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pinkeoni · 8 months

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And now, for no reason in particular, in no way related to anything on my blog at all, here is a long ramble about sexuality in Fallout: New Vegas and Fallout: 4

So in Fallout: New Vegas there is the option to control your characters sexuality, something that was fairly revolutionary at the time the game came out in 2011. The perks Black Widow and Lady Killer allow +10% damage along with unique dialogue options for the opposite sex, and Cherchez la Femme and Confirmed Bachelor offer the same bonus but for the same sex. The player has to option to chose one or both of these perks, and they both become available fairly early in gameplay. I usually pick both perks for the added damage bonus, although since Fallout is for an intents and purposes a roleplaying game, I like to imagine that my player character is a lesbian and is only flirting with men in order to get ahead.

Along with the fact that you can make your character gay, bisexual, or what have you, there are also a few gay characters within the game. The companions Arcade Ganon and Veronica are a gay man and lesbian respectively. There are a few other NPCs that have dialogue acknowledging their queerness.

The one thing that I wish that NV did have was the ability to romance companions. Imagine me, with my ancient HP laptop burning my lap, exhausting every one of Veronica's dialogue options trying to see if I can date her but to no avail. You can actually flirt with Ganon if you are a male character with the Confirmed Bachelor perk, although the interaction does not go farther than that. You can have sex with same sex prostitutes, but there's no cutscene. If I pay 300 caps for some hanky panky, then I wanna see it!

So when I found out that you could romance companions in Fallout: 4, I was beyond excited.

In F:4 you can romance most companions regardless of gender, effectively making any of the romancable companion bisexual by default. You can also romance any number of companions at the same time, meaning you could have one big bisexual polyamorous relationship if you wanted to (the companions cannot date each other and are all connected to you, but the choice to have multiple partners is still there.

Bisexual polyamory sounds very progressive, and I don't think that that shouldn't be acknowledged, but even without the romance options, NV feels like the gayer game.

The thing about the romance options in 4 is that it doesn't seem to address identity. All of these characters are bisexual by default, but (as far I have seen from reviews and from my own experience playing) the characters don't ever acknowledge queerness as an identity. If I'm a female player character romancing a female companion, there isn't any dialogue acknowledging the fact that we are both women (in fact from what I've read, the dialogue is the same regardless if you are a man or woman, with only the pronouns being changed). Furthermore, the perks that you can choose that controls the characters sexuality are not there. Black Widow and Lady Killer are still there, although their same-sex counterpart perks are not available.

What I like about the perks in NV is the fact that player identity is not only something that has to be imagined behind the screen, but it becomes a facet within the game that influences the game and is acknowledged. Not only with sexuality, but gender is a factor in the role play as well. There are a few characters who acknowledge through dialogue that my character is a woman.

In 4 you are given a backstory as a spouse in an opposite-sex marriage with a new baby, superimposed into a heterosexual relationship right off the bat. This is opposed to NV where you play as a glorified mail carrier with amnesia that you can project a backstory onto. In 4 the game starts off with your spouse essentially being literally "fridged" (no literally, they die inside of a cryochamber) and your baby is kidnapped which triggers the main plot of the game. I guess this could be subversive if the player character is a woman, but that's only the player chooses to be a woman. Context clues points to the game assuming that the player is a man, what with the male player character voicing the opening narration of the game, along with being the defaulted gender option in the character creation screen. I think that choosing to play as a woman creates a much more compelling narrative, although the game never acknowledges this so it's mostly up to the player to infer this narrative themselves. (Again, gender is only brought up through pronouns) I would say that maybe the game is trying to offer commentary on the nuclear family household, although the problem doesn't rely on the family itself but the war and outsiders are the ones who destroyed it while the family itself was perfectly healthy.

You would think that being a newly widowed spouse would have some impact on the romance aspect of the game, especially if you are engaging with a same sex partner after previously being with a partner of the opposite-sex. Which isn’t to say that people in heterosexual relationships can’t also be interested in the same-sex or that people in marriages can’t be engaged in a healthy open relationship, and I do like that the game includes this option at all, although (and again, this is to my knowledge) this doesn't seem to get a mention when dealing with the romance. The dead spouse only really makes an impact on the main storyline of the game, and similarly, the romance aspect doesn't seem to effect this aspect at all.

F:4 tries to have an established backstory while also trying to give the player the same freedom of role play that its had in previous games, but these two player identities just end up running parallel to each other rather than working together. You can make choices in the game that seems to contradict your backstory without it ever being addressed. This could maybe make for an interesting story, but (and once again, as much as I have played and seen) there doesn't seem to be any internal conflict between the player character's past and what they decide to do for the run of the game.

While all of the romancable companions are effectively bisexual by the nature of the gameplay, bisexuality or queerness in any capacity isn't recognized as an identity and operates more on just a cosmetic level. Not that a character would have to explicitly state that their label in order for it to be valid, but it doesn't add anything to their character in the same way that it does for Ganon and Veronica from NV. These two never say "I am a gay man" or "I am a lesbian" in that exact way but their identities have an impact on their character and how they interact with the player. Veronica in particular had a girlfriend in her past that wasn't approved of by the strictly conservative Brotherhood of Steel that she belongs to.

"So you want homophobia in your video games? This is a post-apocalyptic society, who cares about who dates who!" and to be fair sexuality in Fallout society does seem to be far more lenient in both NV and 4, which makes sense considering the context. There aren't any marriage laws, and there's even a line suggesting that the male soldiers from the fascist Caesar regime are regularly mounting each other.

But still, Veronica experiencing that bit of homophobia from her past helps queer identity feel more realized rather than just an empty gesture from game devs for a few political correctness points, and can even be found as relatable to some of it's queer players. Veronica's story is about her desperately trying to save her conservative community, but comes to realize that the only way for her to live is to leave them behind. She's heartbroken to leave her family, but recognizes that she has to prioritize herself even if they aren't going to. The Brotherhood of Steel isn't a real organization, but that's definitely a real experience. If the Fallout games aim to offer commentary on real-world politics (which it definitely aims to do) then it isn't going to succeed if it's characters don't reflect real-world experiences.

Sorry if this comes off as me railing on F:4, I actually greatly enjoy the game and have probably sunk more hours into it than NV (which is partially due to my PS4 actually being functional and the laptop I have that plays NV has been on its last legs for years now) and I do greatly enjoy the characterization of the companions, even if I wish that their queer identities made more of an impact. NV, on the other hand, is one of my favorite games of all time.

