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laurfilijames · 3 years

Text

Desired Effect

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Pairing: Fili x female reader

Words: 2,718

Warnings: rated E. M/F unprotected intercourse. Fili is a cheeky bastard

Summary: Fili buys you a scandalous dress to wear to an event, and effectively teases you until you can’t take it any more, dragging him home for some fun.

Requested by @lilith15000, I hope this is everything you were hoping for, love! It was a pleasure to write for you, thank you for always supporting my work. Enjoy!

Weaving through the corridors on your way back to your chambers, you took in the decor around you. Tapestries hung from the ceiling, many more than normal, and all the dwarrow around you were bustling about more than usual. You smiled to yourself, excited for the reason for all of this commotion; a party.

It wasn’t going to be anything huge and extravagant, but you always looked forward to an event like this, an excuse to dress up, to have Fili standing proudly beside you the whole night with his arm locked around yours, his attention always focused on you.

Thinking about what gown you would wear as you walked through your chambers to the bathing room to run a bath, something on your bed caught your eye, making you pause and turn to look.

To your surprise, a stunning gown was laid out on the bed before you. Deep red in colour with gold details adorning it, a perfect match to Fili’s red robes he wore often to events such as tonight’s.

The closer you got to it, the more you realized it looked more like a nightgown as opposed to a formal dress. It couldn’t be for tonight, you thought, the material was thin and silky, and surely would reveal every part of you, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Fili must have intended for you to wear it around your chambers, in the comfort of your husband's company alone. You held it up in front of you and turned to look in the mirror. The neckline plunged extremely deep and there were even cut outs along the sides, acting as windows to display your skin.

You placed the dress back on the bed and began to remove your current outfit, curious to see how it would look on your body.

The feel of it against your bare skin made you feel like a Queen as soon as the hem hit the floor, the material floating over your features and accentuating every curve of you.

You tucked your lip in your teeth as you admired your reflection, thinking how Fili would no doubt have this torn off of you in an instant.

“I see you found my gift…” Fili’s voice appeared suddenly, causing you to turn in his direction to see him leaning casually against the doorway with his arms folded across his chest as he admired you.

“Fili, it’s beautiful! Thank you! I’ll wear it while I get ready for tonight.” You twisted your body back to face the mirror, a smile unable to be erased from your lips due to his sweet gesture.

“No, amralime,” he said with a playful tone, taking a step toward you. “You’ll be wearing it all night.”

You turned to him again, shocked at his statement. Barely stringing the words together, you gawked at him, “There’s no way! It’s hardly containing me!”

Now his hands were on your hips, gliding over your sides where the dress left you exposed and you heard him hum in satisfaction.

Fili gave you that look; the one where his eyes darkened, his eyebrows rose higher on his head and his lips pulled into a sly smirk, the very one that made fire pull deep within you.

“That’s exactly the point. I want everyone to see you. To see that you’re mine. You’re too beautiful to keep hidden.”

“But Fili—” you began to protest but he stopped you, his index finger landing on your lips to stop your words.

“Trust me.”

A sigh left your lungs, and suddenly you didn’t feel the need to argue anymore. Fili removed his finger from your lips and replaced it with his, his tongue demanding entrance to your mouth that you easily allowed. Trust was something you always had with Fili, so why should this be any different? Only it was the mischievous look that lingered on his face that told you he might have something else up his sleeve.

The night had been wonderful so far and it wasn’t near being over. You felt excited and exhilarated, but it wasn’t the party that had you feeling this way.

As usual, Fili couldn’t keep his hands off of you, always clutching your own or wrapping his arm around your waist while in conversation with someone, his heavy hand resting on your thigh when you were at your place at the table. Although this was a normal occurrence for the two of you, everything between you felt more charged than it typically was. It probably had everything to do with the things Fili kept whispering in your ear, or sometimes even out loud, but quiet and subtle enough that only you were able to hear. Those around you were likely thinking you were having nothing other than a warm exchange between lovers based on the smile that crossed your lips and the way Fili chuckled at your reactions.

Little did they know Fili was quickly placing you under a spell with every word that passed his lips. Things like; “See everyone watching you? They’re all thinking about the things they want to do to you. Too bad for them I’m the only one who gets to.”

Or he would discreetly trail his fingers up your thigh where your dress parted in a high cut slit, briefly touching you at the apex of your legs, his eyes dark with lust as they bore into you, saying in a low voice, “The best part about seeing you in this dress is knowing I’ll get to see you out of it soon.”

Every one of these promises made you shiver, finding yourself pressing your thighs together in an attempt to restrain yourself from spreading them apart for him right there.

You were a mess.

You even went so far as to avoid your own husband, putting distance between you any time he came near again, but it was no use. Even from across the room he knew how to make you squirm, looking you up and down like he would take you in front of everyone in the room.

It took everything in you to focus on the conversations around you, but Fili was unrelenting, determined and persistent in making you break.

Nodding along to a story you wouldn’t be able to recall the subject of even if you tried, told to you by a dwarf whose name you had long forgotten, you felt Fili brush his hand over the opening on your waist, the action making you swallow harshly and close your eyes. Curse him!

The dwarf before you continued his story, and thankfully there was a group surrounding you so he didn’t take notice of your rude behaviour.

“Did you have some dessert, amralime?” Fili asked beside you, having set his plate down on the table nearest to where you both stood before placing his hand on his hip and looking at you curiously.

“No, Fili, I did not. I’ve been slightly distracted…” you said with a playful warning.

He chuckled and his tongue darted out to lick his lips, you watching it happen like it was in slow motion.

“That’s too bad, it was delicious,” his lips turned upwards and his dimples made a more prominent appearance, making you weak once more. Choosing to ignore the effect he had on you, you turned back toward the story-teller, vowing not to succumb to the hunger that lingered in your stomach that wasn’t because you wanted dessert.

Fili leaned closer to you, his mouth beside your ear, his breath hot and sweet like the berries he’d just consumed and goosebumps erupted on your skin instantly. “It was good, but you’re going to taste better…”

That was your breaking point. You politely excused yourself from the group and gripped Fili’s arm with your hand, turning him to follow you and practically dragging him through the crowd to the doors. The cheeky dwarf dared to laugh as he struggled to keep up with you which only fueled your fire. You were going to wipe that smug grin off of his face.

As soon as you were both through the doors you moved to press him against the wall, hastily attaching your lips to his, your mouths immediately opening in your breathlessness to allow your tongues to tangle together. His hand flew up to hold your cheek, moving off the wall to replace his body with yours, your back slamming against the stone with a thud. His knee drove between your legs to part them, his hands moving down your sides tantalizingly slow. He took your hands in his and reached them up over your head at the same time he ground his hard bulge against your mound, the material gliding over the wet that had accumulated in your folds.

He pulled away from you slightly, watching your chest heave, his eyes dancing over every area of your body that the dress revealed.

“Mahal, you are a sight to behold,” Fili praised you. “This dress was the best money I’ve ever spent,” he continued, laughing before diving down to kiss your throat, pulling a drawn out moan from you.

“Although I can’t decide if I want to take you while you’re still wearing it, or rip it off of you.” His words mumbled against your skin as he explored you further, making you forget you weren’t yet in the privacy of your chambers. Then he stopped, his hands now braced on either side of your head, his pupils completely dilated as he looked at you menacingly.

“Probably both.”

You gasped when he latched onto your taught nipple through the thin fabric of the dress and quite frankly you didn’t care what happened to the dress, you simply needed him to end this ceaseless torture he’d put you through all night.

“Fìli!” you pleaded, “Take me home this instant, I’ve suffered enough!”

He grinned at you again, clearly amused by your frustrations and pulled you from the wall, making his way down the corridor toward your chambers with your hand in his.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise!”

“This is exactly what you wanted to happen, wasn’t it?” you accused him as you realized his intention for buying you such a scandalous gown, your mouth hanging open, mockingly aghast.

“I had to make it so it was your idea to leave! I didn’t want to go in the first place.”

“You’re terrible, Fili.”

Giving you a sideways glance, you all but combusted on the spot when you heard his next words.

“I’m about to show you how terrible I can be.”

Fili’s robes were being torn off and discarded on the floor, the hem of your dress hiked up to your hips even before your door was unlatched, both of you frantic to access the other. As soon as you were completely through the threshold Fili kicked the door shut with his boot, managing to push it off his foot in the process.

Buttons fell to the floor as you tore open his tunic, revealing his bare torso to you.

“Easy, now, my love. We can’t go ruining all of our best clothes.” He dared to laugh again but it was cut off, changing to a hiss when you reached forward and pulled at the laces on his trousers, his cock hanging out heavily in the cool air.

“I’m not letting you ruin this dress, Fili. I quite like the effect it had on you.” You watched him melt to your touch as you stroked his length, his head tipping back in ecstasy. His head returned to its normal position and his eyes opened to look at you when you suddenly stopped touching him, moving away to sit on the small desk that occupied the space beside the door.

Fili strode over to you, closing the short distance quickly with a ferocity that worried you slightly. His hands roughly covered your knees and pushed them apart, making room for him to stand between your legs. He pressed his forehead against yours, his fingers now roaming up the backs of your thighs to cue you to wrap your legs around his thick waist.

“I’ll do my best to refrain from ruining the gown, amralime,” he whispered in a husky voice, his lips brushing yours. He lifted it further up your body, the silky skirt pooling at your hips, exposing your abundant arousal to him. “I can’t make the same promise for you though.” The tips of his fingers grazed over you and Fili growled at how ready you were, and before he could waste another moment gripped his throbbing cock and lined it up to push through your tight entrance.

You both cried out at finally getting what you both had desired all night, your hips pushing forward to meet his already intense thrusts.

The sound of the desk banging against the wall echoed throughout your chambers, the feral tempo you worked to set revealed with every clap of wood on stone.

Teeth crashed together with every desperate kiss, nothing of what your hands and mouths were doing made any sense other than that it was as if you were trying to grasp onto each other for dear life with every touch. Curses spilled from Fili’s wet lips, making you question whether it was to prolong this session and prevent his nearing climax, when all it was doing was spurring yours on. He roared in your ear as you began your ascent, your walls closing around him, squeezing and coaxing out all he had to offer you. In your blind passion you sensed his hands grip your side, groping and clawing at you in his own frantic pursuit. His fingers slipped through one of the cutouts on the side of your gown, the sound of material ripping registering on you just as you shouted through your high.

There was no time to care, still focused on riding out the shuddering bliss that rattled through you while Fili pounded into you in search of his own. His mouth covered yours, sloppy and clumsy, and with a growl that reverberated through you, you felt him coat your insides with his hot spend.

After a few moments of panting and kissing, Fili pulled out of you and took a step back, running his fingers through his sweaty hair that you’d efficiently messed up during your activities. He stumbled slightly, moving his hands from his hair to run over his beard like he was trying to catch his bearings again. His body was coated in a layer of sweat from his exertion, and despite your very small annoyance that your dress was ruined you couldn’t help but admire the masterpiece that was your husband standing before you in all his glory.

You cleared your throat to regain his attention, fiddling with the tattered piece of dress between your fingers to draw his gaze there.

A sigh left him and he placed his hands on his hips, shrugging slightly as a sated smile pulled at his dimples. “I’m sorry, I truly didn’t mean to ruin it,” he said vaguely, his attempt at an apology weak.

Unconvinced, you gave him a pointed look but then squirmed where you remained when he took a step toward you again, gathering the edge of your dress in his hands, his expression hungry once more.

“Seeing as it is now torn,” he looked from your exposed midsection up to your eyes with renewed spirit, “I’m going to have to take it off of you and take you for a second time without any part of you hidden from me.”

A yelp escaped you when Fili gripped your bottom and slid you off the desk, dragging you down to the floor with him. Both of you erupted in laughter, the thin and scratchy rug not softening the landing whatsoever, but your discomfort was soon forgotten when you were slowly guided to lay on your back, your dress slipped up and over your head, the silky garment now used as your blanket.

Fili settled himself between your legs, slowly kissing you while gently rubbing his thumb over your cheek, an indication that this next round would be unhurried and measured, a stark contrast to the rush you both found yourselves in earlier.

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Everything: @guardianofrivendell @midearthwritings @cassiabaggins @lilith15000 @trishthedishofreis @linasofia @unbeatablecurlgirl @the-poldarkian @lathalea

Fili: @shethereadinghobbit

#fili #fili smut #fili smut request #fili oneshot #the hobbit fili #fili x reader #fili x female reader #smut #the hobbit #fili durin

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pascalpanic · 3 years

Note

request please? lately i have been having a lot abandonment anxiety when it comes to friendships and i was wondering how you think javi or din might help someone with an anxious attachment style? thank you lovely 🥰

Irrational (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Summary: above ^^

W/C: 2.8k

Warnings: language; talk of fighting and weapons, reader has a panic attack PLEASE be aware that it’s coming and somewhat descriptive.

A/N: I really really love this! I hope you guys do too :) as always, thanks to my beta reading babes!

Din Djarin has been abandoned before. Often on a mission, sometimes on a lone planet with no credits or ways out. He always survives, of course, and vengeance is taken. One thing he absolutely can’t fathom is abandoning someone he loves, or more specifically someone who loves him.

Abandonment isn’t an issue when you’ve never had someone to be attached to. Din spent many many years with absolutely no one. When his parents died, it felt like he was abandoned, sure, but it was clearly not their decision to leave him. When he was taken in by the Mandalorians, they kept him at an arm’s length. He was a foundling; they cared for him well, taught him The Way and The Creed, fed him well. But he was never adopted into a specific clan, rather passed around the covert like the communal task each family had an obligation to fulfill.

Then he became a bounty hunter. The life was solitary and lonely, cold and bleak. It was rare that Din would team up with other bounty hunters, really only when forced to. The Razor Crest became his baby, his only possession and love besides his blasters and beskar. The thing was a piece of bantha shit, but he kept it in good shape.

Then came the kid. Din knew it was wrong. Bounties are to be turned in and paid for, then you forget the job happened. But when that little green thing stared up at Din, the big brown eyes seeming to stare through the dark black of his visor, he knew he couldn’t. This was a child, a baby with no family and no way to protect itself. He certainly couldn’t turn it over to the hands of the ex-Imperials.

Din experienced his first real attachment with the child. He cares for that little thing more than he’s ever cared about anything. He’d cross galaxies, kill and maim and injure for the sake of the little green baby.

Oh Maker, then he met you.

Din had never seen anything like you. You were playing with the kids in the marketplace, laughing as they ran and played around you, before you squealed in delight at the sight of a little green toddler wandering up to you. He’d climbed in your lap, looked up at you with those big eyes, massive ears twitching. You’d stroked his head and cooed to him before you looked up to find his father; subsequently, you felt your heart fall into your stomach at the sight of the Mandalorian man.

“You’re good with kids.”

Well no shit. You nodded. “Yes. I love them. Is this your son?” you ask, looking back down at the three green fingers wrapped around your thumb.

He nods. “He is a foundling under my care.” He watched as the baby grabbed at the golden armband encircling your bicep. You’re absolutely gorgeous. The armband glows against your skin, your beautiful body evident even through the loose and flowing clothing you wear. “Do you take care of these children as a job?”

You shook your head. “No. We don’t have jobs here, necessarily. They just wanted me to play.” You scanned the man, searching for skin. You found none. “Are you green under there too?”

The Mandalorian did not answer. “I’m looking for a caretaker for the child while I hunt bounties. You’d stay in my ship and care for him. I pay well and you’d get to travel the galaxy.”

“You barely know me,” you laughed, removing the little green baby’s fingers from their tight grip on the gold band on your arm.

He gave a half shrug. “He likes you.”

And you’d agreed. And it’s been almost a full cycle now, a cycle of living in the beat-up ship and caring for the little green baby. You’ve seen the most beautiful and the ugliest of planets, experienced extreme heat and extreme cold. You’ve been to beautiful cities, unique jungles and forests and ice planets.

In that time, you got to know the Mandalorian too. It took quite some time to crack his beskar shell. He hardly talked to you in the first month. Then your persistence had loosened him a little, then a little more, then just enough. You know more of him than any other living being does. He’s told you his name: Din Djarin, a name that flows and stops and radiates the power of the bounty hunter. He told you the story of his childhood, of hunts gone wrong and hunts gone right.

You love listening as he tells you and the child the story of the child’s rescue from the ex-Imperials. The baby snuggles against your lap as his father regales the two of you with the epic battles, the fights Din went through for this little child. You both applaud at the end, and put the baby to bed with a kiss between those big brown eyes.

He’s a wonderful man. You’ve formed an easy friendship with him, one that has honestly progressed on your end. At night, you find yourself fantasizing about what he looks like beneath his armor, how the muscles of his broad shoulders move when he climbs the ladder to the cockpit or lifts the child. You like to think he may feel the same for you, but you don’t push it. You don’t want to push him away.

Din has been away for far too long. He always highballs the dates he gives you, saying that an assignment will take three days when he knows it will only take two or a week when it will only be five days. This is a pattern you’ve come to notice; Din is alway back “early”, but now he is late. Really late.

Before he left, Din had opened your bunk compartment, causing you to groan at the light filtering in. You’ve been sleeping since the Crest made a rocky landing on Nevarro a few hours earlier. “Cyare,” he’d murmured, a rare ungloved hand warm on your bare arm, contact broken by your metal armband. You don’t know what the word means. You hope it’s something good.

“What is it?” You groaned, rolling onto your back to look at him. “Leaving?”

He nodded, the silhouette of his helmet-covered head against the soft light of the hull. “Leaving. I’ll be back in four days at the most.”

You offered him a sleepy smile, one that he could see in the warm glow of the lights you’d installed in the ship to navigate easier at night. “Good luck. May the Force be with you,” you teased, making the normally stoic man chuckle a little.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll see you soon.”

You didn’t protest, rolling over and letting the heaviness of sleep drag you back under.

Now, you really wish you’d have talked with him more then. You’re almost certain you’ll never see him again.

You’re not exactly sure what it was in your brain that triggered the thought. Maybe Din just actually took the amount of time he’d said for once, you thought on the fourth day. But now it’s been eight days, double the amount that he’d told you he’d be gone, and you’re stressed.

He always makes good on his word. He should be back by now. He always does. Did he get injured or killed, maybe captured by the bounty he was stalking? You ponder your ideas aloud as you pace back and forth in the hull of the Razor Crest, the little green baby tucked in his soundproof pram to sleep.

