, and the voices in your head were starting to get loud without Luke distracting you. Because that’s what he ultimately is, a distraction from your camp duties.

There’s so much to do and so little time, however, that you hide away your microexpressions that seem to be clawing at you from the inside. The anger, the mania, the hurt. If you unleash it, only the gods can predict how much of camp would be affected by your ‘outbursts’, as your dad likes to call them. Not like you had a choice in the matter. Your days of wreaking havoc are behind you, now presenting yourself as the stellar star of the Camp Half-Blood show. It’s almost a one-woman production with you picking up after your father and trying to tame the traits he passed down.

Thanks for that, D.

So you give and you give and you give—all your attention and time and effort into keeping camp upright, into being the perfect daughter, that at the end of the day, you’ve drained yourself of who you are with who you try to be.

You look at your tired reflection in the window, before your eyebrow raises at the sight of Luke blending in with the shadows of the tree he’s leaning against. Idiot.

“Annie, would you mind…”

“Yeah, I’ll do cabin checks myself. Might drag your brother to do them with me,” she smiles, patting your arm before grabbing her bag.

“If he complains, let me know. Pollux has heard me bitch enough today.” The small girl raises an eyebrow at that, biting her tongue from responding. You chewed out a lot of people today, acting extra uptight and demanding of the counselors to “just do the right thing.” It was almost insufferable, but despite you trying to hold it in, your emotions bled into their own. Everyone was agitated by the end of the meeting, filing out quickly with biting words and hot tempers. You couldn’t help but notice Luke led them all out of there, and they also somehow got the feeling that he was to blame.

Smiling at Annabeth in thanks, you watch her walk out to Luke before punching him in the stomach as he grimaces, meeting your violet gaze through the window as he raises a hand. It’s hard to tell if it’s to signal a truce or his embarrassment, but he trudges the way up the path and the door creaks open.

“Heard you were having a bad day,” he mumbles, scratching the nape of his neck. You look at him from the corner of your eye as you continue to write down the weekly to-dos and organize papers for your dad to sign and send back to Zeus.

“Why are you here, Castellan?”

“So we’re back to that? I thought…” his voice trails off at the sound of his last name, not Luke, not angelface, or anything in between, and both of you are unsure how to proceed. Neither of you have done this before, at least not with each other. You tilt your head to the side, daring him to speak, and it reminds him of a week ago, you bathed in sunlight when he leaned in and kissed you. Though if he did that right now, he’s not sure how you’d react.

“It’s just a bad day,” you whisper in defeat, lilac eyes wilting in front of him like an overwatered flower.

He realizes then that he cares for you more than he knows how to. And Luke knows what it means when you’re having a bad day.

There’s a deranged look in your eye, a subtle eye twitch and clench of your jaw that is almost insusceptible to the average demigod, but he knows you’re on edge, having taunted you mercilessly until you scream, cry, laugh, or all of the above. But most of all you look tired and in need of someone who knows how it feels to be underappreciated.

“D’s a great dad to the twins. But I just feel like… maybe he wasn’t meant to be mine,” you whisper, rolling your tongue against the front of your teeth to push back the sob a 14-year-old version of you would let out deep in the dark of cabin 11, having been there for months and knowing Dionysus was your father and waiting for him to see you. To know you.

“Giving me a hard time about all of this,” you say, hands gesturing to the things you have to prepare for him by morning. You’re overworked, underpaid, and definitely not appreciated— and Luke decides he hates your dad for what he puts you through, not just as a shitty camp director but as a shitty dad. He’s learned to live with the hurt—to use it to fuel his vengeance for how he plans to make the world better. But your ambition makes you change yourself constantly to try to be better. Both fatal flaws are fueled by the ignorance of your fathers. He knows the feeling all too well. He knows you.

“What do you need?” he asks simply, stepping closer to your form hunched over the desk.

“I can do it, you know. D’s wrong about me,” you whisper, and the words come out sounding so desperate for him to believe the performance you always put on that you avert your eyes.

He doesn’t need to be convinced; instead, he holds his arms out waiting for you to let you make the next move. Luke is neither a fool nor a knave— there are no tricks here, no hidden agenda as he watches you try to compose yourself with a deep breath instead of showing him the real you. The one who’s beneath the mask of being head counselor, your father’s saving grace, and the one who carries her responsibilities like Atlas carries the weight of the sky.

“I know you can. You always have. You really think I’m here to help you file paperwork?” He means it.

“Will you let me?” Whether he meant sharing the workload or being there for you, you wouldn’t dare to ask. It’s all the same, anyway—laying yourself bare for someone to peek into your mind and have them not laugh at it.

Suddenly you speak, and the intensity of your tone makes him straighten his posture.

“Sometimes… Do you ever feel the need to just…”

“What?” He reaches out to tug your hair, and in the dim light, he can see the bloom of your cheeks. You’re shy, and Luke thinks you look soft like this, wary of how he perceives you.

“I shouldn’t.” Fuck the gods. He can see the thought form in your eyes, the heat of your stare tearing through his, and his lips pull into a smirk.

“What was that, trouble?”

“Luke, don’t be an asshole…” You say warily, biting the inside of your cheek. There’s no way you’re going down in the history books for cursing the gods because Luke Castellan of all people made you.

“I thought you liked me like that,” he’s grinning now, and grabbing your chin lightly, mouthing the words to echo your thoughts.

Fuck the gods.

“Fuck.” you whisper, before your voice fails you, your eyes closing both from his touch and the genuine fear of the heavens falling down from the sacrilege falling from your lips.

“Louder,” he whispers, pulling your face up close to his, “come on, you used to be more fun, trouble. I believe in you.”

“Fuck!” you say louder and he’s whispering in your ear, urging you to toe the line between perfect child and degenerate.

“Say it again.”

“FUCK! FUCK THE…” you yell before you sigh exasperatedly, eyes widening as you feel the breath release from your chest before your head lolls onto his shoulder.

“Gods, you’re fucking insane, Castellan.”

He laughs lowly, and it sounds as sweet as sin. Your smiling lips make an imprint on his collarbone, and he wishes they would sear themselves on there for the rest of eternity.

“Hey, I get it from you. Feel better?”

To be seen is a fickle thing. But to be known is something more intimate, and nothing will be able to erase the connection you both share—fatal flaws and all. There are things you can’t change about people, what they are at their core, and so he takes what you hate about yourself with both hands and pulls you towards his chest until you settle against him with a sniffle. Luke tilts your chin up again, a rough thumb wiping away evidence of your watery smile. He thinks he sees a glimpse of a past you—a younger one that dyed his socks purple to make him feel like he belongs here. And he knows now that he does belong with you, right here as he holds you in the quiet of the Big House.

“Ugh, I’ll kiss you later, I still have to finish up here. You’re not off the hook, angelface.” You sigh, pushing away from him before he tugs you back, your feet stumbling as you roll your eyes at his impish expression.

“Let me make it up to you, trouble.”

“What, so you run away again?” you scoff, snickering at the sight of his ego being taken down a notch.

“I’ve just….I don’t know how to do all of this with you. Guess I’m worried it won’t meet your expectations, Miss Head Counselor.” A boyish sort of bashfulness crosses his features, and he’s twirling a piece of your hair in his hands like spinning silk.

“I just hope you never stop surprising me. That’s all I ask.”

Your hand touches his wrist lightly, and he sighs like you’ve already taken his breath away.

“I keep my promises. Do you?”

“Who said a kiss was a promise? I meant it as a threat,” you laugh before he’s pressing your hips into the table, nose nudging against yours and suddenly work is off the table for the rest of the night.

You on the table, however, well... that could be negotiated.

“I knew something was wrong with me when your so-called threats got less scary and more sexy,” Luke teases, running a finger on the side of your cheek. His breath tickles your lips, and you can imagine the rage your father would feel if he caught the two of you in his office like this. Besides the blatant defiance, you briefly wonder if your rebellion would get him to respect you more. An interesting thought.

“You’re absolutely terrible. I need to get this done… The gods don’t wait for us.”

A weak sigh leaves your mouth as your brain is already riddled with thoughts of him and he closes the gap between your lips.

“They can wait until morning. For now, you’re mine.”

—

“You can’t love someone unless you love yourself first — bullshit.

I have never loved myself.

But you —

Oh god, I loved you so much I forgot what hating myself felt like. (via swxrn-in)”

ask to be added to general/luke taglists!

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #luke castellan fanfic #pjo x reader #pjo imagine #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan angst #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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gremlingottoosilly · 5 months

Note

very surprised that the lovefool AU didn't have König spanking the reader while making her count every hit in German, starting over everytime she messes up 😵‍💫

GERMAN LESSONS

Your kidnapper decided to refresh your knowledge of German numbers. Unfortunately for you, Konig doesn't appreciate failure. TW and tags: Spanking, non-con, kidnapping, power imbalance, controlling yandere Konig, size difference, fingering

You messed up.

At this point, you’re not even sure what set König – your kidnapper, as you learned to never forget – off. It might have been some slightly bratty comment, maybe your smile wasn’t cute and girlfriendly enough, maybe you were sleeping a bit too tight and refused to give him hug as he always made you do. It’s hard to predict him, with his mood swings going from almost being a loving boyfriend with an affinity for making you warm and nice for him up to a torturer who wants nothing but to punish your holes as harshly as possible.

You messed up, and you don’t even remember how – perhaps, this is what made your punishment even worse. König has a desire to make you answer to his every whim, and when you’re as much as resisting even one small thing…

— Fucking brat. I was too soft on you, ja?

He drags you to his lap, but it’s far from his regular affection. You could have expected kisses, maybe something else soft and pretty, maybe his hands hugging you firmly – but he drops you on his thighs like a dead weight, harsh hand pressing between your shoulder blades to make you lat flat. Ass up in the air, little clothes you had – only his shirt, of course, König fucking hated seeing his little captive girlfriend in actual clothes and not another of his sexual fantasies.

You sob, you whimper, and you’re trembling because this is the first time he is like this. Violent and cruel in the bedroom – yes, he was kinda beating you up in his basement, but you thought that he wouldn’t drag this to your shared bed. You hoped that the worst punishment you could take is his dick up your ass or a very violent mouth fucking – not this. You hoped for a punishment to be sex, not pain.

Not his huge hands striking you across your ass like you’re a bratty kid in need of a lesson.

— I thought you could be a proper girl for me, Schatz. I trusted you.

You’d say he sounds hurt, but you can recognize the sadistic gleam in his voice. König doesn’t even bother with preparing your skin first, he strikes as hard as he can – and you cry every freaking time because, oh god, it feels horrible, and you’re going to be sick, and you don’t know what to do except for crying your eyes out with every harsh slap across the plush flesh of your ass. Your skin jiggles with every strike, and his cruel laugh almost feels as painful as his hands.

— I’m sorry! Pl…please, don’t…god…

You whimper, crying, just a dumb girl for big bad König, who has all the power over you now. Giant hands enveloping your asscheeks only to strike harder, to land blows equally on both sides of your ass. There is nothing sexy about it – you only feel a burning sensation and sweet numbness every time they hit lands somewhere new, not tearing already exhausted flesh with new pain.

It’s like your bottom has been set on fire – he is preparing you for something far worse, you know, not even counting each strike.

He drags his hand all across the redness of your ass, making you whimper from pain. He chuckles, knowing just how utterly pathetic you look right now – poor girl, can barely even think about getting your mind in place as you can’t even try to think about his hands doing all of this. You want him to fucking stop touching you, but you know that the chances are slim. Non-existing even.

— Now, Schatz, it wasn’t that bad. Just a preparation.

