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distantdarlings · 5 months

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HOUSE PRIDE // t. nott

RATING: R / 3.8K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested - based on this* Theo is pissed that you seem to be interested in other guys. The two of you are not officially dating so you find it ridiculous that you can't talk to whomever you want. You have feelings for Theo, though, and think it might be interesting to put his jealousy to the test.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! Heavy sexual material, degradation, name-calling, jealousy, fem reader, language, dom!Theo--honestly, this is just depraved

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Pyramids - Frank Ocean

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You pressed your face to your hands, breathing deeply. You couldn’t believe what you were fucking hearing. The pounding in your head refused to subside as he kept demanding an answer.

“Hello? Do you wanna explain why you were practically throwing yourself on Riddle today at lunch?” the brunette demanded, his eyes widened and wild. Your hands dropped and you made eye contact with the boy. You were in disbelief.

“Throwing myself at him? You dick, I tripped and fell on him! That’s just number one! Number two: you are not my fucking boyfriend,” you shouted, “I can throw myself on whoever I want, whenever I want!”

Theo locked his jaw and pursed his lips slightly. A tell of his that meant he was very angry. He didn’t usually speak much after he pushed past this point. More like, just crossed his arms and stared at you, eye bordering on twitching. You scoffed and held your hands out, waiting for a response from him. He said nothing.

“I don’t need you to tell me who to give attention to, Theo. You are not my boyfriend, I am not your girlfriend. I tripped and fell against Mattheo this morning and we both laughed it off, so why can’t you?”

“You just tripped and fell on him and his hands landed on your ass? Oh, whoops, just an accident!” he mocked you.

“I don’t know if his hands were on my ass or not, he may have been trying to stabilize me as quickly as he could—but besides the point, who gives a fuck if he was touching my ass? It’s not like you’ve been too eager to do anything anytime soon!” you shout, blood rushing through your ears and cheeks. Shit. You did not mean to say that. His head shot back and his eyes widened slightly. You kept the anger imprinted on your face to attempt to hide the embarrassment you were feeling so strongly. Hopefully, he would think this was a super-confident confession written in a rage. Still, he said nothing.

“Oh, forget it! To hell with you, Theo!” you screamed, grabbing your robes and running out of his dorm room. He said nothing and made no move to stop you. Your feet carried you down the hallway and into your own room.

None of your roommates were here. You figured they were all in different dorms, preparing for the common room party in a few hours. Once every couple of months, some of the Slytherins—usually seniors—will get together and prepare a “house” party. They’re always fun, high-energy, and filled to the brim with Slytherin pride. Merlin, you loved them.

You had originally declined to go tonight. You had some leftover work that was due on Monday and you almost thought that Theo would invite you to Hogsmeade or something, but you should have known better than that. It seems all he’s concerned about is his reputation.

You tugged through the buttons on your uniform top and ripped it off your shoulders. You pulled your skirt and socks off, holding the end of your bed for balance. There were a couple of nice outfits shoved in the trunk beneath the bedframe—you figured something in there would do. You reached up and let your hair down from its elastic, allowing it to fall to its natural length. The ends of the waved strands tickled your skin as you yanked the trunk into the open. Inside were a couple of different combinations, all saved up for special occasions. And if anyone asked you, making Theo Nott as jealous as you possibly could was a very special occasion.

Your eyes fell on a specific top. A long sleeve, skin-tight sweetheart neckline that plunged a little deeper than it should, and a flared, darkened skirt. You reckoned it was simple and sexy. It practically bled Theo’s name all over your body, claiming you as his, though you pretended like you hated that. He never needed to know it, but you secretly loved how jealous he became when you had the smallest interactions with other people. You blow a curled hair out of your face. The fucker could have been running down the halls with a red tapestry taped to his back and you still wouldn’t call him a red flag. He was just what you wanted; what you’d wanted for years. Whether or not he’d ever actually act on your feelings for each other, you belonged to him and he belonged to you.

You slipped the outfit on, mussed up your hair a bit, and applied a light layer of makeup. With the two tests, three project due dates, and eighteen assignments you’d had this week, you could use a bit of a touch-up. Hopefully, you didn’t sweat it off by the end of the night—though, that was sort of the goal.

You grabbed your wand and slipped it into your back pocket, patting it twice for good luck, and pushed through the dorm door. Down the hallway, you could hear the faint pounding of music. Your heart raced, keeping in time with the deep bass pushing past the walls. Was this a good idea? For a few moments, you stood in front of your door, pondering your options. Your plan for this evening could either end really well or really badly or you could avoid the possibilities completely and stay in like you originally planned. A deep sigh left you as your eyes slid closed. Who cared? This was your life and, you’d said it earlier, Theo was not your boyfriend and you intended on finishing what you’d started with Mattheo earlier this morning.

Deep cool colors swirled throughout the common room, echoing off of every shadow and highlight in the moulding. Everywhere you looked there was another Slytherin scarf or Quidditch team hat. One boy even wore a Slytherin flag around his neck like a cape. You laughed at the absurd outfit. These parties were most definitely one of the best things about being a Slytherin. Say what you will about the house, but they could throw a fucking party.

You slid through swaying bodies, feeling the bass echo deep in your chest, rattling your ribcage. A couple of your friends were scattered throughout the crowd and slipped in gracefully with their personal friends. As you passed by them, they waved or flashed you a bright smile, all of which you returned. You would come back and talk but, for now, you were looking for someone specific.

There was a table set up in front of the fireplace, decked out with green and black decorations, and overflowing with tall glasses of firewhisky. Your eyes skated along the length of the furniture until it reached a familiar body. You smirked and grabbed a drink before making your way over.

Enzo stood against the edge of the table, discussing something with one of the “bartenders.” When you stopped in front of him, his lips ceased and his eyes found your chest, then your eyes. His lips remained parted. Sweet, sweet Enzo.

“Hey, En, I was wondering if you’d seen Mattheo, anywhere?” you smiled. He said nothing for a few seconds before stuttering back to life like an old car.

“Uh, no, I haven’t seen him anywhere…uh, why do you need—um, I mean, did you need to talk to him?” he stumbled, awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets. The boy he’d been talking to—some fifth-year—snorted and rolled his eyes, turning away from the two of you to pour a couple more drinks. You stepped closer to Enzo, feeling his body heat on you. The shoes you were wearing granted you a couple more inches of height, which, consequently, put your hairline just above his. His eyes were angled slightly upward as he watched you.

You waved him against you. He leaned in. The confidence burning through you tonight was more than you’d felt in a long time. You felt hurt and angry and frustrated. You could fix one of those quickly. You traced the skin above his ear, pushing a small tuft of copper hair back. A small shudder went through his body as you pressed your lips against his ear.

“I just wanted to dance and was looking for a boy who’d dance with me,” you said slowly. “I thought Mattheo would be the best but maybe you could…you know…”

You pulled away and smiled sweetly, placing a deep innocence into your eyes, watching as his lips parted and closed multiple times. You tilted your head to the right, allowing your eyes to switch from his eyes to his lips ever so briefly.

“I haven’t seen Mattheo, I’ll dance with you,” he said, licking his lips and swallowing thickly. You smiled brightly and grabbed one of the hands hanging limply by his side. You felt his warm skin beneath yours as you tugged him toward the center of the dancing mass. You were pretty sure you recognized the song playing and proceeded to work all of its beats throughout your body, encouraging Enzo to join you.

“Come on, En!” you laughed. “You’re supposed to dance with me.” He seemed to shock out of a momentary stupor. You felt good tonight and you hoped it was showing on your face and body. He still didn’t move and you reckoned he was going to take some physical guiding.

As the song slowed slightly, you grabbed both of his hands and slid them around your hips. His breath shuddered through his lips as you began moving the two of you. You dropped your hands to his belt and guided his hips a bit, biting back a smile. He had all of the facilities for these particular…activities, he was just really nervous. Soon enough, though, his hips were moving on their own.

You turned around and placed your back against his chest. Without prompting, his hands dropped down to your hips, gripping them firmly. He moved you against him to every beat of the song. To be honest, he was placing a little bit of blush in your stomach. One of your arms raised to wrap loosely around his neck.

“That’s it, baby,” you cooed in his ear, cradling the base of his neck with your hand. One of his hands raised to hold your arm against him as the other stayed intact on your hip. A crooked smile found its way onto his lips as the both of you felt every rhythm the other was putting out. Fuck, maybe you’d picked the wrong boy all along. The way Enzo was grabbing your hips and ever so slowly grinding against your ass had your lips parting in a slow gasp.

“Like this?” he whispered in your ear, his voice low and gravelly. Merlin, help you.

If anything could have pulled you out of your current situation, it was the burning eyes you felt against you pouring into your skin like a brand. You gasped a bit and looked away from Enzo. Almost immediately, you found Theo’s eyes on the two of you. Enzo noticed your sudden change of attention and glanced up, finding the older’s eyes. Like he’d been branded himself, his hands faded away from you and, almost as quickly, so did he. Fucker. So much for sticking by you.

You were used to it by now, though. Where you were involved, Theo was, too. Even though you weren’t actually together, everyone knew you were Theo’s. Anytime you were hanging out with another boy, he always found out. Even if it was just for a school assignment.

His jaw was clenched and ticking. His eyes were lidded and ice-cold, angled right at you. You rolled your eyes and huffed, stomping off through the crowd. He couldn’t get whatever he wanted all the time. He needed to pick. He needed to officially claim you as his, take you on dates, buy you gifts, and all that nonsense or he needed to leave you the hell alone. He couldn’t have it both ways.

You finally came upon the end of the crowd and the staircase leading to the girl’s dorms. You hurried up the steps, not even caring if he was behind you or ignoring you or with a different girl.

The hallway was completely empty, everybody down at the party or taking an early night. You rushed across the winding floors, trying your best to get to your room before Theo changed his mind. You just wanted to get out of your clothes and makeup and go to bed. Your dorm door appeared around the corner followed by an immense sense of relief.

Your hand closed around the doorknob and—a hand closed tightly around your arm and yanked you back. A yelp escaped your lips as the perpetrator slammed you roughly into the wall just beside the door. It was Theo. He was livid, his breath coming out in hard slants, and his eyes so darkened they appeared black. You swallowed thickly, your breath rushing out of you just as his was. The two of you heard your hearts pounding in tandem.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demanded, his face inches from yours. Your eyes glanced down from his to his lips, watching the changes in his anger. He waited impatiently for an answer for too long before you realized it wasn’t meant to be a rhetorical question.

He grabbed your arm once more and pulled you away from the wall. A swift flick of his wand and a fury like no other, and he was pulling you into your empty dorm room. It was almost completely dark by now.

“You want some attention, huh?” he said, casting a flame into the stove set in the middle of the room, his grip on your arm never weakening. He slammed his wand down on your bedside table and pushed you onto your bed. You fell roughly against the mattress, your hands holding you up into a sitting position. He stared down at you wildly, like an angry parent.

“Answer me,” he growled. Your eyes bore the same innocence you’d given to Enzo earlier and you knew that he’d only last a few minutes like this. Already, his facade was flickering and his gaze was softening.

“I just—I don’t know, Teddy, I—”

“You just, you—you, you…fucking spit it out,” he mocked you. Body betraying your mind, heat pooled in your lower stomach as his face got closer and closer to yours and he got angrier and angrier. If it was anyone else, you’d have gotten embarrassed or angry but with Theo…it was a different feeling.

“All out of confidence, hmm? What happened, baby, you had plenty out there when you were grinding your ass all over Lorenzo Berkshire in front of everyone!”

“What’s wrong with Enzo?” you squeaked, your thumbs rolling over the other.

“He’s not me, you stupid girl,” he roared, his words perking your chest. You pressed your thighs together discreetly, never losing eye contact with him. You hoped he hadn’t seen you.

“Are you serious? Are you fucking turned on right now?” he asked. He had seen you. You didn’t say anything. His hand reached around and roughly gripped your hair, his fingers tugging deliciously on your scalp. He held your head back.

“Answer me, baby,” he whispered, his voice a thousand times different. “Does it turn you on when I shout at you? When you get me jealous and worked up?” The way he was looking down at you had you gulping against the strain being placed on your throat. You nodded.

“God, you’re so fucking pathetic,” he laughed darkly, the sinister tone in his voice echoing in your stomach. His hand let go of your hair and grabbed your jaw tightly. He held your face up so you were looking directly into his eyes.

“Maybe I need to remind you who you fucking belong to?” An eyebrow quirked. You nodded once more, anticipation hitting you like a train. He smirked, releasing your jaw by pushing you back roughly. Your back came into contact with the bed, the material nearly knocking the breath out of you.

He crawled over you slowly, letting his lips ghost over your exposed cleavage, neck, chin, lips. He paused and allowed his breath to pour into your mouth. He tasted like alcohol, the scent of it burning your lips. He pushed his tongue out and gently traced it over your bottom lip. Your lips parted in a gasp at the contact. Just as soon as your mouth had opened, his had covered it, suffocating all breath. You moaned into him, feeling the way his body held you tightly against the mattress.

You raised your hand to place your fingers beneath his shirt, but one of his hands reached down and grabbed yours with a speed your intoxicated brain wasn’t capable of comprehending right now. He raised them above your head and held them with a grip like a vice, his fingers violent and unyielding. You’d definitely have bruises in the morning.

You bucked your hips against him, trying to illicit some contact between your core and his. He grunted at the touch before pulling back and roughly turning you over, pressing your chest into the mattress.

“Don’t fucking do that,” he growled into your ear, still holding your hands tightly above you. “Do as I fucking say. I’m going to pull this skirt up and I’m going to fuck you and you’re not going to say a word but my name. Do you understand me?” You nodded frantically, impatiently waiting for some contact.

“Keep your hands there,” he instructed as he slowly let them go. You curled your fingers around the edge of the bed to keep them locked in place. You didn’t dare disobey him.

Behind you, you could hear the clink of his belt buckle as he pulled it from his jeans and dropped it to the floor. The anticipation was killing you, your thighs pressing tightly together for a chance at some friction. The heat between them was beginning to become too much.

He pressed bruising kisses along the side of your neck, trailing them down your shoulder. His teeth cut along the flesh, ripping blacks and blues into the sensitive skin. You whimpered at the feeling, knowing good and well he just wanted everyone to see whose you were.

His fingers ghosted along the outsides of your thighs, tracing the chills that appeared in their wake. You shuddered against the sheets, waiting to feel everything he was about to do. You couldn’t see any of his movements and, for whatever reason, that amplified the feeling by a million.

There was a moment of nothing except for the sound of rustling clothing. No part of him touched you and you found yourself becoming more and more desperate by the moment. You reckoned he was removing unnecessary items of his outfit but if he didn’t do something soon, you were going to start pitching a fit.

Then his thumb pressed against your thin undergarments, right where you needed him the very most. An awfully audible moan left your lips and your spine arched against his touch. Merlin help anyone who walked by this dorm or, worse, tried to come in.

“Please, baby,” you sighed, your fingers clenching tightly against the mattress. His hand roughly grabbed your hair once more, tugging your head back.

“My name only, you dumb slut,” he insulted before pushing your head back into the sheets. One hand held your head to the bed as the other lined his hips up with yours.

No matter how many times the two of you did this, you’d never get used to it. He was just so much better than any of the other boys in school. And there were a lot of them too. None of them felt like Theo and he knew it, too. He knew that you would always come back to him. He was impossible to leave. His touch and rough, degrading words were addictive and you couldn’t stay away from him. Your friends had told you over and over again that you needed to drop him and completely move on but you just couldn’t. He was the closest thing to a drug you had.

He tucked a finger beneath your undergarments and slid them over to the side. He placed a hand in front of your face. “Spit,” he ordered. You complied. He spread the material over his fingers slowly, coating each one thoroughly. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his hand disappear and reintroduce itself with your core. The tips of his soaked fingers skirted between the slit of your skin, lathering you in his touch. Just as he’d instructed, his name poured from your lips like a prayer.

He pulled his hands away and quickly replaced them with a dark, warm heat that pressed into you agonizingly slowly, stretching every part of you out.

“Fuck, it’s been a while,” he groaned breathlessly, pushing into you until he bottomed out. His lips curve just above your ear, every moan and whisper touching your mind like a soft hand. As he began to move, they became louder and made less sense to either of you. His name curled around the room. You worshipped him. The reverence you placed on every syllable touched his chest and slid down to his core. He gasped into your ear. You sounded so fucking good.

It didn’t matter if he fucked every girl in Hogwarts, none of them could ever compare to you.

“Theo, baby, you feel so good,” you screamed, the words vibrating your skin.

“Yeah, baby?” he breathed. You moaned aloud as he pressed an especially sharp thrust against you. “I know, I know.”

“Please, please, please,” you babbled, your words pathetic and useless. His hips never ceased their brutal pace.

“That’s it, baby,” he cooed. “Are you my girl? Or are you Enzo’s?” He growled the last part, his fingers tangling painfully in your hair. You yelped at the feeling, tilting your head back to relieve some of the pain.

“No, no! I’m yours, Teddy, I’m all yours, please,” you begged.

“That’s right, baby.” He released your hair. Every movement of his body brought you closer and closer to your end. His hands gripping your hips and pulling himself toward his own, his lips curling against your ear, his weight holding you perfectly in place.