There’s likely a rational explanation. You’re sure there is. Maybe the bounty jumped ship, completely threw Din off of his tracks. Maybe the bounty is more clever than anticipated and Din is working extra just to find them. There’s surely a reason, but a little nagging voice in your head says that something is wrong.

In the first few days following Din’s date to return, your primary worry is that he’s hurt or dead somewhere on this barren planet. There are many other bounty hunters here, in this haven for Guild workers. What if one of them discovered Din still has the baby? What if they were coming for you here next?

Maybe you should go look for him. Maybe he’s injured and needs your help. He could be held by another hunter, or by the ex-Imperials- you can’t even bear to think of them harming Din for taking their precious cargo back. The thought makes you squeeze the little green baby tighter to your chest, even after he gives a whine of annoyance at the pressure.

But Din would never forgive you if you put yourself in harm’s way for him. This planet is dangerous, full of bad people who will do what it takes to get their credits. Most importantly, you can’t leave this ship with the kid. Certainly people here are looking for him. Someone would spot him and you’d be in for disaster. The anxiety fills your days and even seeps into your dreams, making you sleep less and more fitfully. On the eighth day, perhaps the most terrifying idea strikes you: what if Din just... left you?

Of course, there are plenty of signs why he hasn’t. The ship is one of his rare material possessions. He’d never give up the machine that’s been a home to him for the last however many years. Weapons are part of his religion, and he only took a sparse amount with him for this hunt. His prized pulse rifle still hangs in his armory, with an abundance of whistling birds he didn’t take either.

Most importantly, you’re still here with the kid. The baby is practically Din’s son. He adores him… but what if it’s all too much? You’ve become like a little family. That may be too domestic for him. Maybe he’s sick of the responsibility, of caring for two beings when so much of his life has been solitary. Even worse, maybe he’s just sick of you.

There are plenty of rational explanations. You know it. The baby can sense your anxiety, can feel the tension running through the air surrounding you, and he feels it too. He’s fussy, requiring more snacks and more attention. He tugs far too much on your armband and it pinches now, his little claws getting too long. You don’t mind- it’s a distraction, really- but your mind is never fully on feeding the baby, rather hyper analyzing Din’s mind as you know it and hoping he’ll return.

The hours pass. Din doesn’t return. You become more and more certain that he’s abandoned you for good. He isn’t coming back, ever, because he hates you. He was nice to you as a courtesy, nothing more, only as a protector of his child. This type of family is too much for the lone-wolf style man. He can’t do it anymore. You’re on your own.

In your head, the thought of him abandoning you is too much. It weighs heavily on your self-esteem, convincing you that this is all your fault and you’ve done too much, or not enough, or something wrong in general that sent Din packing and gone. He did it because you’re annoying, because he’s sick of you.

Rational thoughts are pushed to the furthest corner of your mind. Your brain is occupied by self hatred, by terror, by a sickening buzzing feeling in your head and chest that feels like a parasite eating you from the inside out.

It’s too much. You fall to the floor, sliding your back down the metal wall. Your rear contacts the floor as the tears fall from your face, your emotions drowning out your senses. You can’t use any of your senses, just think and process the agony your brain is putting you through.

Burying your face in your hands, you finally allow the tears you’ve been holding in all week to flow. It’s a relief, the hot tears streaming down your equally hot face, blood rushing to the surface. The anxiety buzzing in your head has reached a breaking point; you’re sure the tension is boiling your brains, making it bubble and roil as the thoughts pull you down and down so far you feel you’ve fallen through the floor of the Crest and into the dry Nevarro dirt.

You nearly wail, wheezing in air only to expel it in harsh sobs as the fear wraps your body and constricts it. You’re enveloped by it, trapped in a coffin mixed with a tornado mixed with a firestorm and a hurricane.

Then it all stops. The heat is broken by something cold- beskar. You force your eyes to see and they finally perceive that Din is in front of you. Then you feel again, feel the chilled metal all over your skin as he wraps his arms around you. You smell him, his faded soap from whenever he bathed last, his sweat and the smell of the Nevarro dust. You can taste your salty tears. The last sense to come back puts you most at ease: his voice. “Talk to me, please,” Din asks of you.

You nod and try to speak, but you’re still gasping for air, your lungs unable to fill. When you slow down and make yourself breathe, you’re finally able to manage words. “Thought you were gone forever. Thought you left because of me.”

The beskar helmet tilts to the side, taking you in. You’re sure you’re a mess; eyes bloodshot, face tearstained, snot probably all over you as well. Din’s quiet for a moment. “Why would you think that?”

“You said four days. You always come back early, but you were gone for eight days.”

His chest rises and falls slowly beneath the beskar plate. “I know. I’m sorry. But why would you think I’d leave you?”

The tears return. “I don’t know, Din, I-”

“No, shh,” Din murmurs and wipes your face. “No more tears. I’m here.”

Din stands and takes you with him, his arms wrapped tight around your body to bring you to your feet. He walks you to the edge of the bunk and hands you a canteen of water to drink. You look at him and he looks back. There’s a silence and an unspoken battle between the two of you over who will break it.

Din breaks first. “I got the bounty easily. I was late because of… something else.”

Your face falls into a frown. “You took double the amount of time and didn’t tell me? Whatever this ‘something else’ is, it better be worth it.”

Din breathes in and out deeply before producing a soft fabric bag. “I didn’t leave you. I’m back. And… I got you something to show that I’ll never leave you.”

From the bag, his leather-covered hand produces something silver. Your eyes, blurry with tears, take a moment to perceive it: an armband of some silver material- oh, it’s beskar. It’s cold to the touch but you take it from him to admire it and find it is emblazoned with an insignia: a mudhorn. “The symbol of Clan Djarin,” he says gently, though he’s sure you know. It’s on his pauldron. It’s on the baby’s necklace. “We… are a family, aren’t we?”

You don’t respond; rather, you throw your arms around his neck and the tears return, but happily. “We are,” you whimper, your throat constricted by a sob. You cry into his neck, staining the fabric of his cowl and cape with your tears.

He understands they’re good tears, and so he lets them flow. His arms wrap around you and rest on your back, gently rubbing it as you cry into him. As the sobs calm, the tears end, you remain in his arms. Din holds you tight against his chest. “I’ve never made a better decision than hiring you. It was supposed to just be a babysitting job, but… I fell in love.”

Your heart stops and you pull back. “You’re in love? With me?”

Din nods. “I… yes. I am.”

A smile crosses your face, the joy emphasized by how wide your smile is in the presence of your tears. “I love you too,” you manage before your throat squeezes off your words, making you cry happily and hug him yet again.

With your face buried in his neck, you nuzzle your face in and are rewarded with a soft patch of stubbled skin beneath the tip of your nose. You can feel his throat vibrate when he speaks again. “We are a clan of three now. I promise you, I will never leave you. Don’t even entertain the thought again. Understand?”

You nod, not wanting to move your face and lose contact with this intimate spot of him, the first humanness you’ve been able to get beneath the beskar. You kiss the skin there softly. Din knows it’s your answer: understood. I love you.

taglist:

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#din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin headcanons #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian headcanons #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #mando #mando x reader #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal x reader #tw anxiety #tw anxiety attack #tw panic attack

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kerie-prince · 3 years

Text

change of pace

Fred Weasley x Slytherin!reader

requested: (@pinkdevile) hey bae, can i request a one shot or headcanon about fred being whipped by one of ron classmates that is a non-pureblood slytherin and kind of prodigy in magic and how would he react to her being a typical dry slytherin and being a prodigy and good at everything?

summary: What happens when a red lion who lives in the moment falls for a green snake with plans for her future? Romance, of course.

a/n: stereotypical, yes but i had fun writing this :) also, i know my posting schedule keeps changing, so sorry about that 🥺 i got lots of requests (thank you guys SO much!) and i'm trying to not make them all sound the same. i'm looking up synonyms and all that stuff lol

(gif cred)

You were the least Slytherin person in your house. But maybe that's made you even more of a Slytherin. Your traits were that of a typical member of the house of snakes. No, you weren't a rude bitch; you had ambition that rivaled that of a Gryffindor and it wasn't even one of their traits. You aimed for the stars and your pride proved that you could do that and more. You are the best witch of your class, and maybe even your school.

And it was this reputation that caught the attention of someone who is quite the polar opposite. You were calm and collected. He was a wild card and unpredictable. Fred Weasley had his eyes on you and was going crazy for you. It all started when one day, he was with his friends and brothers in the Great Hall during lunch when you had walked up to Ron and Harry, “Hey Ron, were my notes able to help you?”

“Yeah, loads. Thank you, Y/N.” Lee was in the middle of a conversation with his best friends when he noticed Fred wasn't responding to anything he was saying. “Mate, you okay?” When you walked to your table, Fred scooted closer to his younger brother, “Dearest brother, how are you?”

“What do you want?” Ron saw right through him. He knew when Fred wanted something from him, just like now.

“Well I’m offended that you would assume something,” Fred held a hand over his chest with a fake offended look on his face, “can’t a person ask about the well being of his baby brother?” Ron had a deadpan expression and Harry was laughing at Fred’s exaggeration. “Fair enough. Who was that?”

“Who? Y/N? She’s in mine and Harry’s class, why?” Ron had taken a large bite from his turkey leg.

“What’s she like?” Fred inquired. Ron thought about it for a minute, “Dunno, she’s pretty quiet.”

“If I didn't know any better, I’d say that Freddie here fancies someone,” George teased. The surrounding friends laugh and point towards Fred. “I don’t fancy anyone. I’m just asking a simple question.”

Hermione and Ginny later joined the group. “What’s all this fuss about?” Hermione questioned.

“Fred’s asking about Y/L/N,” Harry caught Hermione up to speed. “Why? You’re not thinking of doing anything to her, are you?” Hermione started to scold the older boy.

“Why is it that you lot always think I’m up to no good,” Fred sighed.

“Because you’ve never been up to any good,” Ginny teased her older brother. Fred rolled his eyes and turned back to try and find you at your table. You had a couple of friends with you and a small book in your hand as you ate. Fred was determined to get your attention somehow.

✿✿✿✿✿✿

You sat in the library by yourself. You had spent the majority of the afternoon grading first years’ papers for Snape’s class and working with Hermione and Katie on a project for Ancient Runes. Giving up your weekends to study wasn't all that bad. The feeling of being on top was rewarding.

It was funny; your parents had stopped caring about your grades all together because they already knew what they were going to read. Not that they weren't supportive or proud of you. At family gatherings on your father’s side, he loved seeing the looks on his relatives’ faces when he boasted that you were the best student at Hogwarts.

But they have told you on many occasions that it wouldn't kill you to have at least one E. They wanted you to be able to have a normal teen life and have fun. Go to parties, get in trouble every now and then. You assured them that you were fine and all and even believed it yourself. You never had interest in breaking the pattern you had set.

The library was nearing its closing time and you packed your things. When you walked out the grand doors, a tall figure came in front of you and nearly knocked down all the books you carried. His hands caught whatever you couldn't hold before it hit the floor.

“Sorry about that,” you looked up at the towering boy. Your breath slightly hitched at the sight of his attractive face. His cheekbones were defined and his skin looked soft. You didn’t realize that you were staring, nor that he was also staring at you as well. Finally, he spoke up and handed you the book he was holding for you. “I believe this is for you.”

His mouth moved, but you were so distracted that it didn't occur to you he had actually said anything until you saw him looking at you expectedly. “Oh, thank you.” You started heading towards the dungeons when he jogged towards and stopped in front of you. “Aren’t you in the same class as Ron?”

“Yes, how did you know that?”

“I saw you talk to him the other day,” he told you. “I’m Fred.” He reached to shake your hands but then pulled it back when he remembered that your hands were full at the moment.

Ah, so this is Fred you thought. You've heard of him, who hasn't? Years of being at Hogwarts, tales of him and his equally devilish brother creating havoc around campus have traveled from one student to another. How you two had never seen one another until this point was surprising. It’s not like Hogwarts was a large school, but it wasn't small either.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.” You nodded your head towards him to replace a handshake. Ten seconds of silence caused you to walk past him and return to the path to the dungeons. “W-wait!” Fred called out.

He stood in front of you once again, one of his hands positioned in front of you to block you from walking past him again. “Would you like to get a butterbeer tomorrow?”

If there was anything you didn't like, it was being put on the spot. And another thing? Your routine being disturbed. Your Sunday was all planned out. Helping Sprout with her greenhouse to earn extra house points, tutoring some younger years, and getting a head start on your homework that wasn't even due for another week.

“I’m sorry, but no.” You gave him an apologetic smile as you walked away. Once again, he ran in front of you but this time merged with you and actually caused all of your books to fall.

“Merlin, I’m so sorry,” he bent down to help you pick them up. Fred usually isn't this clumsy or nervous. He usually charms his way through anything, but he was becoming like putty out of nowhere. “Okay, well what about Honeydukes next Saturday?”

“Sorry, but no again.” You started walking away for the nth time and turned around to look at him for the last time, “Please don’t follow me again.” And you were gone. But did this mean that Fred gave up on any chance he had? No. Far from it. If anything, it gave him reason to want to try harder.

He walked all the way to the Gryffindor house and luckily found Hermione studying in the common room with Pavarti and Lavender. There was a spot open next to her and when Ginny was about to take the spot, Fred grabbed her arm and pulled her away to steal the seat.

“Um, excuse you, I was going to sit–”

“Tell me everything you can about Y/N,” Fred interrupted his sister.

✿✿✿✿✿✿

He had tried to learn as much as he could about you. Fred learned that you had the top grades. Much like Harry did, you had learned the Patronus Charm before not only before your own class, but even Fred’s charms class. Your dad's a wizard, and your mum's a muggle. But most importantly, you were a picture perfect student, and although you didn't have any apparent hobbies, you picked up just about everything with ease.

A couple of weeks had passed and every other day, Fred had made any type of excuse to come see you.

‘Oh, my next class is in this direction’ It wasn't.

‘I like that book, too!’ You were, in fact, not holding a book but your personal journal.

‘Funny running into you here!’ It was in the Great Hall during breakfast.

Now, you didn't hate these interactions. They didn't do anything to your routine, and they were actually cute attempts to get your attention. But you didn't think you had any time for anything else. Or anyone else.

“You should give him a chance, Y/N/N. Live a little. I think the top student can take a bit of time for herself at least once,” your friend Millicent advised. Astoria agreed with her, “He’s cute~.” You slightly blushed in your book and pushed their arms away.

“I’ve never been on a date before,” you whispered. The two girls looked at each other confused before turning back to look at you. “Huh?”

“I’ve never been on a date before!” You flinched when you realized your voice was louder than intended. Your friends laughed when you looked towards the Gryffindor table to make sure Fred didn't hear you. He was talking to his friends, so that meant he didn't. Only he did, but felt your eyes on him so he pretended he didn't.

“So this is the perfect reason to go out with him! Go ask him out,” Millie pushed. She was persistently tapping on your arm until you eventually stood up. You took a deep breath to gather confidence and walked towards the table of red and gold.

When Fred's eyes met yours, you turned around and walked out of the Hall. He stood up from his seat and chased after you. He kept bumping into people, including Filch in the hallways. Filch yelled for him to stop, but of course Fred ignored him and kept going.

Momentarily, he lost you in the crowd of mixed color robes until he saw you sitting by yourself on a bench under a tree. He walked towards your direction and asked you with his eyes if he could take the seat next to you. You scooted down more to let the tall boy sit down.

Neither of you said anything for a few moments. You fiddled with your fingers on your lap and he stared up at the sky. “Nice day, innit?” Fred started the conversation. “Yes, it is.”

“Good weather to go walking around Hogsmeade” Fred tried one last attempt in asking you out.

“It would be,” you accepted.

He let out a sigh in defeat, “I know I ask a lot, but maybe just this once– wait, what did you say?” You looked up at him and smiled for the first time. His heart skipped a beat and the butterflies fluttered about inside.

“I’ll go with you.” He was so excited that he jumped up and did an air punch of victory. You laughed to yourself and when he looked at you, you had an eyebrow raised. He blushed in embarrassment and scratched the back of his neck. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Promptly at 2 in the afternoon in front of the Slytherin dorms. Don’t be late,” you stood up with confidence. You walked back to the Hall to tell your friends, cheeks warmed and ears blushing. “So?” Astoria asked.

“It’s just a date, that's it,” you sounded nonchalant about it, but the smile on your face said differently. You were excited for your day with Fred and for all, unpredictable adventures to come.

A much needed change of pace.

—

requests open!

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #requested #requests open #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #harry potter imagine #fred x you #fred x reader #fred x slytherin!reader #fred x y/n

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tuagonia · 3 years

Text

sunflower - mason x f!detective

pairing: mason x f!detective (mia garcia)

Summary: mason thinks about mia at the town’s florist.

rating: T

warning: i think there's like...one swear word.

word count: ~1.7k

note: lol ok since i flopped at getting mason x mia done for the hotwayhaven event.... i have been waiting to write this for a while and the amazing event organisers at @wayhavensummer finally gave me the excuse I was waiting for to fully indulge in this. thanks for hosting and putting in all the great work!! This is for Aug. 18 - Flowers.

They remind him of her.

Large and dangling free from her ears; brightly painted papier-mâché “monstrosities”.

That’s the word he’d used to describe them, making no effort to mask his distaste.

Instead, Mia smiled widely in response, reaching up to touch one at its faux-stalks. It stopped that distracting swing, back and forth with every slight movement of her head. Chuckling, and pride lifting her cheery tone, she told Mason she made them herself.

Lemony-yellow, mossy-green, the burnt-chestnut centre.

All crammed together outside of the tiny flower shop. Dozens upon dozens of them staring back at him; yellower under the blaze of the mid-August sun.

A makeshift sign stuffed among the mass of summer-ripe bouquets reads: “TOP QUALITY. Giant Sunnys £14 per bunch”.

Mason is just looking.

He tells himself there’s no harm in just looking.

And anyway, they’re hard to miss under the hot sun. It’s not his fault they’re in the way of his usual patrol route. Quite literally.

Bundles and bundles of large sunflowers, taking up the pavement. Usually, grey and cracked, now overrun with the sight of them. The florist’s quaint store looks like a child’s plaything next to the dramatic assortment.

He has to blink, thinking the sunshine and its heat has started playing tricks on him. It’s almost as if they multiply; little suns with their earthly centres, drawing him closer.

From the moment he rounded the corner to the main square, he never stood a chance against the brilliance of them.