So that's my whole spiel. Doesn't have anything at all to do with anything else on my blog whatsoever. Completely unrelated.

#im totally being sarcastic in that last chunk btw #what this has to do with anything else i talk about you have to decipher for yourself #if you bothered to read any of that i thank you but also pls do not feel obligated too #also gay person loves new vegas SHOCKER!!#not mentioned in post is how i also read the couriers story in nv as trans although this is def unintended by the devs #<- its hinted in lonesome road that the courier pre-amnesia is different than who they are post amnesia and their story is about choosing #who they want to be although i guess you could apply that to any rpg with a gender selection screen #robin rambles

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luvrxbunny · 6 months

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so much

pairing: bf!Miguel O’Hara x f!reader

summary: You give Miguel a handjob for the first time.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, handjob, lots of cum (lmk if i forgot anything)

wc: 2.1k

a/n: i blacked out again.

Miguel stopped kissing you maybe fifteen minutes ago. He said he was getting too worked up and that you guys should stop, of course, you respected his wishes. You’re both now sitting in bed, he’s reading and you’re supposed to be doing some extra research but all you can focus on is the bulge in his pants.

This happens a lot, you guys get heated and Miguel stops everything. It’s been six months and you’ve never seen him cum. You’ve told him you love him, he’s made you cum with his fingers and his mouth but you’ve never seen him cum. It doesn’t bother you too much, you just assumed he wasn’t a very sexual person, although you are and you love pleasuring your partner, you love him more. So you decided you could deal with it, but then you noticed that he would get hard, quite hard, and just not let you help him. You’ve offered many times and he always protests, saying “It’s fine, it’ll just go away.”

Once he even went into your bathroom for it. He chose to get himself off instead of just letting you do it. You tried to ask Jess about it but she says that Miguel doesn't talk about that stuff, all she knows is that he’s definitely not a virgin. So your last option to understand is to just ask him. So you do.

“Miggy?” His head comes up from his book to look over at you, peeking over his glasses like a librarian, making you chuckle. “Um… You- You’re—” You start the sentence but soon realize how awkward this conversation could be. You try and figure out ways to piece it together as Miguel sits up straight, closes his book, and takes his glasses off, giving you his full attention. Now that he’s straightened himself out he’s looming over you a bit, making you even more nervous.

“You’re still… hard..?” It comes out as a question more than a statement and mumbles more than words but he understands you. He clears his throat awkwardly as you slowly close your laptop and cast it aside. “Y-yes, I am.” He’s looking around the room now, his eyes avoiding yours.

“Okay. So do you not like handjobs or something? I just- I know that you’ve gotten something before I just don’t- I don’t know why you won’t let me.” You’re looking at him as you speak, he’s looking at the duvet, and from the corner of your eye, you swear you see his dick jump in his pants.

“Cariño… I-” He takes a deep, slightly frustrated breath and looks up at the ceiling, trying to figure out how to explain himself. “I want to… Tan jodidamente mala but… you’re different.”

(“... So fucking bad but…”)

Insecurity spreads through your body at his words. Your mind is already racing, trying to decipher what he could mean.

What the fuck? How am I different? Oh god, is he not even attracted to me sexually? Maybe I’m not his type. Is there something I’m missing? Maybe it’s something that he’s into, maybe I just need to get into whatever that is? Unless it really is just me that’s the problem…

“I love you so much…” The words instantly relax you. You believe him when he says it, but his tone implies that it’s a bad thing. “I’ve never felt the way I feel about you for anyone else. So-” He sighs again and runs his fingers through his hair. “So I’m- I’m more sensitive… when- when it comes to you.”

Arousal pools at the bottom of your stomach as you process his words. ‘More sensitive’

The thought that he hasn’t wanted you to touch him because it would feel too good has you leaking between your legs.

He’s silent as you process, he’s waiting for you to laugh. But when he looks over at you you’re looking up at him with those eyes. The ones that always have him hardening in his pants before you have to say anything. The ones that he pictures on late nights when he can’t sleep. The ones that burn into his eyelids as your name falls from his lips and he cums all over his sheets… Those eyes.

He huffs out a breath and shakes his head, denying you before you can even propose your suggestions. “No, cariño. I- It’s embarrassing.” He protests but his voice is getting breathy, arousal leaking its way in as he watches you seat yourself by his knees, facing him. Your hand is placed on his upper thigh which has begun to twitch under your touch. “We can’t, I can’t. Habría mucho también.”

“Mucho?” You question, only understanding some of what he said. “A lot, what?” You’re focused on his face, watching it contort as he whines at the Spanish that rolls off your tongue. Your hand has begun to massage his thigh, you can feel the fabric pull tighter with every pulse of his cock. Your hand slides up, closing in on where he wants you the most. His head falls back against the headrest as pleasure shoots through him.

You can tell he’s being honest with his reasoning as you watch him. He’s letting out tiny moans, little whines like you’ve been teasing him all day but you’re just massaging his thigh. You keep it up, just groping his twitching leg as he tries to hold his moans in so he can answer you. “C-cum, habría tanto semen.” His hips start thrusting off the bed, barely noticeable.

(“C-cum. there would be so much cum.”)

“Yeah? You’d cum so much for me, Miggy?” You move from your spot, throwing your leg over him, straddling his thighs as you begin to palm his dick. His eyes roll back into his head as moans rip from his throat. He quickly grabs your wrist, roughly, stopping all your movements. His head raises to look at you.

“I’m- I’m a bit… nervous, cariño. It would be a lot for me. I- No one has ever seen me like that. I’m only like this for you, I- can’t help it." His eyebrows furrow, and he huffs at a breath, like he's angry at himself. "I don’t want you to think it’s… extraño, anormal, or that I’m- I don’t know.” You can see the genuine concern on his face, and the fear in his voice as he anxiously rambles.

("... strange, abnormal,")

“Miguel…” He whines at how you say his name, you smile brightly and fondly at the sound. “I love you. In a way I didn’t even know was possible. I’m never going to think you’re- like, weird or something. At least not in a bad way. I-” You sigh gently and look into his eyes, you wrench your hand out of his grip and place it on his face, pulling him in for a soft kiss that he whimpers into. You pull away and give him the most serious look you can manage. “We don’t have to if you’re too nervous but if you’re worried about what I’ll think? Please don’t.”

He holds your gaze, considering your words for a moment. “But there’s mucho, cariño. No importa lo que yo haga. When- whenever I think of you, there’s… so much.” He tries to express his concern but you really don’t understand.