If that was a preparation, you don’t want to know what a real one will feel like. You whimper, trying to get up from his lap – maybe, if you cry loud and long enough, he will think about stopping hurting you. Maybe, if you’re pathetic enough, you’ll have the chance for mercy. Maybe, if you’re able to distract him from hurting you, he will think of other options for your body.

Your hands are trying to reach his crotch – you don’t want to fuck him, but his dick is a far better punishment than his hands. You feel dirty when your hands are trying to hold onto his pants, taking them off as if you’re nothing but a depraved slut in need of a good pounding. Each ounce of dignity gets washed away as your hands softly palm his erection through his pants. Bastard is hard – you knew he was getting off from your pain, but being reminded of this so explicitly…

Only but he is striking you again, harsh palm against already swollen flesh. You yelp. You squirm. You cry.

Of course, he doesn’t really care.

— Being a slut won’t help you, dumb thing.

You sob, hands retracting back to being awkwardly placed in front of your face. Your position on his lap makes your cheeks burn – both of them, which is even more embarrassing. At this point, you aren’t even sure if you’d prefer him cutting your limbs off. Maybe it would at least feel less humiliating.

— I’m s…sorry, König, I…

He places a hand on your ass again. Softer this time, if only for a bit – your skin still stings as he continues to stroke your aching skin in a feeble attempt at reassuring. His hands are burning, and you don’t want to be touched like this, but even the slight human interaction is probably the only thing that will keep you sane right now. It might be pathetic, but just like a cat, you are crawling to meet the hand that has the power to softly cradle you. Like a domestic pet König made you to be, you hide your claws and present your rear to his touches. Maybe, he had enough. Maybe, this is over.

His hard-on pressing in your tummy tells you another story.

— Let’s do it this way, Schatzi.

His other hand goes to dig in your hair, holding your head high enough to make sure you’re listening. You whimper from pain pulsating in your scalp but don’t make a sound – terrified of making this moment of kindness short-lived.

— W-what?

You give him the answer because you’re a good pet, a trained one, because your captor expects nothing but perfect obedience, and you would do anything to make the pain stop. Too bad that your “anything” isn’t even nearly enough.

— Let’s teach you how to count, ja?

He tried teaching you German, bit by bit. Dragged you a bunch of kid's books, the simplest expression took you days to learn because every mistake would mean an even rougher round of fucking, and every perfectly pronounced word would mean yet another round of “lovemaking” – soon, you learned to stagger your progress perfectly, being the most mediocre captive student this country has ever saw. You might be dumb, but…ah, no, judging by König’s standards, that’s it.

You lick your lips, preparing for the worst. He is rubbing your ass softly, gently, but his touches aren’t bringing you relaxation – you can only wait for his to continue, to make you suffer more like he didn’t kiss you like a lover just a few days before, softly cradling your head on his chest and promising to bring you very nice cake if you’d continue to be a good girl and warm his dick with your pussy.

— For every strike, I expect you to count. If you mess up, we will start over.

— H…how many times?

— Let’s start with ten, ja? You don’t look too strong right now, Katzen.

You never looked strong, this is the sole reason why you’re even here. Not a proper soldier, not actually a fighter, just a fucking domestic girlfriend for a bastard like König, who has nothing but his ego and a rank that made you sick from how much power he had – people like him shouldn’t be in charge, even if he is a merc and not an actual commander. Even if he is nothing but a bloodthirsty hound, he still has way too much power over little ol’ you.

You nod, but that’s not good enough. You grunt in acknowledgment, but it doesn’t satisfy him either.

— I…I understand. Sir.

— What are we saying to be polite, Katzen?

— Please? S…spank me. Bitte. I promise I will count.

You can feel his fingers twitching, trembling. He doesn’t like this little game either, it probably feels too artificial and awkward – you’d rather just be beat up by him, but alas, if he needs to take off some steam at the expense of your body…you aren’t exactly fine with that, but it’s not like you really have an opinion on the matter. At least it’s not needles and knives in your sensitive places – just his hands and your sore bottom.

Then he strikes.

First time, it felt like the worst pain in the world. Your ass, already sore and bruised, was heated up again – you cut down your scream because you know that he doesn’t want anything but counting. Nothing but your obedience, your pain, you might not want to be a spectacle for someone like König, but you don’t have even an illusion of choice here. You yelp, the only thing you allow yourself to do.

You start counting.

— E..ein.

— Good girl.

His fingers suddenly slip down to find your pussy, already wet and fucking messy for him. You can’t help it, it felt too wrong and too right at the same time – his hands on your body, his voice praising you like he didn’t just [unished you for as much as fucking existing. You whine, your body trembling with fear as he launches at you again – another harsh smack forcing you to remember all the numbers like your life depended on it. In some way, it really did.

You lick your lips, biting into soft flesh to suppress your little cries. You can be stronger than this, you need to be stronger than this.

König strikes your ass quickly, second and third time – you are keeping up as much as you can. Sobbing when he drags his hand lower, his fingers landing somewhere between our cheeks. There is still a lot of clean skin to uncover to reveal new pain – you’re sobbing between rounds, only allowing yourself to breathe when he pushes his fingers down your folds and plays with your core.

It’s somehow worse than normal spanking. The pain was numbing, allowing you to slip into some other dimension. The pleasure is overweening, fucking with your brain like you should be thanking König for being so nice and stroking your clit between the rounds of punishment.

You moan as he pushes a finger in, quickly forcing another slap on your already swollen ass. You don’t miss counting, but you do feel like your head is going to explode. Mind isn’t working enough to actually produce something meaningful – only pathetic chants of numbers and his name mixed properly. You feel like you’re going to suffocate.

König appreciates the view – his darling, precious girlfriend, he never knew you could be any more beautiful but here you are, laying on his lap like a good kitten you are. With his hands bruising you, he should have punished you sooner – you have become so bratty lately, forgetting your place and who is wearing pants around here. He should have brought you across his thighs way sooner, maybe turn this into a regular thing and have you moan his name as you’re pathetically sobbing and begging for him to stop.

He strikes you a few times more, his other hand two knuckle-deep in the wetness of your cunt. Such a slut for your boyfriend, you shouldn’t get off this kind of punishment – but of course, he can’t really blame his precious girl for being this fucking needy. He appreciated moving you from the basement, it’s much easier to be with his girl when you’re not rotting on some old mattress – yet, he feel that you started to get out of line as he allowed you too much over and over again.

It’s a good thing he will be able to punish you even more.

— It’s the fifth one, Liebling. Want a break?

You consider your options, he can see your adorable face scrunching in, not understanding if he is for real or not. You’re pretty, too pretty to be this alone, small, and scared – he can’t help but lift your head again, hearing you groaning from pain as he strains your hair just so he can press his mask against your forehead. Mockery of a kiss, but he doesn’t want to face you right now.

This whole fucking thing wasn’t comfortable enough for him. If only he could, he would just make you obedient through less awkward ways – but you’re so fucking bratty, it really is impossible. König smiles, pushing two of his fingers deep into your hole, stroking your folds as gently as possible. He is weak – he can’t stay mad at his favorite girl for long, no matter how much he wants to try and stand his ground this time. God, you’re too fucking adorable to resist.

— Please? You’re so cute, he might as well let you get out of your punishment. It’s not like him to be this soft, but he already turned your ass into a bruised mess, and if he comes any further, you might actually start to bleed – oh well, he doesn’t want this. Oh well, you will pay for this later – on your back, ass high in the air. Maybe he will try your ass today, just so he could have a nice and tight hole around him. A good way to make you shut up, for sure.

You whimper when he is holding you close, soothing you like a desperate kitten – you cling onto him, all the brattiness going out of your body, just like he intended. So, so pretty for him, he doesn’t know what he will do with you later.

He spanks you one last time just to hear your precious whimpers.

God, just how much he fucking adores you.

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #yandere cod #konig mw2 #reader insert #lovefool!au

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allysunny · 3 months

Note

Hello!! Can i request a 14 + 19 + n for Miguel? remember to take care of yourself as always :)) , luv from anon! 🎀

"You're the best thing that has ever happened to me” + “I’ve got you” + Pregnancy x Miguel O’Hara

Words: 4.1k words

Warnings: Beach day! Fluff, pregnancy, mentions of body image issues, mention of suggestive themes, some light angst (if you squint, really), soft Miguel, he's an incredible husband <3 If I missed anything, let me know, I'm terrible at tagging! Not proofread - oops!

A/N: Hey everyone!!! I'm back!!! Wow, I could post two works this week? Insane!!! Well, it was a real blast writing this. I mean it, I got it ready in like, a day or two. That's just how much fun I had with this little drabble! It was just so cute, and I'm a sucker for soft Miguel. I missed writing for him!!!

Once again, I ask your patience. I promise I haven't given up on writing, I'm just really, really busy hahaha.

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this! I certainly did <3

“These are so good…” you mumbled, biting into the treat in your hand.

Miguel, standing next to you, winced and his face contorted in a slight expression of disgust. “Cream cheese with anchovies?” he asked, “Yes, mi vida. I’m sure it’s delicious.”

You kept on biting at your sandwich, a content smile on your lips.

“How’d you know this is exactly what I’d want right now?” you asked, mouth stuffed. Miguel winced again. You knew it bothered him when people spoke with their mouth full, and yet he said nothing, simply happy to watch his loving wife indulge in her (honestly appalling) sandwich.

“Call it a lucky guess. All of your cravings so far have been disgusting, I thought I might as well mix whatever we had left on the fridge, and you’d enjoy it.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Seriously? Were you and your cravings that predictable that he could just mix whatever two ingredients there were in your fridge? But as soon as you gave it some more thought, the notion made you laugh. Perhaps it didn’t mean you were predictable, only that your husband knew you that well.

You ran a hand on top of your pregnant belly, giving it a few pats before returning to your sandwich.

“Thank you. Our baby seems to be enjoying it as well,” you tell him with a soft smile.

Miguel returns it and bends down to press a soft kiss on top of your stomach. “Well, that makes me happy.”

You two sat there. You, enjoying your ridiculous sandwich, Miguel enjoying your company. He’d been meaning to take you on a small beach day for a while now, but his work kept getting in a way. After a few tweaks in his schedule (courtesy of Lyla), and a few missions handled by other people (Jessica and Peter B. had been kind enough to catch those anomalies by themselves), he’d managed to snag you away on a sunny Saturday morning.

You had everything you could possibly need. Lots (and lots) of food, an insane amount of sunscreen (that Miguel insisted on applying on your skin every 20 minutes), a few books to keep you entertained (even though you’re only spending the day, and not a whole week), lots of refreshments, and four beach umbrellas for you to sit under (that occupied far too much space, something you’d stressed a lot at home. But it’s not like Miguel listened).

“Everything alright, mi vida?” He asked you.

You nodded and wiggled your feet, relishing on the feeling of the soft sand against them. “As alright as it was five minutes ago, Miggy. I promise I’m fine. There’s no need to worry about me.”

He only sighed in response and shook his head.

“Are you sure you’re alright? Can I get you anything? Would you like something from the beach bar? Fresh juice? Any other beverage? An ice cream?” Miguel looked positively adorable when he worried. Ever since you told him you were pregnant, he started treating you as if you were made of glass, and as soon as you started showing, he went actually crazy.

His wife can’t lift a box – can’t bend down and possibly hurt the baby. He’ll do all of the heavy lifting. In fact, he’ll do all of the lifting.

She can’t do the dishes – spending far too long on her feet can tire her out, and he couldn’t have that. He’ll wash everything and get a dishwasher for the days he worked late.

She can’t possibly cook dinner – what if something goes wrong and she gets upset? Stress is not good for the baby. No, let Miguel do all the cooking.