Neither of you would last much longer and you both knew that. Every deep push of his hips drove you further into your pleasure as you began to close around him, gradually coaxing a release out of him. One of his hands dropped down to trace tight circles against you, ignoring the way your hips quaked to get away from the overstimulation. You were done for.

Every sound pouring from his lips began to mingle with yours a bit closer as he pushed you through both of your final breaths. His hips got slower and his grip loosened on your waist. The loss of his support sent your weakened body falling back down to the mattress. A breathless chuckle came from him as he laid down beside you, his shimmering skin luminescent in the moonlight. You presented him with a tired smile.

“Could Enzo fuck you like that?” he asked, a proud smirk imprinted on his lips.

“I don’t know—I’ll let you know when I find out.”

#fanfiction #creative writing #fanfic #writing #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #reader insert #oneshot #slytherin #harry potter smut #hogwarts fanfiction #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #mattheo riddle

3K notes · View notes

martiniluvr · 8 days

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18+ minors dni

1,000 follower celebration!! I love u all wow. thank you for all your support, truly. be warned, this is long. enjoy 💫

warnings: nsfw alphabet for dick grayson and jason todd, so there’s a variety of things under the cut. please proceed with caution 🩷

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

A | Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

jason is very different after sex. it’s a major act of trust for him, so when it’s done, all he really wants is to be close to you. in other words: he’s a big cuddler. he’ll mumble some things into your skin as you run your fingers through his hair, and after, you usually end up ordering enough food to feed a small family, because that man can eat.

dick is a loverboy at heart. once the dust has settled and you’re both down from your highs, he’s doting on you—bringing you water, a snack, cleaning you up with a damp cloth—with doe eyes and a big old grin. always invites you to have a shower with him afterwards, and you always say yes, because his shoulder rubs are divine.

B | Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

unsurprisingly, jason has some…issues with his body from all the shit it’s been through. that being said, I think he intentionally trains his back and shoulders the most. it’s what makes him look as huge as he does. as for his favourite thing about you, jason todd is an ass man, argue with the wall. he likes something he can grab. hard.

dick grayson knows his ass is fat. he’s not shy about it. but his favourite body part is actually his arms, and how muscular they’ve become over the years. as for you, he loves your hips. they trigger something primal in him; the second you put on a fitted dress, he’s thinking about giving you his children.

C | Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

jason gets nasty. he’ll cum anywhere on your body just for the obscene sight, but he especially loves to cum in your mouth when he’s feeling that extra bit dominant. he doesn’t care if you spit or swallow, it turns him on either way—but, god, he’s proud when you open your mouth to show him it’s all gone.

let’s cut to the chase. dick wants to cum inside you over and over again. he hardly even contemplates doing it anywhere else; that man wants to fill you up and watch you drip. maybe it’s his out-of-control breeding kink, maybe it’s how intimate it feels—whatever the case may be, rest assured dick grayson loves a creampie.

D | Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

voyeurism. jason likes to watch. it happened accidentally once when he walked in on you practicing some self-care, and he’s thought about it ever since. he enjoys the performance aspect of it; it’s a power play, watching you get yourself off, knowing he’s right there but refusing to help you.

this ties in with Q, but dick borders on exhibitionism sometimes. fucking you in his car, in the bathroom at a charity event, or in a changing room—anywhere you might get caught, really—god, it gets him going. it’s the daredevil in him, constantly yearning to test the limits of what he can do.

E | Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I think jason had very limited to no experience before his death, and most of what knows today he learned by being with you. ever the fast learner, though, he sure as shit knows what he’s doing now. I think he’s very in-tune with your body and his needs, and it shows in the way he fucks you.

we have to face facts here. dick definitely got around before committing to a serious relationship. despite that, I think he knows what he’s doing thanks to his impeccable observational skills; sometimes you think he knows your body better than you do (but don’t tell him that; it goes straight to his head).

F | Favorite position (this goes without saying)

jason is a sucker for good old-fashioned doggy style, of course, but fuck, does he adore the prone bone position. trapping you under his body, hitting you deep with each thrust, and he gets to watch your ass jiggle at every movement? it borders on religious ecstasy for him.

dick goes feral—feral—for the mating press position. it’s erotic, carnal, and raw, and that’s exactly what he wants when he’s fucking you. he’s also partial to cowgirl, especially when he can tell you want to take control. the view it offers him is enough to have him whining underneath you for more.

G | Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

jason is more on the serious side; sex with him, intense as it may be, is still a big act of vulnerability on his part, so he doesn’t treat it lightly. he will, however, crack a warm smile on those occasions when you make love in the small hours of the morning, when he thinks you can’t see his face clearly.

dick is a tease, and sex with him is fun. he likes to flirt with you while he bends you into compromising positions, and he gets very cocky when you cum. he can’t help but make little quips after the fact, either; “something wrong with your leg, baby?” as your limbs twitch and tremble from your orgasm. jerk.

H | Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

in keeping with his rugged exterior, jason is only doing what he needs to in order to keep things manageable and convenient. he is not dedicating hours to manscaping. much to your elation, that means he keeps his happy trail intact.

dick is a little more meticulous in his grooming, being the “pretty boy” that he is. he prefers keeping himself neatly trimmed, partly to ensure more comfort in his nightwing suit—he’s learned the hard way that the pornstar look is a one-way ticket to chafing when you’re jumping off of buildings.

I | Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

jason really restrains himself from being outwardly intimate. he finds it hard to be that vulnerable, and while he loves the passion between you when you fuck, he’s only really able to tap into the romantic aspect if he’s wholly at ease. that’s not to say it never happens! it definitely does, just give him time.

he may be cocky and unserious when he’s fucking you, but sex with dick is always very openly intimate. he sees the beauty and romance in what you do together, and it’s truly special to him that he gets to witness you like this. sex is absolutely one of the ways he expresses his love and admiration for you.

J | Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

jason only really masturbates when he’s away from you on a mission, and needs to take the edge off. it’s less interesting without you, so he wants it done quick. he imagines you touching yourself as he does it—legs wide and eyes hazy—and that gets him to his peak extremely efficiently.

dick likes to edge himself. I said what I said. he’s thinking about how he’d much rather save his load for your pretty cunt, so he’s bucking his hips and screwing his eyes shut as he forces himself to stop right before his climax, reminding himself how good it’ll feel when he gets to fill you up.

K | Kink (one or more of their kinks)

overstimulation is jason’s go-to; he gets off on dragging orgasm after orgasm out of you until you’re hardly able to speak. he also loves forced eye contact, especially when you can barely keep your eyes open. oh, and he has a massive size kink. when you’re as huge as he is, everyone is small by comparison, and he likes how big you make him feel.

say it with me. dick grayson has a breeding kink. the visual aspect of cumming inside you is enough to drive him crazy, but the thought of getting you pregnant…now that makes him rabid. face-sitting is another big one; any variation of pussy-eating drives him wild, but having you sit on his face is his favourite way to do it.

L | Location (favorite places to do the do)

if you’re at home, anywhere is fair game to jason. he’s fucking you in the kitchen, in the bedroom, on the sofa, against the wall, in the office—anywhere. outside of home, he’s more restrictive, but he has thought about fucking you in the batmobile on the many occasions he’s stolen it.

the bedroom is definitely dick’s favourite place to fuck you; aside from making things feel more romantic, he wants you to be comfortable as he’s bending you into crazy positions. he also loves a shower quickie and car sex, impractical though they may be. don’t worry, he’s an acrobat. it’ll work.

M | Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

is it crazy to say that jason gets turned on when you argue? because he does. a moderate disagreement where you’re getting huffy with him is a surefire way to get bent over the sofa. oh, and if he feels even a little jealousy creeping over him, you’re in for a ride. also, if you nestle into him during the night, you’ll be contending with his hard cock pressed against your lower back until one of you caves.

dick is whipped. whatever you’re doing can get him going. cooking, reading, wearing his clothes—he loves everything you do. but, he’s particularly turned on whenever you dress up for a special occasion. it can be a little inconvenient when you’re running late for an event and he’s groping you over your gown in the limo, but how can you refuse those blue eyes?

N | No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

jason would be very resistant to anything that puts him in a submissive role (this goes for ak!jason too). this includes both sex acts and the use of props/toys that take control away from him; he’s just not into it. he’d also refuse any kind of roleplay, saying it’s unnecessary. he’s a pragmatic guy.

I think dick would really dislike the idea of hurting you. he’s not opposed to spanking, and he’ll even engage in some light breath play (ahem, headlock, anyone?), but he would never take it any further than that. if he bruised you through anything other than hickies, he’d be sick with guilt.

O | Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

it should come as no surprise that jason loves receiving head. there are few sights as enticing as watching you take his cock in your mouth while he instructs you to keep your eyes on him. he’s also very skilled in returning the favour, and his preference is eating you from the back so he can see your pretty ass move each time you squirm.

you know my stance on this. dick is a munch. he’s eating pussy like it’s his last meal before the end of the world, and he’s doing it for him. needless to say, he’s fucking good at it. receiving head is quite literally the last thing on his mind. that being said, when he does remember to let you reciprocate, all he can think about is how pretty you look while doing it.

P | Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

jason can get pretty rough, and he likes to fuck you hard, but he knows how much you can take. sex for him is partially an emotional release. but, he’s good at alternating between destroying you one day and being gentle the next; despite his tough facade, jay enjoys soft, passionate sex as much—if not more—than you do.

dick is kind of a hedonist; once he starts feeling pleasure, he doesn’t want it to end—especially when you start feeling it too. he’s happy to give you fast and rough if it’s what you want, but his preference is sloppy, erotic fucking. the messier you get, the better. although, if he’s got you in a mating press, the roughness seeps back in quickly.

Q | Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

while he’ll never say no to a quickie, jason prefers to take his time with you. once he starts, he finds it hard to stop, and he loves to see how much you can take from him before you’re spent. quickies are sporadic with him; he prefers to enjoy your body at his pace.

if he gets the chance to fuck you—hell, even just tease you—dick is going to take it. he loves the thrill and the sense of urgency that comes with quickies. whether it’s a hookup in his car or an impromptu blowjob when he’s supposed to be on patrol, his eyes are lighting up like it’s christmas.

R | Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

jason is not a risk-taker. he needs time to warm to any kind of experimentation, but he’s more likely to try things on you than on himself, like using light restraints on you or dabbling in sensory play. as long as he feels he has some control.

dick is a different story. he’s willing to try most things at least once, and he’s able to laugh it off if something goes south. he’s not opposed to switching (ha) things up and giving you the lead, either; he likes a woman in charge.

S | Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

maybe it’s his extensive training, maybe it’s just who he is; whatever the case may be, jason can go for a long time. but, it’s usually just one round that he draws out so he can really work you to your limit.

dick can handle multiple rounds if you give him time. his recovery consists of burying his face between your legs until he’s ready to go again, which doesn’t take very long once you start convulsing against his tongue.

T | Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

jason wouldn’t even think to use sex toys unless you brought it up, but he’d be open to using them on you if you asked. he’s quick to see the potential in your little pink vibrator when he holds it against your clit while he fucks you, noticing how much easier it is to overstimulate you this way.

ever the experimentalist, dick isn’t opposed to trying out toys in the bedroom. in fact, he’s the one who would show up with fuzzy blue handcuffs (“I got them in my colour!”) to restrain your hands behind your back, so he can devour your cunt without interference from you.

U | Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he’d like to tease you more, but jason doesn’t really have the restraint for it. as soon as you’re splayed out in front of him, he wants to take you. when he does tease, though, he likes to touch you everywhere but where you need him most, until you’re begging for him to make you feel good. then, he likes to make you regret it—over and over again.

dick is the world’s biggest tease, and you can look that up. he’s got you grinding on his lap, making out with you until you’re panting, only to say he needs to do some work as he stands up with a smirk. and when he finally gets you naked, he makes you tell him what you need while his fingers hover over your aching pussy, never reaching you.

V | Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

jason isn’t very loud at all, but the sounds he does make range from grunts and groans to the occasional low moan if you tug at the hair on the nape of his neck. he’s a big dirty talker, and he likes to get up in your ear to do it, so he knows you’re listening. he notices the way you shiver at his gravelly voice, and it drives him crazy.

dick is far less concerned about being quiet. he’s moaning, swearing, telling you how pretty you are, even occasionally whining, and he’s not worried about what your neighbours think—in fact, he’s making sure you’re just as vocal as he is, insisting you tell him how you feel. he’s also expressive when he cums, especially when he does it inside you.

W | Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I know this is controversial, but jason would never agree to a threesome. this man is possessive. the mere thought of seeing someone else touch you in front of him is enough to make him see red, so no—he’d end up committing murder (not that it’s a far leap for him on a good day).

dick has a thing for watching you work out, especially when you’re doing yoga in the living room in those skin-tight pants. watching the way your limbs elongate and contract as you bend and stretch does things to him, but he never interrupts; the images stay in his mind for those long missions.

X | X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

jason is a behemoth of a man all over. and I do mean all over. he’s packing. an easy 8 inches (slightly more), thick, with a slight upwards curve and a prominent vein from the base to the tip—which is a mauvy pink, by the way. you’re still shocked you’re able to take him, and he was too the first time.

‘prettiest man alive also has a pretty cock’ would be dick’s headline. just over 6 inches, with enough girth to make you feel full, and a rosy pink tip that matches his lips…you could honestly just stare at it if he’d let you (and he probably would). he fits you like a glove every single time.

Y | Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

jason’s sex drive is pretty consistent; it’s always simmering a little ways below the surface. he’s able to compartmentalise it when he has to, but sex doubles as a form of stress-relief for him, so it happens…often.

dick has an incredibly high sex drive. like jason, he can reel it in when needed, but if it were up to him, you’d fuck every single day, twice even. I also truly believe that he’s regularly plagued by morning wood.

Z | Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he’s going to make sure you’re comfortable and taken care of, but the truth is jason could probably pass out in your arms about 10 minutes after you’re done. take it as a sign of how safe he feels with you as he’s snoring softly into your neck.

he’s definitely tired after sex, but dick is waiting until he notices you dozing off before he closes his eyes. once he’s out, though, good luck waking him up again without an air horn. he’s going to need his full eight hours to recharge.

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suashii · 1 year

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୨♡୧ GOT ME LOOKING FOR ATTENTION! — how they react to you being needy.

featuring. itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro, barou shoei.

warnings. f!reader, f!masturbation, dacryphilia, marking, pet names (pretty lady, good girl). all characters written 18+.

note! it's my first time writing barou so please be kind! enjoy (≧∀≦)

₊˚ପ⊹ ITOSHI RIN

it's a day before rin was expected to return home and instead of telling you about his early arrival, he figured he'd try to surprise you. though, when he opens the door to the apartment, you aren't at your usual spot on the couch. he worries that you might not be home, until he hears it—a pitchy whine coming from down the hall. he follows the sound that leads him to the bedroom where the door is slightly ajar, enough for the moans to spill from the gap.

rin pushes the door open with his foot, revealing your figure on the bed. it's a lewd sight; on your knees with your legs spread, fingers stuffed in your dripping cunt in a chase for that sweet spot you can't quite reach. still, you pump them with fervor in search of blissful relief. it takes a moment for you to notice the man's presence and turn to him with teary eyes.

a gasp catches in your throat at the late recognition. your call of his name comes out wobbly. "rin?"

a tear falls past your lashes as you blink, rolls down your cheek and drips from your jawline. rin thinks it must be a little fucked up that seeing you in such a state turns him on. it makes his pants feel tighter, lights glowing embers beneath his skin. he figures that, maybe, he should inquire about the watery look in your eyes.

"why are you crying?"

"it's not the same," you reveal, turning your gaze down. you chew at the inside of you cheek, contemplating on if you should elaborate. though, when you drag your eyes back up, it's like his teal stare compels you to continue. "y'know... as when you do it."

rin didn't think his ego could get any bigger but you have a knack for feeding it. the confession goes straight to his dick and as much as he'd love to sit and savor your helplessness for just a little longer, there's a way address both your needs while still having a bit of fun with you.

"i'm here now," rin tells you, closing the distance between you. he wipes another stray tear from your cheek. "so, why don't you ask for my help?"

₊˚ପ⊹ SHIDOU RYUSEI

your breath tickles shidou's collarbone as you let out yet another discontent sigh that borders a whimper. with a drink in one hand and the other settled on your waist, shidou glances down at you. it's a rare sight to see you so clingy; usually he's the one sticking to you like glue. but now, there's a sparkle of want in your eyes as you toy with the buttons of his shirt, fingers threatening to unfasten them.

"a little touchy there, huh?" shidou says with a grin. he wouldn't mind putting a little bit of his naked chest on display but it's unlike you be so forward at events like these—ones where anyone can see. "thought you preferred when we maintained decorum at these types of things."

"you know i don't want to be here," you respond, a soft pout punctuating your words.

oh, does he know. you'd been even more touchy while the two of you were getting ready earlier. the length of your nails grazed the curves of his abdomen as you straddled him, your clothed cunt hovering just above the growing tent in his boxers. leaving a wet kiss on the pulse of his neck, you rolled your hips, grinding down on his bulge. releasing the lip you had pulled between your teeth, a tempting offer fell from your lips. "can't we just forget about this one? i think we'd have more fun here anyway."

if weren't for his manager warning him that another absence would be the woman's last straw, shidou would have given in and stayed home to please your every desire—lapped and slurped at you until you came on his tongue and fucked you until you did the same around his cock.

though, in an effort to stop himself from burning any more bridges in the industry, he chose to attend with a needy girlfriend and a painfully hard cock.

lifting his glass, fuchsia eyes flit to the watch wrapped around his wrist.