Mason should have kept moving. He doesn’t have time for this— to stop mid-patrol, to idle in front of flowers.

But they remind him of her.

Not just of the — and his lip curls at the memory — weird handmade jewellery.

(A set for every occasion.

Cakes and candles for colleagues’ birthdays, candy canes for Christmas, glittery hearts the size of her fists for Valentine’s Day. Tiny pieces of reflective plastic shedding onto her delicate neck).

They remind him of the sunshiney smiles. The ones she so easily tosses his way, like they’re never any work, like they could never go to waste. Always patient, always bright, always...happy.

And as he glares down at them, he realises they don’t offend him. The observation renders him sceptical, partly convincing himself he’s stopped to figure out why he hasn’t felt repulsed at the overwhelming powdery aroma.

It’s not floral. No. Instead, it reminds him of...reminds him of… Mason racks his brain and frowns accusingly at the vivid flowers opened up at him.

Mason reaches for one, fingers wrapping around its surprisingly sturdy stalk.

He’s still just looking. He just— he just needs to get a closer whiff to figure this out.

Honey. That’s what it is.

Mason’s frown deepens at the realisation. His grip on the flower shifts, the skin of his palm uncomfortable against the fuzzy stem.

Bright and honey-sweet.

(There’s that memory of her kiss, soft and saccharine as powdered-sugar; should make his teeth hurt.)

The crown of gold petals distracts him, fills him with a warm something that he’s more desperate than annoyed to figure out. He can’t place it, can’t place it, can’t place it— wants to know it.

Maybe it’s the frustration of chasing after the unnamable thing that makes him forget the purpose of stopping, the reason why he plucked the flower to begin with.

...so distracted he doesn't hear when the round-cheeked vendor pops their head outside of the shop, all smiles that he feels nothing for (not her like smiles, though. Nothing like her smiles).

They mention the weather and ask if they can be of any help, but Mason’s attention slides back to the sunflower in his fist. But he shakes his head, unconvincingly but he’ll never know.

It’s the heat, he thinks. The arse-end of nowhere town at the tail-end of an unforgiving heatwave.

But just as he’s about to slot the stalk back into its bucket, the vendor stops him— shaking their head emphatically, their grin growing by the second. They sweep of their hands in a take it, take it, please motion, and send Mason off. They shoot him wink from overly-kind eyes.

Like they might be in on some big secret, and Mason will be the last in this entire godforsaken town to know.

There’s no harm in taking the flower, Mason insists, staring down into its dark-brown centre.

He’ll hold onto it until he can find the next rubbish bin, and in the mean time he’ll try not to think about how it reminds him of the dusting of dark freckles across her nose.

(He gets it now. He gets it when he’s with Mia.

He understands — finally — why everyone before her kissed his freckles like they wanted to taste the stars.

Her galaxies, his constellations. Every time they meet, Mason expects a seismic shift to take them asunder.)

His usual strides have shortened, his pace slower than normal, his senses overwhelmed by the true yellow of its petals.

For a moment, Mason forgets all about the patrol and just...walks.

It’s a quiet and lazy summer day. The sun (high and hot) urges residents to stay in the shade, seeks refuge in cool indoors. The streets are empty. Sleepy. So, he takes his time, the crease on his brow deepening with every side street he takes.

It’s hot inside his boots. That’s the only reason he’s leaning against her tin can of a car, outside of the station, holding this ostentatiously large flower.

A quick detour for some shade. That’s all it is. And when there’s a whisper of a breeze, rustling the leaves of the tree above him and the little crown of petals in his hand, it’s all the more cooler.

Mason can hear her colleagues moving in and out of the station, but pays them no mind as time moves on, still staring down at the flower in his grip. It’s far too large to twirl it with sturdy fingers, forcing him to keep studying it and wondering what exactly about it brings Mia to mind.

Lively, but not intense.

(Her laugh, he guesses. Loud and clear, broken up by giggles. The sound of it never jarring.)

A drop of sunlight, buried underground. Persists and blossoms through cracked earth.

(Her kindness, he ascertains. Not to be mistaken for weakness. As easy as she can dole-out radiant smiles, her sharp tongue can just as quickly follow.)

...like he’s been holding a piece of her this entire time.

The taut pull at his cheeks is foreign, and he lets the corners of his mouth drop.

Pointless because Mason hears a familiar drumming, a quick skip he’s grown used to over the last years.

He looks up just in time to watch Mia push through the station’s glass doors. At the top of the steps, she stops to survey the car park, and he feels a flutter in his chest when he realises those brown eyes are searching for him. He confirms it when her gaze lands on him and...that smile (the beating inside his chest is ten-fold) breaks out across her face.

She shields her face with a hand, squinting against the harsh glare of sun bouncing off windshields. With easy, unhurried steps she walks towards him and he drinks in the sight of her.

That scratchy yellow cardigan that’s become synonymous with Detective Garcia is nowhere to be seen. Probably thrown over the back of her office chair and forgotten, along with whatever work she’s been putting off all afternoon.

Dark curls scooped up and away from her neck, gives Mason a great view to the line of her throat and down her naked shoulders. A sage strappy shirt stretches down her small frame, trying its best to keep her cool in the heat...reminds him of the stalk in his hand.

He tenses.

Mia’s eyes flicker to the sunflower he’s holding and her smile (fuck, that smile will be the end of him) grows and grows.

All teeth (white, and...harmless with the dull edges) and she gives an airy chuckle.

“That for me?” she asks with one eyebrow lifting into a curly fringe.

Pushing off the car, Mason musters up his best grimace and fights back the fear fighting its way up his spine. He doesn’t understand it, doesn’t know why fear is the first thing that possesses him when she stands this close and gestures to the flower with a tilt of her head.

Before he can respond, before he can let his tongue and fear get the better of him— Mia makes for the sunflower in his grip.

Fear tells him this should be a mistake. This memory must be a mistake; one that he’s sure will be the only one to matter in a dizzying spiral of time: Mia smiling down at this sunflower.

The leaves rustle again, and sunlight filters through, dappling the deep brown of her hair.

She makes it easy, never has to wrestle with the feeling for too long before she distracts him. If it’s not a quip, it’ll be an expression that should not be equal parts funny or cute. Spears Mason somewhere deep, somewhere he doesn’t think he’s touched before— doesn’t know if it could ever be before her.

Mia speaks to the flower, a lone fingertip running over its petals. “It’s very pretty.”

Mason watches her stroke the large leaf at the stalk, leaning in nose-first to catch its scent at the centre, eyes fluttering shut. Dark lashes meet her cheeks, and he follows the line of her freckles (darker in the summertime).

He wants to take his time here too, with the same pace as he did those side streets (seeing parts of Wayhaven he would have never traversed without coaxing).

“Yeah…” his voice is rough and unused, studying as she looks up at the way the branches move above them. Sunlight casting down on her, and that easy smile fixed on her lips. “Very pretty.”

#not proof-read we die like men or w/e #wayhaven summer #rbs whs #twc mason #twc m #the wayhaven chronicles #twc #mason x mia: cigarette with my tea #queue but said like moira rose #tuagonia writes twc

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oatmilkslytherin · 3 years

Text

not-so-opposites attract (n.longbottom)

description: a very unlikely friendship forms when slytherin!fem!reader is caught helping the hogwarts house elves in the kitchen. when you mix a kind, confident slytherin and a shy gryffindor with a heart of gold, what will be brewed? request idea by @ausblack thank you dear<33

pairing: neville longbottom x slytherin!fem!reader

warnings: none i think

requested: yes / no

taglist: @jud3cardan @dray-cookies

a/n: love this idea and lil neville warms my heart !!! also this is so long MY GOODNESS

perhaps it was her kind heart, perhaps it was her even kinder smile. whatever it was about y/n, it caused nearly her entire house to turn against her, but it also bloomed the most beautiful friendships with others.

y/n couldn’t lie; being called a ‘blood-traitor’ along with a variety of harsh names by her housemates was definitely not the most pleasant experience in the world. she wanted nothing more than to spread a little bit of light and love with everyone at hogwarts, but kindness only caused her fellow slytherins to shun her. people often questioned why she was sorted into slytherin in the first place; y/n questioned it herself.

however, after a few years of berating comments and a few paper airplanes to the back of her head, she decided it was only worth it to be her true authentic self. perhaps that’s why the majority of her nights she spent with the house elves in the kitchen when she wasn’t sneaking into her friends’ common rooms.

on this particular night when y/n found herself mindlessly wandering towards the kitchens, she couldn’t help but feel as if she was being followed by something, or someone. her head darted around her in search of any trailing professors or watchful prefects, but none came to sight. y/n shrugged the feeling off, writing it off as her own paranoia. she took one final look around the corridor before disappearing through the kitchen doors.

the kitchen was bustling with an immense amount of house elves, all chatting amongst themselves as they began preparations for tomorrow’s breakfast. their heads all snapped towards the door as y/n entered, smiles stringing along their little faces as she entered. she couldn’t help but smile back as she made her way over to them.

“oh, miss y/l/n! how lovely it is for you to be here,” one elf, winky, spoke, her smile wide as y/n walked over to her. y/n couldn’t help but smile softly but sympathetically at the house elves beaming up at her.

“please, i insist you call me y/n. miss y/l/n is much too formal,” y/n spoke. the house elves all looked at her as if she was mad, their eyes darting from her to each other.

“professor dumbledore insists we call masters as miss or mister, miss,” dobby piped up hesitantly. y/n smiled fondly at the little house elf; she always had a soft spot for dobby, he was always much too kind and wise for his own good.

“and professor dumbledore may be right, but i am not your master. i am your friend.” her words caused dobby to smile widely, his eyes near to tears as he let out some sound of excitement. y/n could only smile at them, their dispositions utterly heart-warming to the young girl. although their company was quite different from her interactions with her friends, she couldn’t help but be drawn to the house elves who only ever treated her with kindness even since her first year.

y/n followed the house elves around the kitchen as they spoke brightly about their breakfast plans for the following morning. their spirits seemed to peak with the young girl in the room. as the only company they ever had was each other and the occasional professor, they all took a liking to one of the only students who managed to learn all of their names and treat them with nothing but kindness.

as y/n listened intently as one of the house elves taught her how they make the morning bread, a small voice spoke up from behind her.

“quite nice, aren’t they?” the voice piped, making y/n spin around. her eyes met those of neville longbottom, someone who she had only had a few interactions with in their past few years at hogwarts. neville looked as sheepish as ever as he stood behind her, a small grin peaking from the corners of his lips as house elves greeted him softly.

y/n couldn’t help but smile at neville. she had always taken a liking to his kind hearted disposition, even if he was incredibly shy. neville, much like her, felt as if he was sorted into the wrong house, never feeling as if he displayed the qualities of a typical gryffindor. unlike y/n, however, neville didn’t have to deal with the cold remarks of his demeanor from his fellow housemates. still, y/n couldn’t help but feel drawn to the young boy, and found his bashfulness quite cute.

“they are. i thought i was the only one who came down here,” y/n spoke truthfully.

“i come down here when i can. i like their company,” neville stated, his cheeks growing a slight shade of pink. y/n smiled brightly at the boy who appeared to have the same interests as her. she turned back towards the house elf, asking if she could continue to show her and neville how the bread was made. neville hesitantly stepped next to y/n, his shoulders slightly tense from nervousness, but he was still as happy as ever.

after that night in the kitchens, neville and y/n spent much of their time with one another. they attempted to make their trips to the kitchen twice a week to talk to the house elves, but outside of the basement, y/n and neville were often found in the greenhouse or the library.

as their friendship grew, y/n couldn’t help but notice more things about neville that she found absolutely captivating. most times when they were in the greenhouse, y/n would let neville talk for hours about the history of herbology and the properties of every plant he laid his eyes on. other nights, neville would watch in awe as y/n rambled about a variety of magical creatures that she took care of beside hagrid.

neville couldn’t lie; the more time he spent with y/n, the more enamored he became by her. he loved the way she actually sat and listened to his rambling, and even encouraged him to tell her more when he apologized for talking for so long. he was absolutely infatuated with her kindness and intellect, and even grew the courage to ask her for help in his classes. not that he didn’t excel in his classes, but neville really looked for any reason to spend more time with her.

in the same way, y/n found neville absolutely captivating. the more he opened up to her, the more she took a liking to him. he was quite funny when he was comfortable with someone, feeling as if he could actually joke around and even throw slightly sarcastic comments towards y/n. many things about neville took y/n by surprise, and the more she learned of his quirks and habits, the more her feelings developed.

she couldn’t bring herself to tell him that, however. although she wasn’t of the same mindset and attitude as other slytherins, she still knew that she was sorted amongst them. despite how close her and neville became, she couldn’t help but doubt the idea of their friendship turning into anything more. y/n figured that neville wouldn’t want to romantically pursue anything with a slytherin, after all.

or, so she thought.

y/n wandered around the corridors during her free period, her destination intent on being the library. as she turned the corner, her body collided suddenly with another, causing y/n to drop the books in her arms and let out an audible grunt as she smacked into the opposing body.

y/n bent down to pick up her books, her mouth already spilling profuse apologies as she kept her eyes trained on the books spread across her feet.

“watch where you’re going blood traitor,” the voice spat down at y/n, causing her to tense up immediately. of course, the one person she had to run into was someone from her own house. just my luck, she thought.

y/n scrambled to gather the remainder of her books, her eyes still trained on the space between them as a hue of embarrassment spread across her features.

“sorry, marcus,” y/n mumbled, ready to rush past him and towards the library before he scoffed audibly, gripping onto y/n’s passing arm and spinning her to face him. y/n grimaced at the feeling of his hand on her arm, attempting to pry herself out of his grip, but he was persistent.

“where do you think you’re going, y/l/n? off to see your boyfriend, longbottom?” marcus asked, his smirk dark and taunting. y/n gulped in nervousness, finally ripping her arm out of his tight grasp.

“he’s not my boyfriend, flint. besides, what’s it to you?” y/n asked, growing incredibly angered at flint’s taunting. she wasn’t a stranger to the loathsome things the slytherins said about neville; she found it absolutely repulsive, really. while no one had ever said anything to her about her friendship with neville, the word around the castle made her stomach twist in frustration.

“just thought you couldn’t stoop any lower. guess i was wrong,” marcus egged her on, his wicked smirk still splaying across his face. y/n’s brows furrowed towards him, her grip around the binding of her books tightening intensely as marcus spoke.

“enough, flint. fix your teeth before you try speaking badly upon others.” y/n didn’t know where this sudden burst of confidence came from to speak out against her housemates, but the bottled-up anger became too much for her to suppress. while she could normally handle the harsh commentary about her own disposition, she wasn’t one to let others speak badly upon her friends’ names.

marcus, however, was not a fan of her words. the smirk dropped from his face, anger washing over his features as he took a step closer to y/n.

“watch your mouth, y/l/n. don’t forget i know where you sleep at night,” flint threatened. normally, y/n would immediately cower away, making him believe he won. but right now, years of suppressed anger was threatening to bubble from her lips; she wasn’t going to back down now.

“you’re pathetic to sit here and berate a girl who has been nothing but kind to you for the past five years. maybe if you put the same passion for me into your team, you guys could actually win a match,” y/n retorted, a fake pout stringing across her face to mock him. marcus seemed to boil at this comment, his fists tightening at his sides. y/n swore that she could nearly see the steam coming out of his ears.

“i’ll make you regret those words, blood-traitor. how about you go run off to your pathetic excuse of a boyfriend? salazar knows what you see in him; he resembles the toad he lost first ye-”

marcus’ words were caught off abruptly by y/n’s hand sharply connecting with his cheek, the palm of her hand leaving a stinging red mark on his skin. y/n’s eyes widened suddenly when the pulsing redness settled into her hand and she stared at marcus who was doubled-over slightly to the side, caressing his cheek in his hand.

“you aren’t a quarter of the man neville is. any girl would be lucky to be with him. now piss off, flint,” y/n spat viciously.

she expected the worst. she expected a ferocious stinging slap of her own to reside on her cheek, any long-term hex settling into her skin, or merlin forbid, even an unforgivable curse to be thrown haphazardly at her. she winced slightly, tensing her shoulders to prepare for marcus’ next move.

instead, though, he stalked off. turning on his heel abruptly, he strode tensely down the corridor, muttering something unintelligible as he rounded the corner. y/n let out a shaky breath as he disappeared from her line of sight, her shoulders relaxing into her stance.

“y/n!” y/n spun around suddenly, her eyes immediately meeting neville’s who was rounding the nearest corner. she looked rather sheepish as she stood in front of him, her palm still tender and her face still slightly flushed from the argument that ensued not even five minutes prior.

before y/n could even properly greet him, he spoke again. “i heard what you said... to marcus, i mean.”

her eyes widened at his words, an even deeper shade of red settling into her skin. she opened her mouth to speak, stumbling over how to start her sentence as thoughts filled her mind.

“i-i mean it’s true. i meant every... every single word,” y/n finally tut out, a small smile spreading across her cheeks. she couldn’t deny any longer that she fancied neville; perhaps it was her ambition that finally pushed her to act on her feelings.

a wide smile spread across neville’s face as his eyes darted around y/n’s frame, becoming increasingly more flustered from her kind words and even kinder smile.

“neville, i fancy you. and if you don’t feel the same way, that’s okay but i needed to-”

y/n was suddenly engulfed in neville’s embrace, his warmth enveloping her in his arms as he wrapped himself entirely around her. y/n was slightly caught off-guard, but quickly softened at his touch, melting in his embrace and wrapping her arms around his torso.

“of course i fancy you too, y/n. i’d be crazy not to,” neville spoke, laughing lightly in between a few of his words. y/n smiled widely with her face buried in his chest, her heart fluttering with excitement at his words.

she looked up at neville as their arms were still wrapped around each other. smiles tugged at the corners of their lips, hearts beating rapidly out of their chests as they stared at each other in awe.

“can i kiss you?” neville asked timidly, making y/n smile even wider at his constant need to be a gentleman. it was just one of the many things she absolutely adored about him.

“i’d thought you’d never ask.”

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toastedside · 3 years

Text

Valentine Blurbs

Batboys (+ Bruce) Valentine Blurbs.

Note: Happy valentine! It’s a month full of love, meaning I can find reason and indulge myself in these fic while pouring my heart for my boys. I hope you find the warmth of love and a little bit of happiness in this.

Prompt: Different ways to say I love you.