("No matter what I do.")

“Miguel.. That just- That just turns me on even more I- I don’t see why that’s a bad thing.” You speak honestly, watching his face shift into a mix of pleasure and confusion as his head falls back again. His hips press into the air, his legs spread, opening himself up for you as a pathetic “Por favor” falls from his lips.

You spring into action immediately. You pull his pants low enough for his cock to fly out, instantly standing straight, hitting and staining his shirt. A hiss falls from his lips as you wrap your hand around him, and his head comes up to watch you. His eyes are watery as they stare at your little hand around his huge cock. You’re watching him, you don’t move yet, you can see him taking in every detail, committing the scene to memory before meeting your eyes.

“Ready?” You ask him with a devious smile on your face. He nods vigorously, “Sí, estoy... estoy tan lista, cariño. Por favor.”

(“Yes, I'm... I'm so ready, honey. Please.”)

You run your hand up his cock, swirling around the head before meeting the base again. His reaction is instant and extreme. His hands leave your hips for the bed as his claws rip into the sheet. His body is already shaking as tense, short, and quick moans fall from his lips. All his muscles are pulled tight as you slowly run your hand over him. His eyes are wide, staring at your hands as they pleasure him.

You’re mesmerized by his cock, red, hot, and pulsing in your hand as you stroke him. Pre-cum is spilling from his slit at a consistent pace, making him all wet and sloppy. You hear his head hit the headboard again as his moans grow more unrestrained, shouting out into the open air. “I- I-’m not- Can’t” He lets out a frustrated whine that morphs into a genuine moan before he tries to speak again. “No voy a durar. Joder, tus manos son el paraíso, cariño. No voy a durar mucho, no puedo-”

(“I’m not gonna last. Fuck, your hands are heaven, honey. I won't last long, I can't-”)

You can’t understand the words but based on how frantically he says them, the way his hips have started thrusting up into your hand gently and the way his legs are spreading themselves wider underneath you are good clues. “You’re gonna cum, Miggy?” You finally look away from his saturated cock to observe him. His face is flushed, as he nods at you desperately. He tries to moan your name at you but he can’t form the syllables. You love it. Seeing him like this, wet and aching for you. This is definitely going to become a daily thing.

“Yeah? You promised me a lot, hermoso. I want it all. Give it to me, baby.” He fully shouts your name at the Spanish pet name. He grunts pathetically as he lifts his hand from the bed, willing his claws to retract so he can touch you. His hand squeezes your hip desperately, shaking as his moans quickly rise in pitch and volume. Your eyes are focused back on his erratically twitching cock, you don’t see his head lift to look at you.

He’s cumming the moment he can see your face.

You stroke him as fast as you can, listening to his breathy sob as his cock shoots out heavy ropes of cum. He’s watching your face, trying to gauge your reaction through his cloudy eyes. You’re watching his cock in awe, his cum runs over your hand, coating your fist as you jerk him through it. He’s nothing but a bundle of gasps, moans, and sobs as his cock spurts out a whole new load. He watches your face as it morphs from disbelief to burning arousal, your breathing speeds up the longer he cums. He can hear whines start to slip out of you as his hips jerk into your hand. You tear your eyes away from the cum pooling around and coating his cock just in time to see his eyes shift from you to the back of his head. He lets out one last drawn-out wail before his hips rest back on the bed. His cock begins to soften, spurting out tiny ropes as you stroke him softly, helping him down. You try to get the raging fire in your stomach and the flood between your legs under control before getting up for a towel. He was right. There was so much.

You wipe him down as he whines and mumbles deliriously until you hear a little sob and he reaches out for you. You throw the towel to a corner of the room as he pulls you into his chest. He whispers what sounds like thanks and praise into your hair as you kiss his chest.

“Gracias, cariño. Eso- eso se sintió tan bien, te sentiste tan bien. Te amo.” You giggle at him gently. “You’re welcome and I love you too, baby. You know I can’t understand most of what you said, right?” You feel his chest rumble with a chuckle before he speaks again. “I- I know, it's just… El inglés se me hace difícil. Yo olvido. I- I’m” He laughs at himself. “You get my head all mixed up, cariño.”

(“Thank you love. That- that felt so good, you felt so good. I love you.”)

(“English is difficult for me. I forget”)

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Oh really?” You say in a playful tone as he chuckles at you. You turn and pull him in, his lips just inches from yours. “Me encanta eso.” You had to pull all your Spanish I classes together to figure that sentence out but the reward is worth it. Miguel’s eyes widen and he gasps before smashing his face into yours, you can feel his wide smile against your lips as he kisses you and you’ve never felt happier.

(‘I love that.”)

thank you so much for reading!! please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all! also if you liked it please take a look at my masterlist!

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ghouljams · 3 months

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does viking!soap have an arm ring?

just imagining healer!reader somehow in a situation where soap's hand is pressed flat on the surface she's leaning on. totally not eyeing the veins trailing down his arm, they focus instead on the intricate design. maybe it's a remaining family heirloom or a gift after his first voyage... you know definitely not something he's hoped and imagined about passing on to any future children or anything like that

Viking!Soap has integrated into viking culture fairly well since [redacted] of course he has an arm ring. I think he probably got it after his first voyage with the 141, a gift from his new family meant to tie him to something again. I imagine there are very few things Soap was able to keep from his life in Scotland.

You're starting to spend more time than you mean to looking at Mactavish's arms. The thick flexing biceps and veins that trace over his forearms, usually hidden by long sleeves and his cloak, now on full display in the heat of summer. He ties his hair back as well, but that you can handle, it's the new skin you're having trouble with. The skin and the attitude. He seems emboldened by the warm weather, boxing you against doorways, leaning close, murmuring in that delicious low rumble that makes your skin prickle with heat. You've told him to stop, but as usual your wants go unnoticed.

That's really when you notice it: the thick metal band that circles his bicep. You'd caught flashes of it during the winter when it sat tighter, though still loose, around his wrist, hidden under his sleeves. Now it's hard to miss.

Mactavish leans against your table, chattering away, his arms crossed over his chest while you ignore him. It never seems to make him leave. His arm ring draws your eye and you let your eyes trace the silver twists, trying to decipher the heads at the ends while he talks. After a moment Mactavishes fingers find the band and rub over it.