"twenty more minutes, pretty lady." shidou dips his head down so his lips are ghosting yours. the airiness of his voice sends shivers down your spine, causes goosebumps to raise on your arms. "and i'll be happy to take care of you."

₊˚ପ⊹ NAGI SEISHIRO

nagi isn't usually distracted so easily when he's playing games. he pays his phone little mind, so much so that people begin to worry when he doesn't text back after a couple of hours. sometimes he's focused to the extent that he forgets to eat until he can hear his stomach growling.

the one exception and his favorite distraction is you.

he doesn't mind when you shimmy your way between him and his controller, latching onto him like a clingy koala bear. he'll rest his chin on the top your head and let you be. that much was meant to be the plan today when you took your place on his lap but you seemed to have something else in mind if the kisses you left trailing up his neck were any evidence.

they were easy enough to ignore at first but the soft feel of your lips against his skin eventually turned into wet, open-mouthed kisses—the kind where you suck and nip at him. each bruising kiss you leave behind chips away at nagi's focus. though, much to your dismay, his caramel eyes stay glued to the screen ahead of him.

you were almost sure he would have given in by now, picked up on the heavy hints you were so clearly dropping. you suppose his cluelessness is one of his many charms and you certainly don't mind having to speak up if it get you what you want.

"sei," you draw out the syllable, curling your fingers around the wisps of snowy hair at the nape of his neck, "wouldn't you rather play with me?"

the purr of your voice and the implication behind your words makes him still for a moment, long enough for little health his character had to dwindle, prompting the game over screen. he doesn't seem to see his failure and if he does he's made it apparent that he doesn't care.

finally, you're the focus of his gaze. nagi abandons the controller in favor resting his hands on your hips. his hold on you is firm and when you meet his eye, you can feel your heart jump in your chest. it isn't so often that you witness this side of him—the one where he greed is palpable. that and his next words light a flame within you.

"what did you have in mind?"

₊˚ପ⊹ BAROU SHOEI

there's something endearing, captivating, about watching barou practice. his moves are fluid yet forceful and they can't help but remind you of another activity that you'd describe the same way. it's even more difficult to not make the connection as you watch his chest heave and beads of sweat drip down from his hairline.

the image makes your mind wander to thoughts of you beneath him, mouth open wide and nails running down his back as he pounds into you, hitting that sensitive spot he's sure will make you come undone. you rub your thighs together at the thought in a feeble attempt to alleviate the pressure between your legs. it does little to help and you imagine there's only one thing that can.

"hey."

you blink at the call of your name, eyes focusing on barou at the barrier between the field and the stands. he beckons you over with two fingers, he other hand wiping away the perspiration that dampens his face. picking up the water bottle you had refilled for him, you scurry over to meet him.

your gaze follows the bottle as barou brings it to his mouth. you watch his adam's apple bob up and down with each swallow before your eyes drag up to see his lips wrapped around the spout. the scene before you transforms again, this time to one where it's your nipple between his lips. you squeeze your thighs together, crossing one arm over your chest. when you speak, your voice comes out a little squeakier than usual. "almost done?"

barou shakes his head. "still got half an hour."

"half an hour?" you repeat, eyes widening and lips curling down into a frown.

barou isn't stupid. just like you've been watching him, he's had his eyes on you. he's seen how you've been looking at him with that far away gaze of yours and he knows exactly where your mind had gone in those moments. after all, you're doing a pretty poor job of hiding it.

"be a good girl and wait," he tells you, tipping your chin up so you're looking him in the eye. his crimson stare is hard but there's something else behind it—hunger. "then i'll give you what you want."

thanks for reading! consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed ❤︎

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: blue lock #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #shidou x reader #nagi x reader #barou x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk smut #blue lock smut #bllk imagines #blue lock imagines #bllk scenarios #blue lock scenarios #bllk x you #blue lock x you

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jewelleria · 21 days

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I don’t usually talk about politics on here, if ever. But it’s been almost six months since the conflict in the Middle East flared up again, and I’m finally ready to start. Here are some of my thoughts.

I say ‘flared up’ because this has happened before and it’ll happen again. Because, even though what's currently going on is absolutely unprecedented, those of us who live in this part of the world are used to it. Let that sink in: we are used to this. And we shouldn’t have to be.

But I use that term for another reason: I don't want to accidentally call it the wrong thing lest I come under fire for being a genocidal maniac or a terrorist or a propaganda machine, etc., etc.—so let’s just call it ‘the war’ or ‘the conflict.’ Because that’s what it is. Doesn’t matter which side you’re on, who you love, or who you hate.

This post will, in all likelihood, sit in my drafts forever. If it does get posted, it certainly won’t be on my main, because I'm scared of being harassed (spoiler: she posted it on her main). I hate admitting that, but honestly? I’m fucking terrified.

I also feel like in order for anything I say on here (i.e. the hellscape of the internet) to be taken seriously, I have to somehow prove that a) I’m “educated” enough to talk about the conflict, and b) that my opinion lines up with what has been deemed the correct one. So, tedious and unnecessary though it is, I will tell you about my experience, because I have a feeling most of the people reading this post are not nearly as close to what’s happening as I am.

How do I explain where I live without actually explaining where I live? How do I say “I live in the Red Zone of international conflicts” without saying what I actually think? How do I convey the fear that grips me when I try to decide between saying “I live in Palestine” and “I live in Israel”? I don't really know. But I do know that names are important. I also know that, due to the various clickbaity monikers ascribed to the conflict, it would probably just be easier to point to a map.

I haven't always lived in the Middle East. I've lived in various places along America’s east coast, and traveled all over the world. But in short, I now live somewhere inside the crudely-drawn purple circle.

If you know anything about these borders you probably blanched a bit in sympathy, or maybe condolence. But in truth, it’s a shockingly normal existence. I don't feel like I've lived through the shifting of international relations or a war or anything. I just kind of feel like I did when COVID hit, that dull sameness as I wondered if this would be the only world-altering event to shape my life, or if there would be more.

I've been told that, in order for my brain to process all the horrific details of the past six months, there needs to be some element of cognitive dissonance—that falling into a sort of dissociative mindset is the only way to not go insane under the weight of it all. I think in some ways that’s true. I have been terrifyingly close to bus stop shootings when my commute wasn’t over; I have felt my apartment building shake with the reverberations of a missile strike; I have spent hours in underground shelters waiting for air raid sirens to stop.

But. I have also gone grocery shopping, and skipped class, and stayed up too late watching TV, and fed the cats on the street corner, and cried over a boy, and got myself AirPods just because, and taken out the trash, and done laundry on a delicate cycle, and bought overpriced lattes one too many days a week. I have looked at pretty things and taken out my phone because, despite it all, I still think that life is too short not to freeze the small moments.

So I'd say, all things considered, I live an incredibly privileged life—compared, of course, to those suffering in Gaza—one filled with sunsets and over-sweetened knafeh and every different color of sand. One that allows me to throw myself into a fandom-induced hyperfixation (or, alternatively, escape method) as I sit on the couch and crack open my laptop to write the next chapter of the fic I'm working on.

But there are bits of not-normalness that wheedle their way through the cracks. I pretend these moments are avoidable, even if they’re not.

They look like this: reading the news and seeing another idiotic, careless choice on Netanyahu’s part and groaning into my morning coffee. Watching Palestinian and Jewish children’s needless suffering posted on Instagram reels and feeling helpless. Opening my Tumblr DMs to find a message telling me to exterminate myself for reblogging a post that only seems like it’s about the war if you squint and tilt your head sideways.

These moments look like all the tiny ways I am reminded that I'm living in a post-October seventh world, where hearing a car backfire makes me jump out of my skin and the sound of a suitcase on pavement makes me look up at the sky and search for the war planes. They look like the heavy grief that is, and also isn’t, mine.

Here's the thing, though. I know you’re wondering when the ball will drop and my true opinion will be revealed. I know you’re waiting for me to reveal what demographic I'm a part of so that you, dear reader, can neatly slap a label on my head and sort me into some oversimplified category that lets you continue to think you understand this war.

No one wants to sit and ruminate on the difficult questions, the ones that make you wonder if maybe you’ve been tinkered with by the propaganda machine, if you might need to go back on what you’ve said or change your mind. We all strive for our perception of complicated issues to be a comfortable one.

But I know that no matter what I do, there will always be assumptions. So, while I shudder to reveal this information online, I think that maybe my most significant contribution to this meta-discussion spanning every facet of the internet is this:

I am a Jew.

Or, alternatively, I am: Jewish, יהודית, يَهُودِيٌّ, etc. Point is, I come from Jews. And, like any given person, I am a product of generation after generation of love.

I'm not going to take time to explain my heritage to you, or to prove that before all the expulsions and pogroms, there was an origin point. If you don’t believe that, perhaps it’s less of a factual problem and more of an ‘I don’t give weight to the beliefs of indigenous people’ problem. But, in case you want to spend time uselessly refuting this tiny point in a larger argument, you can inspect the photos below (it’s just a small chunk of my DNA test results). Alternatively, you can remember that interrogating someone in an attempt to make their indigeneity match your arbitrary criteria is generally not seen as good manners.

Now, let’s go back to thathateful message (read: poorly disguised death threat) I received in my Tumblr DMs. I think it was like two or three weeks ago. I had recently gained a new follower whose blog’s primary focus was the fandom I contribute to, so I followed them back. I saw in my notes that they were going through my posts and liking them—as one does when gaining a new mutual. Yippee!

Then they sent me this:

I tried to explain that hate speech is not a way to go about participating in political discourse, but the person had already blocked me immediately after sending that message. Then, assured by the fact that I surely would never see them complaining about me on their blog (because, as I said, they blocked me), they posted a shouting rant accusing me of sympathizing with colonizing settlers and declaring me a “racist Zionist fuck.” Oh, the wonders of incognito tabs.

Where this person drew these conclusions after reading my (reblogged) post about antisemitism…. I'm not actually sure. But I greatly sympathize with them, and hope that they weren’t too personally offended by my desire to not die.

For a while I contemplated this experience in my righteous anger, and tried to figure out a way to message this person. I wanted to explain that a) seeing a post about being Jewish and choosing to harass the creator about Israel is literally the definition of antisemitism and b) that sending a hateful DM and refusing to be held accountable is just childish and immature. But I gave up soon after—because, honestly, I knew it wasn’t worth my effort or energy. And I knew that I wouldn't be able to change their mind.

But I still remember staring at that rather unfortunate meme, accompanied by an all-caps message demanding for me to Free Palestine, and thinking: the post didn’t even have any buzzwords. I remember the swoop of dread and guilt and fear. I remember wondering why this kind of antisemitism felt worse, in that moment, than the kind that leaves bodies in its wake.

I remember thinking, I don’t have the power to free anyone.

I remember thinking, I’m so fucking tired.

And before you tell me that this conflict isn’t about religion—let me ask you some questions. Why is it that Israel is even called Israel? (Here’s why.) Why do Jews even want it? (Here’s why.) But also, if you actually read the charters of Islamist terrorist organizations like ISIS, Hamas, and Hezbollah (among others), they equate the modern state of Israel with the Jewish people, and they use the two entities interchangeably. So of course this conflict is religious. It’s never been anything but that.

But I do wonder, when faced with those who deny this fact: how do I prove, through an endless slew of what-about-isms and victim blaming, that I too am hurting? How do I show that empathy is dialectical, that I can care deeply for Palestinians and Gazans while also grieving my own people?

There's this thing that humans do, when we’re frustrated about politics and need to howl our opinions about it into the void until we feel better. We find like-minded souls, usually our friends and neighbors, and fret about the state of the world to each other until we’ve gone around in a satisfactory amount of circles. But these conversations never truly accomplish anything. They’re just a substitute, a stand-in catharsis, for what we really wish we could do: find someone who embodies the spirit of every Jew-hating internet troll, every ignorant justifier of terrorism, and scream ourselves hoarse at them until we change their mind.

But, of course, minds cannot be changed when they are determined to live in a state of irrational dislike. In Judaism, this way of thinking has a name: שנאת חינם (sinat hinam), or baseless hatred. It's a parasite with no definite cure, and it makes people bend over backwards to justify things like the massacre on October seventh, simply because the blame always needs to be placed on the Jews.

So when a Jew is faced with this unsolvable problem, there is only one response to be had, only one feeling to be felt: anger. And we are angry. Carrying around rage with nowhere to put it is exhausting. It's like a weight at the base of our neck that pushes down on our spine, bending it until we will inevitably snap under the pressure. I’m still waiting to break, even now.

I wish I could explain to someone who needs to hear it that terrorism against Israelis happens every single day here, and that we are never more than one degree of separation away from the brutal slaughter of a friend, lover, parent, sibling. I wish it would be enough to say that the majority of Israelis (which includes Arab-Israeli citizens who have the exact same rights as Jewish-Israelis) wish for peace every day without ever having seen what it looks like.

I wish I could show the world that Israel was founded as a socialist state, that it was built on communal values and born from a cluster of kibbutzim (small farming communities based on collective responsibility), and that what it is now isn’t what its people stand for.

I wish the world could open their eyes to what we Israelis have seen since the beginning: that Hamas is the enemy, Hamas is the one starving Palestinians and denying them aid, Hamas is the one who keeps rejecting ceasefire terms and denying their citizens basic human rights. Hamas is the governing body of Gaza, not Israel. Hamas is responsible for the wellbeing of the Palestinian people. And Hamas are the ones who are more determined to murder Jews—over and over and over again, in the most animalistic ways possible—than to look inwards and see the suffering they’ve inflicted on their own people. I wish it was easier to see that.

But the wishing, the asking how can people be so blind, is never enough. I can never just say, I promise I don't want war.

When I bear witness to this baseless hatred, I think of the victims of October seventh. I think of the women and girls who were raped and then murdered, forever unable to tell their stories. I think of the hostages, trapped underneath Gaza in dark tunnels, wondering if anyone will come for them. I think of Ori Ansbacher, of Ezra Schwartz, of Eyal, Gilad, and Naftali, of Lucy, Rina, and Maia Dee, of the Paley boys, of Ari Fuld and of Nachshon Wachsman. I think of all the innocent blood spilled because of terror-fueled hatred and the virus of antisemitism. I think of all the thousands of people who were brutally murdered in Israel, Jews and Muslims and Christians and humans, who will never see peace.

My ties to this land are knotted a thousand times over. Even when I leave, a part of me is left behind, waiting for me to claim it when I return. But when I see the grit it takes to live through this pain, when I see the suffering that paints the world the color of blood, I look to the heavens and I wonder why.

I ask God: is it worth all this? He doesn't answer. So I am the one, in the end, to answer my own question. I say, it has to be.

Feel free to send any genuine, respectful, and clarifying questions you may have to my inbox!

EDIT: just coming on here to say that I'm really touched & grateful for the love on this post. When I wrote it, I felt hopeless; I logged off of Tumblr for Shabbat, dreading the moment I would turn off my phone to find more hate in my inbox. Granted, I did find some, and responding to it was exhausting, but it wasn’t all hate. I read every kind reblog and comment, and the love was so much louder. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 🤍

Source Reading

The Whispered in Gaza Project by The Center for Peace Communications

Why Jews Cannot Stop Shaking Right Now by Dara Horn

Hamas Kidnapped My Father for Refusing to Be Their Puppet by Ala Mohammed Mushtaha

I Hope Someone Somewhere Is Being Kind to My Boy by Rachel Goldberg

The Struggle for Black Freedom Has Nothing to Do with Israel by Coleman Hughes

Israel Can Defend Itself and Uphold Its Values by The New York Times Editorial Board

There Is a Jewish Hope for Palestinian Liberation. It Must Survive by Peter Beinart

The Long Wait of the Hostages’ Families by Ruth Margalit

“By Any Means Necessary”: Hamas, Iran, and the Left by Armin Navabi

When People Tell You Who They Are, Believe Them by Bari Weiss

Hunger in Gaza: Blame Hamas, Not Israel by Yvette Miller

Benjamin Netanyahu Is Israel’s Worst Prime Minister Ever by Anshel Pfeffer

What Palestinians Really Think of Hamas by Amaney A. Jamal and Michael Robbins

The Decolonization Narrative Is Dangerous and False by Simon Sebag Montefiore

Understanding Hamas’s Genocidal Ideology by Bruce Hoffman

The Wisdom of Hamas by Matti Friedman

How the UN Discriminates Against Israel by Dina Rovner

This Muslim Israeli Woman Is the Future of the Middle East by The Free Press

Why Are Feminists Silent on Rape and Murder? by Bari Weiss

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 2 months

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A Foodie - Logan Sargeant

Summary: Logan is dating an English girl who is struggling to understand the cuisine that Logan insists is such a delicacy in America. But sometimes he tries and succeeds.

Themes: slightly picky-eater!reader (only when it comes to recommendations from Logan, soz Logan), suggestions of smut but no actual smut (soz)

Logan is strict with himself on his diet, so rather than indulge himself. He indulges his girlfriend and lives vicariously through y/n by trying to get her to try any American food he can think of making or sometimes cutting corners and just heating up. Sometimes he'll even just suggest it and she'll make it.