She can’t clean either – let him handle it.

The point was, Miguel was an extremely protective man. He loved you more than anything. And now you were carrying the world’s most precious cargo: his son.

So why wouldn’t he treat you with the utmost care?

“Miguel, I told you, I’m fine.” You sighed, finishing your sandwich. Before you could say something, Miguel had handed you two napkins and a bottle of fresh orange juice. You took the napkins, cleaned your mouth, and he quickly grabbed a bottle of water, presenting both to you.

“Water? Juice? Which do you prefer, my love?” he asked.

You just shook your head. It was pointless to say anything. Better to simply enjoy it.

“Juice is fine.” You took the bottle and brought it to your lips, which earned a slight groan from him. Safe to say, your pregnancy had just made Miguel even more enamoured with you and your body. The accentuated curves, the softness and plushness of your skin, all for Miguel to grasp and tug and pull. Your tender breasts that had grown, and he’d already spent hours twisting and helping relieve some of your pain and soreness, your calves that often needed to be massaged – your body had always been a treasure to Miguel, but now that his child was growing inside of it, he was going to do everything in his power to love it more and more.

You looked at him; this look of his was easy to recognise. Crimson eyes low and darkened with desire, tracing every swirl of your tongue over your lips. You blushed furiously. It was flattering to know Miguel wanted you, and even more so to know both his love and lust had only increased with your pregnancy.

“Like what you see, Mister?” you asked, tilting your head, and playing coy.

Miguel loved it when you did that. It did things to him whenever you played hard to get, whenever you pretended not to know the effect you had on him.

“Very much. Te ves bien bonita,” he hummed, dipping his head low to place a kiss on your jaw. You sighed, and he took it as a sign to kiss you further, trailing down your neck.

You were just about to run your fingers through his hair when you remembered where the hell you were.

“M-Miguel!” you breathed out, slowly pulling him away from your body. “Please – we’re in public.”

“No me importa. Que vean.”

“No – Miguel, no.” You giggled and pushed him off you, earning an annoyed huff from him.

“We’re at the beach. We’re not going to give these people a show.”

“Oh, but who told you I don’t want to?” Miguel asked, raising a brow, “I’d like to show all of those idiots staring who the hell you belong to.” His voice was low and raspy, and you felt heat pool in your lower stomach. You shook your head, trying to get these nasty thoughts out of your head. This was supposed to be a nice, innocent beach date! Not fantasizing about your incredibly handsome husband.

“Well,” you spoke, “Too bad. You’re not doing anything.”

Miguel grumbled and got up, shaking his head.

“Always the same. Always ‘We’re in public Miggy!” or, ‘Don’t do that, people are watching Miguel”, or even ‘You can’t fuck me in front all of these people Miguel’!”

Your cheeks heat up and you blushed furiously, embarrassment spreading through your whole body. Your husband wasn’t talking in a particularly low tone, and people had started to look at him. More specifically, women, smirking towards him and licking their lips viciously. Your stomach was about to curl when Miguel spoke his next words, making you forget all about other people.

“One of these days I’ll take you in front of all of them, I’m telling you. Show them you’re mine.”

“Miguel!”

“What?” He turned to look at you, and you could see that stupid smirk of his plastered all over his face. It was no secret that Miguel loved to see you flustered like this.

“Don’t say that out loud, oh my god!”

“Why? It’s not like I’m lying here.” Before you could protest further, Miguel offered you a cheeky smile and nodded his head towards the water. “I’m gonna go for a dive. Do you want to come?”

You shook your head. “No, that’s fine.” It was enough for Miguel to tense up, but you were quick to reply. “It’s fine – I’ll be fine, Miguel, don’t worry. I’ll just stay here under the shade.” You tried offering him a reassuring smile. After all, you weren’t a child, and could take care of yourself just fine.

Miguel eyed you for a while, before sighing.

“Fine,” he said, “But if you need anything – “

“I’ll let you know. Don’t worry.”

“And I won’t be long. I promise. I just need to freshen up.”

“Miguel,” you said his name softly, “It’s fine. I promise I’ll be fine.”

He nodded and ran towards the water. You watched him as he looked around and the water tickled his feet.

You then looked around, taking the scenery in. It was a lovely sunny day. There were no clouds in the sky, and nothing but a small breeze could be felt brushing your hair. It was the perfect beach day, and you were so glad Miguel had taken today off to be with you. You missed him when he was gone, and although you knew what he did was extremely important (after all, your husband was Spider-Man), it was only natural to long for him when he was away. Especially with these pesky pregnancy hormones.

You returned your gaze to him, and that’s when you saw her.

A woman, eyeing Miguel up and down, shamelessly.

You raised an eyebrow. For the looks of it, it seemed as if she had been looking at him for a while. It was clear she was looking him up and down, and you felt a nasty feeling forming on your stomach, something green and envious and nasty.

The woman approached him, and your eyes lingered on her, on her perfect silhouette. Her legs were long and lean, her stomach toned, and her bikini sure did wonders showing off her boobs. Along with the jealousy you felt clawing at your skin, came another feeling, that instead of making you angry, just made you sad.

Miguel had seemed to notice her, because he turned to face her and the two started to talk. She was all smiles and giggles, tilting her head slightly and – was she actually swaying her hips? You huffed. Miguel was no stranger to flirtation. Women shot their shots with him all the time. Well, tried to. He was always quick to shut them down, mentioning his lovely wife, who happened to now be carrying his baby.

You knew him to be faithful. You knew he loved you and only you. You knew he would never hurt you or cheat on you or cause you any distress.

So why was it that you felt so unworthy of him when you two were out?

You looked at the woman again.

She was gorgeous, with perfect skin, flawless hair, and a great fucking body.

And here you were, sitting down on a chair you could barely get out of, eating a sandwich you were sure was positively disgusting to everyone else, feeling big and fat and ugly and simply not enough for him. The thought nearly brought you two tears. Miguel always assured you of how much he loved you, of how much he adored you and found you the most beautiful woman in the world.

And yet you couldn’t help but wipe away one or two tears that spilled across your cheeks, dark thoughts clouding your mind. You were surrounded by beautiful women, all of them reminding you of how much less you felt, with their perfect bodies and normal stomachs that did not weigh a ton because of the baby growing inside of them, with long legs that elegantly strutted instead of awkwardly waddling from one room to the other. Would Miguel be better off with any of these women? Would they look better on his arm, on his bed, on his life?

It was simply too much. You grabbed your nearby dress and placed it on top of your belly, hiding it. Then, you moved to grab your book, trying to focus on your reading. It was nearly impossible, and when Miguel returned after a while, you did your best not to look at him.

“Hey,” he said. “Everything okay?”

You refused to meet his eye.

“Mhm. Just peachy.”

“Are you cold?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Then why are you covering yourself?”

“Just protecting the baby from the heat,” you mumbled. What a terrible excuse.

Miguel hummed before you. He bent down and grabbed his towel, shaking the sand from it (away from you, of course), before setting it down on the spot next to yours, and laying on it. Now that he was up close, you could see every freckle on his body, every muscle, every droplet that fell down his arms, his legs, his back. He was as charming as ever.

And you had never felt more inadequate. Unconsciously, you brought your dress closer, hiding your chest too.

"¿Seguro que estás bien, mi vida?" Miguel asked again, looking up at you. Why the hell were you covering your body? Were you cold? It was rather warm outside, that couldn’t be it. Did you feel sick?

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Miguel followed your eyes. They landed on the woman that had tried to strike up a conversation with him earlier.

And then everything fell into place.

The way you were hiding your body from him, the way you looked somewhere else so that you wouldn’t have to meet his gaze, how sheepishly you were acting.

And it genuinely upset Miguel. Because how could you ever think that you weren’t the most gorgeous woman out there? That your body wasn’t worthy of worship and adoration and idolisation? His fingers slowly crept up next to you, and he softly pulled the dress away from your body, exposing your belly, your thighs, your legs, your beautiful skin and being.

“Miguel, gimme that back,” you mumbled, trying to take the dress back from him. He pulled back his arm and the dress was immediately out of your reach. You huffed, hugging your hands around your body, as if you could hide it from him. You couldn’t. And Miguel was heartbroken that you thought you had to.

“Tell me what’s wrong, mami.” He said, hand caressing your thigh. He’d have to coax the insecurity out of you.

“Nothing’s wrong, I’m just cold – “

“It’s so hot, we could almost fry an egg on that cute belly of yours.” Miguel said. He wasn’t afraid to talk about your body, especially not after you’d gotten pregnant. You’d felt insecure once or twice, but he had always reassured you of how beautiful you were, and how radiant you looked, even with that big pregnant belly of yours. And for the past few months, you’d been doing amazing, feeling confident about your body, and loving your new figure and everything it meant for your future alongside Miguel. But perhaps the beach had taken some of that confidence away.

You sighed and looked away. Unfortunately for you, Miguel reached out with his hand and turned your face towards his. Nowhere to hide.

“Vale. Suelta la sopa,” he spoke.

There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to look to aside from those gorgeous chocolate-crimson eyes of his. You trusted Miguel, you really did. So why were you having such a hard time saying this? Perhaps you didn’t want him to feel like he didn’t love you enough. You knew he loved you. You knew he found you attractive. What if you thought you were being dramatic? What if he thought you were too high maintenance, still feeling insecure even though all he did was reassure you of his love? It’s not like you can help your feelings.

“I don’t want to bother you Miggy,” you replied, voice soft. “It’s fine.”

“You’ll never bother me. You know that, right? Now, come on. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You bit your bottom lip, and then nodded.

“It’s just… I just feel so…” You scrambled for words.

“Take your time,” Miguel said to reassure you.

“I feel so unworthy.”

“Unworthy? How so, mi alma?”

“I’m not – my body is not – I’ve changed, Miguel. My body has changed so much. I don’t look like them – “ you nudged your head towards the water, where the gorgeous woman had been moments ago. “And I never will. And look at you – you’re so handsome. You’ve always been. And next to you, I feel… I feel inadequate. I don’t feel beautiful enough for you… And I know what you’re gonna say. That I am, and that you love me, and that you love this child. And so do I. More than anything. But sometimes, I just feel… I feel like you’d look better with someone like that on your arm.”

Miguel listened attentively to each word you said. Just as he figured out, you were feeling down because of your appearance.

“Honey,” he started, letting go of your chin. “You are right. I will say that you look beautiful, and that you’ll always look beautiful to me.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he was quicker.

“Uh-uh – let me finish. As I was saying, you are beautiful. And I love you. Sure, your body has changed, but it has changed because you’re carrying our baby. You’re carrying a child. Mi vida, do you know how miraculous that is?” His voice was laced with nothing but adoration, and so were his eyes. “You’re carrying a life inside of you. You’re going to bring a life into this world. That is such a beautiful thing. Your body has simply stretched to accommodate our little one. And that is such a lovely thing. It’s a miracle, mi vida. You’re a miracle.”

Your eyes quickly filled with tears, and Miguel cupped your face with both of his hands.

“I couldn’t care less about other women. Whatever they have, whatever they might offer, it will never compare to what you offer me every day. To the love you so selflessly give me every single day, to the greatest gift you’re about to give me. A child. You’re going to bring my child into the world. You say you feel inadequate next to me – Mierda, I feel inadequate next to you. You have chosen me to be the father of your child, and you’re doing all of this to carry it and bring it to the world safely. And all I can do is watch. I can’t take away your pain, I can’t take away your discomfort. I’m the lucky one. I mean – hell, you could’ve had any guy in the world, but you chose me. You chose this awkward, nerdy, standoffish man who couldn’t even tell you he loved you the first time he kissed you because he was so bad dealing with his own feelings.”