"Huginn and Muninn," he says. You look up at him in confusion and he laughs. He slips the ring down his arm and holds it out to you to look over. "Odin's ravens. The travel the world, learn things, the um-" he pauses, you don't know Mactavish to pause often, "Price gave it to me, after my first expedition. Supposed to keep me comin' home."

You trace your fingers over the metal beaks of the ravens, turning the band over in your hands before handing it back. "It's pretty," you don't know what else to say. Mactavish holds it carefully, looks at it like it's something important. You suppose it must be. To you it's just a nice piece of metal, but you're not a viking.

"Yeah," he says, slipping it back up his arm, "It'll go to my boy one day."

"Oh," you don't know why it makes your stomach drop to hear him talk about his child, "I thought Gaz was thr only one with a child."

Mactavish makes an inquisitive noise, his fingers tight around the band. "He is, but I'd like children some day," you glance up, meet his eye, he tilts his head, "don't you?"

You clench your fists and turn you attention back to your work, tamp down the fluttering in your heart. "No," you tell him firmly, try to push purpose to the edge in your voice, "not here, not with any of you."

Mactavish hums. He does that when you do this, when you show your teeth. You never know what it means, never have the courage to look at him, to try and read what he's feeling. If you did you might see the hurt in his eyes. "I know, Vænn," he tells you quietly, "it's all my fault."

You clench your fists tight, dig your nails into your palms and clench your teeth. It doesn't work. You hatred and grief won't work if he sounds like that, if he pushes off your table and leaves before you can find the courage to snap at him. You hate him. You hate how unsettled your stomach gets at his words, hate the nausea, and the spiderweb feeling in your chest. It is his fault.

So why can't you stand to hear him say it?

#cod x reader #x reader #x oc #cod x oc #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mw2 #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader #viking!soap #highlander!reader #healer!reader

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spacebarbarianweird · 2 months

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Tiny Dhampir

Synopsis: Astarion is spending time with Alethaine.

Tags: comfort, dadstarion, dhampirs, tooth-rotting fluff

Alethaine's age: 3.5 years old

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

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Headcanons

Astarion meditates.

In his memory he stands in front of his tent. It's dark, and difficult to say if it’s night or day. It's always midnight in the Shadow-Cursed Lands.

He has to tell her. He can’t continue like that.

Tiriel doesn’t deserve to be lied to.

Astarion clasps his hands. She will break up with him, and she will force him to leave the camp. And she will be right to do so.

He hears a loud laughter. Tiriel walks into the camp and waves to him. She is so beautiful in her Drow armor that Astarion can’t take his eyes from the half-elven warrior.

Astarion desires to touch Tiriel, to hold her hand, to taste her blood, to feel her warmth.

He doesn’t have a right to do either of that.

“Tiriel!” he finally approaches her. “Tiriel, can we talk?”

She’s just taken her armor off. “Yes, what is it?”

Tiriel is so close he can feel her heartbeat. Shame burns him; he is preparing himself as if this were the last conversation between the two of them.

Come what may, Astarion decides.

He confesses. His lies, his ill intentions, his betrayal.

“You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

Silence.

Astarion waits for the verdict. It's difficult to decipher Tiriel’s facial expression. Is she sad? Is she disappointed? Will she dump him and go to the wizard’s tent?

Of course, what did he expect? Tiriel opened up to him and he used her body for his own sake.

“Astarion…” Tiriel says. “I am not stupid. I knew what you were trying to do.”

Astarion stares at her in disbelief. What the hells… He expected any response but not that.

“Are you not angry?”

“Why would I be?” Tiriel stands up and smiles. “Astarion, love, if it makes you feel better, I forgive you, but there is nothing to apologize for. You were trying to survive. And you didn’t know any better.”

“And what does it… mean… for us?”

“It means I love you and want to be with you. It means I want to cuddle with you at night and hold your hand by day. It means I want to help you with your master and I know you can protect me in the fight. If you don’t want to have sex, it’s ok, we can be together without it.”

Astarion is so shocked he can’t say anything coherent. He expected tears, curses, and violence. Instead, there is so much softness he is drowning in it.

Tiriel approaches him, Astarion pulls back, his mind rushes, and he clenches his fists but instead of pain, there is just a gentle hug.

Tiriel holds him in her strong arms, pressing her face against his chest.

Astarion hesitates and puts his arms on her back. He might imagine this but he thinks she is smiling.

That night, she brought her few things to his tent. It was weird to share the bedroll with someone else and not have sex. He remembers listening to her quiet breath, to her heartbeat, and then waking up to her playing with his curls.

Tiriel. His love. His wife. His savior. His partner. His friend. His thiramin.

The mother of his child.

Astarion slowly returns to reality. He finds himself in a comfortable bed, not a bedroll, and with a soft pillow under his head.

Home.

He is at home.

At his own place, his and Tiriel’s, in a distant town far from Sword Coast called Daggerlake.

Astarion feels someone is staring

“Good morning, princess,” he mutters, looking at the ceiling.

A three-year-old girl with long silver hair stands on the ceiling as if she was a bat. Her hair is messy, it looks like she’s tried to braid it herself but couldn’t handle a brush. Her black dress makes her look even smaller than she is.

Alethaine doesn’t reply and keeps staring at her dad.

“How long have you been there?” Astarion elbows up. “Is anything wrong?”

Alethaine’s ears twitch and her lower lip quivers. She looks like she is about to cry.

“Princess, use your words,” Astarion lies back on the bed and reaches his hands up. Alethaine immediately falls in his arms.

'When will mum return?’ she finally asks. “She's been away for too long!”

Astarion places Alethaine beside him and his daughter immediately nestles in the crook of his right hand. She is so small, so delicate - like a kitten or a porcelain doll, much smaller than the human children in their town.

“She will be home soon. Maybe in a few days. Depends on how stupid her new companions are,” Astarion says and then he hears a fast heartbeat.

Meanwhile, Aletaine barely breathes and her pale skin is rather cold; she has a natural heartbeat which Astarion adores listening to.

Alive.

Technically, half-alive - Alethaine is a dhampir, after all, but she grows up, she eats, and her heart beats. And what bewilders Astarion is that Alethaine loves being held by him.

“Tell me, princess, were you standing on the ceiling because you’d forgotten when your mum was coming back or did something scare you?” Astarion takes Alethaine’s tiny hand in his and caresses her perfectly pale fingers.

The lower lip quivers again.

Alethaine bursts in tears.