"I just don't get it." Y/n states as she sits in looking at the peanut butter and jelly sandwich that Logan has just presented to her. "Baby, this looks gross."

"Ok, it's not the cleanest looking pb and j but it is a classic and you said you wanted to try something new." Logan smiles always trying to encourage y/n to try new things especially when it comes to food that's more "American" as many would say.

Y/n looks at it with a slight hesitance that Logan has to be amused by purely because he knows there's be a couple things she's tried on his request which she almost threw across the room in disgust from one bit.

Giving it a cautious sniff she looks at him almost as if she's desperate for him to assure her this is a prank and she doesn't actually to eat it.

"If it tastes bad you can have something else." He promises which doesn't seem to bring her much comfort. "Go on."

Y/n sucks in a heavy breath then quickly picking up the sandwich and biting into it quickly. She starts chewing the sandwich quickly looking at Logan with an expression tells him he hasn't put under the US cuisine on this occasion.

"It's ok, you can spit it out." Logan laughs holding out a napkin which she spits the chewed up sandwich into.

"Baby, that's awful." Y/n laughs after picking up another napkin and wiping her mouth.

"Maybe it's more of an acquired taste. It reminds me of being a kid." Logan admits while she smiles lightly at that comment. "Burgers?"

"Burgers sound like an amazing idea." Y/n confirms while he laughs and hugs her tightly.

Being in New York with Logan for the Williams launch, Logan wasn't letting up on his need to properly introduce y/n to all types of food now they're there. After all New York is famous for many things including it's food.

"Logan, New York has the greasiest food." Y/n laughs as he holds the biggest slice of pizza that she's ever seen. "That's also like the size of a whole pizza."

"You like pizza." Logan negotiates making her look at him for a moment.

Y/n can't really argue with that, though she doesn't put pizza at the top of her choice of food. Unless she's usually quite drunk but when she bites into the pizza.

"Ok, alright. I mean that's good." Y/n grins then taking another bite. "Really good, I see the hype around it...I do have one request."

"You're making requests for food to try now?"

"Two actually....maybe three."

"I think it's impossible for me to say no to you so go on." Logan nods since any sign of y/n embracing his home countries food even if it's not his home state, he'll be more than happy to help cater for it.

"I want to try New York cheese cake, a proper bagel from a bagel store or bakery and a street hot dog." Y/n grins watching Logan's own smile grow brighter and brighter till he's just flat out beaming at her.

"We can definitely get our hands on all of those while we're here." Logan assures her actually looking around ready to grab her a hot dog from one of the street venders since they're around nearly every corner in the city.

"Oh and I want to try a corn dog at some point." Y/n declares making Logan smile brightly at her.

"A corn dog?"

Now she's bordering on pushing the limit of what she'll enjoy. Logan has yet to meet someone who isn't American who has tried a corn dog and enjoyed it. He's not even so sure he's all that keen on them.

"Yeah, and maybe a churro."

Her sweet tooth never fails. He already knows the cheese cake will end up being a selection of many flavours and probably enough slices to add while to a whole cheese cake which she'll allow him one small bite of each for his opinion before eating the rest to herself.

Across the next few days they discover what she does and doesn't enjoy. Cheese cake obviously gets the green flag, followed quickly by bagels. She wasn't a fan of the hot dog with all the extras but it was edible without so many toppings, the corn dog was absolutely a no and the churro of course hit her sweet tooth perfectly.

"I think I've gained 6 kilos." Y/n groans rubbing her stomach as she finishes the last of her selection of cheese cakes.

"Worth it?" Logan questions making her look at him for a moment.

"Very worth it. Although maybe not the hot dog or corn dog. You guys really need to work on making better hot dogs." Y/n yawns as she moves to lie down on the hotel bed. "At least I'm not hating on American food like I was raised to."

"That's true. When we get back home to London, you can keep introducing me to some new things." Logan smiles earning a grin.

He obviously returns the favour of always trying classic English dishes which he insists aren't as good as his all-American food. One thing she does say will never fail is barbecue.

"You know there's one thing that's American which tastes pretty damn amazing." Y/n comments sitting up and biting her lip as she shifts to the edge of the bed where he's been stood. Her hands going up to the fly of his jeans.

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prythianpages · 1 month

Text

Wanna Be Yours | Part Two

Rhysand x Reader | Rhysand is absolutely smitten with you and you appear to be blind from it.

This is a part two to this. You can find the masterlist to keep track of future parts here.

warnings: none

a/n: I use a prompt from the lovely @thepromptswhisperer . you can find the post here. I bolded & italicized the dialogue I used from it.

The secrets that Rhysand holds in his heart are harder to hide than he thought. He can’t help it. His heartbeat is at its peak whenever you speak or simply look his way. The weight of his confession persists, akin to an inconsolable ache nestled in his chest, right above the delicate golden thread that intimately connects his soul to yours.

Three months have passed since that night—the night when he found himself grappling with delirium, induced by the venom coursing through his veins. It was the result of a miscalculated move when patrolling the Night Court’s borders. His injuries, though not fatal, seemed insurmountable due to the poison's cruel deception that night. In a panic, he insisted on seeing you and only you. If he were to face oblivion, he wanted you to be the last person he saw.

The poison, however, proved powerless against your skill. You healed him and brought him back from the brink. "I think I might be in love with you," were the words he had uttered to you and though he was lucid, he meant them. Wholeheartedly.

And now, there's no uncertainty. He is in love with you. The Cauldron may have destined you two together but Rhysand is beyond doubt that he would love you, bond or no bond. You’re beautiful, sweet and kind. Everything he could ever dream of, and dream of you he has done. A lot.

Rhysand wonders if you dream of him too. If you think about him as much as he thinks about you. He wished he had been there to see your reaction when opening his gift but you had been busy all day. It sparked a worry in him that you were being overworked. Then, his own duties got in the way, leaving him with no choice but to leave it at your door. You had greeted him the following morning when you went to check up on him. The smile you graced him with in appreciation for the gift was as golden and glorious as the sun itself. One he wants more of.

You have him wrapped around your finger and you don’t even know…

“Whiskey for your thoughts?”

Dragging himself away from the labyrinth of his thoughts, Rhysand brings himself back to the sitting room of his house. He accepts the glass of golden brown liquid from Cassian with gratitude, leaning back into the soft cushion of his chair.

“I miss her.”

Azriel’s shadows seem to flicker with a knowing gleam. He doesn’t have to ask to know who Rhysand is referring to. “It’s only been a couple of days.”

“A couple days too long,” Rhysand replies with a sigh, prompting a chuckle from Cassian. As he swirls the liquid in his glass, mirroring the stirring emotions within him, his usually composed facade begins to waver. “She’s my mate.”

“We know,” Cassian grins, though it’s the first time Rhysand has said it. A quick exchange of glances with Azriel makes Cassian shrink back sheepishly, putting on a surprised expression. “Sorry, I mean. What??”

Rhysand glances between Azriel and Cassian. “You know?”

Cassian and Azriel exchange another guilty glance before Azriel turns to Rhysand. “We suspected,” he replies.

“You’re not exactly subtle, you know. We also heard your confession–ow!” Cassian's words were cut short as he shot Azriel a glare, rubbing his arm.

Rhysand arched an eyebrow, a mix of amusement and disbelief in his eyes. He takes a sip of his drink, the corners of his lips lifting into a wry smile. "How is it that you two heard, but she didn’t?" he asks, his tone taking on a solemn note.

“I invited her to dinner and you know what she did?” Rhysand doesn’t wait for his brothers to reply to continue. “She brought Madja and another healer with her. Thought it was a group dinner. I bought her flowers and she handed them out to her patients. Thought I had given them to the infirmary, not her. I asked her to join me for a coffee but she said she was busy and I do believe her–there’s been a nasty flu going around. By the Cauldron, is she even taking care of herself? Maybe, I should pretend to be sick just to get her to see me…”

Rhysand downs the remainder of his drink, the burn in his throat paling in comparison to the burning he feels for you. Turning to Azriel, his eyes sparkle with determination.

“Hit me.”

Azriel chokes on his drink and Cassian grimaces as droplets land on his arm. “What?”

“C’mon. I’m sure you’ve been longing for it, especially after I sent you to parole the Illyrian camps last week,” Rhysand says with a smirk. He then angles his head, giving Azriel perfect access. He taps his jaw. “Hit me. Hard. So that I don’t heal as quickly.”

“Why aren’t you asking me?” Cassian asks, tone on the brink of offense. “I can give you a nasty black eye!”

Rhysand is about to reply when a shiver runs through the air. The room then falls into silence. Rhysand feels something teasing at the edges of his senses. His eyes, aglow with the ethereal light of night, narrow. There’s an unsettling disturbance within the rhythmic pulse of his court. An intruder.

Azriel’s shadows pick up on the stirrings of Rhysand’s instincts. He’s rising from his seat, ready to take on the uninvited presence. However, Rhysand, swifter than a fleeting shadow, vanishes into the embrace of the dark night before Azriel can.

There’s a knock on your door and you pull your gaze away from the gold trinket box Rhysand gifted you. Carefully placing it back onto your nightstand, you make your way toward the door. Madja, your mentor, is on the other side. She holds a faelight in the palm of her hand that highlights the gentle contours of her face. The small smile on her lips speaks volumes and you don’t have to ask why she’s coming for you in the late hour. Still, you can’t help but voice your curiosity as she guides you to the foyer of the infirmary.

“What is it this time?”

“Nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure.”

You smile in greeting to the Shadowsinger who is waiting for you. He nods his head at you and without a word, offers his arm. Madja calls out words of encouragement to you.

Azriel’s shadows wrap around you both and winnow you to Rhysand’s private residence. A beautiful and vast estate nestled in the heart of Velaris. He guides you to Rhysand’s room, though you know your way around well. As your hand reaches for his bedroom’s door, Azriel’s voice stops you.

“I must warn you…he’s in a mood.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you say, echoing Madja’s words from earlier. It’s more to reassure yourself than him. Azriel only smiles at you in response.

Rhysand’s room is spacious–a sanctuary of regal splendor. Its walls are bathed in a deep shade reminiscent of midnight and adorned with tapestries of celestial landscapes. Everything about the room reflects the refined taste and mystical elegance of its inhabitant and what a mystery he is to you. The High Lord of the Night Court is the most powerful in Prythian history. To many, he is careless and as cold as the winds from the Illyrian mountains.

Only those dear to him know the truth of his nature. You still can’t wrap your head around as to why he chose to let you see the man behind the mask. Perhaps, it’s all attributed to your power but with Madja living here, you don’t quite understand the need for two healers in Velaris.

“Daybreak.”

Rhysand looks like a dream.

He stands under the gracefully arched openings of his balcony. Wispy curtains sway with the gentle night breeze, carrying with them the intoxicating fragrance of citrus and sea that caresses your senses. As moonlight spills into the room, it bathes him in a stellar glow, causing his membranous wings to dance in magnificent midnight hues. You can’t help but wonder which is more beautiful–the breathtaking view of the Court of Dreams from his balcony or him.

A stifled sound from Rhysand pulls you out of your trance, blinking away a gentle intrusion you felt in your mind.

“I have a name, you know,” you remind him.

“I know.” Though his back is to you, you can hear the smirk in his voice.

He turns to face you and you pick up on the telltale signs of subtle surrender in the slump of his shoulders. His wings vanish and your eyes trace down to his chest, where he cradles a feebly wrapped arm. A subdued darkness stains the light bandage. As your eyes lift back up to his face, his lips press together into a fine line.

“Come,” you say as you motion for him to sit. With a casual flick of your wrist, your first aid kit materializes from the pocket realm, settling gracefully onto his desk. “May I?”

Rhysand promptly slips his shirt off before extending his injured arm to you with a nod. You arch a brow. “You didn’t have to take off your shirt.”

“It’s warm here,” he protests, though a mischievous glint dances in those violet eyes of his. He leans back into his desk chair, manspreading those glorious sweat clad thighs of his. “Feel free to admire me, darling,” he smirks at you and you force yourself to look away only to catch his biceps tensing with purpose.

“You’re blushing.” He muses, his eyes tracing every nuance of your reaction.

“Yeah, so? Never seen anyone fall for your charm before?” You retort, feigning nonchalance. Internally, you’re cursing the way your blush deepens and the way your stomach flutters at the sound of his laughter. It’s deep and alluring, wrapping around you like a sweet melody. You’d think after months of knowing him, you’d be immune to his shameless flirting.

Focus, you remind yourself as you do your best to ignore the playful smirk that continues to grace his luscious lips. So much for Azriel’s claim of Rhysand being in a mood. Whatever had soured his temper must’ve gone away, you think. Despite his injury, he looks perfectly fine to you.

You gently grasp his forearm and begin to unwrap the bandage carefully. The scent of antiseptic mingles with the warm, earthy undertones of his skin. Up close, the flush of his cheeks become more pronounced and the thin sheet of sweat glistens on his tattooed chest. Your keen eyes immediately pick up on the black ink trickling from the small wounds on his arm. Recognition dawns in your eyes.

“These are puncture wounds from a Puca.”

“Very astute of you, darling.”

A furrow appears on your brow as curiosity mingles with bewilderment. You can't fathom how a Puca, a dangerous creature that roams throughout Prythian, managed to get this close to someone as powerful and even more dangerous as Rhysand.

“What did it appear to you as?”

Rhysand's demeanor undergoes a shift. A-ha, there is that sour mood you had been expecting. Something akin to embarrassment flickers in the depths of his violet eyes. He instinctively pulls his arm back, but you tighten your hold, silently demanding an explanation.

"They say that a Puca uses your own desires to lure you and then eat you," you remark, your tone a mix of caution and concern.

Rhysand, attempting to maintain an air of nonchalance, hums thoughtfully. "Is that so?"

You drop your gaze as your hands fall into the familiar rhythm of tending to his injuries. “Azriel said you were in a mood so whatever it appeared to you as, must’ve been something for it to get you this go—“

“You.”

Confusion clouds your expression, and your glowing hands still. "What?"

You can feel the warmth of his gaze, a sharp intensity that lingers on you. "It appeared as you."

A moment of silence stretches between you two. The corner of Rhysand’s lips quirk up, the silver fleck of his violet irises sparkling with a mix of amusement and something more elusive. His gaze holds yours and there’s the slightest hint of vulnerability beneath his charismatic exterior. One you don’t catch.

"You flatter me," you finally say with a soft laugh, not believing him for one bit.

And all Rhysand can do is look at you in bewildered wonder as your hands continue to move with deliberate care. He needs to try harder.

Days later…

Come back home.

Those three words stare back at you. Haunting and persistent. "Home," you quietly muse to yourself. Dawn is your home. Or so you once believed.

A home is meant to be a sanctuary. A place of safety. A place of comfort. Over time, it transformed from your sweet haven into a source of distress. But if Dawn is no longer your home, then what is?

Is it the Night Court? You don't feel suffocated with high expectations here. The nights may be dark, but the stars shine their brightest here. They watch over you, listening to your silent whispers. There is a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows, almost like a sense of belonging.

You crumple the letter, the tangible weight of memories folding with it. Time is healing, you remind yourself. With a heavy sigh, you turn back to the stack of books and paperwork on your desk. Yesterday had been a slow day in the clinic so Madja asked for you to accompany her while she bought supplies. She treated you to a nice dinner afterwards. It was a much needed break but now, you found yourself behind in your studies and patient’s charts.

With a glance toward your desk candle, you use your powers to light it up. Leaning forward slightly, you fix your gaze on your first report with a strong determination to finish the stack by the end of your shift. No distra–

A knock echoes through the slightly ajar door.

Your office door is deliberately left open, a practice maintained for moments just like this - in case a patient requires urgent attention. While there’s a room in the clinic set up with rows of cots and medical equipment, your office provides an additional space for those seeking a more private examination.

"Hello, daybreak.”

Rhysand strides in, his easy confidence filling the small space of your office. You glance up only momentarily before returning your attention to the task at hand, responding with a dry humor that matches his tone.

"Hello, High Lord. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Rhysand tilts his head, his gaze lingering on you. Moving with quiet elegance, he walks past the examination table and approaches your desk instead. His attention is immediately drawn to a book resting on top of one of the many stacks. A poetry book, he recognizes, adorned with a delicate cobalt blue ribbon.

“What’s this?”

“A gift from Azriel,” you reply casually and miss the way his face twists at the nonchalance of your tone.

Rhysand blinks at you. “A what?”

“A book. That Azriel got. For me.” You repeat, deliberately slower this time.

Rhysand heard you perfectly well the first time. His eyebrows knit together as he gazes at the book, a storm brewing in his expressive eyes. If looks could scorch, the innocent book would be reduced to a pile of ashes. Your birthday is months away and Solstice was weeks ago.

“I’m hurt.”

You look up, keen eyes glancing over his form again. “You don’t look hurt.”

Undeterred, he saunters closer, swiping a deliberate finger across the papers on your desk. "Come on, surely you can spare a moment for a poor High Lord in deep pain."

You inspect his outstretched hand, where a barely visible mark is displayed on his pointer finger. "It's a papercut," you deadpan.

“It hurts.”

"It's already healed."

Rhysand dramatically lets out a deep sigh and you suppress the urge to smile. The sound of a bell ringing–a sign that someone is in need of help–has you rising from your seat. You walk toward Rhysand, who continues to brood. Holding his gaze, you bring his hand to your mouth and press a light kiss right over where the papercut had been.