Bruce – “I’d rather just hang out with you, if I am honest.”

The ballroom was lavish, gold and black glittered around the room like a prideful emperor march around the city. It was filled with people dressed like they’re going to flaunt everything they have in their pocket, polite laughter and chatter mixed together in the air. You smiled politely as you tried your best to follow Mrs. Harris’s conversation about whatever it is about the latest gossips of the Gotham Elite. She’s an old lady that never learn how to stick her nose into where it belongs, and you hate to admit that some of her stories are indeed interesting.

Champagne on your hand was half empty, and your feet started to get hurt from standing too long. Even after a long way of attending galas and rich parties alike, you’d never get used to it. Maybe you get better at it, sure, but galas are suffocating and painfully exhausting.

You excused yourself after finishing your champagne, eyes darted around to find a slightest sight of your husband. It no longer surprised you, or anyone really, that he had a knack to slip away undetected from this kind of event. You walked through the empty and dark hallways, knowing exactly where he would be as your feet brought you into the balcony.

“I believe we have guests and party to attend, Mr. Wayne,” you greeted him as you inhaled the cold breeze. It was a welcomed change from the suffocating ballroom.

You saw Bruce’s lips twisted upwards. His hand stretched out in a silent invitation for you to join him, in which you gratefully accepted. “I’d rather just hang out with you, if I am honest.”

“It’s an important one. We worked days and night for this.”

“There’s no way to convince you to sneak out from this party, no?” he raised an eyebrow. You wanted nothing but to scowl at him for able to read you like an open book.

“If we go back a little while for ten minutes top, you’d get to hang out with me alone for the rest of the night.”

Bruce smiled. So wide and bright that you were sure the moon above was ashamed of his smile alone. He pulled you gently closer to him, planted a soft kiss into your hairline as he muttered, “Sounds good to me.”

Dick – “I dreamt about you last night.”

Dick pressed his phone lazily into his ear. His eyes still closed as he battling away the drowsiness that kept pulling him in and out of sleep. He could feel the sunlight slowly seeped into his room through the blinds as he listened patiently to the monotone ring on his phone.

“Hello?” you answered after the fifth ring. He figured you’d be out for work by now, but he couldn’t risk to wait for another minute. He smiled as soon as your voice blessed his ear.

“Hey babe,” he greeted. Voice still thick with sleep. “I dreamt about you last night.”

He could hear your breathless chuckle, as if the air had been sucked out of your lungs out of surprise. His lips involuntarily tilted upwards upon hearing your chuckle. Dick reckoned it’s a muscle memory at this point that the corner of his mouth would immediately turn upwards at the sound of your laughter.

“Oh yeah? What was it about?” you asked. Dick could hear the wide smile on your face. He closed his eyes and the image of you smiling with raised eyebrows popped inside his brain.

“You.”

“Hmm, I hope it was a nice one.”

“It was!” he said as he sat up on his bed. Suddenly felt more awake as his brain wrecked hard to replayed the pleasant dream he had. “I slept good and happy. Thanks to you.”

Jason – “I did the dishes.”

Truth to be told, you didn’t know what to expect. You hadn’t had any particular expectation upon how your day would end up be like. The exam waiting for you in two days and endless list of deadlines had been the only thought that plagued your mind. Eating you alive as you tried to hold into the strands of sanity you had left.

You didn’t expect Jason to show up, standing in your kitchen with a sheepish smile as he said, “I did the dishes.”

To think about it, you just realize you haven’t seen him in three days.

You blinked at him. Brain still unable to process the event displayed in front of you. You had come out from your room and head to the kitchen to grab an ice cream. Instead, you found a tall man stood in front of your kitchen sink and your three-days’ worth of dirty dishes done. All squeaky clean and neatly tucked in the cabinet.

“Why?” was the only thing your exhausted brain managed to muster.

Jason shrugged. “I know your study can be overwhelming. Especially since exam week is coming.”

Suddenly, the thought of him filled your brain to the brim. There was no such room for words. Only overflowing thought of him and the feelings you harboured in your chest. Jason stared at you alarmingly, his eyes wide.

“I am sorry,” his voice was above whisper. “Did I upset you?”

You shook your head as you let out a wet chuckle. You hadn’t realized you had been crying. There’s no other place you’d rather be than his arms right now, so you headed straight away into your desired destination. You felt Jason relaxed underneath your touch, and you felt him smile as you captured his lips as you wordlessly said thank you.

Tim – “It reminds me of you.”

No, he had no reason. His eyes merely caught the glimpse of periwinkle and baby’s breath on his way for photo hunting. So bright and pure underneath the sunlight, tucked in the middle of concrete jungle. Like an oasis in the middle of a desert, bright and cheery and inviting. Almost looking like it was out of place.

Tim had subconsciously walked himself towards the flower shop. His camera in his hand, eyes staring straight into the periwinkle and baby’s breath placed next to one another. He couldn’t understand why he had held his breath upon such a mundane sight.

Flowers in a flower shop. Yet it was the most mesmerizing sight he had seen all day.

“What’s the occasion?” you let out a surprised laugh as he showed up and presented a bouquet of periwinkle and baby’s breath.

Tim pressed his lips together. He couldn’t put the dots on why he did what he did. Surprisingly enough he was content with the gnawing fact he had act on his impulse to bought you a bouquet of flowers. It was mesmerizing, beautiful, and he was left in stunned silence upon seeing it for the first time.

You looked up from your present to meet his eyes. A smile still persistently painted across your face. Tim sucked a breath in and held it altogether. Beautiful, he silently thought to himself, almost like it strung out of nowhere. A beauty in a such misshaped place his room is.

The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning in the daylight. He smiled as he shook his head. He knew he wasn’t the most romantic boyfriend in the whole world, but he would be dammed not to let you know.

“Nothing. It reminds me of you.”

Duke – “Call me when you get home.”

You watched him pouting from the doorframe. You had to physically restrain yourself from pulling him into your embrace and smoothen out the pout on his lips. But knowing Duke, that probably would end up cost you another hour of him clinging into your side.

Duke watched you with arms folded in front of his chest. He looked so mesmerizing underneath the twilight. The sky above was a hue of orange and pink, a hint of black appeared on the line of horizon. Yet your eyes locked into his.

“Stop pouting!” you reprimanded him with a laugh. “You’ve hogged my attention for two days.”

“You’re absolutely mental if you think it was enough.”

“I have my own apartment,” you pointed out, “that I need to occasionally visit and clean.”

Duke knew it was true. He always knew when to back out and when to stood on his feet from an argument with you. Something he had learned fairly fast and well enough. You watched him shook his head with a smile.

“Come here,” he said as he spread his arms. “Give me one last kiss before you go.”

You complied with rolled eyes. His embrace was warm and inviting, you almost not want to let go. He leaned closer to capture your lips and you met him halfway. It was a quick and short one, left you wanting for more.

“Call me when you get home.”

Damian – “I hope you like it.”

Damian clutched a small canvas to his side. He frowned at the sensation of his heart thump inside his ribcage painfully. The sound of loud chatter of his classmates had been drowned by the ringing on his ear. His fingertips felt uncharacteristically cold. Was it the air conditioner?

He let out a quiet sigh. Was it the symptom of flu? Did he accidentally got exposed to a poison during his patrol? He was pretty sure he was fine in the morning. Days before that as well. So, what’s with the pounding heart?

His eyes darted around the packed hallway; mouth pressed together as he silently muttering your name. It was a tedious and hard job to find a person in a packed crowd, let alone a bunch of loud students on a break in a school hallway.

“Damian, hey!” it was you who had spotted him at first. Looked around like a lost and kicked puppy in the middle of a bustling city.

It has always been a funny thing between you two that he hadn’t understand. For some reason, you always had a knack to spot him in a bustling crowd when he hadn’t able to spot you. One thing that escalated almost immediately as soon as friendship blossomed between you and him. He approached you silently, the coldness on the tip of his finger had spread throughout his arms.

“I made you this,” he said as he discreetly shoved a small canvas into your hand. It was a beautiful painting of Alfred’s rose bushes in the garden. He had vaguely recalled you nonchalantly said wanting to see a rose bush in person. “I hope you like it.”

Damian immediately walked away towards his next class before you had a chance to speak. He knew eventually he had to talk about his painting and let you properly said thank you. But for now he would need to find a place to tame his erratic heart and his cold fingers.

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sanders-sides-fic · 3 years

Text

We all pretend (to be the heroes on the good side)

So… This got real angsty real quick. I didn't intend for it to be that bad. But it went there… So… Yeah.

This is the prompt I was using

Trigger warnings: vaguely implied coma, vaguely implied character death, implied fall, abandonment, ability to move inanimate objects like they're alive

Virgil Sanders.

Most people didn't know that name. Some did, but not nearly as many as knew him. Weird, wasn't it? To be known, without your name being uttered. Maybe that was still part of his history.

He hadn't started out on this side of the fight. A few years ago he'd been feared beyond compare. "Nightmare", that's what they used to call him. Back when he'd been pushed into that role without a visible way out. He didn't have a choice back then, or, at least that's what he used to think.

Then, one night shit got down. He destroyed every connection he'd had, severed every bridge, left everything behind. "Nightmare" became "Anxiety" at that time. A villain-turned-vigilante, who didn't use his powers to terrorise his opponent's minds until they were unable to fight, but answered to the terror people around him felt instead.

Back then he'd started to work with some of his former enemies. They took him in well, everything considered. And he couldn't deny that they helped him a lot. He would sometimes join hands with "the brain", and occasionally even with his reluctant friend and Virgil's former nemesis "the prince".

There were a lot heroes with a "the" in their names, surprisingly.

Now, he couldn't tell anymore when it had happened. But at some time he found himself influenced by their heroic antics, and he took on the name of "storm cloud". His hero name. He teamed up with the brain in his mandatory probation, the so-called introduction phase before his official debut with title of hero. Sadly the name a common friend had offered for their team had been rejected by the hero in question. "Mind storm" would have been awesome, though, right?

And then things started to become brighter in his little world. Hell, his entire career was nothing more than a redemption arch.

That's why he was often times called "the light of hope" by the people. Light of hope, my ass! They were just relieved to see not every villain was beyond help. That was the only reason they liked him, if you'd asked him. Publicity.

That was what he kept thinking about in that moment, when he found himself facing off with his current nemesis. The golden snake was… an old acquaintance. A villain that'd only become a villain because of him. Or, because he wasn't a villain anymore. A villain that Virgil secretly couldn't bring himself to hate because of that, even after everything that had transpired between the two of them.

What even was this, really? A fight between a hero and a villain? If so, who was who? Virgil couldn't tell anymore. He didn't know who he was anymore. It was so… What was the word?

Ack! No time to think of it. He jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding the snake's poisonous fang. Ja- the villain had become quite good at this by now. Virgil was really driven to the edge of the building. Luckily there were no more civilians around, but he could still see reporters, some persistent fans, and police officers taking away the snake's underlings out of the corner of his eyes.

The wind blew strong this night.

A bolt of purple lightning shot towards Jan- the villain. It was stoped by the snake of pure gold he controlled so delicately without ever reaching him. Of course. What had Virgil expected? This villain was outstanding. Like he'd always had been.

Virgil tried again, the lightning coming from his finger tips getting harder to control by the second. Too many people, too much fear in the air, too little time to concentrate. And the villain knew this. Virgil could see his smirk underneath the shadow of his hat.

"Just give up, dark and stormy night! You can't hang on for much longer."

Virgil gritted his teeth and fired another bold of lightning. "And let you escape when we got this far? Big chance." Though he did want to do that, if he was being honest.

A laugh so hauntingly familiar and yet a far cry from what he used to know resounded through the tense air. "Suit yourself, then!" Another snake, another step back, pushing the golden puppet away from him with his lightning, parry, attack, cutting off the escape route, damn it all and…

And there was no more building under his feet. His hand somehow managed to grip the edge of the building, fortunately. He would decidedly not look down. And if the people around him would kindly stop sending their fear about him falling towards him, that'd be great, thanks!

He could see the golden snake stepping forward leisurely. "Told you so, dearest." With a smirk the snake retreated.

Well, from the sounds of it, Ro would arrive any moment now. He could hear him in the distance. So he only needed to hand on. Just a bit more. Even though his breath was heavy, and his muscles ached, and there was so much fear it felt like his powers were going to explode, and he was tired, and…

At that moment Virgil realised for the first time how tired he actually was. And he started to wonder what would happen if he would let go of the edge. Five fingers desperately hanging on. Now four. For how much longer? How long until Ro arrived? How much longer did he have to hang on?

What would happen?

Well, he would probably die. Splash, unsightly and painful. Sure. But, aside from that? Who would care? Who would actually care about it? Ro, who only accepted him after fighting so much to prove he was even a bit trustworthy? Lo, who had taken him in because he wanted to prove the point of villains deserving a second chance?

Would there be an official memorial? Like with other heroes? Or would there be merely a single line in the newspaper, like with the villains? Maybe there'd be a few lights on the edge of the street in his colour, like some did for vigilantes they especially adored.

But that would also be the end of so much bad stuff, right? No more pressure, no more screams in his head, no more false smiles, no more… No more tiredness accumulating in his bones.

Was that what would happen?

"No!"

The sudden desperate cry from the villain's mouth startled him out of his thoughts. And, oh… Oh, fuck. Oh, shit! Oh, in that moment of sudden stupidity he'd actually let go, without even fully noticing, hadn't he?

And again, the voice he'd always be able to recognise, no matter where he would hear it: "No! Don't you dare die! Not here, not like this, not now."

It was too late, though. And had Ro arrived yet? He could still see the shocked fans, the officers, the people up there. Frozen. They didn't move as he fell down to his inevitable death. But the villain? He did, he leapt towards the edge, as though he was still within reach.

And Virgil, no, Storm Cloud couldn't help but let out a startled laugh at the irony of it all. How ironic it was, he thought just before his vision went dark, that the only hand reaching out to him, the hero, the so called "light of hope"… the only hand reaching out to him now was that of his nemesis.

Maybe not hating the villain wasn't that stupid of a secret, after all.

❦

"Oh? So how do your powers work, then?" Janus looked up at him through his thick eyelashes, a content smirk on his face as Virgil played with his hair.

"I can hear their fears. They scream in my head, and I can feel their anxiety on my skin." Virgil thought about how to best describe it, fingers changing directions to trial the snake tattoo Janus had on his left cheekbone. "It's like static in the air. And I can either wait until it explodes, or I can let it free. That's what those lightnings are, just… The tension from the air gathered into sheer fear. If I condense it enough, it makes them pass out from fear."

Janus sighed, mismatched eyes closed. "Mine's so stupid in comparison. So I can control metal that looks like animals, wow. It's useless, really. Like, what am I? A fucking jewellery box? Stupid!"

Virgil couldn't help but laugh at that. "Yeah, yeah. But it's fine, isn't it? Since I was able to capture you that way. If you hadn't become my hostage, you wouldn't be with me right now."

"Like me!" The two of them startled, looking at the man hanging upside down from the ceiling. "Though I suppose I'm less hostage and more freeloader…"

"You both are technically freeloaders," Virgil corrected with a smirk "and I didn't kidnap you. You followed me and begged me to take you in because your brother's my enemy. What was it again that you said?"

"I'm leverage so you don't kill him! So I am a hostage. A willing one, though. And it's not bad, you don't torture me or anything. You're surprisingly gentle for a villain…"

"Yeah, well, I… It just happened. If I had had the choice, I…"

Janus sat up suddenly, a serious look on his dolled-up face. "But it did happen. And that's good, because there's no way either of us" he pointed between Remus and himself "will be on any other side anymore. It's too late for us, and we like it here. And you do too, right?"

Virgil looked at the eyes of the man he loved, the man who he pretended not to know had bought a diamond ring just a few days ago. And he couldn't answer. So he just sighed and kissed his forehead instead.

"If you ever change sides" Janus muttered as he snuggled back against Virgil "I'll come and terrorise the entire world to get you back. I'm no hero, but I'm on the right side." Virgil didn't see it, but he knew Janus' face got considerably darker during that last sentence. "So I'd sacrifice the world for you."

There was a beat of silence.

"I'll never forgive you if you leave."

And Virgil didn't plan on leaving. Really, he didn't. But the next night… It just happened. Like when he became a villain. A week later, when he finally managed to get back to their layer, everything was empty. But on top of the bar there was an empty bottle of wine and a black velvet box.

Virgil leaned back, sighing. He looked back up, tears in his eyes. He was too late, huh?

"I guess you saved me, Jan," he muttered to no one in particular "since this is a nightmare. Or maybe it's hell. Who knows." He chuckled, tears still streaming down his face. "I hope I wake up soon."

He sighed, sinking to the floor, trapped in the most painful memory he had. "But then again, maybe that's what I deserve for always letting go at the worst times…"

The scene started to replay again.

Taglist: @gattonero17 @alias290

#villain and hero au #sanders sides au #angsty fic #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #angst #anxceit

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mmvalentine · 3 years

Note

Will you do an Acotar scene lift from Rhys’s perspective under the mountain in between the trials? We only get vague mentions of what happens because of the wine Freyre and I think it would just be really interesting to see Rhys’s perspective. I love your writing btw it always makes me smile to see you’ve posted something ❤️

My darling let me tell you I really struggled with this, because these scenes hurt me a lot. Re-reading the scenes, it seems like Feyre spends the whole time really sick and wondering what happened while she was drugged and practically dissociating. BUT, I persist because I know you've been following for a while, and I so appreciate your support and wanted to make you something. I hope this is okay, it's not exactly the steamy stuff I usually write but it's my interpretation of what was going on (and let's be honest, my way of making sense of why Rhys was making not the best decisions).

In Between

Feyre was in danger. Again.

Aramantha's guards were dogs, and I wasn't surprised by this, but it was exhausting. Every time I turned my back there was something they were up to- taunting Feyre, giving her impossible tasks, threatening to torture her. As if being locked in a cell Under The Mountain wasn't bad enough.

I wasn't too proud to admit that I had become quite attached to the little human slip of a thing. She was so small, so fragile, so mortal. And yet here she was, a thorn in Aramantha's side the way that I... I couldn't be. Not if I wanted her eyes far away from Velaris.

So there I was, living vicariously through a human girl and secretly rooting for her like it's the only way I can defy Aramantha. I suppose it is.