You giggled as you recalled the memory, and your heart warmed. Miguel laughed along with you. He’d come very far with you. He was a man of logic, of reason, never letting emotions cloud his judgement. Which made everything infinitely harder when he met you – you, who broke down his walls and made it impossible to think and be reasonable. He’d come so far, and it was all thanks to you.

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me,” Miguel continued. “This child is the greatest thing that could ever happen to us. I know that I can’t take away your insecurities just like this. And it kills me that you can’t see yourself the way I do. But please, please believe me when I tell you that you are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen in my life. The kindest, smartest. The most miraculous of them all, carrying a child all by yourself.”

Tears ran down your cheeks, and you sobbed softly. Miguel scooted closer to you, and with his help, you got up from your chair and sat down on his lap. His arms were instantly all over you, one of them bringing you close, the other trailing patterns on top of your stomach.

“I just… I feel so ugly sometimes… And then we came to the beach, and it was supposed to be a lovely day just between the two of us, but then I saw that woman, and she looked gorgeous, and I’ll never be her…” You said in between sobs.

Miguel caressed your head and dropped a kiss on your forehead.

“You forgot the most important part.”

You looked up, confusion in your features.

“She will never be you.”

Your eyes widened softly, and you parted your lips.

“She will never be the woman I love. She will never be the woman who puts up with me every day, even when I’m cranky and grouchy. She will never be the woman who wakes me up with kisses in the morning because she wants me to start my day in the best way possible. She’ll never be the woman who packs my lunch and writes sweet notes. She will never be the woman who loves me unconditionally despite my many, many flaws. She will never be you. Never.”

You smiled through your tears and the invisible rope that tugged at Miguel’s heart loosened its hold. You were smiling. Thank God.

“She’ll never be me?” You repeated.

“No one will ever be you.” He replied, closing the gap between your faces, and taking your lips in his. You kissed him softly, cupping his jaw with your hand and trailing your fingers through his head with the other. When you pulled away for air, there were tears in your eyes once again.

“I’m sorry for being like this… Sometimes, the hormones, they just…”

Miguel quickly cut you off.

“You don’t need to apologize. I will never get tired of saying how much I love you, of telling you how much you mean to me. It’s okay to not be fine. Isn’t that what you tell me?”

You nodded with a small smile.

“Then I’m telling it to you too. It’s okay to feel like this. And I know I can’t understand the depth of your feelings. I can’t know for sure what you’re going through. But I’ll always be by your side. I’ll always be right here to help you. I love you, honey. I really do. I’m the luckiest man alive.”

If someone were to tell you a few years ago that Miguel would be capable of saying these sorts of things, you’d have scoffed and told them to fuck off. When you met him, Miguel didn’t do feelings. He never opened up, never spoke about himself or his emotions. But then you came along and taught him how to feel, how to love. You taught him it was okay to be vulnerable, to be taken care of, to be loved. You loved him all the more for it, your scary, mean, giant of a man who turned into putty whenever his eyes landed on you.

“I love you. Thank you so much for this. I mean it.” You said, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. He smelled like the beach, like the soft breeze and the warm sun. You placed a kiss there and smiled as soon as the salt of the water hit your tongue.

“I’ve told you, mi vida. I’ve got you.” He said, still tracing patterns on your skin. “I’ll always be here for you. I love you.”

You two remained like this, in each other’s arms for a while.

You didn’t feel the need to get up or go for a swim. Not yet.

For now, all you wanted was to stay in your husband’s arms, feel his heartbeat against yours, sink further into his touch. You looked up and took in the scenery around you. The shining sun, the clear blue sky, the sparkly water. You watched as young couples smiled at each other, groups of friends played around, and families ran after their children. Someday, it’d be you and Miguel, along with your little one.

You realised you didn’t feel insecure anymore. Miguel was right. It was a miraculous thing, to be carrying such a precious thing inside of you. Your child. Miguel’s child. The product of the love and devotion you held for each other. You couldn’t be ashamed of that, could you?

You knew this would be an uphill battle. Your insecurities couldn’t be erased simply overnight. But with Miguel’s arms wrapped tightly around you, you realised that as long as you had him to remind you of all the beautiful things you and this body meant, and how much you two loved each other, it would be okay.

You would be okay.

A/N: And that's it! I hope you guys have enjoyed this little drabble.

Have a wonderful day ahead, everyone!!! <3

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara scenarios #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara x f!reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #astv x reader #atsv x you #across the spiderver fanfiction #across the spiderverse #miguel spiderman #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse fanfiction #spiderverse x you

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2kmps · 7 months

Text

alucard could never just outright say that he wanted attention.

notes; 850 words, written in 2021, sotn-coded alucard, roughly proofread.

As it was a peculiar day, there were the behaviors to match. Within the spiraling towers of somber stone of the castle, haven was found in the countless grimoires bound in dark, stretched leather that held a certain mustiness accompanying their age.

There were such books on sciences and medicine, of great magic and witchcraft; a seemingly endless collection rowed the gargantuan shelving that touched top and bottom of the tower. Much of the matters discussed within their pages were meticulously preserved, yet they still were worn yellow with some holes, crisp texture and grit beneath your fingertips as you skimmed them.

In truth, you understood very little of what was being explained, most of it in languages and writing you were unfamiliar with. You were not imbued with magical abilities, you were no creature of the night nor fae nor beast; merely a human with the insatiable curiosity to persist in your pursuit for new knowledge.

It had, perhaps, been that reason alone that Alucard had provided you refuge so long ago now. You were simply a nosy human, no more harm than a fierce woodland rodent.

He had kept you at an impressive distance for quite a long time, so much so that you thought you occupied a space with a ghost. You saw him drift from room-to-room often, seemingly like an aimless entity, always gliding at a brisk pace with stale air catching beneath his long coat. His eyes were so focused, there was a goal in mind, though you wondered what he ever accomplished.

And, without fail, you noticed the way his hair moved around him. That beautiful hair that glistened like tinsel when the light filtered in from grungy stained glass. You had thought him to be of an otherworldly kind of beauty; somewhat angelic, somewhat ghostly and intangible.

You had fallen in love with him upon sight.

“It’s dim,” Alucard rarely brought attention to himself during his excursions to track your whereabouts in the castle, though this had recently changed. Tonight, he brought with him an exquisite lantern with warm colored glass that set the room awash in yellow light. “Is your candle sufficient for your reading?”

“I think I’m doing alright, thanks.” You replied, providing a swift glance at the dancing, delicate flame within arms reach of you. “What brings you all the way to this wing of the castle tonight?”

It was custom for him to thwart your attempts to question him, better yet, he often didn’t answer you at all. As of late, you had seen a change in his behaviors, he stayed nearby, usually no further than a room or two away. When your evenings were spent engrossed in texts, he took to being in that space with you as well, usually without any words to accompany it.

However, tonight was one of those peculiar nights.

“The halls are far too empty.” He said this so solemnly, though his expression remained still as stone. “Do you wish for privacy?”

You kept your thumb tucked between the pages for a moment before fully setting aside the book, shifted your body on the canape and gave your thigh an eager pat. Predictably, Alucard did nothing for a long while as he contemplated your gesture, despite fully knowing what you meant by it.

He was gentle with the lantern as he placed it nearby, finding a seat opposite of you on the piece of furniture, lowering himself onto the cushions with the back of his head resting on your lap. His legs were close to hanging off the edge of the seat, forcing him to draw a knee up while the other draped over the side. He made a point to avoid your gaze at first, and then close his eyes altogether once your fingers touched his scalp.

“I’m going to start asking you to tell me what you want.” You said with a teasing tone, lightly coiling his loose curls around your fingers as you worked through the long tresses. “There’s nothing wrong with telling me you want company, or to spend time together. There’s nothing wrong with not wanting to be alone.”

“I am aware,” he mumbled, resting both hands on his chest. “I do not want to burden you with something so insignificant.”

You shook your head, fixated still on watching his hair shine like spun gold and slip between your fingers as if the strands were of the finest silk. If you had considered that he’d look for attention tonight, a brush would had been kept close by. You worked through the few knots that had formed while you played with his hair, wrapping strands through your fingers until they resembled gold rings. The dainty curls that framed his face bounced with the motions.

After a silence which spanned long enough, you slid your hands lower until they cradled the sides of his face, giving a comforting warmth to his cold skin. Alucard opened his eyes slowly, lifting his chin to better meet your gaze.

“You’re beautiful, Alucard.”

A wisp of a smile. “As are you.”

divider; @/anlian-aishang

reposted from my deleted blog, cardeneiv

please interact & reblog if you enjoyed this piece! ❤️

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mediumgayitalian · 2 months

Text

part two

———

For all their teasing, they do actually leave him to eat.

Maybe they’re feeling merciful. Maybe they want him to focus on eating. Maybe, worst of all, they’re too scared of him, or something.

Or. Probably. After the ninth consecutive minute of him, unmoving, forehead pressed to the worn wood of the table, desperately trying to resist the urge to open up the ground beneath him, they get bored.

ADHD is a wonderful thing, sometimes.

“— I just think it’s suspicious,” Piper is saying, waving her fork in the air, “I mean, she’s never just, like, nice, you know? It’s — oh, hello, Nico’s Face. Welcome back. I was beginning to think we’d only see your unbrushed hair for eternity, curled into a ball of Oh My God A Cute Boy Smiled At Me And I Stopped Functioning.”

His friends snicker. He flushes, a little, but is determined resolutely to ignore their teasing — seems to be a working strategy — and focuses instead on shovelling cereal into his mouth.

As predicted, they fall quickly back into conversation. They are discussing, Nico believes, strange behaviour from Piper’s sister, Drew, although truly Nico is not listening. He’s really into his cereal.

And he is also, out of the corner of his non-bandaged eye, perhaps noticing, barely, hardly at all, really, the Apollo table.

It’s all stupid — Will’s fault. It is. He takes up every stupid room (stupid pavilion, whatever) with his loud voice and gesturing hands and wide, bright smile, practically demanding attention. It’s hardly Nico’s fault if he looks. If he didn’t want Nico to look, then he wouldn’t have — he wouldn’t have said it.

Easily. Unthinkingly. Like liking Nico was normal, was nothing, was no big deal; like the golden child of Apollo, bright-eyed, best medic of the century, charming, clever, shockingly sarcastic Will, had been — is — crushing. On Nico, of all people.

Had been crushing on him forever, apparently.

Nico’s stomach flips approximately four billion times.

“What is modern courting like?” he blurts, and immediately wants to shove his spoon in his own eye.

The conversation halts. His friends, now silent, look at him curiously, four pairs of eyes digging into his.

He shrinks into his seat, hiding behind his hair.

“…Courting?” Annabeth asks, finally.

Nico flushes. “Nevermind.”

“Hey, wait, no.” He startles when a hand brushes his, yanking it back on reflex. Piper doesn’t flinch, drawing her own hand back gracefully. “We’re not teasing you, dude. Just clarifying.”

“Well, I’m teasing you, a little.”

Leo twitches slightly at Nico’s sharp glare, but the impish smile never leaves his face. Unfortunately, he no longer fears that Nico will send him to (another) early grave.

He’ll have to remedy that.

“What Leo means to say,” interjects Jason before Nico can get any dark ideas about his butterknife. He looks pointedly at his best friend, rolling his eyes fondly at his stuck-out tongue. “Is that while the situation is objectively a little funny, we’re here to help. What do you mean, courting?”

Nico shouldn’t have fucking said anything.