“There.” You say, giving his hand a squeeze. “Feel better now?”

Every nerve in his body tingles with excitement, and there's a giddy flutter in his stomach. “Much better,” Rhysand breathes with a grin, savoring your touch.

He doesn’t allow your hand to drop, brushing it over his cheek instead and holding it there with his own. If you can’t see the flush to his cheeks, then surely you must be able to feel its warmth.

“How can I ever repay you?”

“You’re already paying me,” you remind him with a soft exhale, a laugh almost. The sound is music to Rhysand's ears and all his heart wants to do is dance to its rhythm. He realizes he can’t let this moment slip. Not when he finally has your full attention and a golden opportunity to seek more of it.

“You can come with me to the Midnight Eclipse ball.”

“Midnight Eclipse ball,” you repeat, your voice laced with intrigue, and Rhysand can't help but admire the way your eyes gleam with curiosity. “What is that?”

“Come with me and find out,” Rhysand replies, his eyes sparkling at you. He leans in closer, captivated by the softness of your gaze, and with a smile, he boldly adds, “As my date.”

“Your date?” you ask, your breath catching slightly.

Rhysand only hums in reply, taking pleasure in the way his cheek presses further against your hand as he does so. The look he gives you is almost pleading as he gazes down at you.

“Okay,” you finally say after a moment of silence with a small smile of your own. “I’ll join you. When is it?”

Rhysand beams down at you, his eyes filled with warmth and anticipation. Shifting his face in your hold, he presses a gentle kiss against the palm of your hand and now it is you who is overcome with a giddy flutter in your stomach. Rhysand, normally attuned to your every shift in expression, is too caught up in surprise to take note of it.

“Next Saturday,” he replies, holding your gaze.

The bell rings again, the sound prompting Rhysand to reluctantly let go of your hand. You give him an apologetic smile as you turn toward your desk, grabbing a couple of supplies. “I’ll see you next Saturday.”

You excuse yourself, walking around him to exit your office. Rhysand follows but chooses to lean against your doorframe, watching as you rush toward the infirmary.

“Don’t forget, it’s a date!” Rhysand calls after you, putting emphasis on the word ‘date.’

“Yes, I got it!” You reply, giving him a thumbs up before disappearing around the corner.

Rhysand smiles to himself. Though Saturday is almost five days away, he doesn’t mind the wait. Not when you just agreed to be his date. He looks down at the hand you kissed, closing it into a fist, overwhelmed with the giddy excitement building up inside him. You’re so utterly endearing. He brings his fist close to his mouth, suppressing the urge to bite it as he swoons over the thought of having you as his date for the Midnight Eclipse ball.

Reality begins to set in and his smile widens into a grin. Now, he has to plan the ball he literally just made up…

a/n: tbh, I don't know how I feel about this part. I feel like I set up expectations too high for myself because I really loved how the first part turned out and this part is kinda meh to me. anyway, I hope you still enjoyed this. I'm looking forward to writing the other part(s) as those include scenes I've had in my head for weeeeeeks lol. (You'll finally learn the little secret or two reader is hiding in the next part...any guesses? )I estimate only like 1-2 parts left, depending on how long the next part is.

tagging: @minnieoo , @phoenixgurl030, @nebarious, @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhysand imagine #rhysand fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #acotar x you #rhys wby au

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koinotame · 4 months

Text

if i was your husband

word count: 1.4K content warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamics, some nonsexual touching of dubious consent, otherwise just 1400 words of yandere-typical obsession

characters included: childe

a/n: this is a repost (heavily edited in some parts, lightly edited in others)! and a sequel to this. you can read this as a standalone modern au oneshot, but it'll probably make more sense with the context of the previous one. also on ao3! next part here

"you know," you say after a while of quiet between the two of you, staring vacantly at the tv playing some seasonal movie and leaning further into the couch. "my friends were saying you’d make a good husband."

out of the corner of your eye, you see him still.

"…really?"

something about the way he says it makes your stomach queasy.

you hum halfheartedly, still trying to pretend you’re more invested in the movie than the current conversation.

"what do you think, then?"

that gets you to turn to him. "huh?"

he’s looking directly at you, face propped up on his fist. the way his eyes, deep and all consuming, bore into yours makes you feel like you’re a sailor about to give in to the enthralling call of the ocean. "how do you think I’d do as your husband?"

"well…" you pause for a bit, eyes flicking back to the movie and staying there for a bit. he doesn’t move, staring directly at your face. your eyes inch to the opposite corner of the scren, a bit further away from him.

a few minutes pass by before you say anything again. "I mean, your cooking is great. and you like cleaning, and—" you start counting off other husbandly traits he has on your fingers. your hands are almost full by the time you’re done, which is also when you finally turn back to him. "so. yeah, I think you’d make for a good husband."

his stare is starting to get kind of unnerving.

you smile awkwardly, trying to ease the tense air. "…maybe that makes you more of a house husband, though?"

he doesn’t respond to your jest.

"you think so?"

instead, he sounds strikingly serious. he usually sounds light and lively, so his current inflection sounds eerie.

you don’t have time to think about it any more before he’s draping himself over you, his arms leaning onto the couch behind you and torso just barely not touching you. his eyes search your face for something, not missing the jolt at his sudden movement.

after an intense couple seconds of observing you, his face turns up into a wide, almost overexcited smile.

his head drops into the crook of your shoulder, arms wrapping themselves around your waist and pressing you even further into the couch. you hear him inhale loudly, then let out a content sigh as he presses his face further against you. he doesn’t mind the way you stiffen at the sudden sensation, or the way your arms remain rigidly at your sides.

"…what are you doing?"

"if I was your husband," he ignores your question, not moving. "I’d be the happiest man alive. no, forget that—I’d be the happiest person alive."

your mouth feels dry when he presses a light kiss against the exposed skin on your throat.

"I’d cook breakfast, lunch and dinner for you every day. I’d learn all your favourites and I’d pack you lunch every day." he takes another deep whiff. you’re sure you’re not imagining it this time. "I could pack you those cute themed lunch boxes, too. I’d get up early every morning to make sure I can finish everything in time."

his eyes open, his lashes brushing tenderly against your skin. "I’d wake you every day, and I’d hold you as we fall asleep every night. I’d take care of everything so you can always take it easy, and I’d make sure you’re always comfortable."

his breath is hot against your skin. "I’d make sure to tell you that I love you every day. the house would always be ready for your return, the sheets always fresh and your clothing always ironed."

he moves down, pressing his face against where your heart is. his ear lays flat against your chest. the look on his face is hard to describe, bordering on hypnotised. "I’d make sure you’re always happy. I’d take care of all the rent, and the utility bills, and food, and whatever else needs to be paid."

his eyes appear glazed over. "you could spend your days lounging around, doing nothing while I take care of you and pamper you. I could buy you whatever you want, whenever you want, for whatever reason you want. I’d do anything for you. nothing is off the table for you."

his grip tightens, pressing you further into him, as if he doesn’t want there to be an end to him and a beginning to you between the two of you.

"I’d make sure nobody could hurt you, of course. anyone who tries will sorely regret it." he says the words as if they come so naturally to him as his voice gets just a little bit more frantic. "I’ll take care of any and all of your problems. no matter what."

"if I couldn’t do that, I wouldn’t have the right to call myself your husband." he smiles up at you, tone suddenly cheerful. if it wasn’t for his previous words, his smile would seem innocently excited.

for all the months you’ve been living with ajax, you’ve never felt particularly threatened by him. he’s never made you think the rumours about him are true, never given you any reason to be scared or angry with him. he’s weird, and kind of pushy sometimes, and you’re never quite sure what he’s thinking of, but he’s never been scary.

you’re not sure you agree with that anymore.

with bated breath, you watch as he takes one of your stiff hands gently into his own and presses it against his cheek. it feels uncomfortably warm against your skin.

"I’d be the best husband you could have. you’d always be happy with me, I promise. I swear it on my life. I’ll never let you down."

his expression remains equally love-struck and intense no matter what he says, like he’s barely managing to contain his devotion, but there’s a hint of desperation behind them the more he goes on.

"if I was your husband…"

he pauses, dark pools of blue staring into your eyes intensely.

"your grace," he suddenly drops to his knees in front of you, keeping his hold on your hand but moving to hold it in front of him gingerly. "would you marry me?"

he doesn’t give you time to answer, instead pressing his face against your knee. his gaze doesn’t waver. "I know I’m getting ahead of myself, that I could never deserve you, that we’re still so young, but… now that I’ve had a taste of being around the real you, I’m not sure I could ever let that feeling go."

his eyelids close and he lays his head on your lap. "I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost your favour. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I drove you away."

the movie is still playing in the background. your fingers feel cold.

"but I can’t help myself." his eyes open again and stare at you again, deeper than any lake could ever be. "I love you."

he presses himself further against you, arms wrapping around your calves delicately.

"I love all of you. I love you when you’re happy and I love you when you’re sad. I love every single part of you." he starts rubbing his cheek against your legs. "whenever you come back home tired or downcast, I want to go out and destroy whatever is causing you grief. I’d overthrow the entire world for you if it’d please you."

the way he talks about you as if you’re some sort of divine being is makes your head spin.

"actually…" the flush on his cheeks accentuates, the warmth of his face tangible even against your clothed leg. "wouldn’t that be nice? you could be the divine ruler and I’d be your personal knight, the strongest and most loyal in the entire world…"

the tone in his voice is overeager, though his words remind you more of a fairy tale story disconnected from reality than like something he really means. "it wouldn’t even be hard, nobody here has visions and no matter what they say, anyone with one has an innate advantage over those who don’t. and should that fail, I’ll always have…" the rest is mumbled against your legs and unintelligible.

after a couple more seconds, he sighs, almost wistfully. "but this world has those pesky nuclear weapons instead, so I’ll settle for being your husband instead."

one of his hands reaches out and intertwines with yours again. he squeezes it tenderly.

"I love you."

his eyes bore into yours even as he presses a reverent kiss to the back of your hand.

"if you find me suitable…" the expression on his face can only be described as lovesick. "please marry me."

#yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #self aware au #self aware genshin #childe #tartaglia #repost #this one was the most popular of the series i think... i get why #i hope this one is a bit creepier than the original..... i hope i hit that blend of kind of sweet but also red flags for days properly

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rarilight · 7 months

Text

Tamagotchi - Ficlet ft. Rarity, Twilight, Fluttershy

PROMPT: Fluttershy asks Twilight to bring back her Tamagotchi pet after it accidentally dies

-----

When Fluttershy barged into Golden Oaks, reduced to tears, Twilight Sparkle feared the worst. Somepony had upset her sensitive friend, or a book she'd lent her had been accidentally too sad, or worse, one of Fluttershy's animals had died.

Which they had. Sort of. Kind of.

"Please, Twilight," Fluttershy sniffed, dabbing at her puffy eyes with a tissue. "Please, t-there must be something you can do! I've only had Sorbet for a week, and I promise I've taken good care of him, and--"

Twilight pursed her lips, hesitantly looking over the small purple electronic Tamagotchi. "One minute, let me see what I can do." She turned away from Fluttershy, fiddling with it for a moment before determining that, unfortunately, the battery was likely faulty.

"Well?" Fluttershy pressed. "Did you find out what's wrong?"

"I... I think so, yes," Twilight replied, still looking over the device. "The battery is shot. It's an easy fix, and I even have spares to give you, but... Well. The internal memory of these things usually rely on the battery, so--" She turned around to look at Fluttershy, her sentence petering out at the hopeful expression on her friend's face.

"So?" Fluttershy asked, her ears alert. "So you can bring Sorbet back?!"

Twilight smiled. Awkwardly.

"Ha ha. Well. Er."

Fluttershy's ears fell. Tears bordered her eyes anew. "....Twilight?"

"Yes!" Twilight lied, because she couldn't bring herself to tell Fluttershy that Sorbet was gone.”He’ll be there, just like always!”

“Really?!” Fluttershy gasped.

“Yes! Yep. Yes.” Twilight immediately levitated the Tamagotchi over to a bookcase. “Though, I, uh, need to keep him overnight just to make sure he’ll be okay. Alright?” At Fluttershy’s effusive nodding, Twilight apparated a notebook and pen. “And, uh, why don’t you, er, write down all the information you remember about him? Just so I can make sure the coding didn’t change.”

“Of course!” Fluttershy grabbed the notebook and immediately got to work. “Oh, thank you, Twilight!”

----

It was about three in the morning when Twilight Sparkle finally decided it was time to pass the torch. With bleary, tired eyes, she blinked at the details Fluttershy’d written, and then looked at the creature she’d been painstakingly grinding for hours. It had taken her about sixty-eight reboots to get a creature with the same shape, color, nature, gender, and preferences as the original Sorbet, and she’d only just gotten to the halfway point of matching its experience levels to the original’s.

Thank Celestia for the book she’d read on using magic to hack devices. There was no other way she’d been able to bypass the time-locked events otherwise.

To the sound of a big yawn, she walked towards the bed, tiredly rubbing the snoring blanketed lump on the couch.

“Rarity, it’s your turn.”

“Sssssnore.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Rarity.”

“SSSSSNOOOOORE.”

“Come on! Up! Why did you send Fluttershy to get my help if you don’t like my solution?” Twilight chided, far too tired for shenanigans. “And stop that, we both know you don’t snore!”

“SSSSNOOOO—” The blanket came off, and a weary Rarity glared at her friend. “Fine, fine!” She magically snatched the Tamagotchi and frowned at it. “This is ridiculous, Twilight! It’s just a game! Sorbet isn’t even real!”

Twilight arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Do you want to tell Fluttershy that?”

Rarity looked away. “...No.”

“That’s what I thought. So, go!” She collapsed onto the couch and covered herself with blanket. “Level twenty-three. Six gifts pending. The complete sunflower outfit.”

“But the minigame is so difficult, and we already have the hat! Isn’t that enou—”

“Complete. Sunflower. Outfit.”

“But—!”

“SNOOOOORE!!!!”

----

“Oh, Twilight!” Fluttershy exclaimed the very next day, her eyes now filled with happy tears as she pressed button on her little device. “He’s fine! I’m so relieved!” She brought the device to her face and nuzzled it. “Oh, Sorbet, I’m so happy!”

“And everything is as you remember?” Twilight asked, the bags under her eyes matching the ones of Rarity, who was napping on the couch. “Not that it would be different, obviously! Because it’s the same Sorbet as always.”

“He’s just like always,” Fluttershy reassured her, allowing Twilight to finally relax. Or, well, until Fluttershy frowned, peering at her electronic friend. “Oh, that’s strange.”

“Strange?” Twilight asked, alert. “What is?”

Fluttershy blinked. “Oh. It’s just… His favorite fruit was oranges, but now it’s apples?”

“He changed his mind,” Rarity said, immediately, without even missing a beat or even turning around on the couch to look.

Fluttershy looked at her friends, surprised. “He changed his min—?”

“Yep!” Twilight interrupted. “Yep. They do that. Yep.”

“But he really loved orang—”

“Darling!” Rarity continued. “Considering your crush on dear Applejack, it’s only natural he’d switch to apples, yes? Yes,” she interrupted, poor Fluttershy’s cheeks turning thirty different shades of red. “Problem solv—”

Twilight blinked at Fluttershy. “You have a crush on Applejack?”

“Rarity!” a flustered Fluttershy gasped in return.

“SSSSSNOOOOOOOORE….”

#mlp #fluttershy #rarity #twilight sparkle

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moonstruckme · 5 months

Note

Hello my lovely!! Could I have a cute thingy with Remus getting the reader flowers, but plot twist she has never gotten flowers 🤔🤔 I feel you would do amazing with this 💕 kinda like outspoken but shy about affection reader

Thanks for requesting my love! (haha get it?)

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 593 words

Remus tries not to take it personally when you open the door and your eyes go straight to the flowers bunched in his hand rather than his face.

“Hey,” you say, eyes flitting up to his. You look surprised, but the happy kind, and Remus smiles. “Hi! What are you doing here?”

He almost wonders if he’s gotten the time wrong. “I, um, I thought we were going for coffee about now.”

“Yeah.” Your smile turns bemused (still happy, though, so Remus tries not to worry about it too much). “I was just about to head out, I thought I was meeting you there.”

Remus shrugs. “Easy miscommunication. I figured I was picking you up. You look very pretty, by the way.”

It’s a simple truth, but you go shy nonetheless, looking up at him through your lashes as your shoulders come up almost imperceptibly. Remus wishes he could squeeze you. “Thanks. So do you.”

He knows you’re just returning the compliment, but if he thinks about you calling him pretty for too long he’ll get as bashful as you and then no one will do the talking. “Thanks, love. These are for you, by the way.” He draws your attention back to its true object, holding the modest bouquet of daisies up for you to take.

“For me?” You manage to seem genuinely surprised, as if Remus might have come to pick you up for a date and brought flowers for somebody else. You take them delicately, bringing them to your nose for a sniff. Remus winces (they don’t smell like anything, he checked), but you don’t seem to notice, beaming at him. “Remus, this is so sweet of you!” You go inside, motioning for him to follow. “Gosh, I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s no problem.” He stands awkwardly by the door as you find a vase in one of your cabinets and start filling it from the tap. “Standard date rules, you know?”

You shake your head, smiling down at your hands as you snip the ends of the stems off with scissors. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers before,” you say, softly enough that Remus could almost miss it, that he wonders if you’re even talking to him.