Astarion would always freak out when she started crying but with time he got used to the fact that Alethaine cries because she can. Sometimes it’s genuine crying because of a bruised knee, an unfortunate fall from the ceiling, a dead character in a story, or a nightmare.

But most of the time Alethaine’s cries are her way of communicating she’s been lonely.

Astarion sits up and places Alethaine on his lap.

He manages to decipher a complaint that he’s been sleeping for too long. And also how did he dare not to wake up because she was intensely staring?

“Princess, you are a big girl, look at you, you are almost four! You can spend some time on your own!”

“I am three!”

“You will be four in two months”

“I am three!” Alethaine insists. She immediately stops crying and now she looks a bit angry. “I am three!”

“All right, all right. Are you hungry?”

She shakes her head.

“How about you tell me what you want?” Astarion kisses the crown of her head.

The girl sniffs. The other thing that bewilders Astarion is how much she trusts him. She comes to him when she is scared, when she is hurt, when she just wants to play or read. He was sure she would always prefer Tiriel to him - with the warmth of her mortal body. But no! Alethaine’s tiny world consists of two people - her mother and father – and it fits in one wooden house in the underground part of Daggerlake.

Alethaine trusts her father. Alethaine trusts Astarion with her tiny half-dead heart, that he loves her, that he protects her, and that he will never hurt her.

Astarion hopes he will never disappoint her.

The dhampir then jumps to the floor and walks over to the stack of books. She picks up the third one from the bottom, causing the stack to collapse, and hands the heavy volume to Astarion.

It's a book on the geography of the Lands of Intrigue, a faraway southern region – with maps, pictures, and text in different languages.

“This. I want to read.”

“You want me to read to you or you want to read with me?” he specifies.

“Read to me,” she says. “Please,” she quickly adds.

“How can I say ‘no’ to such a well-behaved young lady?”

At first, Alethaine is deeply concentrated on the text studying the detailed pictures of dragons and monsters but with every page, she gets more restless.

She bares her fangs as if trying to yawn and Astarion notices something is off with her teeth.

“Alethaine, open your mouth,” Astarion asks

Alethaine immediately squeezes her lips and shakes her head.

“Alethaine.”

“No.”

“Alethaine, I will just take a look.”

Alethaine gives up and obliges. She has a full set of baby teeth but her upper fangs are long and pointy. They grew very early when Tiriel was still breastfeeding her and Astarion suspects those fangs cause a lot of discomfort to his daughter.

The inner part of her lower lips bleeds pierced with the fangs. The upper gums are also irritated as if Alethaine rubbed them.

“Does it hurt?”

Alethaine nods.

“Why didn't you say that?”

“I don’t know.”

Astarion would sigh if he could breathe. “Let’s go to see the healer.”

It takes an eternity for Alethaine to put on her clothes. She is constantly distracted - either with a spider crawling on the ceiling, with her dolls, or with the book about the Lands of Intrigue. Astarion suspects she does it on purpose.

The most difficult part is to make Alethaine wear warm boots. The dhampir refuses to acknowledge it’s winter and even though snow doesn't fall underground it is cold outside.

Alethaine wants her black shoes - period. And it doesn’t matter that they are intended for summer and that they are already too small for her feet.

“Alethaine, put on your boots,” Astarion repeats for the fourth time.

“No!” Alethaine cries again “I want this!”

“Then we are not going to the healer.”

“Fine! I don't want to!”

“Then your teeth will keep hurting. And you won’t be able to eat sweets. There will be a lot of cakes and candies at Solstice and you won’t be able to taste any of them.”

Alethaine tries to cry once again, but Astarion pretends he is busy studying a spider crawling on the wall. The dhampir realizes she’s lost this round and puts on the winter boots. Then, she stares at her father.

“Is anything wrong, princess?” Astarion gives out a laugh. Alethaine is so stubbornly adorable.

“Daddy”

“Hm?”

“I can’t lace them.”

Astarion kneels in front of her. “And what do we say when we want something?”

“Please”

“Good girl”

Astarion quickly laces her boots. The rest of the winter clothes are put on without a fight and they finally go outside.

As they walk to the healer's hut, Alethaine rubs her gums, and Astarion catches the scent of droplets of blood. Her blood is different—half-dead. It has a bitter odor, similar to the smell of wormwood. Astarion suspects that the reason dhampirs are immune to vampirism is because vampires get poisoned by tasting the blood of their children.

…The healer, an old halfling woman smokes her pipe outside the hut. Noticing astarion and Alethaine she puts the pipe aside.

“What do you want, creatures of the night? I don’t have blood in storage!”

“Oh I am sorry, I can't hear what you from down there, Kelma”

“Careful Astarion, I am the only healer in this wretched town! Hello, Alethaine, I can see that Dhampirs still feel the cold?”

“Hello,” Alethaine says and smiles, showing her fangs.

The healer invites them inside. Kelma is also the only midwife in the town and it was she who welcomed Alethaine into the world almost four years ago. Astarion remembers that day in every detail. His own fear, the smell of blood, Tiriel’s cries, the newborn’s squeal.

“Where is Tiriel? I thought it was you who made money by dealing with contracts.”

“Tiriel couldn’t say “no” to the prospect of working as a bodyguard in a wyvern-hunting party.”

Astarion sits on the bench and places Alethaine in his lap.

“So what happened?” the halfling asks.

“My teeth hurt,” Alethaine complains. “And my lip bleeds!”

“Open your mouth,” Kelma says and Astarion sees her concern, as she carefully touches the tips of Alethaine’s fangs.

“Is anything wrong?”

“The fangs are too big and scratch her lip. And there is simply not enough space for them.”

“But is it normal?”

“Astarion, you are the only vampire I know and this is the only dhampir I know! I don’t know if it’s normal. All right, Alethaine, I am going to do something, it will hurt for a bit but you will feel better.”

Alethaine glances at her father. Now she looks absolutely helpless.

“Kelma isn’t going to do anything bad,” he assures his daughter.

Alethaine isn’t persuaded.

Kelma takes out a small bottle with liquid and opens it. It probably doesn’t stink that much for the healer but sharpened vampiric senses are immediately averse to it. Alethaine winces.

The halfling touches Alethaine’s gums and rubs the ointment on the delicate skin. The second the healer puts her finger away, the little Dhampir bursts into tears again. Now it’s tears of betrayal because she didn’t expect the medicine to cause an unpleasant sensation.

“Alethaine” Kelma coo. “You are such a big strong girl, don’t cry.”

“It burns!”