For the last few nights, I'd taken to walking past the cell block to listen in on the guards. Nothing too alarming was happening for the first couple of days, but now that the next task was nearing, they had new orders. I was torn between exasperation that Feyre seemed to constantly be in peril, and a spark of interest. If Aramantha was trying to get Feyre killed between tasks, it meant some part of her was truly afraid she'd win. And I liked the idea of Aramantha afraid.

But the immediate situation on hand was that the guards were going to make her remove the salt from a high fae's bathwater, or else they'd pull the teeth out of her head.

For Cauldron's sake.

I would have thought it better for Feyre to sit quietly in her cell and be forgotten. At least she'd get a moment's peace between Aramantha's tasks. But in fact it seemed that Aramantha did not mean her to make it to the next task, and no one was watching her schemes.

So.

I'd have to keep an eye on her myself.

But how to do so, when I was also expected at Aramantha's revels every night? I'd just have to bring her with me.

If Under the Mountain was modeled after the Court of Nightmares, then at least I knew the rules of the game. I knew how to make people notice her.

And so the next night, before the guards could get to her again, I sent in spies to make sure she was going to be fit for a Nightmare revel. They brought clothes- but they were barely clothes. She'd be ripped apart in seconds with that much bare skin. Think, think.

There was one other way to cover skin. In the Illyrian tradition, with ink. I was sure enough of my reputation with the court that no one would risk touching her I was sure to find out. Okay. So Cerridwen and Nuala would paint her every bare patch of skin, and then no one could touch her.

The night of the revel arrived, and when I went to collect Feyre, she was trying to tear off her dress. Alarm flashed through me. Fool that I am, I hadn't considered the fact that of course she would loathe this role. Humans have such a low tolerance for wickedness.

"I wouldn't do that," I said from the doorway. Not willing to risk coming any closer, and scaring her into a panic.

"Our bargain hasn't started yet," she snapped. Hate flashed in her eyes, and I thought- good. She should hate me. I was Aramantha's whore, right? Fine. Better angry than scared. Better angry than vulnerable.

"Ah, but I need an escort for the party," I told her. Besides, I needed her haughty for the revel. Anything less, and they'd lose interest. "And when I thought of you squatting in that cell all night, alone..." Her eyes glazed hard, and her lips thinned. Perfect. "You look just as I hoped you would."

"Is this necessary?" she hisses at me, gesturing to the paint and silk ensemble.

"Of course," I say, letting cold soak into my voice. "How else would I know if anyone touches you?" To demonstrate, I ran a finger through the paint on her shoulder, and watched the paint fix itself. "The dress won't mar it, and neither will your movements," I told her. She needs to understand. "And I'll remember precisely where my hands have been. But if anyone else touches you- let's say a certain High Lord who enjoys springtime- I'll know."

But this was a serious point. I knew she'd want to go straight to him- Cauldron knows why, Tamlin is an insufferable pup- but I knew what she want. And I knew Tamlin had not a scrap of wit about him and would give it to her. And then Aramantha would tear us all to shreds. So.

I flicked her little upturned nose, noticing suddenly the smattering of freckles there and nearly getting distracted, and fed her the line I knew would stick. "I don't like my belongings tampered with."

If looks could kill, as they say in the Human realm.

"Come," I said. "We're already late."

Of course, that was entirely intentional. I needed all eyes on us- on her as we walked in the room. And indeed every head turned, some bowed but most just gawked at Feyre. We walked al the way to the dais, and stood before Aramantha. And Tamlin.

I'd once told Feyre that I'd wait to tell Tamlin about our little bargain. Wait until the right time. No point in exciting him into a rage while everything hung in the balance, I thought. Then again, if it were my beloved in Aramantha's cells... rage would not be an adequate word. But that was another reason I thought very little of the High Lord of Spring. Maybe a little rage would do him some good.

"Merry Midsummer," I said, bowing to Aramantha. Every time I did it, I wanted to vomit on her feet.

"What have you done with my captive?" she said, displeasure darkening in her eyes. Her tone was light, though, and I knew she'd not make a fuss in front of all these people.

"We made a bargain," I said. "One week with me at the Night Court every month in exchange for my healing services after her first task." I raised her arm to reveal the tattoo, dull next to the shining paint. "For the rest of her life."

I couldn't help it. I stared straight at Aramantha, and knew she understood my words. You tried to have her killed and I helped her. I see life beyond this mountain. I think she's going to win. It was only the thought of my family back home that prevented me from spitting the words in her face.

"Enjoy my party," was her only reply. And Tamlin? Tamlin did nothing. Didn't stir, just gripped the arms of the throne like the useless fuck he was.

I led Feyre away, and wondered if she was going to make it through the night. There was a lot of performing to be done, by both of us, if I was going to keep her out of the cells and away from the guards until the next task. Then my eyes lighted on the feasting table.

"Wine?" I offered Feyre a goblet. The perfect solution- if she drank the wine, she wouldn't have to act. Even more merciful- she wouldn't have to remember. But she shook her head.

I smiled, knowing that it did not make up for the cruel games I'd be playing this whole time. Knowing it'd do little to comfort her. "Drink. You'll need it." As much of the truth as I could tell her. Drink, I begged, kneeling at the doors of her mind.

"No," she said, and I gritted my teeth. Pushed against those doors, the flimsy shields that were far too easy to step through. I'm sorry, Feyre. I'm so sorry.

"Drink," I said, and her fingers latched onto the goblet.

As soon as the wine was gone, Feyre's body went loose. I caught her up in my arms, and her eyes were vacant. It horrified me. It was perfect.

I led her to a table and sat her down in my lap, scanning the crowd and knowing that fae all around the room were still watching us. I reached for my own goblet, and wished I could forget, too.

"Dance, Feyre," I said, as she started to slump in my lap. That would not do.

She stood unsteadily to her feet, right between my knees, and swayed to the music. Lifted her arms, trailed her hands down the sides of her breasts, and closed her gold-lidded eyes as she moved.

In any other setting, she might have been exquisite.

Here, she was hollow. She wasn't in her body, there was just a dress and some paint. And I wondered if she would ever forgive me for this. I doubted it.

A High fae came up to us, stood behind Feyre and started to dance with her. Feyre turned to him, reached for him. I grabbed her arms, and smoothed them back down to her sides.

"Mine," I growled at the fae, and his eyes narrowed, but he backed away. Cauldron. This was going to be my entire evening.

I let her dance until she started to flag, and then I set her carefully back in my lap. Couldn't let her sit anywhere else, couldn't let her out of my sight. Not like this. Not in this state.

And then when she started to droop again, I got her up to dance. Up down, dance, sit. Up again. A whole fucking routine that made me want to blow my brains out. The only upside was that Tamlin kept his eyes on us the whole time, and hated every moment. And yet still, he didn't move from his throne. Delightful.

When finally the night started down and everyone was disappearing to either their own beds or someone else's, I led Feyre back to her cell. Let her collapse on the pallet and sleep off the wine. By the time I got back to my own room, the self-loathing was enough to choke on.

But Feyre had made it through the night alive.

And if this is what it took to get her through to the second task, then I could keep doing it. After all. What was a handful of nights are fifty years Under the Mountain?

****

Agh I really don't know if this is worth anything, but I hope you get something out of it dearest, and if you don't you can always send me a different scene and I'll try again if I can x

#ask #prompt fill #acotar #idk it's not quite feysand is it #no idea what i'm supposed to tag this as #also not feeling confident enough about it to put the taglist on??#bit out of my depth haha sorry

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ms-a-z-u-l · 4 years

Text

More than Gold (Caster Gilgamesh x Reader)

Summary: There was something she didn’t realized over the course of time she stayed, and it was that from the moment she arrived, there was not a single woman coming out his chamber anymore.

Category: Angst, Romance

Warnings: Only forced kissing if that counts

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A/N- This was the one I so far liked the most out of the three, so thank you for reading and hope anyone likes it!🦋

(Also I wrote this in one night and by the end my brain was malfunctioning :v )

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The first time he saw her was when Enkidu was still alive. Claiming to have lost her way from a place called Chaldea, she didn’t know how to get back and fortunately saw the city of Uruk from a distance. Mind you, this was also at the time Gilgamesh had no shame in bedding any woman he wished for, married or not. Did he had the same plans for her when he saw her so lost and nowhere to reside? At that moment, yes he did, but this time he somehow wanted to take his time taking her to his chambers, not forcefully but willingly.

Plans change however. She was more defiant, although not in an overbearing, annoying way that would get someone else executed. She was full of sarcasm, and rejected any type of advances from his in a smooth way that even left him dumbfounded. Her retorts were always given with a small, cocky smile, as if she was the one laying the cards in the table, winning the game.

By that point, the king had mostly given up on his initial plan and overtime just let her stay, unconsciously getting used to her presence.

Everything was serene until after his best friend’s death. It left him numb, and afraid of dying himself, losing everything in the process. Everyone around noticed the change in demeanor. Most of the time, it looked as if he was lost, but no one dared say anything. She was the exception though.

It wasn’t the first time she had seen his chamber, he had sometimes been insistent that she wake him up, and lately it wasn’t because he had other intentions but simply because he wanted to hear her. But now the situation was different. It started with her checking up on him and ended in having the king’s wrapped around her waist and neck.

“You won’t do it” he heard her say calmly. For the position they were in, she didn’t look scared at all. “And what makes you think that? I’m not in my right mind at the moment and I can do what I please with anyone, including you” He sneered, holding her more tightly.

“Because it wouldn’t make it any better, it won’t really satisfy you” She managed to choke out as his grip on her neck was getting stronger. Gilgamesh stared at her for a couple of seconds, as if completing his next move. A moment later, she could see he had made a decision and before he took action he simply said, “Then you’re the most foolish woman” He smashed his lips against hers, rough and immediately pushing his tongue past her closed teeth aggressively, wanting to taste her more. She wasn’t reciprocating at all but wasn’t pushing him away, just letting him kiss her to his whim. His grip on her neck had loosened, and after pulling away for air not before pulling on her lower lip and started trailing kisses down her jaw and neck. It was when he placed in her shoulder blade that she felt it. Trailing down her arm slowly, she felt as tear by tear started falling and he had stopped nay ministration on her body. His hands were holding onto her wrist, head laying on her shoulder as he let the tears fall silently.

Feeling for him, she hesitantly raised a hand and placed it in his blonde locks, slightly stroking. Gilgamesh was holding tightly onto the fabric of her dress like a lifeline and didn’t let go until calming down and he was able to speak, more rationally this time. “I don’t know what to do, y/n, if to go and kill that cursed goddess or just stay until death eventually takes me as well. Tell me, what do I do”

She felt his anger, his frustration, but most of all she felt how much the king missed his friend, the one that he could ever see as equal now taken away so cruelly. Even remembering Enkidu’s soft expression and light smiles, it felt like a pierce through the heart. it had affected everyone who knew him, but everyone knew it inwardly destroyed the young king. As y/n continued stroking his hair, she stared outside at the now dark sky. Trying to find her words, she started, “I believe that answer can be found by only you. You can go and kill her, you can stay still. Scream, cry, curse. Or- you can choose to be a king, protect your people even from the gods and watch as your city grows. I don’t know what he would’ve wanted, I can’t put my words in his mouth, but he understood you as you did he. I’m sure you would want to fulfill any promise left. And I know he wouldn’t have wanted you to be alone, which is why Siduri and I are here. We cant replace him, of course, but we’re here in our own way, Gilgamesh. Whatever you decide to do, this time I won’t defy.”

Moments passed as he contemplated. What did HE wanted to do? As he though about it, he raised his head and came to his decision. Instead of letting death take him, he would find a way to win over it. He had a duty, and it was to see the life of humanity and its progressive path. He couldn’t do that if he died before it ended. Making his decision, he fully looked at y/n. “I’m not dying. Even if it takes me to the underworld, I will find a way to live until it’s the end for everyone. I’m going away for a while. I trust you and Siduri will take care of things here for me, so just hold still until then.”

“I won’t dare ask how long its going to take, so alright. This time I’ll follow orders from you, your majesty” He knew that tone, the one she used to lighten the mood whenever he was tense. It seems it never failed as it pulled a small smirk form him. “Look at you so obedient, I would’ve hoped you were like that regarding other things too.” He retorted suggestively. She knew however, it wasn’t a serious implication as it used to be before and laughed mockingly, “Ha! Right, I would’ve been out of the ziggurat by now if I gave in so easily”

He huffed indignantly, “You would’ve been the first woman I wanted to keep” She stayed quiet at that, sort of put off and not knowing how to take that comment, didn’t even noticed he had a hold of her hands, “You... still kept me here though”

“At first it was still in attempt to lure you in, but I must admit I now have other reasons I won’t tell until I come back” He stated, looking at her quiet curiously with a glint in his eyes. “Keeping me in suspense I see” she sighed and continued, “Alright, I’ll wait here then, not like there’s an alternative. But promise me this” Eyeing her curiously, he answered, “Making commands now?”

“A promise I said. I want you to not only come back, but to come back being you, being who you find yourself to be out there, and knowing that we’ll be the first ones to see you back in Uruk. Looking ahead and finally figured out what you need to do in reality, not what duty was assigned to you.” He looked at her incredulously, having expected to ask something for herself. “You aren’t greedy at all, aren’t you”

“I am, believe me for what I’m asking you, I am. But that’s also something I won’t say until you come back.” She said shaking his hands holding hers. “Fine, I’ll grant you that one wish as much as I can” Y/n smiled at his answer and held his hands tighter. “I’ll be waiting here then, how long it takes, Gilgamesh” before letting go of his hands, she leaned in quickly and placed a chaste kiss in the corner of his lips. She hurriedly walked to the door outside, and before leaving, she swore she could hear the words, “I won’t lose you to them either.”

...............................

A long time passed until y/n saw Gilgamesh coming back from his journey, and as promised, her and Siduri were the first ones he saw. He was different, longer hair and much less clothes than he worse before. But it wasn’t only that. She could see it, something had indeed changed in him and just from that, y/n could tell he came through with his promise. The king didn’t obtain immortality, but he realized it wasn’t something he needed any longer.

After more time passed, y/n hadn’t seen the king much after he came back until the particular morning Siduri woke her up and said Gilgamesh wanted to see her at his throne. When she got there he still was not there and waited a few minuted. When she heard footsteps and looked up, greeted by a different sight she expected. He looked different with purple markings on both his shoulders and a horned garment atop his head. He still minimum clothing, that hasn’t changed. Although a bit shocked, nonetheless she knew it was him, and she let a soft smile take over as he walked up and sat on his throne. Leaning his hatching on his left hand, he offered his right one to you. “Standing a few feet away, she questioned, “Yeah, before that, you haven’t told me what you said you were gonna keep until now”

“You tell me yours first and I will” Y/n grunted, persistence in her gaze, but after seeing he wasn’t going to let up, she silently agreed. Taking a deep breathe and preparing to say what she considers the most embarrassing thing, she answers. “It was you. I said I was greedy because I wanted you to be back, and I wanted to be the first one to see you, and that’s why I wanted you to promise that. Because despite how you were before and the certain intention you had with me, you allowed me to see more than that. You allowed me to see a vulnerable side and less harsher side, the side that felt lonely and the side that could actually consider someone else a friend. I know you had more than the king who took everything for himself, and I honestly found all sides admiring in a way. But that’s why I’m greedy, because I wanted you back no matter how many years it took, and because honestly I’ve been wanting to feel you in not just one way, but I had more pride than i allowed myself to show.” After she finished, y/n noticed Gilgamesh’s still stretched hand. He was still waiting for her to take it after all that, “My answer is short, by taking my hand and standing beside me you should know it, so stop stalling woman, and I’ll make sure to make you more greedy as you spend your life with me” widening her eyes slightly, she gaped at him, a little bit of red on her cheeks. Collecting herself, she walked up and took his hand, rough and calloused.

She intertwined hers finger with his and held tightly as he as he pulled her to stand beside his throne. They both looked ahead as the sun was becoming brighter and brighter, still loosely holding hands.

“You and him. Indeed you are more than all the gold I could ever have”

#fate grand order #fate go #caster gilgamesh #gilgamesh #caster gilgamesh x reader #gilgamesh x reader #fate series #angs #romance #writing #fanfic #one shot

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hollenka99 · 3 years

Text

A God Walks Into a Temple

Summary: The Blood God is someone to be feared as much as revered. So that is why he is going to raise this baby he just met to be a soldier, definitely not for any other reason. Prologue of Blood and Feathers.