He blinks at you. “Seriously?”

You give a little shrug, seeming almost embarrassed by your admission. “Yeah.”

There’s an odd conflict between pride and dismay happening in Remus’ chest. It’s sort of devastating to know that no one’s ever done something as simple as this for you before, but he’s happy to be the first.

“If I’d known these were your first gifted flowers,” he says, somewhat sheepish, “I would’ve gotten you something better than just whatever they had at the grocery.”

The look you give him as you emerge from behind the counter, flowers arranged carefully in your vase, borders on offense. “Remus, these are gorgeous,” you chide. “I really love them, thank you so much.”

He still feels you deserve better, but he can’t possibly argue with you when you’re being so lovely. He’ll have to make it up next time. “I’m glad, sweetheart. Are you ready to go?”

You nod cheerily, and it doesn’t escape his notice that you don’t shy from the endearment like you usually would. Maybe it’s that, or maybe it’s the smile still lingering on your lips from the surprise of the flowers, but Remus works up the courage to reach for your hand after you lock your front door behind you. When he gives your fingers a little squeeze, you squeeze back.

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sweaterweatherever · 1 year

Note

If you are taking request, could you write an enemies to lovers with ajax? Like, expand on what you wrote in his post?

Do me a favour (Ajax Petropolus x Reader)

Pairing: Ajax Petropolus x Fem reader

Warnings: SMUT, sub Ajax, making out, mentions of getting high, thigh riding. Reader is judgy and bitchy. I wanted to hit her halfway. Reader is a vampire, but it’s mentioned like two times. Kind of an enemies to lovers, except Ajax refuses to get into it. And yes, I stand by thinking this boy has got to have somewhat initiative because did you see the date he got to the Rave’n? AGED UP CHARACTERS.

A/N: I really wanted to subvert the trope of enemies to lovers when it comes to smut. We usually get angry sex and the character domming the reader hard, and it’s cool, I like it, but I thought combining these two requests could be nice. Man, drunk me is wordy.

Requested: Yes, expansion in headcanons and Subby Ajax. I tried my best with the second.

“Oh, my god! Ajax is like! So cute, you guys! He is so tall and dreamy, and the way he puts his arms around me…!” Enid blabbered. You gave Wednesday a look, rolling your eyes. Wednesday glowered, which, considering she had like three facial expressions (Murderous rage, homicidal maniac and neutral serial killer, as you had affectionately named them) was just about an agreement.

“I don’t get what you see in him.” You said, laying back on her bed and doing some pretty hard gymnastics to keep painting your nails without messing up the covers. “He is just so…” It was not your intention to offend your friend by saying the guy she was dating was lame, but that was what came to mind.

Ajax was pretty normal, the only thing he had going on was the fact he was a stoner and tall. You didn’t approve of the first, and there were plenty of guys with the second on Nevermore. The bar was too low, really. He had a bland personality and wasn’t a great student either. It wasn’t like there was anything to dislike because he was the most boring boy on earth. Ugh, it was always the prettiest girls like Enid with the most dull boys.

“Me either. He’s just so…” Wednesday said, clearly trying to find a word that described her feelings. Then, with a shudder of disgust, she said the word. “Normal.”

You couldn’t agree more, but didn’t say anything, so Enid didn’t get upset. Besides, your dislike of Ajax was totally baseless because he treated Enid like a goddess. You kept quiet. Until Wednesday came to get you in the middle of the night because Ajax and her had broken up.

“She is… Emotional.” Wednesday explained to you. Her facial expression was definitely bordering dangerous levels of murderous rage. “I don’t know how to help, I already offered to bring her his head on a platter, the old Perseus style.”

“That's racist.” You said to her, frowning. “I’m in.”

“Go see her, please.” And so, that meant you made your way to the dorm, with a cup of hot chocolate in hand, Wednesday fretting uncomfortably around you. You held Enid until she fell asleep, her body wrecking with sobs.

“We are killing this asshole.” You muttered to her, adjusting your sunglasses as you exited the room.

“I’ll get the sword, you go for the mirror.” And that’s how it got started. Every time you found yourself near Ajax, you sniffled in disgust. Wednesday glowered in a menacing fashion, both of you shielding Enid from him. You couldn’t help it. Your reaction was visceral. When you saw the face Enid made when she looked at him, eyes lowering to her shoes, something tugged in your stomach. This mediocre guy had crushed your friend’s heart, and Enid was too kind to say anything to him, even going so far as telling you to stop glowering at him.

The breakup took a toll on her. Before, she was practically glowing, but now even her bright-colored clothes and makeup seemed to lose their shimmer. The first weeks were hard, but after a month she seemed to be over it. You remembered, though. Your opinion of Ajax had hit a new low, and so, you avoided him like the plague. It wasn’t really notorious because you weren’t his biggest fan before.

Two whole months after the fact, you sat down to lunch with the girls and your smile froze on your face. In the table in front of yours, Ajax was sitting down with Xavier, eyes glued to Enid’s back. You could only tell because you were sitting in front of her. Maybe it was a fluke? You waited a bit, but he wasn’t stopping. He even made eye contact with you, giving a tiny smile. The nerve of this guy!

“Oh my god, the guy can’t stop staring.” You whispered to Wednesday, when Enid was distracted with her phone. “Maybe he wants to get back with her?”

“We’ll nip that in the bud.” She turned to face him and gave him her most homicidal grin. Ajax quickly averted his gaze, looking properly cowered.

“Wednesday! Y/N!” Enid snapped her fingers playfully. “What are you two looking at?”

“Nothing.” You quickly said, but it was too late, she was already turning around.

“You guys have to stop with the whole hating Ajax thing. We have been texting and decided we want to be friends!” Enid chastised, clapping happily. Wednesday blinked. You knew her well enough to know that when Enid talked, she listened. And so, having lost your biggest ally, you had to let it go.

“Fine.” You grumbled. “As long as I don’t have to talk to him that much…” Oh, Ajax might have won this battle, but you would win the war. You lifted your head, catching him staring once again. You waited until he met your eyes, just so you could give him a smile and a cheeky wave, popping your fangs a little and almost making him spit out the water he was drinking.

You had to give it to him, the little shit was always one step ahead of you. That’s what you realized when you got called into the principal’s office just so they could tell you got a new job. Apparently you were to tutor Ajax in Botanic, a class in which you were surpassed both by Bianca and Wednesday in terms of skill. The excuse had been that Wednesday didn’t have the people skills necessary and Bianca refused, citing schedule conflicts. Besides, Ajax had asked Bianca before, and when she said no, he prompted your name to the principal.

You walked straight to him when you got out of the meeting, face so hot from your fit of temper, you could feel smoke coming out of your ears. You had tried saying no, but the principal wasn’t having it. They had explained one tutor had already refused, and you didn’t have schedule conflicts like her. You weren’t getting out of it.

“What game do you think you are playing?” You asked him, and he had the nerve to look confused. Xavier gave you a weird look. You ignored him too, eyes attached to Ajax. “You asked the principal for me to tutor you. Why?”

“Umm… because I suck at Botanic and you don’t?” Ajax peered at you, a small smile on his lips. Xavier snickered. You paid him no mind.

“Fine.” You eyed him, distrust clear in your face. "Meet me tomorrow in the library. We’ll go over the material for this week. Three o’clock.” You walked away, looking over your shoulder as you did so. Might be showing weakness, but you trusted him only as far as you could throw him.

“That went over well.” Xavier whistled, looking at your retreating form.

“Oh, I will win her over, you just watch.” Ajax punched him in the arm. “Maybe then she will smile at me.”

“Keep dreaming, Ajax. Girl has it out for you since you and Enid…” Xavier started saying, quickly trailing off when Ajax got a dopey look in his eyes.

“Yeah, but that only shows she is loyal. I like it.” Ajax defended you.

“You are delusional.”

The next day found you sitting in the library with some diagrams you had printed and a copy of your notes, ordered by date. You had two different practice tests because you were the kind of person who went all out. You took your education very seriously.

Ajax was right on time, looking for you in the different tables until you waved him over. He was holding two coffee cups, looking a little awkward out of uniform. He was in a hoodie and a nice pair of jeans. Not like you were paying attention or anything.

“Here. I got you a latte.” He said, sliding it over to you. You kept your expression closed off, not wanting to betray your real thoughts.

“Thank you. It was nice of you.” You deadpanned.

“Oh, tough crowd, aren’t you?” Ajax didn’t seem deterred in the very least. You grabbed the latte, eyes going wide when you sipped it and realized it was just the way you usually took it.

“Oh, so you are a talker. I don’t like it.” You slid a pen and one of the tests towards him. You were taking your questions to the grave. “Solve this, just to know where we are.”

He kept quiet, slowly filling out the test. Ajax’s brows were furrowed in concentration, lips pursed, a hint of teeth appearing sometimes when he bit his pencil. Without anything else to do, you kept watch of him. You noted with interest the way he didn’t seem to hesitate on filling up the diagrams, easily identifying the parts of plants you had picked on purpose because they were the hardest to do.

You went to grab the sheet at the same time Ajax was going to hand it to you, quickly, too quickly. Your hand ended up brushing his, and a confused, sinking feeling took place on your stomach. Were you imagining it, or there had been a spark? You pulled the sheet out of his grasp, desperate to stop this strange feeling, and wincing when the sudden move made it so you cut yourself with the paper.

You lifted your index finger to your mouth, sucking the blood from it. Your fangs went down automatically at the smell of blood, uncaring it was your own.

“Fuck.”

“Are you okay?” Ajax eyes darted from your finger, to your mouth, to your eyes. In that specific order. When you met them, unafraid, he scratched his neck, cheeks going red and quickly averted his gaze. You smirked. Was he afraid of you? Good.

“I’m fine. Give me five to check this, and we will talk about weak areas.” You stated. The test was pretty good for someone who claimed to need tutoring. Ajax was passing, even with a good grade. That made you tilt your head a little. The few errors you could see were pretty easy to fix, and weird compared to his level of compression of the rest of the subject.

You felt watched, weirdly enough. But every time you lifted your eyes, Ajax was staring at his phone or at the table, eyes never stopping on you. It was unsettling. What did he want?

You made up your mind when you got to the end of the practice test. You would call him bluff.

The tutoring session kept going, with you on your best behavior. You gave him the second practice test for homework and decided to meet again on Friday.

“Okay, I can work with this. You see the first question here, you got this one wrong. Not only that, but you said Nightshades’s properties included being poisonous, when it’s actually the contrary.” You blatantly lied. The lie was so evident, Ajax should jump to correct you with the level of knowledge he had displayed. But interesting enough, he didn’t. He kept his eyes politely trained on the first question, right where you were underlining with your pen. You were going to get to the bottom of this, you decided then. What could he possibly be gaining with this? “Oh, sorry, it was a slip of the tongue, I meant to circle the fifth question, forget what I said. You were right.”

To that tutoring session, Ajax showed up with a box of your favorite candy, munching on them and offering you one casually.

“Oh, I love these!” You smiled at him, in a truly involuntary way. You quickly cleared your throat, focusing on the homework. “So, page six…”

Ajax smiled at you, looking far too happy for someone who was about to be assigned additional homework on top of what he already had.

“Here.” He pressed the bag of candy against your hand. “Have them, I don’t like them much.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“Why did you get them, then?”

“They were on sale.” Ajax quickly answered.

“At the vending machine?” You perched yourself on the chair, searching his face for any sign of deceit. As usual, he avoided your eyes. But you were unable to tell if it was from his nervousness about his powers or because he was lying.

“Does it matter?”

“Why are you giving me things?” You asked, rubbing at the bridge of your nose. A headache was starting, you could tell. “First the coffee, now the candy…”

“Umm, maybe because you are doing me a huge favor by cutting your study hours to help me pass?” Ajax offered, looking sheepish.

“You don’t need me for that.” You muttered, but humored him and started going over the errors on his homework, getting more sure with each one that this guy was smarter than he looked.

You didn't understand why you didn’t put a stop to it right then. You kept repeating to yourself you weren’t sure Ajax was faking his weakness in the subject, you needed more evidence. But thing was, you could just ask Wednesday to get you the evidence and call it a day anytime. And yet, you kept going back to him. You tried to rationalize it, saying it had been a while since a boy showed interest in you, that you liked the attention. You also said that the principal was making you do this, that it wasn’t like you went back to him every week out of your own accord. But you had also started to look for him out of tutoring, smiling at him in the hallways, making small talk when he was near. Something was wrong with you.

Why did your heart flutter every time he pressed a tiny trinket in your hand? Why didn’t you pull away, why did you smile at him?

You were unable to keep denying the truth when, under the pretense of fixing his tie in the middle of a tutoring session, you placed your hand on his chest. Ajax always wore his uniform messily, and it drove you up the wall. This time, something about the way his tie was messily knotted called to you, something told you to fix it for him.

Ajax didn’t pull away, transfixed by the way your fingers grabbed at the item. You unknotted it, going on your tip toes to take it off, lacing it over your neck and tied a Windsor, before placing it over his head and adjusting it. Your hands lingered, adjusting the knot, once, twice times too many.

You looked up, lips parted. For the first time in a while, you made eye contact. But this time, you were the one who blushed and looked away.

“I… I… I got to go.” You grabbed at your backpack, almost running out of the library.

“Y/N, wait…” Ajax called out. You didn’t listen. You were too preoccupied with your newly discovered feelings. You had a crush on Ajax. No. That didn't sound right. This wasn’t a crush. It was something worse. You were in love with Ajax. The plainest, most undeserving of Enid, boy in the school.

Your feet took you to your friend's room, without needing to think about it. You knew the school like the back of your hand, and right now, you needed something only Wednesday could give you. Cold, hard truth.

You knocked on the door, frantic, hoping Enid was somewhere else. She could never find out about this, it would mean destroying your friendship. God, why? Under this new light, your conduct looked terrible. Enid would think you had been trying to break them up from the start. No, she could never find out. You needed to fix this.

“Y/N.” Wednesday said, from her place in front of the writing machine. “What do you want? You sounded pretty desperate.” You looked for Thing, assuming he must have been the one to open you the door, giving him a little wave. He responded to it, and you smiled a little, before starting to pick at your nail beds.

“I might need some cognitive recalibration, Wednesday. Could you slap me, please?” You asked, and Wednesday rolled her eyes.

“What has brought on this fit of dramatics? Surely, Enid is better prepared than me to deal with it?” Wednesday rose, all elegance.

“I fucked up. I’m in love with Ajax.” Wednesday raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Plainest boy on earth? Turns out he can really turn on the charm offensive, it was really insidious, he got inside my head, with his stupid jokes, and stupid smile and perfect eyes…” You groaned in frustration. “Ugh, see? Please, slap me, and let’s see if it goes away because I won’t fuck up my friendship with Enid over a boy, especially if he is plainest that white bread, untoasted.”

“I think it is a bit late for that.” Wednesday said, looking behind you. You turned, heart beating wildly.

“Enid!” You screeched. The werewolf looked impassible, expression blank. This girl had been the first friend you had made at Nevermore, in your orientation on freshman year, when you had been terrified by strangers and jumpy at every sudden move, overwhelmed by your recently awakened senses. Enid had approached you then, kind and gentle, making sure of not scaring you, and befriended you swiftly. She had helped you grow into your powers, and become more confident in yourself. You owed her everything you had. If you had to choose, your heart would break, but you would force yourself to forget Ajax. You would rather be heartbroken than without her. You loved her like a sister, and so, if she asked you to help her get back with him, you would.

“Please, forgive me. I didn’t mean to, I swear I won’t ever look at him again, hell, if you want me to stop tutoring him I will, I never wanted this, you have to believe me, when you guys were together I was trying to break you up, but not from why you think it is! I didn’t want him then, I don’t want him now!” You begged, tears prickling at your eyes, not noticing how a tiny smile started to make its way on the other girl’s face. You would have kept blabbering, totally uncontrolled, if not for the interruption.

“Y/N.” Enid said, and your jaw clicked with how fast your mouth shut itself. “I was the one who broke up with him.”

You opened and closed your mouth, looking at Wednesday, who looked as dumbfounded as you were.

“But… But… You cried so much… And we gave him so much shit!”

“Don’t be mad at me, okay?” Enid raised her hands in surrender, looking between Wednesday and you. “I felt terrible because I had a crush on someone else! That’s why we broke up! I was just too scared to tell you guys.”

“Oh.” You sat down on one of the beds. “Oh.”

“Ajax has already forgiven me.” Enid sat next to you, passing an arm over your shoulders. “You can have him if you like, I know you genuinely weren’t trying to break us up, so you could steal him from me, you know? You were looking out for me.” Then, she turned to look at Wednesday, eyes full of love. “You both were.”

It was too much. You promptly started bawling your eyes out, relieved. Enid hugged you and Wednesday placed a hesitant hand on your shoulder. You cried even harder.

“Oh, stop it.” She said, pinching you hard on the arm and making you yelp. “There, a reality check. If you want that plain boy, even if I can fathom why, you can have him. Enid already authorized it, and he trails after you like a lovesick puppy. That must be enough to put an end to your dramatics.”

“Wednesday!” Enid exclaimed. “That was rude.”

You started laughing uncontrollably. Everything was going to be fine. You just had to deal with Ajax, but that could wait until tomorrow.