“I just. I mean,” he says, haltingly. He’s hyperaware or Piper practically biting through her lip, of Leo focusing so hard on keeping a straight face that his nose catches fire. “My mother had — a list. Of steps?”

He’s sure his face is flaming.

“Steps,” repeats Piper, face arranged very carefully. Annabeth punches her in the arm, her own face similarly particular.

“Go on,” she encourages.

Nico squeezes his eyes shut, pretending they’re not there, and does.

“She told me courting was a — process. Um. Small gifts. Opening doors. Putting down your sweater to sit on. Walking to the door after the date. Flowers.”

“Very chivalrous,” Jason manages after a moment. His face, too, is pinched. Nico scowls at him.

“Whatever. It might not even — I mean, she said that’s how you get a girl to like you. And it’s probably totally different with boys, right, and I’m not stupid I know the culture is totally different now —”

“I think,” interrupts Annabeth, “that a little chivalry never goes amiss.” She waits until Nico gathers to courage to meet her eyes, warm in the late morning, matching her small smile. “Will, especially, will appreciate it.”

Nico stares at the milk pooling in the bottom of his cereal bowl, calculating if it’s enough to drown him. It’s a quarter of a cup, maybe. Not great. And the bowl is to small to shove his face in.

Someone breaks the silence with a giggle. Immediately, there’s the echoing slap as it’s muffled, silent again for a long, tense moment.

And then everyone cracks up.

“I didn’t say anything about Will!” he says, voice cracking on his name. “I don’t — stop laughing at me! He’s just — I didn’t — he’s not even —”

“We’re not — laughing at you —” Jason tries, and Leo straight-up shrieks.

“Not laughing at me my ass,” says Nico venomously. “Fuck you guys. I’m out of here.”

“Nico, wait! Wait, hold on.”

Despite himself, Nico stops mid-stomp, shoulders hiked up to his ears.

“Nico,” says Annabeth, much softer, although laughter still rings in her voice. “Why bring it up now?”

Nico picks at his nails. Without his brain’s permission, he peeks through his eyelashes at the Apollo table — long empty. By now Will’ll be teaching — “teaching” — his siblings something in Arts ‘n Crafts.

(Ninety percent chance they’ve dissolved to launching globs of paint and glitter glue at each other, screaming about which pop star is better than another.)

“He told me he liked me,” he admits softly. Slowly, he makes himself turn around, facing his friends now that they’ve finally quieted. “Just like that. And I —”

He can’t bring himself to say it, throat drying up.

“Then you have nothing to lose,” Piper says kindly. Her eyes sparkle, half teasing, half encouraging.

Suddenly, the storm swirling in Nico’s stomach shifts; skeletal butterflies reminding the storm who’s boss. Something warm and pleasant tingles down his spine.

I’ve been crushing on you forever, and I don’t think you’re any less gorgeous. With or without the scar.

Gorgeous.

Will had called him gorgeous!

“You know what?” Nico murmurs, smile tugging at his lips. “I think you might be right.”

———

part four

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dxstopiaa · 1 year

Text

Vocal Veneration

Synopsis: Lately, the Traveller can’t help but notice a alteration in someone’s behaviour. Seems like an interrogation is due.

Characters: Zhongli, Xiao, Childe, Ayato, Al Haitham and Diluc x Fem! Reader.

Warnings: None, the tiniest bit suggestive.. [I thought i’d try this cute idea out! <3 but i’ve been so tired and demotivated with school and family issues sigh, my eyes (ᗒᗣᗕ)]

Zhongli

About You: Impressions

Hm [Name]? Ah, a truly polite and welcoming young woman. She often accompanies me with affairs regarding Wangsheng Funeral Parlour, insisting on lessening my workload. I consider her a suitable role model for the children of Liyue. Excuse me? Are you insinuating that there’s something i’m not informing you of? Ahem, that is information i shan’t tell you just yet.

About You: Godhood

I had intended to keep my identity as Morax a secret, yet some citizens are more observant than i thought. She was the first to recognise such as she was a devoted follower of Rex Lapis, i find myself flattered. What? No, [Name] did not worship me after she knew i could hear her every request. She apologised profusely afterwards, and was quite embarrassed. Adorable.

About You: Betrothal

Ah, Traveller. Here, this is my engagement invite, i’d appreciate your appearance at the function. Oh, you saw this coming? Hah…I suppose it can’t be helped, perhaps love is inevitable as they say, i shall not make the same mistake, not again. Why, you ask? No matter, let’s not spoil the mood with a lengthy monologue, Farewell till then, my friend.

Xiao

About You: Impressions

[Name]? The individual who often pays her respects at the adepti shrine? I watch her from afar, sometimes she notices— but she doesn’t say much apart from a simple greeting. It’s refreshing to see a young mortal appreciating us nowadays where our job becomes less prominent. What do you mean my voice is quieter? It’s not.

About You: Karma

Whenever i’m with [Name], my karmic debt seems to take less of a toll on me. That burning sensation encasing my heart dissipates. She makes it bearable enough to manage. On some nights, she brings me gifts and food to take my mind from the terrors. Huh? I’m in love? Hmph. Foolish mortal emotions don’t interest me.

About You: Acceptance

So be it, as you predicted, me and her have grown rather close. No— this does not give you the opportunity to tease me for it. Adepti should value the short lifespans of humans, via protection but also expression, i was told. This doesn’t sound like me, you say? Hm, i fail to understand what you mean.

Childe

About You: Impressions

Ah! The illustrious traveller also knows of my co-worker! [Name] is quite unique, no? At first, she came off as a little apprehensive but she no longer hesitates to spend time with me exclusively. What was that? Professionalism and relationships should remain separate? Nonsense. This isn’t a romantic amour!

About You: Combat

I feel a sense of pride knowing that i have managed to teach someone how to master the rules of combat! It was only necessary, i couldn’t bear to witness my dearest injured. Wait! In the name of the Tsarista, promise not to tell [Name] i called her so, will you? Comrade, It was a minor meaningless slip up!

About You: Family

Ah, how i wish to return to the confines of Snezhnaya. I’m certain that Teucer and Tonia will adore [Name] too! She’s so sweet behind that closed-off persona, perhaps i can declare my love for her in person prior…Oh, you’re volunteering to help me? I’d adore some aid here, confessing isn’t exactly easy, you know.

Ayato

About You: Impressions

Do i know [Name]? Certainly, she is my wife after all. Hm, you were unaware? Is it really that shocking? Ah, it is not at all rare to see a commissioner with someone of a higher or alike status. It’s not that, you say? So you’re suggesting something about my personality. I see… I’d estimated you’d react this way nonetheless.

About You: Workload

As the Yashiro Commissioner, I am not exempt from towers of overflowing paperwork and contracts. My role, keeping peace between the Tri-Commission, can be quite taxing from time to time. Luckily enough, my beloved never fails to provide me with her delicious cooking and endearing words. [Name] brews the best milk tea for me, care to try some? I have a fresh batch ready.

About You: Heir

Oh my— why do you ask of such a thing? Surely this is too soon to be conversing about children, no? While we do intend to, ahem, expand the Kamisato bloodline, i fear of my duties interfering with my role as an attentive father for my child. Of course, the welfare of my dearest wife comes first. Hm, my face is flushed pink? False.

Al Haitham

About You: Impressions

[Name] is notably the only person i get along with, as she understands the definition of ‘boundary’. Not entirely ignorant but not annoyingly persistent either. I quite often find the saying that opposites attract to be outdated. Like-minded people are worth spending time with. Hmph, you know i did not mean it in that way.

About You: Akademiya

Why do you ask? I surmise it wouldn’t be too taxing to let you know. We were classmates within the Haravatat Darshan. She’d buy me food and drinks in return for working on projects together as she insisted. I accepted the offer, certainly better than joining the other entitled scholars. We must of been close? Huh, we still are. What’s so shocking? I’m not that arrogant.

About You: Emotions

I am least fond of expressing my feelings, i thought it was pointless and a partial waste of my energy when i can resolve such issues with my own logic. Admittedly, i was incorrect. [Name] always offered her time to listen to my very few words and i’d listen to hers. Fair exchange, i called it then. It wasn’t until an argument broke out that i learned not all experience comes from books, sometimes from people. Those words of hers became a principle to me.

Diluc

About You: Impressions

My spouse, [Name]? I don’t think i would know where to begin in terms of describing what i think of her. Loving, caring, humorous, gorgeous—need i continue? You’ve never met her formally…why don’t i invite you personally to Dawn Winery for an evening meal. She’d love to get to know you. Good, it’s settled then.

About You: Winery

After being left with the responsibility of the business at eighteen, i’ve developed a routine which i’ve mostly stayed consistent with. Having a family of my own now, there’s no doubt it is much different. Hm? My winery is big enough to accommodate them? Haha, they surely liven it up, keeping my wife and i busy as of late. Don’t worry, i treat her to all she likes afterwards with my income, wine and luxuries.

About You: Children

What—? No, i am contented with my two children. Hah, any more and i believe i wouldn’t be able to multitask between my profession and duties. Though i do quite like the idea of staying home on paternity leave with my beloved [Name]. Again, please, i request you not to suggest such…topics, my wife is already teasing me, not you too.

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daydreaming-nerd · 2 months

Text

The Bonds That Break Us (Rhysand x Female! Reader) Final Part

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Request: "Would you do a Rhysand x fem!reader series? Maybe fem!reader is Rhysand's mate and Tamlin's sister? So secret love?"

AN: I'm sorry this took me a little while guys. I'm currently a sick college student without the funds for Dayquil so we've been struggling. I hope you all like this <3

Summary: It was almost as if the cauldron liked to play games, as if it had sensed years of boredom and predictability and begged to be entertained. Its method of absolving its melancholy? Mate the High Lord of the Night Court to the younger sister of the High Lord of Spring.

Warnings (so far): mentions of physical abuse, mentions of SA, major sexisim, SMUT, dirty talk, Oral (male and female receiving), Slight breeding kink?, angst,

Word count: 5475

(all photos are from pinterest)

I glanced through the crevice in the oak doors and beheld the most serene image I have ever witnessed, perhaps ever will witness. Candles lighted the room giving it a warm, faint, glow. The smell of night blooming jasmine filled the air and not a sound could be heard from the small chapel. Rhys stood tall and proud, a crown atop his beautiful head. All members of the inner circle stood around, getting ready to bear witness to the ceremony about to take place.

I smoothed my hands over my wedding dress once more. I had frantically gone shopping with Mor the day after Rhysand asked me to be his High Lady. With the council meeting to discuss my fate coming so soon we had no time for a grand ceremony, but I couldn’t have been happier with the way things had turned out. Even though the dress was last minute it was perfect, and I couldn’t have pictured anything else I would’ve married Rhys in.

If you’re having second thoughts mate we can always postpone, Rhysand’s voice crooned into my mind. I looked through the crack in the door to find a somewhat worried expression on his face.

“Far from it my love, I was just making sure I look perfect.” I giggle down the bond.

I’m dying to see you in a wedding dress.

I smile and decide not to wait any longer to fulfill his desires. I leave a light knock on the double doors signaling for the men on the other sides to open them up. Immediately all eyes are on me. Normally I would panic or flee or worse, but not tonight. Tonight I locked eyes with Rhys, admiring that unique shade of violet that pulled me in from the moment I set eyes on him. The aisle was short and within a few steps I was clasping hands with Rhys.

“You’re so beautiful mate,” he gushes, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“You clean up pretty good yourself mate,” I smile, squeezing his hands as we both turn to the priestess.