“I know,” Kelma chuckles. “Astarion, don’t let her eat for a couple of hours. And now take your tiny copy, I have work to do”

“What did you say?”

“I said take your tiny copy of a daughter and … oh damn, Astarion, I forgot you can’t see yourself in the mirror. She is your copy. And I am not talking about fangs.”

Astarion shakes his head in disbelief.

His copy? Sure, he knows Alethaine has the same silver hair color and skin tone but the rest?

Does he really see himself in her?

“Daad,” Alethaine pulls his arm when they leave the healer’s hut. “Can we go to the surface? I think it’s already night!”

“Yes, why not?”

As they go to the uppertown Alethaine constantly talks. She speaks about everything she sees, and asks dozens of questions including “Why is Kelma so short if she is an adult”, “Why can’t vampires be in the sun”, and “Why does she have fangs and other children in the town don’t”. It doesn’t seem like she pays attention to the answers but Astarion has an uncanny feeling that everything he says is being engraved in her memory for life. And he should choose words carefully.

“Are you sure mum will come back by the Solstice?”

“I am.”

“Will I be an adventurer when I grow up?”

“If you want.”

It's a chilly night and the prickly stars shine in the night sky. There are barely any people outside—most of the townsfolk are halflings and humans deprived of dark vision. As for dwarves, they prefer the company of each other.

Alethaine’s skin looks almost white in the moonlight.

First, they make a snowman—Alethaine insists on adding pointy ears to its head Then, the dhampir tilts her head up and freezes as if seeing stars for the first time.

Maybe she does. She just hasn’t paid attention before.

“Look”, Astarion points at a constellation. “This is the Circle of Swords - seven bright stars forming a circle. The Goddess Mystra has her divine castle in the center of it. And below it—the Ice Snake.”

Astarion wasn’t into astronomy of any sort but once he and Tiriel hit the night road for twenty-four years after leaving Baldur’s Gate and their former companions behind, he found a lot of comfort in observing the stars. Tiriel taught him all that—how to use stars to navigate in darkness. However, she has always preferred her people’s constellation names: Faeraula instead of the Ice Snake and the Circle of Coins instead of Mystra’s Circle.

Alethaine listens to him bewildered by the night starry sky. Suddenly her ears twitch and she turns her head away, to the road leading to the town gates.

And then Astarion catches a familiar scent.

“Mum! Mum!” Alethaine cries out.

Astarion doesn’t need to strain his eyes to see Tiriel in the distance. She probably neither sees nor hears them. But both astarion and Alethaine can already distinguish her winter armor, the hood covering her red hair, and a two-handed ax on her back.

“Mum!” Alethaine cries once again and now it’s enough for Tiriel to hear her.

Alethaine sprints and rushes to her mother. Tiriel kneels, opens her arms and Alethaine jumps in her hands.

Astarion walks toward them as Tiriel smooches Alethaine’s face.

“I suppose I am not the only one in this family who needs to be kissed” Astarion smiles at Tiriel. The warrior stands up holding Alethaine in her arms and kisses him too. First his cheek, then his forehead, and then his lips.

Astarion answers her with the same tenderness. Gods, she is warm even now after spending hours in the freezing winter.

“Dealt quickly with the wyvern?”

“The party couldn’t agree on the strategy and the wyvern burnt them to crisps. I took their loot and left. And the wyvern is flying… somewhere.”

“Oh so you didn’t challenge the wyvern, did you?”

“Hmm, I wanted to fight it alone but then I remembered I have this” she kisses Alethaine’s forehead, “and this,” she kisses astarion once again. “I am a mother and a wife, why take the risk? Besides, there are plenty of monsters I can kill later!”

Astarion takes her bag and the weapon, and all three return to their home under the surface. Alethaine demands to tell her everything about Tiriel’s small adventures and Astarion feels it’s very difficult not to use “bad words” to explain how stupid those companions were.

Astarion grabs Tiriel’s hand tighter, enjoying her warmth.

Their small family looks normal.

Astarion was stripped away from his normality centuries ago. Dead men don’t have homes. They don’t have wives and daughters.

But he does.

A gentle ear rub returns him to reality.

“What happened to her teeth?” Tiriel whispers as they go inside their house. Alethaine naps in her mother’s arms.

“The healer said the fangs grew too early.”

It’s already sunrise on the surface when Tiriel collapses on their bed and asks Astarion not to wake her up even if the wyvern returns and demands a fair duel.

“Come here” Tiriel opens up a thick blanket inviting Astarion. She wraps herself around him like she does since that day they started sharing the tent and immediately drifts to sleep. Astarion tugs her close and relaxes, stealing her body heat.

When she is so close he sometimes thinks his body is warm, too.

Tag list

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dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling · 4 months

Text

I'm a huge fan of Lewis Carroll and his work. The Cheshire cat is my favorite character!

Tadc cast x Cheshire cat Reader

★ A Cheshire cat would fit into the circus well. The circus grounds have many places for you to hide away in. Lots of trees are around the grounds. Perfect for you to lay around in.

★ Pomni would like you better if you told her things without the wordplay or vailed riddles. Why is everything you say so confusing? Cant you just tell her something directly. It would make her life easier.

★ Her favorite thing about you is that you let her take her time. Usually she doesn't have a say in the things that happen around her and to her. If she doesn't want to do something with you, you respect it and let her be.

★ Caine loves the way you talk because it's so whimsical. He enjoys your speech pattern and likes trying to decipher your cryptic way of speaking. You fit in the circus wonderfully, in his opinion.

★ Turning invisible is one of the more unique things Caine's seen a person do. He's pretty tempted to put a bell on you. How can he keep his all seaing eyes on you if you're invisible?

★ You get along well with Zooble. They enjoy how calm you are. Also you don't make them do stuff. That automatically makes you likeable to them. Aside from that, you two often hangout on the sidelines.

★ You have your eyes on Jax. He's a trouble maker and you'd much like to stay away from trouble. The rabbit might be a very bad acquaintance.

★ A watchful eye would be useful to keep Gangle from being pushed around. She gets harassed by Jax more than everyone else. Just chuck an apple at his head when he's up to no good.

★ The difference between him and you is that you know when you've gone too far. At first you steered clear of him, wanting to stay away from the trouble he makes.

★ The two of you would actually get along well if you let yourself get to know him. It would take a bit of time for a friendship to form. And some convincing from Ragatha. But mostly time.