The next day, you woke up with a pep in your step. You did your hair and make up, putting on your nicest outfit. After breakfast, you sought Ajax out. He was sitting with Xavier on the grass near the woods, headphones on. Xavier was drawing something and leveled you with an unimpressed glance. You ignored him.

“Ajax.” You smiled. “Walk with me?” He looked adorable this morning, in a light blue hoodie with a matching beanie. The butterflies in your stomach started making their appearance once more. Ajax quickly found his feet, and started following you.

Once you got far enough so that Xavier wasn’t in hearing distance, you turned.

“You wanted my attention, didn't you?” Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, and you couldn’t help but wring your hands in front of you. Remembering that was the signature gesture of the house elves in the Harry Potter franchise, you quickly dropped it, hands coming nervously to brush at the sides of your jeans. You didn’t want to look like a house elf, you wanted Ajax to think you were cool.

“What?” Ajax asked, blinking at you. “What are you talking about?”

You kept walking, this time by his side.

“You didn’t have a need for a tutor in Botanic, Ajax. Your grades are almost as good as mine.” This piece of information had come from Wednesday, who, for someone who hated gossip, knew her fair amount of it. Maybe Enid was rubbing on her.

“Where are we going?” Ajax deflected, looking away from you.

“My room.” You answered, even when you could feel the blush that was starting to form on your cheeks. “You wanted my attention.”

“I did.” He admitted, blushing. Then, looking like he was about to faint, he made eye contact with you. “What are we…?”

“We are going to have a talk about valuing people’s time and then, if you are good, we might make out.” You could feel your blush go darker, and you closed your eyes, remembering Enid’s advice. Be bold. Be blunt. Ajax wouldn’t know subtlety even if it hit him in the face. She should know what she was talking about because she had dated him. Hesitantly, your hand went to grab his. Ajax’s fingers opened, accepting yours, sliding in between them. His hand was warm, and a little sweaty. You found it so endearing, you wanted to kiss him. Ugh, was love supposed to feel like this? You trusted Wednesday, you did, and so, you were pretty sure Ajax liked you back. But still, you were nervous.

“Wait, so you like me? You are not…mad?” Ajax turns to face you, hesitantly grabbing your other hand.

“Would you prefer I was mad?” You ask him, carefully schooling your expression.

“I just wanted you to smile at me.” Ajax nervously ran his thumb across your wrist. “You smiled at everyone, but never me. You didn’t like me. ”

“Oh, I didn't want to like you, you infuriating, clueless, handsome, stupid boy.” Ajax looks confused, and you can’t stand his kicked puppy look anymore. So, you press a kiss to his lips, just so he gets it. Ajax parts his lips a bit, allowing you entry, and his hands drop yours, choosing instead to go and circle your waist. You let him pull you closer, so you are flush along his body. You have kissed some people before, from clumsy first kisses to passionate making out just for the sake of it. But this, this has to be the best kiss you have ever had.

“Come on, dorm” You say, unable to stop kissing him. It’s a miracle you managed without a teacher catching you, unable to keep your hands off each other. At first, it's only you, Ajax much more hesitant. But then, when he catches on you want him and that he is allowed to touch you back, his hands are everywhere.

This is what you will say after. You have no clue how things escalated, how one kiss turned into a dozen, how you ended up with that hickey in your neck. How you end up on your back, Ajax’s hip bones digging into your upper thigh, with the way he is kissing and sucking your neck like he was the vampire out of the two of you.

No clue how, or why, he lifts his head, pretty blush on his face and says, “Umm, sorry, can you…?” Ajax wets his lips, suddenly self-conscious. “Umm, maybe, move your leg, sorry. It will go away.”

You don’t get it at first, until you zero exactly into what the weight against your thigh is.

“Can I?” You tease, unable to not do it. Ajax looks too damn good with that blush on, you want it to stay as long as possible. He is sweet, too, leaving all choices in your hands. You had been the one setting the pace, begging him to kiss you everywhere. You like it. It’s a heady feeling, having all this power at your fingertips, but also a responsibility. Ajax is trusting you with his body. “Which direction?” You ask, suddenly serious.

“Excuse me?” Ajax is getting redder by the minute. You can’t help but smile. You want him to feel good, he worked so hard at winning you over, waiting patiently for you to met him halfway. Ajax deserves something nice.

“Away or forward?” You say, pressing your thigh more against his erection, just so he knows what you mean. “I’m cool with whatever.”

“Oh. Forward, maybe? If you want?” He asks, eyes closing. You pass your arms beneath his armpits, locking them behind his back and pulling him back to you. You press a kiss to his jaw, open-mouthed. It’s cute he is into hickeys so much, you think, hearing his whimper. His heart beats wildly, pulse fluttering in your grasp. He smells good, and your gums itch with the urge to bite him, to own him, to make him yours.

“What do you want, Ajax?” You kiss his neck next, dragging your teeth along the carotid. He shivers, but you don’t receive any kind of response. “You just have to say the word.”

“Forward, please.” And you aren’t so cruel as to make him beg, head over heels as you are for him, so you press your thigh lightly against his erection. You intend to take him apart with light touches, playing the long game. But Ajax doesn’t agree. His hips rut against your thigh, harshly, hungrily.

“Greedy.” You mutter, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Come on, rub yourself on my thigh, baby boy.” You encourage him, one of your hands dropping to his hips to help him settle into a rhythm and not only desperate, jerky movements.

Ajax shakes, whimpers once again, face going to hide in the crook of your neck. You scratch at his nape, surprised when something cold touches the tips of your finger. A tiny, bifid tongue. His snakes.

You keep your cool, closing your eyes just in case. You will mention it after when Ajax settles down. Determined, you press your thigh a little harder, pulling his face out of your neck, blindly searching for his mouth, pressing kisses all over his face.

When you finally find it, you bite on his lower lip, lightly. Not enough to draw blood, but you have caught him staring at your fangs once or twice when he thought you weren’t looking, when he thought you hated him. Maybe he would like it, you have a hunch about it. And you weren’t wrong because Ajax gives a little shout, hips pushing once, twice, thrice and freezes. His body goes taut, you can feel it against yours and so, you are careful as to not press too much. You don't intend to hurt him, after all. Not yet. You would love to see the face he makes when he comes, but you would rather not end up stoned.

“Shit. Sorry. How embarrassing…” Ajax sounds disappointed in himself, and you don’t want that. Never. In your mind’s eye, you can see his kicked puppy look, how the blush on his cheeks would make its way down his neck. You don’t want his eyes to go all sad, you know your heart would break at his face. It’s for purely selfish reasons, you think to yourself, and smile blindingly.

“That was the hottest thing ever. “ You say, eyes still closed, looking for his cheek, so you can press a kiss there. “Got, like, dozens of fantasy material.”

“Why do you have your eyes closed?” He asks, hand stroking your cheek lightly and steering you back to his mouth. You press a kiss there, too. You can tell Ajax is worried, but he seems unable to contain himself, and he smiles into the kiss. “Did my snakes do…”

“One of them licked me, by your neck. Just in case, I’m not scared or anything, but it would have been hard to explain to the nurse how this happened.” You say, and Ajax laughs. You two would be busted, totally. Your dorm mom would have your head, and probably you would have to speak to the principal. You hear him shuffle around, likely adjusting the beanie.

“You can look now.” His eyes are full of regret, and you want to get rid of the sadness there by any means necessary. “Sorry again.”

“Was cute, you know? Maybe they were curious.” You smile at him, lightly scratching his back. Just like a puppy, Ajax melts against you, offering more of his back to scratch. You don’t know what drug you took, but you smile, again. You just can’t help yourself.

“Aren’t you scared of them?” He hesitates, pulling his face out of your shoulder.

“Ajax, I bit your neck and lips, and I am a vampire. Were you scared?” You ask back, biting your lip a little. You were pretty sure he liked it, judging by his reactions, but you knew having a vampire’s teeth against your throat might be off-putting for some more rational people.

“No, but…” You shush him, placing your index finger against his lips. Ajax playfully bites it, but his eyes are on yours the whole time.

“Unlike dying out of blood loss, stoning is temporary. It’s cool.” You say.

“Cool.” He mutters, but he doesn’t go back to his place near your shoulder. “So…I am… We are…” Ajax can’t find the words, but you know what he is asking.

“Yes, now come here, I wanna cuddle.” You pull him on top of you once more, wrapping your legs around his waist. Ajax just slumps and you sigh happily. This was precisely what you wanted.

#wednesday 2022 #wednesday netflix #my writing #ajax petropolus x reader #wednesday addams #xavier thorpe #enid sinclair #ajax petropulus x y/n #ajax petropulus x you #ajax petropolis x reader #ajax x you #ajax smut #ajax fluff #ajax petropulus imagines #ajax petropolus #ajax petropulus smut

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 1 year

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Hi If you still do recuest's for twst

Can I recuest's the dorm leaders x GN!reader that is like the mad hatter?

Madhatter Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

You’re wild and wacky with a love for tea and making hats. You’re never in one place long mentally and physically. Your suitors are often left to question everything when you seem to tip and top off the thin line of sanity:

Malleus Draconia

“Hi Hi Horns have you burped towards the roses today?”

“Roses? Do you mean the ones in Heartslaybul? And would that be polite? To burp on them?”

He’s the perfect accessory to your insanity

He’s plenty gullible to listen to you

even when your requests border that morale of good and evil

He’s usually picking you

His eccentric little lover

There’s never a dull moment with you by his side

He starts having a problem though when there are others sitting in on your tea parties

His rainstorms don’t necessarily mean the absolute end when it comes to you

But they usually do for your unsuspecting participants

You’re so wonderful for him

He can’t let anyone enjoy his human as much as he does

“My child of man, may we do my head fitting? I’d love to feel you soft pads against my scalp.”

Kalim Al Asim

“What are you doing (Y/n)-chan?”

“I am stretching for the annual beetle festival.”

“Beetle festival? Can I join?”

“You may but you have to eat a lady-bug first.”

“Okay!”

You guys are like kids in a candy shop

For Kalim, he never thinks to question your sanity

You're just an exciting person

He soon finds himself supplying whatever you need to fulfill your shenanigans

And something nasty creeps up when someone (Jamil) tells you to stop

“I can make it so we can finish our tea party….by ourselves this time.”

Idia Shroud

“Come on Fireplace! Drink this tea!”

“B-but you b-brewed that in your hat…!”

“Yes that’s how you’ll know it’s sanitary!”

“Y-you’re weird.”

“Why thank you!”

He just thinks you’re the weirdest person he’s ever met

At first, he thinks its really just fascination

With the way, you randomly dance in the direction of the cameras that were supposed to be secret

That you were different just like him

And he thought just being allies was good enough

But now he’s plotting the demise of the normie that decides to dance along with you

“There aren’t many who can handle people like us! That’s why I can’t let anyone else have you.”

Riddle Rosehearts

“Let the unbirthday party begin!”

“(Y/n), hands should be out. Elbows off the table.”

“Whoopie did you see this dessert!”

“I did now sit in your seat.”

He has a weird ability to govern you

No one understands it

He barely understands it

But you two mostly get along

He often knows how to speak your language

Something that many seem to struggle with

But he’s the go-to person to reign you in

That’s just the way he likes it+

“Come (Y/n) you’re a good hatter. I need one for our teaparty this evening. Make it.”

Vil Schoenheit

“You’re sense of style is certainly unique.”

“Thanks the cobwebs were my latest addition!”

“What!? Cobwebs that can’t be healthy!”

“Oooh a hat made of cake!”

He thinks you're cute but he worries your lack of sanity leads you to make bad decisions

Like having hats with holes for nonexistent limbs

As well as your affinity for drinking tea for a meal

And probably worst of all being friends with potatoes who can’t handle you

Which is why Vil’s here

“Didn’t you read the schedule? We’re having tea, tonight so leave those potatoes behind.”

Leona Kingscholar

“Its time for the puppy hat party!”

“...Will you stop, I’m trying to sleep!”

“But it’s time for the party!!!!”

“I’m going to kill you.”

He thinks you're so cute

But he loves it most when you card your hands through his hair while fitting his head for a hat

But part of your insanity has you being quite energetic

Which clashes with his love for sleep

So he might meddle a little with the tea you seem addicted to it

So he might slip something in

To make sure he gets his snuggly hatter in his bed

“Come on Herbivore you seem exhausted. If you’re not that tired you can fit me for a hat.”

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dailycass-cain · 3 months

Text

As promised many months ago to end this day, here's a 🧵of the insanity Cassandra Cain's "human" body can do due to what David Cain put her through (besides the two obvious ones of body language and various forms of killing he trained her in).

The best issue that showcases that is of course Batgirl Vol. 1 #14 where various government agencies look at the footage Cass got caught filmed in.

The first few pages are literally showcasing how inhuman, but still bordering on human she is due to what David Cain put her through.

This is always fully covered throughout Batgirl Volume 1 and is usually forgotten when writers and editors tend to have their job. Not saying any names or storylines of any RECENT kind where a WAR broke out in GOTHAM.

is still salty YES

We've seen Cass's speed all the time throughout the Puckett run. To just showcase the prior issue's bullet dodging or her issue of Tim (#18) be child's play (along with her taking several shots up close and dodging each one from a certain corrupt government bastard).

Nah the best example of Cass's true "speed" is in #34 facing the mob boss Ving and his gang.

Yeah, you're seeing that right she is faster than a freaking bullet. Surprising how SOME seem to forget that in other comics. 🙄

Something even Batgirls remembered (#15) when Cass was playing shogun dodge with Cluemaster who was trying to shoot her with a shotgun.

But what of Cassandra's strength? Just how strong is she really?

#19 where Cass is faced with the obstacle of three-inch quartz preventing her from escaping a gas chamber. So let's examine just how thick three-inch quartz is.

Well, let's google just that.

A SEVEN on the hardness scale. Further research says that it can only crack due to "extreme impacts" which wouldn't ya know:

As for her body itself, Batgirl/Ghost: The Ressurection Machine #3 suggests this about Cass being immune to A LOT of poisons:

Something Batgirl Vol. 1 "sort of" delves in #50 when both she and Bruce are doused with a new batch of super drug but it turns out they were both immune to it due to them being built differently than normal humans.

This is all the more surprising because a few issues prior to (#46) Cass is doused with a version of it, but you could say given what she "sees" Cass is under A LOT of stress (the building tension with Bruce, Babs breaking up with Dick, Superboy/Black Wind stuff). Plus she does "sort of" snap out of it to beat the bad guys in that issue.

Just like in #51 she avoids the pheromones to Poison Ivy even though she is showing signs of falling under the hormones but snaps out of it due to willpower (something Bruce was almost succumbing to before he fully snapped out of it too).

It really feels like "this anti-poison" ability Cass had was all but forgotten once the series ended. Of course, naturally with a certain "infamous" story ONE YEAR LATER, but also Batman & Robin Eternal as she is affected by Fear Toxin (among other stuff too).

#9 & #59 showcase that David Cain shot Cass regularly so much that she can not even feel it. This could explain also HOW she was eventually able to dodge bullets and become so fast.

#22 also showcases this as well so this is not something simply just randomly put in. This was something the writers wanted to show the sickening lengths David Cain put Cass through.

Again, #14 brought up Cass's metabolism and how off the charts it was. I think something we just overlooked is that in #26 Cass slept for 20 hours a day for four days (or perhaps longer) straight until she fully recovered from fighting Lady Shiva.

That's not even going under the amount of food she consumes. This little detail was first showcased in #39 when Cass ate like she was freaking Goku.

This little bit of detail was brought back in #66 when she ordered THREE burgers (I'm assuming with everything on it) with three sides of fries and a BIG milk.

Amusingly, this detail was recently brought back in Nightwing #106 & #108 where she FEASTED on who knows how many pancakes.

Lastly, I feel this bit is worth mentioning as well from #47 with Doctor Lewis Friedman who started the theory on body language that David Cain made a frightening reality with Cass (shame he was never brought up again after this issue).

All this isn't even counting on the extremely LONG hours of shower time Cass picked up in the Gabrych run that even Willingham's Robin (which went on during this) teased (something again Batgirls kept up on).

So there you have it. The utter anomaly that is the body of one Cassandra Cain.

#cassandra cain #dc comics #insane things Cass can do #cass built differently

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throughthebluesea · 5 months

Text

I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship

pairing: bada lee x reader

word count: 2.49k

genre: friends to lovers, bada secretly pining over 'straight' reader, howl is a jerk in this fic i am so sorry, i am a fan of his, some angst, slightly suggestive (if you squint), lusher and tatter being so supportive, lusher's gaydar never miss.

den's notes: got this idea from @deathspartner and i hope i gave justice to the prompt. this is inspired by the song jenny by studio killers, the mood maker of this one shot. not proofread, but i hope yall still like it! i might open requests, btw so let me know your thoughts and comments! i really appreciate it!

"i told you, i can't!"

tatter lets out an exasperated sigh for the last time and rolled away from their friend. tatter may have insane patience at times, but this time, she's had it. lusher finds it hilarious, though. their demise is lusher's joy, after all.

bada scowled at the two. at this point, she had given up with her friends. she expects the two to give her the best advice, but all she got were sighs and laughters.

"ssaem, i love you. but i already told you. you're not even sure y/n-ssaem is straight! give it a try!"

"plus, i don't think y/n-unnie is straight. my gay-dar never failed me." lusher adds.