“We all gather here today to be witness to the union of these two fae, and the crowning of our new High Lady of The Night Court,” the priestess begins and turns to Rhysand, “Do you, Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, take y/n to be your wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”

Rhys regarded me with a familiar gaze, one he had cast a thousand times, but this time held a distinct quality. It was a look of pride, something I had never seen before him. I had never held such significance for anyone. His gaze conveyed a sense that I was everything he had ever desired, the missing piece in his puzzle—lost and now found.

“I do,” he smiled and a tear fell down his cheek.

The priestess turned to me, “Do you, y/n, Princess of the Spring Court, take Rhysand to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?” she said.

“I do,” I say to Rhys without hesitation. Down the bond I can feel joy in his heart rise.

“Y/n,” she begins again. “Will you swear the oath of High Lady?”

I smile and feel my nerves pick up but I answer truthfully, “I will,”

The priestess picks up a glittering crown and holds it in her hands. The large diamonds atop it remind me of the stars that lie over the Illyrian mountain. “Do you y/n promise to serve and protect the Night Court? Do you promise to uphold the customs and practices of its people? To lay down your life for the sake of this court and always act in its best interest whatever the consequence?” she asked me.

“I solemnly promise to do so,” I say assuredly.

“Then I crown thee, High Lady of the Night Court,” she says, placing the crown on my head, the weight of it comforting me. “And by the power vested in me, by our High Lord Rhysand of the Night Court, I pronounce you both husband and wife. Rhysand, you may kiss your wife and your High Lady.” the priestess mused.

“With pleasure,” he smiled before placing a hand on my cheek and pulling me in for a deep kiss. I couldn’t help but smile as I felt his rogue tear of happiness caress my cheek.

I broke the kiss and looked into his eyes as I raised a hand to cup his face. He was so handsome, so perfect and he was mine. All I could think of was one word, husband.

“Hell yeah I have a sister now!” Cassian shouted, picking me up and swinging me around before putting me down and engulfing me in a massive bear hug. I backed away to see Cassian’s happy face and then I felt a hand placed on my shoulder.

“We have a sister Cass,” Azriel crooned and I turned to give him a hug as well.

“Welcome to the family y/n!” Mor shouted, throwing her arms around me and it wasn’t long until the whole inner circle was giving me the world's longest group hug.

Not the inner circle anymore, my family. The word used to taste like venom in my mouth, my family had never loved me, never seen me as anything but a means to power. A marble mansion that was so empty and cold. But now I had this, this family. This marriage might not save me from the demands of Tamlin and Eris, and me being High Lady might not give me immunity from Beron’s wrath. But it gave me one thing, something to fight for, not just my mate, but my family.

The sun shined brightly in the Day Court like it did the last time I stepped foot here. Things had changed so much since then. Back then I had just met Rhys and he was begging me to just say his name. Now I walked in as his wife and his High Lady. Although my dress billowed behind me like I was going to a ball I had never felt more like I was going to war.

Azriel and Cassian flanked behind us, normally they didn’t come to council meetings but Rhys told me he meant what he said, that he wouldn’t let Beron and Eris take me from him. He was prepared to fight our way out of this chamber, and was prepared to kill every High Lord in here. The scary part is that he was perfectly capable of doing so, especially with Azriel and Cassian with us.

The room wasn’t abuzz with the usual chatter of High Lords and their companions when we arrived there. The second we crossed the threshold all eyes were on us. I couldn’t tell which drew their gaze the most, their princess of spring clad in black, the crown glittering atop my head, Rhysand’s death glare, or the Illyrians that flanked us. Each lord seated themselves presently, feeling our silent threat. Every lord but one.

“Night becomes you, sister,” Tamlin drawls from where he leans over the long table, Beron and Eris seated on his left, Lucien at his right.

“That it does, Tamlin,” I say, my words cold as ice. I feel Rhysand pluck at the bond showing his pride.

“Rhysand, y/n. Please be seated so we may begin the trial,” Helion said. I had always loved Helion, and I could tell he wasn’t happy about this arrangement. But for whatever reason this is where the trial would be held. We do as we are asked, Cassian and Azriel standing behind us as the chairs here are not equipped for wings. “Beron, Tamlin we will hear your case, then Rhysand you will be able to state yours. After that the council will decide who is at fault.” Helion explains and nods to Beron to begin.

“High Lord’s of Prythian I have brought this issue before you today because I wish to find a civil resolution to my case, rather than declaring war upon the Night Court,” Beron began. “A few weeks ago Tamlin and I had meetings discussing the betrothal of Eris and y/n. It had always been abundantly clear from that meeting forward that y/n belonged to Eris. All that stood in the way of formally announcing the engagement was solidifying the terms of the union, what we would give Tamlin in exchange for her and how many male heirs she would be required to bear Eris. She was the property of Eris Vanserra long before Rhysand ever tried to claim her.” Beron says with a confidence that I almost envy.

It took everything inside of me not to lash out at the word “property” and Rhysand’s grip on my hand told me it killed him inside as well. I can’t help but feel some sort of fear, these men only see me as a breeding vessel, they don’t care for my happiness and they don’t care for my well being beyond my ability to bear sons. I don’t stand a chance at going home with Rhys.

Shhh, I’ll never let them take you. I’ll burn this place to the ground if they even touch you. That beautiful, glorious voice cleaves into my mind and I let myself breathe again.

“And when did Rhysand make his claim on your sister?” Tarquin asks Tamlin, clearly still holding a grudge over the land dispute they had.

“It started a week ago today, when my sister came home from what I thought was the Winter Court. She came into my office and told me that the High Lord of the Night Court had deflowered her and that because of it she no longer wished to marry Eris Vanserra. Soon after Rhysand broke into my court, attacked me, and stole my sister away.” Tamlin said.

“You dirty fucking liar!” I stand unable to keep myself restrained anymore. I feel Rhysand’s hand grip my arm but I don’t care anymore. How dare Tamlin spew out such disingenuous claims in a trail such as this.

“You are not a member of this council you useless whore and you will not speak unless spoken to!” Beron shouts standing as well, the moment he does his eyes go wide and pain laces his face. Rhysand stands beside me and I realize that he has his talons in Beron’s mind.

“If you EVER speak of my wife in such a manor again, I will fucking kill you and every male heir you have Vanserra,” Rhysand booms, and even I feel a chill go down my spine.

“Wife?!” Tamlin shouts in a fit of anger, taking to his own two feet.

“And his High Lady,” I boast with pride and I scooch my hand to lay on top of Rhysand’s. All I can feel thrumming through the bond is pure male pride as the entire room begins to murmur their shock to one another.

“Impossible,” Tamlin seethes, getting ready to pounce as the room continues in their sock and surprise.

“Quiet!” Helion shouts above the crowd, and I don’t break eye contact with Tamlin. “All of you sit down now!”

We do as we’re told but it doesn’t dissolve the tension in the room as we all continue to stare daggers into one another. Tamlin tries to cover his shock with anger but hides it poorly.

“Rhysand, why did you attack Tamlin in his own court?” Helion asks calmly.

“Because he threatened my mate,” he growled. This time the room gave a collective gasp and would’ve gone into full blown panic had Rhys not continued to speak. “I found her injured, freezing and starving in the dungeons below the Spring Court. If we had this meeting sooner you would be able to see the bruise around her beautiful neck from where he choked her.”

Neither party speaks save for the buzzing mumbles circling the room that followed the word ‘mate’. For me to be mated to Rhysand was surely the most exciting and scandalous thing to happen in a hundred years. Kallias was the one to finally break the silence.

“The laws of mates are absolute, and we will not stand by and watch this council question Rhysand and y/n another moment!” Kallias shouts, standing hand in hand with Vivianne.

My head whips over to the High Lord and Lady and I expect to see something like pity in Viviane's eyes, but all I see is happiness and pride. Happiness for having finally found my mate, pride for having finally found the will to stand up for myself.

“I stand with Kallias and Viviane, if we don’t validate their mating bond, who's to say the council won’t stop with them.” Thessan says. “If I ever find my mate I don’t want to worry about them being taken away from me.”

A collective murmur of agreement comes over the room and it seems that a verdict has been decided. Helion stands and the scrape of his chair echos off the marble walls quieting everyone down.

“All those in favor of blessing the union of Rhysand and y/n?” he asks. Every single hand shoots up without hesitation, the only ones who don’t belong to the Spring and Autumn Court. “Rhysand and y/n. You have the blessing of this council.” Helion smiles.

I turn to Rhys smiling brightly as the whole council room erupts in applause. His violet eyes gleam with pride and for the first time ever he drops his mighty High Lord act and smiles back. I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him and I can hear Viviane saying “awww” from across the room. We break apart and I can’t help but stare at him. Free, I am finally free.

“YOU SELFISH WHORE!” Tamlin screeches and in a second he leaps across the table. He doesn’t get far before blue and red siphons are holding him back. “YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME!” he screams struggling against Cassian and Azriel’s power.

Rhys threw his body in front of mine and I put a hand on his shoulder and began to move past him towards Tamlin. He grabs my wrist and I turn to meet his violet gaze. His eyes laced with worry asking me to stay behind him.

“It’s okay,” I say quietly and Rhys lets go. I walk towards where Tamlin is still struggling and stand right in front of him. I can feel Rhys’ tension through the bond but I push it away. “You did this to yourself Tamlin. I wish things had been different, I really do. I could kill you right now, but I won’t. But if you EVER step foot in my court, I will send out my General, my Spymaster and my mate to find you and I will let them kill you in whatever way they deem worthy for a male such as you.”

Tamlin stops struggling, unable to fight against Cassian and Azriel any longer. For once in my life, I see true fear in his eyes. A male stripped of everything, his land, his power, his bargaining chip and now his pride.

I turn and take Rhysand’s hand and he leads me out of the council room, Cassian and Azriel flanking behind us in case Tamin gets any bright ideas again.

“My strong, smart, beautiful mate. I am so proud of you. You spoke like a true High Lady in there,” Rhys boasts as we walk down the hall.

“I feel like a High Lady now,” I laugh, squeezing his hand.

“Just wait till later, wife. I have every intention of taking you home and fucking you senseless while you wear nothing but that crown on your head.” Rhysand drawls low.

Rhys can hardly keep his hands off me as we burst into the townhouse. In fact he doesn't. I'm the one who has to open the front door because his fingers won’t stop dancing all over my waist as he leaves open mouth kisses all over my neck. If this was his reaction to me wearing a crown, best believe I would be wearing them a lot more often.

The door slams behind us and in an instant he has me pressed up against it already lifting my skirts.

“Rhys, Rhys wait there’s something I need to do first!” I protest as he attacks my neck.

“Yes, you need to do me first.” he smirks, kissing me again.

“Rhys stop!” I giggle pushing him off and he finally halts his movements. “Have a seat, I'll be right back.” I smile before disappearing into the next room.

I look around the kitchen and all I see are ingredients. I turn to make sure Rhys isn’t following me and find him sprawled out on the couch in a fit of utter frustration. I try not to giggle to myself as I raid the kitchen. Normally the townhouse makes food for us, so being in here is new. I keep opening up drawers and only finding utensils, towels and bowls.

“Wife, I'm dying in here!” Rhysand groans from the living room.

“One moment my oh so impatient husband!” I holler back.

My eyes land on a jar of strawberry jam and I snatch it up eagerly. I walk over to the bread box and pluck a slice from it. I place it on an ornate plate and begin to spread the jam on top as neat and perfect as can be before carrying it out to the living room where my husband is throwing his temper tantrum.

“Here,” I say, handing him the toast with jam. “I know it’s not much but it’s all that was lying around.”

Rhysand’s eyes light up as I present him with food that I made. He takes the plate carefully and looks at it, knowing full well what it means for a female to present her mate with food.