If you were to research the cultural history of piglins, perhaps one of the most prominent figures you will encounter is the Blood God. This deity can be found mentioned as far back as their records go. He likely predates any ancient literature they have. There are disputes, as with anything from that far back in history, as to his origins or his true role. Some say he is simply a war god for a race that easily become hostile. Others argue he is Death personified while a handful speculate he is specifically the patron of those who die bloody. Whatever attributes he is labelled as, be it war, bloodshed, death, chaos or vengeance, it is clear the Blood God is not an individual to be messed with. A significant piglin settlement is rarely devoid of some sort of effigy pertaining to their god, especially the ruins of old cities. A common sight is a golden statue portraying a grand piglin dressed in armour and armed with a sword, typically in a stance suggesting he is rallying his forces to fight and potentially fall in his name. The only method known to kill the Blood God is causing him fall in battle. Even then he will not be quashed for long. Within weeks, he will be reborn amongst his piglin brethren. His bloodthirsty nature will reveal itself before too long and his years of harsh yet necessary training will begin so he may lead his followers into battle once more. The last time the Blood God was defeated was centuries ago. The days of his youth in this life are faded memories. The blood that he has witnessed with these eyes alone has been enough to replace vast bodies of water. He has admired each tribute to him, dilapidated and well maintained alike, countless times. He's not even sure of the quantity that have been sacrificed in his name by this point. Functional immortality can get dull, repetitive even, with enough time. So perhaps it’s a good thing he finds himself passing an avian settlement that night. The valley is populated by a small city. The architecture is tall, practically dominated by skyscrapers. There is a temple a fair distance away at another point of the rim surrounding the place. In the darkness, he can just about make out a series of stairs leading up to it, all well lit by lamps. The local area up here is full of farmland. However, it would seem the year's harvest has been collected by now. A small gathering exit the temple. They disband with some flying home and others ushering themselves down the stairs reminiscent of defeated troops. That is the least of his concerns though, especially given his divine visitor who lands beside him with a swoop. "Well well well, this is a rare sight. Bit far from the Nether, aren't you, Blood God?" "Perhaps. And you are? Sky goddess undoubtedly but which one? There are a few of you." She gives him a thoughtful smile. From her hair, she retrieves a yellow flower which she proceeds to twirl within her fingers for a moment. "Celandine. Perhaps you are more familiar with my mother, Aderyn, the Mother of Birds." "Sure. You're all the same anyway." "Oh, is that so?" She laughs in mock offense. "Then I suppose all piglins and Netherworlders are of the same breed too." He grunts in acknowledgement that she has spoken but gives her words no further attention. Instead, he gestures towards the temple and asks "What's going on down there, some ritual?" "Ah." She gazes in the same direction as him. "Now that would be the Offering of Hatchlings. They do this every year. As you may or may not have noticed, the wind have been growing colder recently. They've gathered the year's harvest and it is time for them to temporarily migrate to a warmer climate. But, of course, they want us to ensure their journey is a successfully safe one. For whatever reason, they've convinced themselves the way to sweeten the deal is to leave two of their children that were born in the past 12 months behind for us along with other gifts. Come, I'll show you if you'd like." "Well, I got nothing better to do. Lead the way." The interior wasn't anything significant. White walls surrounded them without a ceiling. What did surprise the Blood God, however, was how there was more room to walk around than the view from outside gave the impression of. That said, the centrepiece of the room is, by far, the large sculpture that resembled a nest, filled with cushioning. Surrounding it are gifts like samples of freshly yielded crops, gems and gold ingots. Situated on top are two winged infants in white gowns that had been abandoned as part of the ritual. On the left was a girl with hair as dark as her complexion and light purple feathers that may grow richer in tone as she ages. She bawls from fresh abandonment but the empty air is yet to pay her any notice. Then to the right was her companion who was seemingly slightly older and far calmer. The boy stares up at him with blue eyes that match the gradient of his wings. He does not cry or murmur despite the ceremonial desertion of his parents or the oversized figure (even by piglin brute standards) of a god looming over him. The infant... even breaks into a tiny smile at him. "They just leave them out here? Surely there must be some parents that get attached to their child." "Oh, of course, all the time. Some see it as a great honour but others do view it as a great loss, yes." She sighs. "I have made it my vocation to watch over their community and ensure these chosen children are kept safe. I even bless them with longevity so that they may endure far into old age. There is another town far from here where I send them. There's always someone who is willing to raise a new arrival." "I see." He does not know nor understand why the notion appears in his mind. He has no reason to care about some dumb baby, especially not one who isn't even remotely the same species as him. Caring about living things isn't on brand for him either. Nah, he was more the type to make things stop living, not ensure their survival. Although... he could use this as an opportunity to raise a warrior whose skills were on par with his and those of his greatest recruits. Maybe if this experiment produces successful results, he will consider home growing armies' worth of overworlder children. Oh, who is he kidding? He simply wants a change of pace, a new experience. As far as he can recall across the spans of all his lives, he has rarely troubled himself with trivial distractions such as a family or passing his knowledge based of vast years of experience to the next generation. Who says he can't break that pattern? "What if I took this one with me, the boy?" She raises an scrutinising eyebrow. "Are you sure?" "I have lived eons. How difficult can one child be to maintain?" The incredulous look towards him persists before laughter unfurls from her mouth. She comments something about how he is setting himself up for more than a few surprises. It bears no consequence since she complies with his request regardless. As Celandine advises him on the basics like how to hold the boy and gods above, no, you cannot feed him cow's milk as to compensate for a lack of his mother's own. Shortly before the pair depart for their new life together, he is told the child's name is Phillip. He see no reason to change it.

#mcyt #dream smp #technoblade #philza #kidza #my writing #blood and feathers

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doctorreids · 4 years

Text

folklore - spencer reid x reader

CHAPTER ONE - the 1

next chapter

summary: reader sees spencer on the opposite platform of her subway station and can’t help but reflect on two memories on why she believed he was the one.

a/n: send me an ask to be a part of my taglist!

word count: 2,270

“and if you wanted me, you really should’ve showed. and if you never bleed, you’re never going to grow.”

The apartment felt completely empty. It has been now for weeks. Despite the fact that they used to come and go in the mornings, the sound of the shower running and the coffee machine brewing did nothing to fill the void of his voice floating through the apartment.

Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to turn on the radio or television to drown out the silence that has been following her for months now.

3 months, 2 weeks and 3 days to be exact.

The cool, autumnal breeze swept through her hair as she walked to the subway. The leaves on the trees turn to fiery shades of red, orange and gold, brightening up the grey sky. The pavement shines with the remains of last night's rainfall, the hustle and bustle of early morning carrying her to the station. This time of year has always been her favourite, the transformation of each season amazes her but there is not feeling quite like crunching leaves beneath your feet, or watching them slowly fall from their trees in the breeze.

He loves this time of year too.

She’s been trying to convince herself that she’s alright without him, that she’s turning over a new leaf, but each day it gets harder and harder to fight the urge to call him. Then she reminds herself of all the times he failed to show that he truly wanted her, wanted her to listen and to hold his hand; all the times he failed to take down his walls, let himself open the floodgates and to grow with her. He failed to change with the seasons. Yet, she wants nothing more to hear the soft timbre of his voice, the tone he only ever used with her. Once again, she has to remind herself that that’s gone too.

Her stop was relatively empty for this time of the morning. Just a few early-risers like herself yawning into their to-go coffee cups, flicking through this morning's newspaper. The platform always echoed at this time of day, no sound other than soft conversations and the occasional announcement from the speaker.

She didn’t like mornings until she met him. Now she rises early, usually getting into work a while before everyone else. She tries to shake those thoughts from her head but lifting her head from the ground she looks to the other platform.

She looks right at him.

She knows it’s not him, he lives in the opposite direction, but her mind is telling her that the messy mop of brown hair, the suit jacket and cardigan combo, is really him on the other platform.

The rumbling vibrations of the approaching train snapped her out of her reverie. Shaking her head, she got onto the train knowing that her day was going to be filled with paperwork and fighting how much she yearned to give him a smile.

“roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool. and if my wishes had come true, it would have been you.”

It was very rarely that the two of them had time off from work but when they did, they spent it together. Walking around DC, going to the Smithsonian or visiting old bookshops across town. It was dusk by the time they got to the memorial. The sky swirled with pinks, reds and puffy white clouds. It reminded her of an old saying her Dad would tell her on the drive home from her Grandmother’s House.

‘Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight. Red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning.’ It had no significant meaning, he only said it to make her laugh and for some reason it always did.

They had been together for a few months by then, but it felt like forever to them.

The sun hit the pool opposite the memorial, the pink sky etched into the water as the sun made its daily descent. His cardigan was hooked over her shoulders and her hand wrapped up in his.

“Spencer?”

“Yes, my love.”

She smiled at the pet name. He never used them very often.

“Can we make a wish?”

“Always.” He began fishing in his pockets for loose change. Smiling, he handed her a quarter and kept one for himself.

“You know, throwing coins into fountains stems from the practice of presenting gifts to Gods to either appease the Gods, or as payment for a request or prayer. This can be seen as the earliest version of making a wish. European folklore, specifically Germanic and Celtic traditions, used the term wishing wells as offerings to their gods for water.”

She hummed in response, his lyrical voice calming her. She loved that he was an endless fountain of knowledge, she only wished she could give him something in return for all the little facts he gave her.

Closing her eyes, she tossed the quarter into the pool, wishing for the man beside her to remain there. Always. Watching her coin become smaller and smaller and sunk into the depths, she watched as he did the same. The ripples of his quarter disrupted the glass-like pool as it fell opposite to her coin.

Her laughter broke through the silence.

“What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing, I’m just… really happy.”

He grinned, “Me too. Though, I must ask, what did you wish for?”

Smugly, she replied, “Now, if I tell you it won’t come true.” The twinkle in her eye told him all he needed to know.

The two walked on, arms intertwined as they walked to the music their laughs made mixed together.

She’d never admit to anyone but she wished he was the one.

Thinking back on that date, she now knows that wasn’t true.

“we were something, don’t you think so? rose flowing with your chosen family, and it would have been sweet.”

That night at Rossi’s was the last time she remembers being happy with him.

That was 4 months ago.

Pulling on that red dress that Spencer loved, she watched as JJ, Emily and Penelope got themselves ready. With Rossi’s dinner falling on the same night as their scheduled girl’s night, they had to compromise.

“Pen! You look beautiful!” Her friend truly was glowing, her dress a bright orange and her hair curled to perfection.

“Thank you, goddess divine, I must say red is truly your colour.”

“You’re too kind, Pen!”

She felt truly happy. Surrounded by her friends, they were more sisters than they would ever be work colleagues. They were each other’s biggest supporters, always there to lift each other up and help each other when things weren’t the best. Together they were one big chosen family. They were her safety blanket when things felt out of control.

Tonight is going to be good, she kept telling herself. She hadn’t seen Spence in a while, outside of work. They’ve been almost too busy to find a moment to just be with each other - no geographical profiling or paperwork. All they wanted was to be able to sit down and watch a movie, or an episode of Doctor Who without thinking of work or worrying about another urgent case.

Looking over at JJ, who looked radiant as ever, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of overwhelming sense of belonging. JJ made everyone welcome, so did Pen. Something she never really found anywhere else, from school to her jobs before working for the BAU, and now she’s found that belonging she was so desperately searching for.

Emily was an enigma though. Her closest friend, they were both so similar. They failed to let most people in, but after years of holding those walls up they eventually have to come down or are broken down by someone else. They broke down each other’s walls. Emily was always there when she needed reassurance, and likewise although Emily rarely needed it.

She found all she dreamt of as a teenager; a chosen family. All of them were pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly together.

It was not secret by now that Rossi loved to cook, and that JJ would almost certainly go if there was a promise of wine. So dinner parties became a fixture every once and a while with Hotch at the helm of persuading and convincing Rossi to have another. It was always another opportunity to pick up a new recipe to try out at home for Jack.

Walking in, they were met with wolf whistles and compliments from Morgan (which was to be expected anyways) and a rare smile from Hotch. She was not anticipating Spencer to be there early but there he was.

He caught her eye as soon as she walked in, looking her up and down and giving her a shy smile.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey, yourself.” She replies, her eyes full of love and joy. “You look very handsome tonight.”

“Why, thank you. You look beautiful as always.”

Just a small compliment gives her butterflies. They’ve been together for over a year and have known each other for years yet it feels as though she’s a teenager every time he smiles; she’s taken back to the days of high school crushes, school dances and hearts in notebooks. She gives him a small thank you and her brightest smile as they wrap their arms around each other, taking in the other’s warmth. The only word she could use to describe the comfort of his embrace was home. She was home in his arms.

The night went on as it usually did; full of laughter, food and happiness. Memories they would all hold onto until they couldn’t anymore. It made their job easier to know that they could always find happiness within each other.

Out on the porch, everything was still, Spencer’s suit jacket was wrapped around her body. Everything about the night was perfect. To put it in the simplest terms, she was truly happy.

Falling asleep next to Spencer was the easiest part of her day, the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the sound of his soft breathing lulled her to sleep with the biggest smile on her face.

She had the one in her arms and she never intended to let him go. And neither did he.

Funny how life turns out.

“I persist and resist the temptation to ask you, if one thing had been different, would everything be different today?”

Throwing her work back down at the front door of her cold, lonely apartment was now routine. No more laughter walking into the threshold of her home, or the smell of freshly brewed coffee from his cup. Just loneliness.

Photos had been taken down, the memories too painful to walk by every day, and with nothing to replace them with, the tables, walls and fridge lay bare of any memory of what once was. Pulling out leftovers from last night’s dinner, she waits for the low ding of the microwave as she steps out of her shoes and jacket. Cooking, even three months on, is lonely now too since they used to do it together. But she supposes, they did everything else together too.

She opens another cheap bottle of wine. It’s Friday, Saturday can deal with her hangover.

Tucking her legs into her chest, she cradles the glass of wine in one hand. The orange glow of the streetlights below illuminate her living room. Staring out into the street, she feels it again. That aloneness. It comes and goes in waves, but like any wave when it hits you, it stuns you. It’s a cold and dark feeling. No longer does she feel the ghost of his arms wrapped around her at night, or the grip of his hand in hers. Now, there’s nothing.

Just her and what could have been.

She often asks herself that if things had been different, if they had just talked to one another, what would today have looked like. But then she thinks that’s no use, things would have stayed the same. She changed with the seasons, he didn’t.

Hindsight is a beautiful thing, but it can’t help her now.

She wonders about what he would change. If there was one thing that he would do differently. She also wonders about what he wouldn’t change and what he really wanted.

Did he ever dream of settling down someday? She was never one for a white picket fence life but he made her want it so desperately. Did he ever dream about seeing her in a white dress or running around a garden with a child? Did he ever think about what they would name their kids? Did he ever want any of that?

Sometimes she thought all he wanted was a constant until something better came along. Maybe, she thought, he believed that what they had was always going to be an end table. That one of them would give up and it would be over as soon as it started.

The red liquid swirled around the glass as she tried to resist the temptation to call him, to ask him these questions, to apologise. Finishing it off, she grabs her phone, unlocks it and clicks his contact.

She could never bring herself to change his contact photo. It was a picture of them back in August of last year. Sun-kissed with honeymoon love struck eyes, the photo still made her smile despite all the pain.

She let her finger hover over the button.

Maybe she would get her answers tonight.

#spencer reid #spencer #reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid/you #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #reidxfolklore

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darkisrising · 3 years

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You are someone else, I am still right here, by DarkIsRising

Thanks to @treescape for the prompt: Vaderwan: “Kill my feelings, kill my soul. Kill everything I am.”

Mature themes, dark, a little violent... Oh, boy, it’s baby’s first Vaderwan y’all! Read here or on ao3

You are someone else, I am still right here

If ever there was a time for a well-executed escape, it would be right about now.

Now, when Obi-Wan is sitting on the cold, durasteel slab that serves as a cot, the kick of the regurgitated air supply coming through a vent too small to pass through and too high to attempt with his injuries (and maybe in his younger days he would have attempted it anyway, but he’s feeling too worn down by sands and suns to so much as make it an idle thought).

Now, when he can hear the echoing tread of regulation boots made heavier by body armor as troopers pass by his cell (and if he closes his eyes it’s almost like he’s back on the Negotiator, his men walking through the halls, and he tries not to think of how many could very well be his men because his heart can only ache with so much regret).

Now when he can feel the turbid miasma of darkness that chokes the Force with a fetid, acrid stink that is so near to the scent of sulphur that Obi-Wan can almost feel the heat of lava and the singe of a lightsaber as it bears down on him (and the screams sound in his ears, of a future denied them and a past that becomes blighted with every clash of their blades, as they do every night when sleep eludes him and every morning when meditation does, too).

But escaping is a dangerous game at present. And even were he to make it off this cruiser, where else is there to go but back to the same desert planet, the same skin-blistering heat, the same stretch of rolling, yellow dunes?

There’s sand on the floor. Even here it follows him and Obi-Wan stares at the grains of it, of where his boots and the boots of the stormtroopers that captured him have tracked this trace of Tatooine into his prison.

His eyes are still downcast as the door of his cell opens, as someone steps inside, and he can hear the grit of it as black boots—impeccably clean in a way he never could convince his restless apprentice to keep his as he grew—grind the sand underfoot.

“Hello, my dear,” Obi-Wan says. It’s been a while since he’s used this particular tone—insouciant in the face of certain death—yet it comes easily now. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t stand…” he gestures to his leg, the break of it plain in the strange angle of his knee.

“Oh, please, Master—” and that one word spoken in the mouth of this near-stranger does more to eviscerate him than any broken bone could hope to “—allow me.”

There’s no point in keeping his screams from ringing through the small room, no point in pretending that the agony he feels as his bones shift, and realign, and are made to grow together at an unnatural speed is anything less than absolute.

When it’s over Obi-Wan sags against the wall. A furious sweat dampens his forehead and his skin shivers with shock. Still, he digs deep into the teeth-clenched inner reserves of strength he’s had to cultivate over his life and in a thin, jaunty tone says: “Many thanks.”

Anakin snorts in dark amusement and then raises his hand. Obi-Wan is jerked forward, plucked into the air by an invisible grip until he is standing on his newly re-formed leg.

Tilting his head up, Obi-Wan forces himself to meet Anakin’s gaze: yellow where once a crystalline blue had been.

So much of him is still the same and that is it’s own cruelty.

“Two years, Obi-Wan,” he says, mouth flattened, and Obi-Wan could almost believe that it’s from disappointment. “That’s all it took me to find you.”

“You always were exceptionally efficient at anything you set your mind to, Anakin.”

“And you were always exceptionally arrogant, my master.” The door behind him closes and now Obi-Wan is alone in this cell with Anakin. He’s alone in this cell with Anakin and Anakin’s pressing darkness that winds through the empty spaces between them, doing more to burn away the breathable air than a fire ever could. “You know very well that is no longer my name.”

“You must forgive me. Where I’ve been living hasn’t afforded me the ability to stay current on galactic events,” he bluffs. “Tatooine is rather in the middle of nowhere, as I’m sure you remember. Is there something else you’d prefer I call you?”

“My name is Darth Vader.”

Obi-Wan lets the silence sit and then gives a careful, neutral: “Ah.” A muscle in Anakin’s jaw bulges as he his teeth grind together. “It’s lovely.”

The air turns more dense—more claustrophobic—as the weight of Anakin’s ire bears down on him. “You,” Anakin says, stepping closer and Obi-Wan holds his ground. “Are so—” Whatever he had been on the verge of saying is bitten away and then banished by a swift shake of his head. “What’s on Tatooine, old man?”

“Sand.” Obi-Wan says without thinking and he gets an invisible vise around his throat for it.

Anakin persists, stepping nearer, staring into his face and he’s close enough that Obi-Wan can see the industrial shuttle light cast a sheen on his eyelashes. “Why of all the planets in all the star systems did you choose that one?”

“The…” he pants through his swiftly closing airway. “Weather.”

“Try again.”

“Always...admired…” Flickers, like a gathering of gnats, are at the corner of his vision now and his lungs are burning for breath. “...Jawa culture…”

“Obi-Wan,” he chides, tightening his grip and this time Obi-Wan can only muster a sound—nothing like words and everything like the desperate last gasp of a dying body—as blackness eats away all that he sees.