"it's awkward! plus she's my best friend! i can't just barge in and say 'oh! hi my bff y/n! you're so hot and i wanna say i am pining over you since the day we met' randomly. i will look crazy!"

the two younger ones just stared at their mentor, thinking that she's being too pathetic and overthinking everything.

"plus... she's seeing howl." she said with disdain, and she can't hide how her eyes roll in annoyance.

both lusher and tatter knew how down bad bada was towards you, ever since you were introduced as one of the members of team bebe. you two are the same age, with bada older than you by a few days. you always thought that you two were soulmates because of these factors. your friendship started blooming, and the two of you were unstoppable.

sometimes, bada would get you as backup for the choreography drafts she directs, and you would do the same thing when you do your choreography drafts.

dancing became something both of you connect. and it became the turning point of bada's feelings towards you that is beyond borders of friendship began to bloom.

you had this habit of placing a hand on the small of her back, and trust me, bada tries her best not to crumble on the spot out of pure delight and just... her being intensely whipped of her best friend.

bada would think that what she's feeling is bad because... first, she's her best friend, and she remembered one conversation you had at the just jerk family dinner, and you mentioned that you don't see yourself dating girls.

that shit broke her heart. and bada tried to subside her feelings for you. but... she can't help revive such feelings when certain situations arise.

being best friends with you means that you are open to her about all the boys you had slept with. just by hearing your stories, it broke her. right now, you are seeing howl, a colleague of them inside the academy. bada would silently cringe when you told your stories of your moments with howl.

at the back of her mind while listening to you is that she wished it was her hands touching every crevice of her body, feeling every curve you had, the one hearing your voice when you cry out of—

bada shook her head at the thought and sighed. this is probably her fifteenth time sighing. "it's hopeless."

tatter was about to reason out to her usual banter when she heard shouting from outside. the three recognized your voice and howl's.

"and how the fuck am i supposed to react to that, huh?"

"y/n, she is nothing! trust me!"

"trust you?! howl, this is the 3rd time i saw you with moana! and this time, i caught you two smooching each other inside my class studio!"

"moana is just a close friend! y/n, don't let your jealousy take over your senses!"

"I FUCKING DID IT, HOWL. I SET ASIDE MY JEALOUS FEELINGS BECAUSE I TRUST YOU."

the three went silent, and they can hear you sigh. the two looked at bada, who is staring at the door, her hands clenched in anger.

'what the actual fuck, howl? i trusted y/n on you and you will do this shit? also, how did i not know that THAT jerk is doing this to my y/n?!' she thought to herself.

"this isn't working out, howl. let's just end this... i'll just act you're invisible here and just talk to you for purely business only."

she twisted the door knob, entering the studio where the three were in. they scrambled to the side and acted that they're not inside.

you were too into your emotions that you didn't notice the three inside. before howl can barge in and enter, she locked the door and slid down against it.

you listened to him sighing and left the area. the thought of him not even trying to take you back hurted you the most, and tears fell down your cheeks because of it.

the three watched in silence. they felt bad at your broken state, but bada was more hurt. she hates it when you get hurt, and she hates herself for not being there for you when you were suffering.

bada probably hated howl more because she trusted him that you will he taken care of but the fucker chose to break your heart.

tatter pulled out her phone and quickly typed a message directly to bada's phone, and sent it to her.

'time to be y/n-ssaem's knight in shining armor.'

when bada sees the message, she whipped her head towards the younger and glared at her. tatter rolled her eyes and pointed at you, mouthing a 'fucking go, unnie! do it!'

lusher was doing the same thing.

bada sighed quietly and walked towards your weak figure and cleared her throat to get your attention.

you lift your head up and your eyes grew wide at the sight of bada towering you. "b-bada-ya... you were here the whole time?"

she scratches the back of her head and sat beside you. "actually, lusher, tatter and i were here and... we actually heard everything. i'm sorry you had to go through that. howl is such a fucking jerk." she said, gritting her teeth.

lusher and tatter let out noises, agreeing with what the older said, and excused themselves so they can leave the two alone.

"i'm sorry... it's my fault, i trusted him way too much..." you said weakly, and you automatically leaned against her frame. bada's instinct kicked in and hugged her tight. "shh... this is not your fault, okay? if howl had some decency, he wouldn't do this to a pretty girl like you."

just the warmth of her arm around you unlocked more of your tears and you sobbed, and clinged onto her.

bada sighed and stayed silent for you, silently cooing to encourage you to cry and let it all out. she gently stroked the small of your back and stayed there for you.

you would mention something self-deprecating, and bada would dismiss it immediately, reassuring you.

"let's go to your place?" she asks when your hiccups and sobs stopped. you nod, and that's her sign for her to help you up and bring you to her car, and both of you drove to your apartment.

when you've arrived, she never left your side and helped you with everything. and when you settled down your room, bada announced that she's gonna leave her now (because she wanted to give you space, or some moment to clear your thoughts for a good while), but you stopped her.

"stay." you said and looked at her, and she groaned inwardly because she can't say to your boba-like eyes when you want to get something from her. bada obliges and she removed her cardigan first and scooted inside the blanket, hugging you immediately.

she heard you sigh and clinged her arms around you. "thank you, bada... i don't know what to do if you're not here."

she hummed in response, and pulled you closer. eventually the two of you fell asleep.

morning came, and bada was the first one to wake up. the sight of you peacefully sleeping dawned her, and she sighed. you're too precious, she thought. she instinctively fixed your bangs, and then she stared at your face.

"you're making it so hard for me not to fall for you, y/n..." she said faintly, "i'm sorry for hiding this. i just don't wanna ruin our friendship, but there's part of me that wants it. i wanna ruin our friendship, y/n. i can take care of you more than howl... let me love you."

she didn't realized that while she was talking, she had her eyes close and her face leaned close to yours. and she didn't notice that you have woken up and were able to hear her 'morning epiphany'.

"is that what you want, bada?" you asked softly.

bada's eyes opened and looked at you, shocked. "y-you heard it...?"

"most of it..."

"shit... i'm sorry." she sits up, and was about to leave your side, but you're too quick and grabbed her wrist, preventing her from leaving.

"why are you apologizing?"

"because... i shouldn't have caught feelings with my best friend... but i can't help it! you were kind, nice, talented, pretty, and most of all, you deserve the world and i wanted to give it to you. but i was afraid to confess because you might end our years of friendship, and i know you're not into girls... now that the truth is out, you will hate me and will cut ties with me... i'm sorry, i will set aside these feelings for you. i don't wanna lose my closest friend."

"i don't wanna lose you."

you noticed that she was looking down while she fiddled her long, slender fingers, something she does when she's nervous or she gets caught in the act when she pulls pranks at your crew.

you smiled at your friend and cupped her cheek, guiding you to look at her. there was this fond smile playing on your lips. "silly, you don't need to cut ties with me, nor set aside your feelings."

bada stared at you as her lips formed to a pout. "what do you mean..."

"i'm sorry i didn't know sooner... the one that understands me and takes care of me was at my side after all."

she stayed silent, and you grew anxious that she's not even reacting. on bada's part, she is trying to process what you said.

"earth to bada lee... did i lost her already?" you asked in a teasing manner. a tinge of light blush graced the latter's cheeks and cleared her throat.

that gesture made you chuckle, and you moved your hand to gently comb her strawberry and black locks. after being frozen for quite awhile, bada pulled your body close and hugged your waist tight. you felt her exhale and that made you smile more.

"i thought you're not into girls..."

what she said had you laughing. "i did say that, but the truth is, i don't see myself dating girls at the moment because of one reason."

bada pulled away and stared at you. lusher's voice echoed on her brain.

"plus, i don't think y/n-unnie is straight. my gay-dar never failed me."

well, her gay-dar didn't fail her at all. shaking the thought off, she squeezed your hand, urging you to continue.

"remember noze?" she nods. "yeah. what about her."

"i used to have this HUGE crush on her. i am head over heels on her. everything that she liked, i try to like what she does, eats, reads... just to get some sort of... good points on her."

bada began to blush, since she can relate to what you told her. she began to use the scent you wore because if felt like you were with her, and she gets validation from you that bada liked what you liked, as well.

she tried exploring on her cafè orders, venturing on the sweeter ones because you liked sweet blends.

all of those are hidden under her intentions of being your 'greatest best friend' image. she hid her pining over you under that image.

"we played a lot, we kissed, just your 'friends with benefits' shit, but when i was about to confess, she confessed that she was dating aiki-ssaem. and asked to stop what we're doing and just stayed at friends..." you continued. bada noticed sadness in your eyes, but you tried to smile.

"that was my first heartbreak... and she was the first female i fell in love with. that time, i realized that maybe liking girls is not for me. because i end up hurting. no one knew that story, you were the first."

bada went silent, but her fingers are still intertwined against your own. you were silent, as well, but minutes later, you were the first to break it.

"you know, the first time i met you, i felt attracted to you... but i got scared. because i might end up heartbroken again."

she looked up at you and saw you staring at her. "i like you, but i am scared, so i tried fooling around with others, trying to remove whatever feelings i have for you, but it reappears as much as i make it disappear."

"i think i still like you..." you confessed. bada gasped, and didn't hesitate to close the distance between you two, cupping both your cheeks and pressed her lips against your own.

your eyes grew wide but slowly flutters close as the hidden feelings took over. same goes with bada, all the feelings she tried to hide, now she pours it on the kiss.

she pulled away and stared at you. "my feelings for you never left, y/n..."

you stared back right into her brown orbs, and tears started forming on the corners of your eyes. bada hushed and wiped the tears away before it even fell. "i promise not to hurt you."

and you believe that. she was there from the beginning, and never left despite everything that happened. the pain from earlier slowly disappeared, and you don't fear what the future is because you have bada on your side. as your best friend, and as your partner... soon.

weeks later, things are going well between you and bada, and the rest of team bebe are delighted with the shift. lusher liked the glow that bada exudes during practices. she was more enthusiastic, and she had to thank you for that.

tatter liked your shift from mega depresso mood back to your cheerful and playful self. like bada, you're enthusiastic during practice runs.

but, what both tatter and lusher liked was the shift between you and bada. along with the other team bebe members, they felt love. the glances you two had and the way you two get so touchy (in a non-sexual way, of course.) during breaks. they inwardly groan because they had to endure the love bird moments, but kidding aside, they were glad the finally, they made it in each other's arms.

no more hidden pining, no more secrets.

— fin.

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redamancy-writes · 1 year

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The Lost Boys (1987) x Fem! Reader - Blood Bag

AN: Hello! This is my first time writing for The Lost Boys, so I hope you all enjoy! Thank you @floral-and-fine for the support and the help working out some of the details on this ❣️

Word Count- 1383

Fandom- The Lost Boys 1987

Pairings- Poly! Lost Boys x Female! Reader

Title- Blood Bag

It wasn’t often that you saw your boys fight, where their playful banter turned serious and fangs elongated and eyes turned that golden yellow that sent chills up your spine.

“You got to feed from her yesterday, man,” Paul growled from next to you, hand on your thigh as he argued with Marko, “I’m thirsty too.”

“We’re all thirsty, Paul,” David scowled from his wheelchair, hands gripping the armrests to physically restrain himself. “It’s not your turn.”

“(Y/n) isn’t an object,” Dwayne chimed in, despite being on edge and tensed he was the only one who was thinking rationally as he took in the smell of fear from you.

The more tense they got, the more on edge you got. Like a bunny cornered by a wolf, ready to dart out the next opening it could find.

“I never said she was,” Paul’s grip on your thigh tightened, making you wince.

What made these fights the worst was that they always centered around you. You wished that they would be able to push their hungers aside and talk rationally, however, as a human you thought best to not butt in to their arguments. Until now, as Paul’s grip became bordering painful as his elongated nails dug into the meat of your thigh.

Gripping his hand in your own, you paid Marko’s new argument no mind as you carefully pried Paul’s hand off of you, frowning at the indents in your skin.

“You boys do know I’m not the only human in Santa Carla, right?” You broke their argument, even though saying the words themselves made an anxious pit form in your gut.

You just wanted them to stop fighting, to satisfy their hunger and come back to you as the playful, soft- not that David would ever admit it-, kind people that they usually were around you.

They were hungry, needing blood to fill their appetite and some nights even draining an adult person wasn’t enough for their bellies. Sharing itty bitty ounces of your blood between them wasn’t going to cut it. Not in the long-term, anyway.

“Why don’t you just go drink from someone else? Or multiples,” You anxiously began to fiddle with Paul’s fingers as the cave grew eerily quiet.

You thought the fight had now been done and over, as they all stared at you wide-eyed. You interpreted it as a look of astonishment, a ‘how could we not have seen this before’ until Marko spoke up.

“(Y/n)...” He breathed out, almost like a whimper.

“Why would you suggest that?” David asked, his own expression going neutral again but as his eyes shifted from yellow back to the lovely icy blue tone you adore, you could see the sadness behind his gaze.

You shrugged, keeping your gaze down at your hand holding onto Paul’s, “I can’t meet your needs, not even close,” It hurt to say it, your heart stinging as you admitted out loud that you can’t provide for them in an equal manner in which they provide for you. They took you in when you had no one, provided you a safe haven of warmth and security.

“I know I can’t, and it would be easier for you all to find a donor or even to just find someone to drain like how you did before,” You kept your head low, avoiding their stares.

“Besides, like you’ve said before David, I’m just a blood-bag right?” You felt the back of your eyes sting, “You can just replace me, or add in someone else to this equation.”

David stood from the wheelchair, the definitive sound of his leather trench coat signaling that he was approaching you before his boots spilled into your line of sight.

“Look at me, little one,” He softly ordered, and of course no matter how upset you were, you followed it. Looking up to him, you bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to look nonchalant.

“I thought we made this clear, you are the only one we will feed from.”

Feeding.

That word again.

A blood source from them, an easy way for them to fill their bellies before running whatever errands Max had for them.

Each time that word spilled from their lips, you wanted to yell out that you weren’t just food. You thought that there was something more between you all, the soft looks and gentle caresses.

Dwayne’s gentle hold on your body as he asked permission before piercing your flesh, Marko’s thumb rubbing on your exposed flesh before his nose ran along the vein, David’s hand cupping your cheek while he asked if you felt alright after, Paul pulling you against his chest so you can nap off the fatigue- acts oh so intimate.

But maybe…Maybe you were naive. Looking too far into those small acts.

“Yeah,” You looked from his gaze towards the fountain, frowning as the word ‘feed’ and all of its variations played in your head. “You like my blood, you’ve said it before.”

Marko approached now, sitting on the other side of you.

“No, (Y/n),” Marko made you look at him as his fingers tilted your chin towards him. “Not just because your blood is delicious, because you are you.” His words made your brow furrow

“The only girl we’d ever want,” Dwayne chimed in, still giving you space but the fond look in his eyes made heat rise to your cheeks.

“I don’t understand, I don’t get what this means,” You looked between all four of them, your brow still furrowed and your lips pulled into a pout.

Paul laughed, not mocking or harsh as he interlaced his hand with yours. “Boys, we haven’t been clear enough, she needs us to spell it out.”

“Spell what out–”

“You’re our mate,” David spoke, and when you looked to face him you expected a smirk on his face, his signature cockiness and arrogance on display as the leader of the group- but no, his expression was soft.

“I’m your what–”

“Our mate,” Dwayne piped up, now approaching. “Not our buffet, not our blood bag,” Dwayne’s eyes cut over to David who turned his face away with a huff. “The one we cherish with our heart and seek out above all else.”

“Your mate…” The words felt foreign on your lips, but they made your belly feel warm and full as Marko made a sound of agreement from beside you.

“We will work out the feeding issue,” David made a pointed look to Paul and before he could say another word, Marko beat him to the punch.

“But please don’t ever question your standing with us, and why we want you around.” Marko grabbed ahold of your unoccupied hand, lacing it with his own.

“Do you understand now, little one?”

“I think I do.”

“Good,” David leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to the crown of your head. “Now, we’ll be back,” David stood to his full height. Would their victims taste like garbage in comparison to your sweet crimson nectar? Absolutely. However, they needed to satiate their blood thirst, and you needed alone time to deal with this information.

“When will you be back?” You couldn’t help but ask, not used to being left behind.

“Soon, we’ll bring you back some (F/Food).”

And as they each gave you their own personal farewell, you couldn’t help but fidget in place.

“We’ll be back before you know it,” Dwayne said, lifting up your hand to kiss at your knuckles.

“You promise?” Fear still lingering that this whole conversation was somehow one grand prank and they’d come back with another woman, declaring her as your replacement then laughing at you for believing them.

Dwayne paused, looking into your eyes. “I promise, we will always come back to you.”

A soft smile blossomed on your face as he swore they would return, the sincerity in his eyes melting your concerns as you nodded and reached out to grab one of Paul’s cuddle blankets.

“Don’t make me wait too long,” Your words had an underlying meaning as you snuggled into the surprisingly clean material, eager to discuss more about this mate situation when they came back.

“We wouldn’t dream of it, sweet cheeks.” Paul winked at you before Dwayne pushed him up the stairs.

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#The Lost Boys 1987 #the lost boys x reader #x reader #reader-insert #fanfiction #fanfic #the lost boys david x reader #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys marko #the lost boys paul #lost boys imagine #lost boys x reader #female reader #female reader-insert #angst #fluff

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