★ You are, undoubtedly, a little insane. Everyone here is, you're just the only person to fully accept it. If you ask Kinger he'd say that he's the only sane one and everyone else is off there rocker.

★ Tea with Kinger is his favorite activity that doesn't involve mealtime, bedtime, adventures or anything else in a 24 hour period. He doesn't really like tea.

★ Kinger is a good friend of yours. When he's having a bad day you remind him that "Imagination is the only weapon in the war with reality" to help him cope.

★ Because you have thumbs, unlike most cats, you can help Ragatha with sewing up her body and dress. She really appreciates the help. When Ragatha has a problem you're the first person she goes to.

★ You help, but in your own way. Advice is what you do best but she (and everyone, really) has to decipher whatever the hell you said. Like "Haste makes waste, so I rarely hurry. But if a ferret were about to dart up my dress, I’d run."

You don't have a dress.

★ Whenever someone asks for clarification on what you say you just turn invisible and walk away. It's for them to find reason in.

189 notes · View notes

cybsoo2 · 3 months

Text

heated red

╰┈➤ synopsis — Min Yoongi is a man of duality. Familiar with the sugary sweet side, you can’t help but be shocked at what hides behind closed doors.

╰┈➤ pairing — yandere!suga x reader

╰┈➤ word count — 3.5k

╰┈➤ content warning — murder, … DETAILED murder, gore, violence, strong language, yandere behavior, angst

Everything about Yoongi is sugary sweet. From head to toe, Min Yoongi is the sun of your universe. Every action and every gesture proves that he’s the world’s best boyfriend.

You two have been dating for just over 2 years now, and it’s nothing short of perfection. At the beginning of your relationship, Yoongi could be mistaken as cold and uncaring; but his shy and thoughtful feelings are what brought you two together. It took some time for you both to become familiar with each other. Yet, Yoongi was determined in his attempts to get to know you. A rough relationship, still fresh and sensitive, bloomed into one of trust and time. Each touch that whispers against your skin says, “I know you, I understand you, I love you.” What Yoongi can't convey with the words that tongue-tie him, he settles to portray in his body language.

His hands always feel so solid from the way they sink into your skin, assuring you of his presence and affection for you. Candy-coated words slide down your throat while he kisses you, mumbling confessions between breaths; “God, I’m so in love with you,” a breathless kiss in between, “I’d do anything for you.” No word he speaks is dishonest and each letter weighs with the seriousness of his admission. His eyes blind you in a heated red with how much fire burns beneath them. Burnt brown eyes, almost burdensome, frequently border on urgent. As if no matter how many times he says the words, it’ll never be enough for you to understand his devotion to you.

Yoongi is loyal, kind, sweet, and everything else in between. You have no doubt that Yoongi will always continue to remain a constant comfort in your life. Although, no matter what way your brain has interpreted his presence, everyone else seems to think otherwise.

Regardless of who you cross paths with, friends, family, or foe, they plant seeds of doubt into your pretty little head. These troubling thoughts fester with wicked intentions and ideas. In Yoongi’s words, “The filth these people spit at you are just lies. Twisting themselves into your opinions and trying to cut me out. They’re just jealous. Don’t talk about them again.” When Yoongi speaks about the people that spill the blood that corrupts your mind, his face turns sour and his eyes shadow dark slits. This harsh look has played on your mind enough for you to stop bringing up the subject completely.

Yet these off comments and anxious looks continue to devour your mind. Whispers pick up in the wind about how Yoongi is a liar. They talk about the dead eyes that contradict the expressive cat-like ones that follow your motions. His heavy hands on your hips don’t match up to the tight grip he takes to the back of your friend’s necks. A warning, or a friendly gesture; you and those around you seem to have two very different ways of deciphering the deeper design of Yoongi’s actions.

Today you felt like you were living life in a maze. Chasing demands from not only your boss, but Yoongi too. You spent the day running around the city until the sun set.

You vividly remember how this morning had gone. Walking in through the elevator, shots of minimalistic grey meet your eye. Stale flowers and sweet perfume waft into the wind. You can’t help but feel small in the presence of such expensive luxury. Girls and guys decorated like dolls in diamonds. Even the blood on their hands shines like rubies. A strike upon the back of your head interrupts your staring.

“What are you doing standing there doing nothing? I’ve got things for you to do.”

You’ve run yourself down running around like a headless chicken. Searching across town for the products and tasks you’ve been sent to complete. Vain efforts that are impractical and impossible.

Once the hand hits 5 and your work is done for the day, Yoongi had texted you asking a few favours. No matter how drained you were, you could never refuse a request from him. You dragged your drowsy self into the driver’s seat and prayed the time would go by fast.

It did not. It seemed as if Yoongi was persistent that you stay running into endless walls and dead-ends. Too many things out of stock, nonexistent, or a million miles away. The stars start to shine in the sky, mirroring the way your eyes glisten with galaxies of exhaustion.

The drive home is a blue blur. Your head mixes up time with tiredness, and your sore eyes paint watercolour tears over your surroundings. This bleary fog blinds you, and once it lifts the slightest bit, you find yourself standing at the front door.

When you walk through the door, you wish you hadn’t. Yoongi’s kneeled over someone, it would look intimate if it wasn’t for the muffled screams and rageful roars that harmonize in the air. He’s shouting at her, choking and stumbling through laughter that never seizes. She’s trying to scream, but his hand holds a rag that’s shoved halfway down her throat. A dirted knife is held in his other.

You can barely recognize the women beneath her own blood and carnage, but you manage. You’re able to distinguish the bleached blonde hair that he rips from her scalp. The array of hair sprawled out around the two bodies guides your eyes to the bejeweled earrings you set your sights upon only hours earlier. This gore has glossed over the diamonds, leaving them dull and lifeless.

You remember the face that matched the gems, young and confident. That pearly white smile that once had you feeling envious has been knocked off her cocky grin. You’re able to pinpoint her place above you. Her, the idolized icon and you as her dirty dog.

She’s your manager, or maybe she won’t be when Yoongi’s finished with her. She adopted you to be her pet. A plaything to possess in her position of power. Always replaceable and inevitably desperate, you played along with her game to keep your job. It paid well and the benefits were more than anyone could ever hope for. In a game of pain and promise, you chose the former in order to receive the latter. This tiresome torture laid an ache in your heart, yet Yoongi was there to stitch back the pieces. Giving yourself up to be teased and toyed with by a tyrant allowed you to have a peaceful life with Yoongi, separate from the harm.