He’s on the precipice of unconsciousness—a cliff’s edge that he is inching toward with every passing, choking second—when abruptly he’s released. He collapses in a heap, sputtering for air, and when his vision darkens again this time it’s because Anakin’s form is looming over him. Yellow eyes glint and gold flecked hair spills over his shoulder as he crouches over where Obi-Wan lays.

“Let’s try this again.”

“Must we?” Obi-Wan wheezes.

“Why were you on Tatooine?”

Any number of thoughts roll through his sluggish mind—obfuscations, goadings, taunts—but none of them will throw Anakin off his question for long. And, to his credit, it is an excellent question. It is the question that Obi-Wan most dreads he discovers the answer to. The reason he didn’t leave Mustafar to throw himself into the fray of battle once more. The reason for the hut in the dune sea and the quiet vigil he’s held on the Lars homestead and the yawning loneliness of desert nights beneath an impossible spill of stars. It's the reason, the one thing, that has kept him tethered to this mortal plane when so often the winds of Tatooine have beckoned for him to follow their howling call during a sandstorm and let them swallow him down.

But this.

This is what he was tasked with: the protection of a boy at any cost. At any cost, and his obfuscations and goadings and taunts might very well be the thing that strikes fire to the tinder of his former apprentice’s rage enough to kill him once and for all, but who will protect the boy, then?

He needs a distraction. One that will last.

He needs to enter the maw of the creature that Anakin has become and dwell there a while.

Anakin is kneeling now, coming ever closer, and there is one last gambit he can try. One last ploy that might very well break his spirit, his heart, his mind, even if it keeps him alive for years to come.

“Why were you on Tatooine, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan licks his chapped, split lips. He tastes the metal tang of blood and says, in a voice that is ruined by violence, “So that you could find me.”

Anakin recoils at that, jerking backwards as if he’s been slapped. “No,” he says. “No you were there for a reason. I know it. They must have sent you...”

The laugh that Obi-Wan huffs is real. “Who? Who is there left to send me anywhere?”

“The Council—”

“Is gone,” Obi-Wan says. “The Order is gone. I'm all that is left.” Obi-Wan grits his teeth against the bruises and bleeding, fights until he is on his knees. Anakin’s eyes widen as Obi-Wan pulls himself upright and now they are of a height. “Do with me what you will.”

Anakin’s mouth is soft when it finds him; warm when it falls open and he lets in a hungry, questing tongue as it seeks out the taste of Obi-Wan—shattered and battered and brought low—and Anakin savors them all with a moan. Obi-Wan wishes he were strong enough to keep his eyes open, but it’s easier to forget where he is—who he is—when there’s not so much light.

Arms wrap around Obi-Wan’s waist, holding fast and tight and he breaks away from their kiss to give a yell of agony at the pain Anakin’s questing hands mete. Anakin doesn’t notice, whispering instead into the vulnerable curve of Obi-Wan’s throat: “You know how much I’ve wanted this. For years and years I’ve wanted this.”

“I know.” Subtlety had never been a trait that Anakin had cared to nurture. There have been all the ‘fresher doors accidently left open as his padawan showered and all the cots claimed as Obi-Wan’s own inexplicably filled with the sleeping sprawl of a knight fresh from the field, and all the war zones where the only way to save Obi-Wan’s life was to shield him beneath the protective weight of General Skywalker’s body.

“You said it was forbidden.”

“It was.” And even though his cracked ribs sing and the places where blaster fire singed his flesh crack open to bleed again, Obi-Wan reaches up. He brings his arms around Anakin’s broad shoulders, and their bodies press together until there is only cloth and heat and dwindling time between them. “But who is left to stop us now?”

He lets himself be taken then, murmuring praises all the while because this is something Obi-Wan can do. He can become Anakin’s pet—his plaything—and maybe someday when the years have stripped Obi-Wan of his pride and his body has been broached by another so fiercely it is no longer his own to claim... maybe then he’ll look across a field of some new battle, some new planet, some new space station to see the blue eyes of another Skywalker, a new Skywalker, a Skywalker that has lived and grown and come into his own, and he’ll know it all will have been worth it.

#vaderwan #obi-wan kenobi #darth vader #fanfic #darkisrising fic #obikin

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oh-for-fic-sake · 4 years

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Ghosting A Wayne

Masterlist

Warnings: Adult content +18 only!! Smut, Agegap, Swearing, A Little Angst?

A/n:Ok so this is the first real full smut iv done and im super nervous about posting this one i hope its good but if its shit im sorry hope you enjoyxx

After getting cold feet because of your own insecurities you get a visitor pick you up from work.

Ghosting A Wayne

You sighed as you pulled out a batch of cookies from the oven placing the three large trays out on the cooling racks today was a baking day to fill the display out the front ,you'd been alone with your thoughts all day and were just about done, glancing at the clock you fist pumped the air. Home time. You quickly undone your apron hanging it on the hook by the kitchen door then called out to Tom that your shift was done.

After your first lunch date with Bruce you intended to leave it there but the man was very persistent... and charming somehow he'd managed to talk you in circles and wrangle a second date and third and forth. you'd canceled your fifth using work as an excuse and he bought it for about a week, then he began asking when you were free telling you to call him giving you his personal number which you didn't call.

That worked for about three days before he began messaging you about a date you replied with excuses it seemed to work until he showed up at the door to drop Damien round instead of Alfred, Jack had covered for you not letting either of them in saying you were ill. It wasn't that you didn't like him or anything you were scared, scared of getting hurt he was amazing a perfect gentleman he made you laugh he took you to fancy places but didn't make you uncomfortable even going so far as to berate another guest as he heard them make a comment of the restaurant 'letting anyone in these days' when he was returning from the rest room , you felt special and safe with him.

But he was The Bruce Wayne and nothing would ever come of it. Someone like you had no right to be with someone like him, he deserved a high class well educated successful woman not a minimum wage cafe worker who dropped out of college. You found yourself growing to attached to him and it had frightened you. Not only that but what would people say when they found out, probably think your a charity case or a gold digger you could see the headlines now ' The playboys new sugar baby' with photos of you plastered across the tabloids you shivered.

Damien had spoke to you about it he was far to smart for his own good telling you your being a 'stupid female' and that you should just talk to Bruce about it, Jack also scolded you for being stupid and letting your insecurities hold you back.

The boy had been soo happy for you when you were going out with Bruce, he admitted that he felt responsible for you being alone and not having friends or a boyfriend it broke your heart, hearing how he blamed himself for it, yes it had been hard taking on a 8 year old at 20 years old and yes you did need to grow up quicker then most and avoid the typical early twenties drinking and clubbing but you wouldn't change a thing. When he had brought it up you both had a heart to heart and you were gobsmacked at just how mature he had soundec. He told you that he didn't care about Bruce being Damien's dad or that he was older than you, he was happy that you had someone who made you happy and wanted you to got out with him again and be happy. The boys didn't understand.

"Tom I'm finished don't touch the cookies before they cool you can have one to test but that's it theirs 48 here I've counted, so if you have anymore I will know its you, you greedy little shit" you said opeing the door you walked straight into him he was wide eyed pointing out to the font over his shouldet. You froze thinking the worst it was gotham afterall.

"Oh my god tom?"

"You have.. Out the there.... Man front" he said not making any sense you pushed past him through the door

"whats wron-"

"y/n!" you snapped your head to the counter seeing Bruce standing their ignoring the odd looks he received from the other few customers scattered about in the cafe. You slung your bag over your shoulder cradling your coat in the other hand cursing quietly. Scanning the cafe for a quick exit wanting to run. There was one way in and out and he was between you and the door. Giving in you plastered on a polite smile.

"Bruce what are you doing here?" you asked tentatively due to the blank look on his face unsure what mood he would be in after you ghosted him. Making your way around the counter he followed on the other side meeting you at the end.

"I wanted to take you out, Jack told me when you finished so I thought I'd come pick you up for dinner" you felt the gazes in the room shift from him to you and the whispers started. Bruce held out a hand taking your coat from you while you tried to come up with a reason not to your anxiety screaming at you to run. You sighed at him biting your lower lip raw he lifted a hand pulling it gently forcing you to release it. He smiled meeting your eyes trying to calm you.

"Bruce I don't feel like going out tonight can we reschedule?" hooking his arm around your waist guiding you out of the cafe past the gossiping customers opening the door for the both of you pressing himself to your back giving you no room to bolt away. Hed catch you anyway.

"Good news, we don't have to go out Alfred is making us dinner back home, so we get to have a relaxing night in." you nodded as you left walking down the street feeling your nerves spike as you realized there was no reason to avoid this. He kept pace with you to the side arms ready to dart out and catch you as you glanced around a little skittish he ushered you into a ridiculously expensive Lamborghini and took off down the road.

"So that's Tom then? the one you were talking about?" he started you were confused as he acted like you hadn't been avoiding him for the past week and half you just nodded.

"Err yeah that's him we get along work really well, I was doing all the baking today couldn't handle the customers they were doing my head in." he nodded placing a warm hand on your knee running his thumb in small circles you took a deep breath.

"I know what you mean, had a lot of meetings today with a bunch little men wanting me to over invest in companies that wont last the financial year" you tensed as he left his hand on your leg still navigating the traffic, you tried to shift your led from underneath him but he just followed squeezing it lightly making your breath hitch and clench your walls tight.

"Sh-shouldn't you have both hands on the wheel in a car like this?" you asked quietly he laughed giving you a mischievous look then you screamed as he let go of the wheel completely still picking up speed quickly.

"OH MY GOD BRUCE NO!" you cried leaning over grabbing it yourself he just laughed out loud placing one hand back on it the other still resting on your knee.

"Its fine I could probably drive this with my eyes closed, it's nothing like my other car" he said cheekily as he made his way towards the outskirts of gotham you swallowed nervously.

"yeah please dont do that"

"Don't worry I'd never let anything happen to you sweets" you blushed as he used the nickname he'd given you onde he found out about your sweet tooth and the fact you do all the baking at the cafe.

"He says after driving without hands." you scoffed looking out of the window as the scenery changed. It wasn't long before you pulled up to the manor. It was impressive you'd only been inside twice whilst waiting for Jack to get his things he thought it was the perfect place to hid from his dentist and doctors appointments. Once out of the car he lead you inside where Alfred greeted you both.

"Ah Master Wayne dinner will take another hour or so I'm afraid and Y/n its lovely to see you again." Bruce gave you both a look seeking an explanation for the first name basis.

"Have you met everyone in this house before me?" he asked sarcastically you smiled at him before Alfred took your coats hanging them up.

"Well sometimes the boys play about getting ready so Alfred comes in for tea whilst we wait and I've met Tim he has come over a few times drank my whole pot of coffee and left." he grunted before leading you to a small sitting room off to the side.

"We will be in here Alfred call us when dinner is ready." Alfred nodded smiling slyly before closing the door leaving you in private. You sat down on the leather sofa a nervous wreck looking around the opulent room feeling out of place, he took a seat beside you offering you a glass of what you assumed was scotch he sat and leaned in next to you. Relaxing as he took a slow sip of his drink.

"Don't look so worried the boys explained for you. Your scared of getting hurt I can understand that I don't exactly have the best record but I'm not giving up as you can tell."you looked down into your glass a little ashamed as you heard hurt laced in his words.

"I-its not that, its me I.. I love spending time with you I really do... but I dont think you should waste your time on me... thats all" he frowned you sounded so ...defeated , he didnt like it one bit placing his glass down putting two and two together. That he didn't know Damien said you were being a 'difficult woman' and Jack had said that you hadn't dated since school and were afraid of being hurt he summarised that it was because of him but it sounds like there was more to it then that. Bruce took a deep breath regarding you carefully.

"Waste my time? why would spending time with you be a waste. There is something between us, I have never felt this type of pull to a woman before and I'm quite determind to see you if you havent already noticed" he said sternly you shrunk into the sofa he sighed pulling the glass tumbler from you hand.

"Whats really going on? we were going fine then you just pulled back. I want this, us and I know you do to but we have to talk to each other." You leaned forward locking eyes with him feeling overwhelmed you shook your head pulling back he followed leaning back pulling you across the seat wrapping his arms around you pulling your face into his chest holding you, you tried pulling yourself off of him but he was to stronger than he looked. You Gave up then took a deep breath endulging in the closeness breathing him in.

"Talk to me please" he spoke quietly into your hair

"I cant, I just cant, your-I, you need someone better. And if people find out then what will they think? that I'm a charity case some passing fancy? that you'll get bored with and you will bruce. When you find some older succsessfull women who equals you. someone that I can never be for you. I wont be good enough for you and you'll see it one day" once you started you couldn't stop as the words kept coming your fears poured out after being kept bottled up since that very first date.Fears of loving him and then him leaving, or of what backlash Jack could face if you were painted to be a whore trying to capture Bruces attention, the cps could investigate if it seemed like you were becoming a party girl like what Bruce typically dated. Then there was the fact that the school could start being funny if word got out that you and bruce were together. But the main reason was that he was to good for you and you knew it. You heaved a breath feeling lighter yet your stomach churned he had been quiet throughout and you'd gotten yourself worked up shaking from your anxiety feeling sick to your stomach.

"I'm sorry I know I should have spoke to you instead but I... I was scared that you were going to realize I'm right and leave ...so" he hushed you rubbing your back lightly causing you to shiver and relax onto his chest.

"So you left before I could?" you flinched then nodded it sounded so petty when said out loud he moved sitting up a bit more dragging you with him not releasing you for a second, he would have preferred if it had all been about his past but now realized you had low self esteem you had fears about the future, the age gap, Jacks future and how people would judge you all of these fear were to blame. And he understood it must be daughting, but what got him most was that you thought he'd let you deal with it alone , that you were so scared of loosing him in the long run you tried to walk away now and that was all the proof he needed that you did feel somthing for him.

"Tell me something does Jack have a problem with you being with me?" he asked you shook your head instantly.

"No he loves it, he wants me to be with you he saw how happy I was he has been pestering me to call" he pulled his head away smiling confusing you.

"I can tell you that Damien is thrilled he has even been bragging to his brothers that I've found the perfect woman and they cant wait to meet you by the way the

and he threatened me before every date to 'not to fuck it up' so let me ask another question if Jack, Damien me and you are happy what does anyone else's opinion matter? it's our life why should we make ourselves miserable over a few tabloids that can be taken to court and be corrected? and I do have reporters that I trust with these type of stories one is a very close friend who I could give an exclusive to before any rumors get around and the press make up some nonsense. Not only that I know Clark wold print the truth if he knew that it involved the boys being bullied in the school." he let you pull back shocked you didnt think he would want anyone to know, you thought hed be ashamed of you.

"wh-what?" it was bearly a whisper but he heard it.

"You heard me sweets, Clark wouldn't let me down not with this and there are other reporters who I've trusted to cover stories of the boys in the past one phone call and I would have everything sorted and anyone who tries to make this something its not will feel the full force of my legal team." he leaned in giving you no time to reply kissing you deeply invading your mouth moaning into you. His tongue dominated your mouth taking your breath away he paused pulling you to straddle his waist you blushed looking down at him.Trying to put your weight on your knees conscious of your weight Bruce not having any of that tugged harshly pulling your weight on his thighs.

"And as for finding someone better I doubt it. I've said it before and I will say it again I want you. Not some stuck up model who's one surgery away from being on botched. The day we met I was floored and for the first time I saw what I truly wanted for me and my family. And it wasn't some highly educated business woman, no it was a sexy little mama bear who treated my son as her own." you gasped as he brought your hips closer resting you on his crotch before leaning forward capturing your lips again this time slow and deliberate pouring himself into it you, you moaned quietly as he rocked you across his groin. Pulling back for air

"So little miss now we have all that cleared up is there anything you want to add?"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" you gasped out trying to collect yourself as you began getting tearful as you felt stupid for being so silly yet relieved that he hadn't thrown you out, he chuckled shushing you then moved biting at your earlobe .

"That's ok love I'm sure you'll make it up to me" he said kissing down your neck biting below your ear then lower to your pulse point feeling it race under his tongue before sucking harshly bordering on painful.

"o-OH Bruce" you gasped gripping his shoulder trying not to lean back to far and fall he noticed using and arm to hold you elbow resting on your waist curling his fingers into your low bun pulling slowly stretching your neck before him leaving marks up it you groaned closing your eyes trying to rub your thighs together as your pussy grew hot and clenched dampening your panties he ran his nose down your neck kissing your collar bone lightly.

"Aww sweety so desperate hm?" you whined squeezing his hips between your thighs again grinding softly against him he chuckled biting the top of your breast running his tongue along your cleavage unbuttoning your blouse with deft fingers then returned them to your hips pushing you harshly on his erection you cried out looking down panting as he dragged you slowly back and forth feeling him through his trousers was almost to much you fisted your hands in the crisp shirt covering his shoulders. He let out a breathy growl smug as you started trying to rock on him faster pouting when he held you controlling your pace circling you slow on his bulge dipping his thumbs into your pelvis tilting you catching your clit with every pass of your hips you shook your head eyes tightly shut.

"OH fuck shiiitt Bruce" he watched eyes blown as he built you up slowly drinking in your flushed face pouty full lips forming an 'o' as you let out high pitched cries his hands smothered your breasts squeezing them in his palms testing them before he tipped the cups down teasing your pink nipples to attention. You opened your eyes glazed over pleading with him.

"Please Bruce... I dont-fuck" you moaned high and louder almost squeeling as he pinched one of your nipples refusing to let go pulling your chest towards him by it until he could lay a sweet kiss to the other suckling catching it between his teeth nipping it letting go with a loud pop. You panted harder as he toyed with you, your body trembled as he pulled you closer to the edge your clit rubbed harshly against him and he growled relishing in the way your heat seeped onto him. He couldn't wait. He wouldn't. With a one sweeping motion you found yourself lying on the sofa with him hovering over you pulling your leggings down over your hips skimming your quivering thighs with his knuckles befor rubbing your calves and griping your ankles encircling them effortlesly, running his thumbs across the inside of them . Following bending as he went kissing your soft stomach and pelvis finally leaving a small kiss on your mound over your panties you moaned at that. He slipped your leggings off taking your flats with them you blushed as he stared seeing the wet patch you'd left on your panties crawling back up you exploring with his hands the whole way. Hooking a hand around to back of your neck he pulled you up into a bruising kiss needy as he angled his head to devour you deeper his other hand dragging your shirt from you by the back of the neck unclipping your bra and he went lowering you back down you blushed trying to cover yourself he growled pinning them beside you.