“You want to mate? Right now?” he asks bewildered.

“Yes,” I say without hesitation.

“You do know what you’re getting into right? I won’t act like…myself. We’ll have to go into the mountains for a while. I won’t be able to control myself,” he explains further and I can already feel the arousal pooling between my legs.

“Yes I know what I’m getting myself into. We can go into the mountains for however long we need. But I want our first mating to be here, in our home. Then we can winnow to the cabin. That’s my only stipulation,” I tell him.

“I will agree to that,” he replies.

I don’t even have time to say another word before he takes a couple bites of the pathetic toast I made him. While I watch him consume it, I’m sure that it’s the worst mating meal a female has ever presented to a male. Nonetheless, he eats it like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

His eyes flick up to meet mine and the plate is discarded on the floor with a crash. In mere seconds stands up and I swear to the gods he’s even taller than he normally is. His hand circles my waist and his touch sets me on fire, now that the mating bond has been accepted. His free hand tilts my chin up to him and he stares at my lips. I must look like a wanton whore begging for him to touch me.

“Mine,” he growls before searing our lips together. The word alone tells me everything he said before this is true. This isn’t just Rhys, it’s Rhys in his most primal form.

I whine into his lips and I feel him hoist me up in his arms with ease, despite the large amounts of tule that make up my dress. My hands are in his hair in an instant, nearly knocking the crown off his head and I grab it before it falls off. We start moving up the stairs as fast as Rhysand’s can carry us.

“Best believe the first time I fuck you as my mate it’s going to be in our marriage bed,” he smirks before slamming the door to our bedroom with his foot.

The second he talks about fucking me my skin is on fire and the buzzing sension I always felt when he was near was amped up times ten. Like if I didn’t get his cock in me right now I would burst into flames and die. He sets me down on my feet and I begin to undo the buttons of his shirt. I feel him fumble with the millions of buttons fastening the back of my dress before a deafening rip sounds throughout the room and those millions of buttons are being cast off in every direction.

I don’t even have a mind to care about it as the dress cascades down and pools on the floor. His mouth is all over my collar bones needy and leaving little bites all over me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful mate,” he groans between kisses.

I feel my crown slipping and I move to take it off but I feel Rhys’ hand stop me.

“What did I say earlier?” he asked.

“That you wanted to fuck me while I wear nothing but the crown,” I say meekly remembering his promise.

“No I said I was going to fuck you senseless while you wear nothing but that crown mate,” he groans kissing me deeply again.

I feel my legs hit the mattress and I fall back on it greedily. He stares down at me like I’m his own personal feast and he nearly pounces on me but I hold a hand up to stop him.

“I want to try something,” I say before he can ravish me again. “Something I read about in a book.” I explain further.

“Oh really? Well I won’t pass up that opportunity. What do you want me to do mate?” His voice is deep and husky.

“Just stand there,” I say before sliding off the bed and dropping to my knees in front of him.

His eyes blow wide as I stare up at him from under my eye lashes. My hands go to his pants where I expertly un-fasten them and pull them down his legs along with his underwear. He steps on them and watches me intensely as I’m face to face with his aching cock.

“Are you going to suck my cock wife?” he muses and the words go straight to my core as I wrap my hands around him and give a lick up his length.

The sound that comes out of him is nothing short of animalistic. It spurs me on as I take him the entire length of my mouth and start sucking. Whatever I can’t fit in my mouth I stroke with my hands and the look of pure bliss on him has me seeing stars. He so fucking beautiful. His muscles are dripping with sweat from the need to cum in me, his eyes are closed taking every stroke I give him, and his lips are parted having the softest wimpers escape them. He’s never been more beautiful than he is right now and I can’t help but moan, sending vibrations through his cock.

“Oh fuck mate!” he screams and his hands find the back of my head. I swear I’m so wet at the sight of him getting his pleasure from me that I might have left a wet spot on his carpet. I moan again to send another wave of vibrations through him.

“Shit y/n I’m gonna cum, let me cum inside you!” He shouts trying to remove my head from his member but I swipe his hand away.

I gently cup his balls and it has him emptying his load into my mouth. I work him through his orgasm staring up at him with the most innocent eyes. I pull my mouth off him and open it for him to see the evidence of his climax inside. I close it again and swallow, feeling the saltiness of it slide down my throat. I open my mouth again to show him that nothing was left and it has him spiraling.

“You cruel wicked thing,” he growls, picking me up and throwing me on the bed. His body crawls over mine and I run my hands down his bare chest, toned and perfect and all mine.

“Rhys I wanna try one more thing,” I whine but I’m silenced by his lips on mine.

“I think it’s my turn now mate,” he whispers in my ear, making me shiver.

He kisses down my neck and my collar bones. I feel his tongue swirl around each of my peaked nipples and I cry out at the friction I didn’t know I needed so badly. His mouth presses a kiss under my breast and when he reaches my lower stomach he looks up at me with a feral grin.

“I want you to know that I have every intention of getting you so thoroughly pregnant that every male in Prythian will have no choice but to recognize that you are my mate.” He growls, pressing a kiss over my womb. “But not tonight, and not anytime soon. For now I will take pleasure in showing them what an amazing High Lady you are.”

His mouth trails down and kisses either side of my bare thighs. His hand runs over my stomach and down my leg to hike one knee up over his shoulder to give himself access to where I need him most.

“Now watch how a High Lord eats out his High Lady, mate,” he grins before diving into me like a starved man.

I arch my back off the mattress and my hands fly to his silky hair. I accidentally tug his strands too hard causing him to groan, the vibrations stimulating my clit. He pulls his mouth off me and plunges his fingers inside me, curling them to hit that spongy spot that always left me undeniably breathless. He pulls his head back to watch how I take his fingers and his eyes catch on something.

“There’s that perfect clit,” he smiles slowly lowering his mouth over the sensitive bud so that his breath fanned it. “Show me those pretty little sounds you make when I lick it, wife.”

His tongue gives a teasing lick at the apex of me and I let out a moan that’s so high pitched it’s nearly embarrassing. He only chuckles before attacking the spot with a million little licks. The combination of his tongue and his fingers have me screaming his name in no time.

“Oh gods Rhysand!” I scream as I hit my climax. Tears sting my eyes from the immense pleasure. Rhys has always been able to pull orgasm after orgasm from my body, but the mating bond heightens everything.

“I need you,” he growls crawling back up my body. “Now”

I pull him close and I feel his hands flip my hips around so that I’m on all fours for him. I nearly groan at the feeling of him running a large hand down my spine.

“Rhys please,” I cry, pressing my ass into his hard cock.

“Shh, patience mate,” leans over and whispers in my ear. I feel his cock nudge my entrance and within a moment he is pushing himself into me.

The stretch is enough to have my chest heaving in pleasure, but the full feeling of him inside of me has me letting out a moan. His hands grip my hips as he starts to thrust inside of me.

“Always so fucking tight for me,” Rhys grits out increasing his pace.

“Harder Rhys!” I scream needing more of him.

It’s at that moment I realize that I’ll never truly get enough of him. He could shackle me to his bed and never stop fucking me and it still wouldn’t be enough. The need for him was too great, even before the mating bond. Before I even said his name. I had needed him the second I saw that flash of violet. I’ll never stop needing him.

“You’re fucking mine!” He growls as his grip on my hips tighten and the moans coming out of him are pure mated male.

“Oh fuck Rhys I’m gonna…” I shout my words trailing off.

“Cum for me mate,” he orders me and I oblige.

I climax so hard my vision blacks out for a second, my pussy contracting around him sending him sputtering and cumming inside of me with a roar and I swore the house shook. I collapse, burying my face into the pillow. I feel him gently turn my body over so he can see me. His eyes fall to where his cum is leaking out of me and he bends down to press a kiss to my clit again.

“Mine,” he says, eyes peering up at me.

He crawls up to me and pulls me on top of his chest stroking my hair.

“So it’s official, I am now your wife, your High Lady AND your mate.” I laugh.

“If I had more titles left to give you I would,” he chuckles, running his hands through my hair more.

“I don’t think I could ever ask for more than this, more than you.” I say pressing a kiss to his chest and leaning up so I was straddling him. He put his arms behind his head and stared at me like I was a work of art. “I love you so much Rhys. I only wish the gods had given me a million more ways to say it. But I can’t make it any simpler than that… I love you.”

“I know the feeling, sometimes I get frustrated because ‘I love you’ doesn’t even scratch the surface of what I feel for you mate,” he smiles.

I lean down to kiss him passionately, hoping that if words can’t tell him how much he means maybe actions can. I know they won’t. His hands slide from behind his head to my waist and my hair, pulling me deeper into him. My hips grind on his abs a little and I feel his hard cock brush up against my back side causing him suddenly to stop.

“We need to get to the cabin,” he says frantically. “Now.”

The cold mountain air grazes my skin as I sit on the bannister watching the sun come up. The silk bathrobe does little to keep me warm, but the breeze is refreshing. I glance through the window where I see Rhysand sleeping on the massive bed.

We had been holed up in the snowy mountains for a week now doing everything but sleeping. He wasn’t wrong about the Frenzy and how it would affect our ability to function as normal fae. One night I tried to prepare dinner for us and we lasted about 10 minutes before he took me on the kitchen counter. As I watched the sun rise on the glistening snow I couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that every surface in that cabin had been defiled in one way or another.

The birds began to chirp as I took another long sip of my warm tea. Never had I been so at peace. Never had I been so loved. It was as if every moment of my life had been leading to this one right here. To him.

I felt two warm arms snake around my front as Rhys placed a kiss on my cheek.

“You’re going to freeze to death out here,” he mumbles into my neck.

“No I’m not you big worry wart,” I giggle as his lips tickle my neck. I feel him wrap a blanket around the two of us and I lean back into his chest savoring the warmth of him.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, resting his head on top of my head.

“I’m thinking about how everything in my life led me to you. How I’ve never been more happy and at peace than I am in this court.” I say honestly.

“Your court my Lady,” he smiles, pressing another kiss to my cheek.

“Our court, Rhys,” I smile. “What do we do now?”

Rhys chuckles into my shoulder, “We go home, we rule, and you let me love you forever.” he whispers, kissing my shoulder.

I turn to face him, “I think I can live with that.” I smile.

(AN: wow I'm kinda sad that this series is over now. I feel like I'm going to me missing a huge piece of me :( I want to say thank you to all who read this and supported me, I never thought this would get as much love as it did. I hadn't written in so long, it feels so good to know that people still care about the things I dream up. Now I have some good news...

The next mini series is going to be about...

now drumroll please....

CASSIAN x Female! Reader

I'm so pumped to write this it's been in my head forever. Plot is that the reader is Rhysand's little sister and she is betrothed to Eris. So if you loved the secret love aspect of this series you're going to EAT UP the next one. If you would like to be on the taglist for it go ahead and let me know!)

Taglist: @crystalferret202, @heyyitsnat21 , @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson , @randomperson1234sblog , @local-fangirl09 , @bleh-81 , @annaaaaa88 , @tenaciousperfectionunknown , @judig92, @aunicornmademedoit , @sharknutz ,

@slytherintaco, @isa1b2h3, @nickishadow139 , @sarawritestories , @coisas-da-dani , @lovemesomevesey , @graceshifts , @writeroutoftime, @why4anne,

#rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand angst #rhysand fluff #rhysand x reader smut #rhysand smut #rhysand acotar #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you

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littledovesnow · 4 months

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a/n: it's part 2 to this little thang and also this request: can you write a fluffy coryo fic where yn is in the arena during the bombing and she gets hurt worse than coryo? love your fics!

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Coriolanus shuffling around his bedroom drew you from your slumber, momentarily forgetting the past day’s events.

“What are you doing awake so early?” You mumbled, leaning back on your elbows to watch your boyfriend skitter around, papers in his hands.

“Dr. Gaul wanted Clemensia and I to write a proposal for some additions to the Games. After everything yesterday, I forgot until a little while ago.” Coriolanus explained, glancing at you. “It’s still early, you can sleep for another couple hours.”

Shaking your head, you sat up and yawned. “I’m not going to let you stay up alone, Coryo. Besides,” you looked at your bandaged palm. “My hand is starting to bother me again.”

The blue eyes you loved darted from his desk to the white gauze on your hand. “I’m sorry, love. I wish I could have been in your place.”

“Don’t, Coryo. You couldn’t have predicted what could have happened yesterday.” You drew your knees up to your chest, arms wrapping around your legs. “What sorts of things did you write about adding to the Games? Does Clemensia know you’re still writing it?”

Coriolanus set his pen down, giving the paper a once-over. “Would you like to read it? Make sure it makes sense?” He asked, handing the papers over to you.

Taking them in your non-stitched hand, you looked the three sheets over, reading over what Coriolanus suggested the Gamemakers add to enhance the Games and entice the Capitol and even districts to watch them.

“Betting on the tributes?” You asked. “How?”

Coriolanus shrugged, moving to sit next to you in his bed. “A prize pot, perhaps? The winner gets a portion of the prize money, the Capitol gets the other portion to use in updating the arena.”

Humming, you passed the papers back to your boyfriend, who slid them into his bag. “Now, you do need rest. Sleep for a little, my dove.”

You rolled your eyes, but you did curl into Coriolanus’ side as he too tried to catch another couple hours of sleep.

-break-

Having been granted fifteen minutes with the tributes in the arena to gather information and propose strategies, you made quick time of getting the basics out of your bag and handing them to Tanner.

“Some food, water, and antibiotics to last until the day after tomorrow.” You explained, setting the items on the table within Tanner’s reach so he could examine them while restrained to the table.

“Your hand okay?” He asked, staring at the gauze.

Following his gaze, you flexed your fingers, grunting as the skin pulled taut near the stitches. “I’ll be okay.”

You looked over to where Coriolanus and Clemensia were talking to Peacekeepers and Dean Highbottom, having been called over from their tributes. “Have you made any allies so far?”

Tanner knew what you were getting at. “You want me to help protect the songbird? Your boyfriend trying to win or something?”

You swallowed, gauging how you should respond. “Or something.”

“Look,” Tanner said, lacing his hands together on the tabletop. “I’ll save my ass first, but if there’s anything I can do to not get her killed, I’ll try to help her.”

You thanked him, jumping when there was a sudden alarm from the speakers. “Time’s up!”

Peacekeepers wasted no time to gather the tributes and take them back to their cage at the Capitol Zoo, and you wished Tanner well before the next time you saw him- one final meeting between mentors and tributes before the Games.

-break-

You finally caught up with Coriolanus after a couple hours back at the Citadel, frowning at the lack of Clemensia with him. “Where’s Clem?”

“She’s uh, she’s not feeling well.” Coriolanus replied, grabbing the door to the café for you.

“Oh. Did something happen when you two met with Dr. Gaul?”

Coriolanus softly nodded his head. He looked green at the gills, and you felt your stomach turn at what the possibilities could be with Dr. Gaul and her mutts in the lab.

“Coryo,” you whispered. “What happened?”

“I can’t explain it here. But I will, promise.” He mumbled, chewing on his lip.

You knew he would eventually tell you, as it seemed you were one of the few people he would give the full truth.

“Okay.” You sat at one of the pristine tables, sweeping some crumbs off of the surface. “Citadel needs to get new Avoxes to clean, I think the current ones have gone soft with their jobs.”

Coriolanus hummed absentmindedly, taking your non-injured hand. “Did you have a good meeting with Tanner earlier?”

Nodding, you explained how you got him to try and protect Lucy Gray, as much as you disliked the singer.

“Hopefully her district-mate won’t take that in the wrong way.” Coriolanus mumbled. “Hey, does your father still have that guitar he used to play?

Narrowing your eyes, you didn’t like where this was heading. “I believe so. Why?”

“Lucy Gray is going to sing at the interview, but she needs a guitar. It’s the only thing I could think of to get her sponsors.”

“She’s going to what?” You asked, confused. “Isn’t the purpose of the interview for the Capitol citizens to get to know the tributes? You know, to want to help them?”

Coriolanus retracted his hand from your own, shield going up. “We thought it would do better for her to sing. You saw how everyone reacted when she sang at the Reaping. She was the talk of the town.”

Frowning, you had to admit Coriolanus had a point. “I can ask if my father will let me use the guitar. But there’s no promises when he finds out what it would be used for.”

Coriolanus thanked you softly, eyes focusing on something behind you. “What time did Dean Highbottom say we were to go back to the arena?”

Turning around, you felt a bubble of anxiety when you saw the Peacekeepers at the entrance of the café. “Never said a specific time. I guess it’s now.”

Just as you two were standing up, Dean Highbottom called for the twenty-two remaining mentors to meet him and the Peacekeepers in the main hallway.

-break-

“Didn’t expect to come back here today.” Tanner said as you sat across from him once more.

“Nor I.” You replied, looking around with a careful eye. “Tanner, there are lots of hiding spots up in the stands. If you can get there quickly, you should be able to hide until some of the tributes are taken out.”

“You mean killed. Till they’re killed.” Tanner spat, frowning.

You quickly glanced at him, before diverting your gaze. “Y-yeah, I guess. Listen, you’ve already got some sponsors, so I’ll be able to supply you with water and some bread during the Games. But I won’t be able to send them unless I know where you-”

You were cut off as a number of explosions went off around the arena, sending everyone into a tizzy.

Tributes were running around, some trying to escape, others to hide. Peacekeepers were split between controlling the tributes and trying to evacuate the mentors, and the mentors themselves were making a break for the exits.

“Coryo!” You yelled, dodging some fallen rocks and marble.

You saw your boyfriend helping Lucy Gray out of a predicament, before his eyes met your own, and you saw them grow wide as dinner plates.

Before you could say anything else, you heard the beam above you break and grow closer and closer, feeling someone push you nearly out of harm’s way, but not completely.

-break-

Soft whispering was the first thing you heard, the smell of antiseptic the first thing you smelled.

There was a pressure on your hand, and you tried to squeeze it.

“Hey, hey can you hear me?”

Coriolanus, his hand was what you felt in your own.

“Tigris, can you get one of the nurses? I think she’s waking up.”

You tried with all your might to open your eyes, but regretted it as you were met with a rather bright overhead light.

Blinking a few times to adjust, you swallowed thickly, Coriolanus grabbing the water cup on the table to his side.

“Wh- what happened?” You croaked, voice raw.

“It was a rebel bombing.” Sejanus voiced from where he was walking into the room. “They must’ve been there for months.”

You didn’t know what to say, and Coriolanus was quiet, as well.

“Four tributes are dead. Felix Ravenstill is on life support.”

“Is Tanner ok?” You asked, looking between the two men. “Lucy Gray? Marcus? Are they okay, too?”

“Lucy Gray is fine, but Marcus is,” Coriolanus drifted off, looking back at his classmate.

“Marcus made a run for it.” Sejanus explained, frown on his face. “Peacekeepers are out looking for him, but he’s got a better chance out there than in that arena.”

You furrowed your brows, looking back at your boyfriend. “They’re still going on with the Games?”

Coriolanus nodded, and the light caught his face, causing you to gasp. “Coryo, are you okay?”

Before he could answer, Tigris came back into view, nurse in tow. “How are you feeling, Miss Rosewing?”

You paused before speaking, just now realizing how much pain you really were in. “I’m sore, but it’s fine.”

Coriolanus frowned, squeezing your hand.

The nurse nodded, eyes roaming the three people around your cot, stopping at Coriolanus. “You, young man, aren’t supposed to be out of your own bed. What are you doing over here?”

“I needed to make sure my girlfriend was okay. I feel fine.”

Your eyes trailed around Coriolanus’ body as he talked before coming to a stop at the faint bruising on his cheek.

The nurse hummed, attention falling back to you. “You sustained some of the worst injuries from the bombing. A broken rib or two and a punctured lung being the worst of it.”

That explained the pain you felt every time you took a breath.

“The doctors want to keep you here for a couple days for observation.” Tigris added, and you immediately shook your head, struggling to sit up.

“Easy, easy, don’t want to rip a stitch.” Coriolanus commanded softly, helping you adjust to a more upright position.

“I can’t stay here! I need to be at the Citadel, need to help Tanner, help Lucy Gray.” You looked between the nurse and your boyfriend, both with frowns on their faces.

The nurse thought best to leave the area, so she simply explained that it was only a recommendation that you stay, final decision was up to you.

“You should stay here. It’s safer.” Coriolanus spoke, glancing at the tv as Lucky Flickerman began interviewing Jessup.

Sejanus and Tigris both agreed with him. “Not to mention they have medication here that can help you with the pain.”

You fiddled with the hem of the sad excuse of a sheet covering your legs on the bed. “I’m not staying. I need- I need to try and get Tanner as far into the Games as he can go.”

“Love,” Coriolanus started, glancing up at the tv once more as Lucy Gray began to sing, before returning his attention to you. “Please, just stay here for the night.”

“No, Coriolanus.” You rarely used his full name, only when you were done arguing, and Coriolanus was no fool.

Tigris softly bid you two good night, promising to update Grandma’am on your conditions, and Sejanus walked her out.

You watched in the corner of the tv as Lucy Gray’s number of donations sky-rocketed, Coriolanus’ eye on the rise and fall of your chest.

“I’m sorry.”

Your quiet apology startled him, and his gaze shot to your own. “What for?” He whispered, elbows coming to rest on the side of the bed, lacing your hand in both of his own. “Unless you placed those bombs, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

Looking at his bruised cheek, you felt your eyes water. “I- Coryo, I need to help Tanner so he can help Lucy Gray. You need to win, Coyo.”

Coriolanus felt his heart swell, hand moving to caress your cheek. “I will, love. I will.”

“Can you stay over tonight? I don’t think I can be alone.”

Coriolanus nodded, pressing his lips to your hand. “Of course.”

-break-

You second-guessed your decision to leave the hospital as soon as you fully sat up, pain erupting throughout your abdomen. “Oh, okay, ow.”

Coriolanus paused, one hand hovering at your lower back, the other being held tightly be your own. “You okay?”

Nodding, you pressed your lips in a tight line. “Just peachy.”

“It’s not too late, you can still stay here.”

You shook your head, bracing yourself as you stood up. “Once I’m up it’ll be better.”

Coriolanus, not believing you for a second, bit his tongue as you carefully took a step forward. “You still feeling like this was a good idea?”

“Shut up, Snow.”

Coriolanus followed you as the dutiful boyfriend he was, thankful your father had sent the family’s private car, not wanting you to walk the miles it was back to your family residence.

“I think it’s time for a long, hot shower.” You mumbled, thankful to be sitting in the plush backseats of the vehicle.

Smiling, Coriolanus hummed in agreement, hand going to rest on your thigh. “I think that’s just what the doctor ordered.”

“No funny business tonight, though. Maybe once I can take a deep breath again.” You smiled, and Coriolanus felt a small weight lift off his shoulders, happy you were back to your teasing self even with the aftermath of the bombing.

a/n: idk if i'm gonna continue to write the rest of the games, we all know what happens lmao ,,, send requests loves

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #hunger games imagine #hunger games x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games tbosas

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