"Nooo you dont babe, let me see, show me" he ground out a deep gruntle sound that vibrated threw you trailing the tips of his fingers from your throat down in slow unpredictable patterns leaving goosebumps in his wake your nipples pebbled as he past them your whole body shuddered

"Fuck. Your stunning" you didn't meet his gaze it was to hot, posessive like he was claiming you already just with his eyes watching closely memorizing every freckle and mark on your skin, he let out a deep shuddering breath when you arched up inyo him as he fingered the bow on the waist band of your panties back and forth he brought his fingers lower and lower across your mound. You squirmed trying to buck up against him trying to get him where you desperately needed him whimpering pitifully. His response was to stretch out his fingers across your lower tummy and push you back down holding you still. You protested as his warm hand covered your whole mound and rocked forward trying to catch your clit on the heal of his palm that rested just out of reach.

"Such a greedy little thing. I think I'm going to have to work on your manners" he chided before using a hand to unbutton his shirt revealing a perfectly sculpted torso, you made a noise in the back of your throat that you didn't recognize at the sight of him, caramel skin taught over deliciously defined muscles and small thatch of hair disappearing below a teasingly low hanging trousers he let the shirt slide to the floor undoing his belt then slowly pulled his trousers over his hip grunting thrusting forward as it glided over his cock. You bit your lip still trying to move against his heavy hand he granted you a little mercy twisting as the wrist slotting his thumb between your lips seeking your clit and rubbing a figure 8 hard.

"AHH! F-Fuck BRUCE yes oh god-" you gasped deep breaths as he rolled your cilt around almost rough in his ministrations the fabric of you panties hieghtend the sensation you closed your eyes grinding yourself down on him tears leaked from them his other hand came up to your throat forcing you to face him.

"Look at me baby. come on let me see you... ah there she is good girl" he praised as you looked at him tears clinging to your lashes his hand still working you. Sobbing incoherently trying to buck up to him.

"OH fuck please-PLEASE let me come bruce please I'll do anything PLEASE" you breathed out hoarse gasping when your pussy weeped wetting the sofa below you he played you like an instrument taking you higher and higher you clenched and withered as you felt that familiar burn of an orgasm start in your lower tummy , almost cramping as it traveld lower to your pussy you chased it trying to rock harder just as you were at the presapice he stopped pulling his thumb away bit still pinned you down.

"AH! NO Br-BRUCE come back" you sobbed reaching out for him as your body hummed hot and quivering you gave up on finding his hand throwing yours between you trying to take over and force yourself over the edge. Soo close. Bruce was quicker catching them in one hand pulling them above you head. He watched waiting for you to come down from the almost high. Pouting all the way.

"You can count that as your punishment babe" he whispered huskliey into your neck kissing at the marks he has left. You cried out frustarated sweaty and exhasted.

"But im feeling a little mercifull tonight." you looked at him from below your lashes his heart skipped a beat seeing you look at him so needy and ready you looked so small,he could do anything to you right now but only wanted one thing. Shuffling back leaning down he placed an open mouthed kiss on your panties slipping his fingers in the sides draging them off before standing removing his boxers freeing his erection you gasped as it bounced up tapping his stomach ,hesitantly you reached out running a single finger along the underside from tip to base he jerked forward when you cupped him testing your grip befor stroking him he stopped you

"Fuck sorry babe but I cant wait." he growled out pinning you back down running his weeping head up and down your slit you tensed as he probed your enterance. Sensing your nerves he locked lips with you coaxing out your tongue sucking on it before licking in your mouth makeing obscene noises feeling you relax he took the chance and slowly begun stretching you around him ,you gasped at the slight sting pulling back rest your forehead on his grunting softly as he kept a slow steady pressure finally knocking his hips with yours you panted feeling your walls fluttering around him then squeezing

"shit Bruce" he huffed out a laugh flexing in response

"carefull there babe" you grunted feeling stuffed full as his head pushed against your cervix.

"Bruce please...HUrry up!" you clenched him stealing his breath from him he gave a playfull glare you felt a little tremor of apprehension as he repostioned your legs higher on his hips placing your heels into his lower back before plowing you into the sofa grunting and growling as his thrusts rocked your body you were by no means quiet as the veins on his cock massaged your walls with delicious friction he slowed then pressed himself tight against your clit rotating catching your gspot you bucked violenty against him head thrown back as you wailed he leaned up sucking and biting at your neck then resumed finding a brutal pace aiming for your gspot hitting it with pinpoint accuracy. You shook your head screaming out uncontrollably bucking begging for him to go harder, faster just wanting more. It wasn't long befor you saw stars letting out a silent scream tensing before you snapped cumming around him almost blinded as he rode you through it still hitting your spot faster if that was even possible before stuttering his hips holding himself tight locking you both together as he flooded you.

"OH GOD fuck FUCK yesyesyes good girl yes fuck" he moaned as you lay beneath him, limp body still quacking in the aftermath of your own end. He stayed still until he was soft catching his breath recovering before you removing himself he sat back on his knees watching as he leaked from you quick to scoop his cum and press it back within you, you whined still painfully oversensitive trying to pull away from his invading fingers. he chuckled as you squirmed utterly spent.

"nooo bruce" you whined as he prodded your freshly fucked pussy lighly grazing your abused clit causing you to whine at him pitifully jolting with every swipe.

"Aww baby are you sore?" you pouted at his words nodding he got up sitting you up handing you your forgotton drink you took it gulping it down ignoring the burn. he retrived his boxers throwing them on then a soft blanket covering you before scooping you up heading for the door.

"Bruce? what are you doing?" you asked gorgily already struggiljng to stay awake he leant down shutting you up with a kiss.

"We are going to bed you need some sleep before we continue." you blinked

"wha?" he grinned cheekily

"well how are we going to build up your stamina if we dont push past your exhaustion?" you almost cried just wanting to sleep.

"What about Alfred dinner?" you questioned

"He didnt make any I had to have a reason to get you here didnt I? he went to bed. and dont worry about Jack he is staying over in a room next to Damien's" you looked at him shocked

"What why was he here? do you think he could have heard me? bruce!" you panicked suddenly fully awake trying to wiggle out of his grip he laughed kissing your face.

"Oh my god what about our clothes? Bruce go back and shit we made a mess i need to clean that up..Bruce are you listening?" You created as he continued further away from the room youd just soild.

"he didnt hear you at all it was one of his demands when we planned this. And dont worry about the room or the clothes alfred will take care of it" he said scaling the stairs with ease taking you to his room

"planned? you who else knew? And what do you mean alfred will take care of it? no absolutly not that is embarassing" you argued as he kicked the door to his room shut behind him depositing you on his bed following you down landing above you kissing you again.

"me alfred damien and jack planned it but dick and jason knew too thats why they are scarce and alfred has cleard up worse trust me." he explained you stared at him in horror

"My little brother set me up with you?oh my god I'm not going to live that down and i need to clear that up its to embarassing for alfred to see" you cried he laughed out loud.

"Well I think its was worth it, and you can try and beat Alfred to it but that room will be ccleared up before sunrise and you won't be leaving this bed before then" he said snuggling up with you under the cover ,you made a noise as he tucked you into his chest his heart beat calming you making you drift into a peaceful sleep resting on his chest, feeling safe and sound wrapped up in him as he traced patterns on your back, sighing he was finally content a peace he hadnt known befor washed over him satisfied that he had found the woman that would complete his family, his chest swelled as he placed a kiss on your head. He wasn't ever letting you go now that he had you here. Glancing over at the clock, hed give you an hour or so to build up some energy before he woke you smirkjng to himslef planing all the wicked ways he was going to toy with you during the night. Oh yes the night was young and if Bruce had his way you wouldnt be leaving his bed tomorrow because you wouldnt be able to, thankfully you hade a few days off so he might let you recover. Then again he might not.

#bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayned fic #bruce wayne x reader #batmom imagines #batman x y/n #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #dc x y/n #dc x reader

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itawonka-creates · 4 years

Text

This Jewelry Will End Up Killing Me - Prologue

So guess who decided to make the first chapter to a Daminette Konosuba AU. I’m using the world and rules of it more so than the characters, but this would definitely be more comedic than my other two fan fictions. If I get good feedback, I might continue it. This is just the world set up.

Damian stirred a bit and struggled to open his eyes. The light coming from below him made him flinch as he struggled to adjust to the brightness. “Oh good, you’re coming to.”

“Huh?” His vision began to focus a bit more and he noticed he was in a dark space with no one around but a lone woman. She sat in a throne and folded her hands over her lap. She smiled kindly at him, but her eyes were filled with pity. “What?”

“Do you know who you are?”

He thought for a moment and nodded, “My name is Damian Wayne.”

“Anything else?” He thought a bit more before she asked, “Do you remember how you died?”

“I died?” Suddenly memories came flooding back to him. He was with his family. They were on a mission. Something went wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. He noted how he was still wearing his uniform but was surprised it was undamaged. He placed a hand over his abdomen and shuttered, “I don’t think my body was intact.”

“No, but you died quickly. It was merciful and for that I am thankful.” She placed her hand over her heart and sighed, “You left your world too soon. You have transformed so much. You’ve grown to be such a fine young man.” She frowned, “I’m so sorry for you and your family’s loss. They are still fighting, but they mourn.”

Damian tensed, “Wait! My family! They need me! I need to go back!”

“I cannot do that.” She held out her hand, “Damian, I am the goddess of creation. My name is Tikki. I am here to assist you in your passing.”

“My passing?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not ready to go yet!”

“I may reincarnate you, but you would not remember your past life. You will start anew.”

“I can’t do that either! I have to get back to them right now!”

She bit her lip, “There is one way, but I do not recommend it.”

“Tell me.”

She waved her hand and a book appeared before it floated down in front of her. The book opened and pages started flying out of the bindings. The pages flew around the two before lining up in front of him. “In another world, one very different from yours, we have had a problem with who we call Hawkmoth. The people of the world call him a demon who controls people through their emotions, but we gods and goddesses know the truth.” He noted how her fists clenched as she spoke of him, “The Demon King was like you, but bitter. The Demon King stole the powers of one of our own and now we can no longer stop him. We haven’t even been able to watch over him. Our information on the Demon King has been significantly restricted.”

“How restricted?”

“Our line of information and communication to Nooroo was severed 18 years ago.”

Damian grimaced, “What can I do?”

She bit her lip before proceeding, “Us deities have decided we would grant any wish to the hero who brings this man down. This is your only chance at resurrecting at the exact place and time when you died.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Damian-”

“I’ll take it. I’ve faced aliens, magic, and literal demons from hell. With my history, I can do it. I can’t leave my family.”

Tikki nodded and pointed at the pages between them, “You may take one thing with you to this new world. Along with this, you will continue to have your memories and will gain knowledge of the language to help you integrate better.”

He looked at the pages and noted how odd each of the items were, “What kind of world is this?”

“In your world, the best comparison is what your people call ‘Dungeons and Dragons’ or ‘RPGs’. This world is older, magic and monsters run amok, nobles and monarchy are the norm leadership, and leveling is the only way to power up in your classes.” She chuckled, “It may be an exciting world for you to learn new skills and magic you never would’ve in your world.”

“Magic? Monsters? Sounds like a bad videogame, but something I can work with.” He turned his attention back to the pages in front of him. He examined each one; a sword, a staff, a suit of special armor, and much more. Still, despite all the perks and charms, nothing seemed quite right. “I can’t use any of these.”

“Hm?”

“I can’t use any of these.” He pushed the pages away to look her in the eye, “If I’m going to take on someone using a deity’s power, I’m going to need a deity’s power too.” Damian sighed, “I need your power.”

Tikki smiled and hummed, “You were always a smart one. Always one to look at all the right angles.” She sighed and looked at her lap, “I cannot give you too much for obvious reasons but what I can give you is a tool made by my power.” She held out her hand and a glowing orb appeared in her palm. She placed her other hand over it and squeezed hard before opening her hands. She blew onto the orb and Damian watched as the orb faded away until what was left was a pair of earrings. “If you use this, you will be able to transform and use some of my power. However, if you find one of my direct decedents, they will be able to tap into my true powers and you will never fail.”

She hummed a sweet tune and the ground below him started glowing, “Damian Wayne, you will awaken in the town of crossroads where you will be guided by a fairy of my own essence. Keep her safe and she will guide you both to glory and to reliable party members. I will speak to the others. More tools of our own creation will fall before you as you continue your quest.”

He nodded and noticed how the floor below him began glowing. A wall of light circled him and he began levitating, “Tikki?”

“With the blessing directly from the goddess of creation, I send you off. Please, Damian, do not die.”

He nodded, “I’ll do my best. Watch over my family.”

“Of course.” The light became blinding and he felt his body fade away as he reincarnated. The last thing he heard was a simple “good luck” before he woke up on a bench. He looked around and Tikki was right, this really was a Dungeons and Dragons type of world. Horse-drawn carriages passed him by along with men and women all in medieval-looking armor and clothing. No real technology, but the world’s civilization seemed advanced enough for him to grasp the probable concepts and rules. He noticed how some people began crowding around him and whispering. He looked down and realized his clothing was probably making him stand out, “Right. Now, where do I go?”

He felt a tap on his side and opened up his cape slightly. A large red and black fairy hid behind the clothing but smiled. He was comforted by the company and began walking. “Okay. Where do I go fairy?”

He felt the creature travel up to his hoodie and it whispered in his ear, “You can call me Tikki. I am part of her after all.” He nodded and she peeked at the town around her, “Okay, you will want to go to the adventure’s guild. Receive your class and skillset and register yourself as an adventurer.”

“Should I hide my identity?”

She shook her head, “You do not need to hide your identity here. This is a new world and your real name will be on the registration card. Besides, with your standing and background, you may pass as some kind of noble. You could use that to your advantage as you work your way through this world and gain skill points.”

“Skill points? Are you serious?”

“Yes, it is the only way for us to gain enough strength and resources later.” He rolled his eyes and followed her directions while taking in the sights. The place came out of a storybook and it seemed the currency resembled gold. He’d need to ask Tikki how to get money. He felt someone staring at him and looked around before noticing a girl staring at him outside of a bakery. Once they locked eyes she visibly tensed. “I sense someone of great importance.”

“Huh? Where?”

“I don’t know.”

He scanned the area some more, but his sights kept locking back onto the girl staring at him. He could tell his fuse was getting short and it was obvious she wasn’t going to stop any time soon. He grumbled and finally stomped over. She flinched and stepped back while turning her attention anywhere else. “Hey! What do you want from me?”

“Eh? I wasn’t- I mean, I didn’t- I mean, what are you talking about?” She laughed nervously and rubbed the back of her neck, but he clearly wasn’t buying it. When she realized that wasn’t going to work she started apologizing profusely, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I don’t usually stare at strangers! I’m sorry!”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “What do you want?”

“It’s just-”

“Spit it out!”

“I’ve never seen anyone with your clothes before and I’m a designer and-”

He snapped at her, “Then take a picture!”

She blinked, “A what?”

He flinched. A camera may not even be a concept in this world yet, “Ah, um, right. Never mind.”

She nodded and smiled, “May I draw it at least?”

Tikki tugged at his hoodie and he shook his head, “I need to register as an adventurer right away.”

She perked up, “Wait!” She stepped forward and leaned in, “You’re going to the adventure’s guild?” He stepped back but she continued to be persistent, “Can I come?”

“Now why would a little girl like you want to go?”

She puffed up her cheeks, “Hey! I bet we’re not even that far apart in age from each other! Just because I wear pigtails doesn’t mean I’m little!”

“I didn’t say anything about your pigtails.”

She blushed and pulled at them slightly, “Sorry. Everyone mentions them so it’s a habit.” She shook her head, “But, please! I want to look at the armor of the new adventurers! My lady-”

“MARINETTE!” The girl in front of him flinched. The two turned to see a blond girl strutting towards them. She was pulling another blonde behind her with a trail of servants. The girl next to him, presumably Marinette, hid behind him.

Her voice wavered, “Oh, hello Lady Bourgeois. Mister Agreste.”

The boy being pulled around laughed, “Sorry Marinette. I tried to hold her back.”

Lady Bourgeois stopped in front of him and seemed to size him up, “And who are you? Where are you from?”

If this was a noblewoman, to get anywhere with her he needed her to see him as an equal. Tikki continued to vibrate meaning the person of interest was extremely close. Right now, he needed to level with this girl. “I am the only blood son of the Wayne enterprises in a land called Gotham. I set out on my own to help my family. My name is Damian Wayne.” He bowed and silently thanked his father and mother for teaching him to speak as a nobleman. Business meetings and galas were incredible practice for this. The man seemed to buy it, but the lady seemed skeptical.

“I have never heard of Gotham.”

“Chloe, please. He seems genuine.”

“Adrikins-”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“I’m looking for the adventure’s guild. If you could, I would be grateful for any help.” He hated the helpless act but if these people were noble then they had money. He needed money.

“Gross, why go to a building filled with a bunch of sweaty filthy warriors?” She sighed, “But alright. Fine. Marinette!”

Marinette stood as stiff as a board, “Y-Yes?”

“You’ll be his guide.” Chloe snapped her fingers and a servant ran up to her with a small pouch in his hands. She pointed at him and the man presented the pouch with a bow, “As an offering between one noble to another. I hope to see you soon and out of those awful clothes. Honestly, my goddess would smite you down if you showed up at her temple like that.”

“I don’t know. I like them.” Adrien grinned and sent him a thumbs up, “Don’t you think, Marinette?”

As soon as he addressed her she jumped, “Y-Yeah! His awesome are clothes! I mean, his are awesome clothes! I mean-”

Damian closed his eyes and sighed, “Let’s go, Marinette.” She nodded and looked at him with complete gratitude. She mouthed a silent “thank you” and he nodded. This was easier for both of them. “Once I’ve registered I’ll find you. I’d be honored to learn more about this land from you all.”

Chloe seemed pleased by his manners and he turned away with a simple wave. Adrien sent him as salute and wink before turning back. Once they were fully departed, he relaxed a bit and sighed. “Marinette was it?”

She nodded, “Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“If you come with me to register and answer my questions I’ll let you measure, write, and draw every little detail of my uniform. Got it?”

She looked stunned at first, before grinning and nodding furiously. “Yes!”

“Then let’s go. I need to do this quickly.”

“Right!” Something told him this journey was going to be a long one.

#damianette #daminette #maridami #damian x marinette #au #fanfiction #maribat #konosuba au #just testing this out #please write your thoughts #dc x mlb #miraculous x dc

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