Yet sometimes, in the blue afternoon when the world is set to silence, the stinging sadness slips through the cracks. You’ve never been good at keeping things hidden from Yoongi, and you’d like to assume the same for him too. You strained your sore throat through the crying and told Yoongi about everything that happens daily at work. Her taunts that leave you tense and the impossible tasks she’d give only to punish you after you failed to complete them.

Your rampant rant had left you tired and you leaned up against his chest. The only sound that made sense in your mind was the rushing red flowing through his heart. A serene song that serenades you to sleep. You counted the beats as you drifted off into dreamland. 1, a heart that keeps Yoongi alive. 2, a heartbeat that means he’s here. 3, a heartache that tears him apart.

You couldn’t see it then, off in euphoria while Yoongi laid wide awake. But a bloodshot look with black pupils bled misery down his features. Hot and steady, sorrow fell off his face and the teardrops kissed your skin. Yoongi’s head and heart had been set ablaze into a state of chaos. Hot fury and cold desperation confused him. He’s angry and sad all at once. Although, much like any other time, his rage outweighed the anguish and fiery eyes ignited.

This was 3 days ago. Yet now you stand amidst an annihilation. The bloodbath soaks every surface of your home. Lost pieces of hair, skin, and claret carnage find their way upon tabletops and splattered across the walls. The sight steals your breath, making you a mute statue in this red revelation. After minutes of struggling with a swollen tongue and stolen speech, you squeak out his name in surprise.

“Yo-Yoongi,” the words leave your lips tainted in tragedy. You can barely make out a single syllable from the flood of nausea that rushes through you. You sound so betrayed, it sends a hot hell-fire burning through Yoongi. The knife clatters to the floor when he whips his head up to face you.

“Y/n!” His gasp is laced with feverish panic that leaves his heart racing. Liquid white agony tangles itself through his veins.

Once Yoongi directs all his attention to this distraction, the victim on the ground struggles against the dark burden of death. Her shrill scream pierces the silence as she whips her head back and forth in hysteria. Her own mindless panic causes her to smack her head against the wooden floorboards 10 times over. Blood sprays every which way as she mindlessly flails her lost limbs. It’s pathetic to watch her squirm under the inevitable circumstances. Severed stumps replace what was once her arms. Her legs fare no better; mutilated beyond repair, the joints cause their appendages to stick up in an unflattering way.

The girl’s ear splitting shrieks muddled together with her own blood continue on without stopping. The inhumane noises are both maddening and horrifying to two different people.

Yoongi feels his irritation rise to a breaking point. The fucked up bitch lying desperate on the floor is trying to ruin his chances of explanation.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He roughly grabs her head and bashes it into the floor until she stops screaming. She’s left a mangled mess upon the ground. Skin slit in every direction, and cuts ripped apart from the force of his anger. Brain matter spills out the back of her dented cranium. Her whole body twitches before falling into a limp pile amongst the bloodshed.

Yoongi stands back up from his place knelt over her corpse. He frantically attempts to wipe off the scarlet sins that stain his hands. With a wild fever, Yoongi rubs his hands raw onto his pants and shakes his head in stress. You can see the way the stress sinks into his eyes as well, red-rimmed and tearing up as they stare into you.

“Y/n, y/n please. Please listen.” Each word is slurred together from the tears and terror that take hold of him. He rushes toward you in desperation and you watch as his eyes widen when you step back. “Please, this doesn’t mean anything. I still love you, I LOVE YOU!” His hopelessness destroys his composure as he begins yelling in order to get his message across. Seeing you flinch and fail to hide the fear in your watery eyes leads Yoongi to take a different approach. “I love you, I love you. This is just proving how much you mean to me.” He’s reached you now. Standing six inches away and tugging your figure to fall into him. “I’d do anything for you.” He mumbles his declaration in a low tone. He matches your misty eyes and stares into you.

He holds half your weight, keeping your knees from giving in and dropping you downwards. He keeps you pushed gently against the wall and pressed into his chest. His hands keep your head cradled gently as he moves to hug you close.

He lays kisses along your jawline and makes his way up, hoping that if he tries hard enough, he’ll be able to subdue the sadness. He’s counting the crystals as they fall and making sure they don’t double.

Yoongi hates seeing you cry. His hands shake along with yours as the remorse for his actions flows through him. Although don’t be mistaken, his repentance should not be confused with regret. No, Yoongi doesn’t regret killing that filthy bitch at all. Pride swells in his chest and he chokes back a smile from reminiscing on her screams. Yoongi instead is regretful of not being more careful. He should’ve hidden this better. Shouldn’t have gotten caught up in the rush and been careless with his decisions. He wishes you never would’ve seen that.

Your tears leave tracks in the bloodshed he’s spilled upon you. Your cries have been shushed into small sniffles, but you feel all the same. Shock has taken over your limbs, leaving them heavy for him to carry. All thoughts have been blown out of your head at the drop of this bombshell.

What were once lipstick marks are now bloodstains. He continues to kiss the pain away. Dragging his lips slowly up your neck and back down lower. These ruby smudges leave raised marks when his caressing begins to hold back an anger. If you could get your mouth to mutter easy words, then you would tell him that his lips sting. His kisses feel like bleach to bare skin. The trails he traces down your body leave shadows of his sins. Each peck he places on your pink cheeks holds the memories of the shouts he yelled only moments prior.

“Let me get you cleaned up.” His husky whisper is placed at the base of your jaw. He pulls himself away far enough to look in your eyes. Your foreheads almost touching and your warm breath being shared between you. When you don’t resist he places a final kiss to your lips before steadying you against him once more.

He’s patient and careful in the way he puppeteers your movements. Taking control of each limb as if it’s his own. He towers over you with the way he holds you. Your feet placed atop his, he walks you two, slow and steady, to the bedroom. Placing you down on the bed, he keeps you safe with your head nestled into his neck. He kisses the top of your head and lingers. Grabbing the hem of your shirt, he asks a question that only stills in the quiet.

“Good?” There’s no response. He bends down a tad bit further to try and look into your drowsy eyes. Your head hung so heavy against his collarbone only lets him move so far. “Tell me if you’re uncomfortable.” He takes off your top, moving to your pants, and then follows with your underwear. Empathetic emotions sway his movements as every action is taken bit-by-bit. Taking your body’s behavior as a guiding force on what causes your anxiety to jump. Strong, sharp movements cause you to recoil and a voice that resembles even a hint of a shout or gravely tone sends shivers up your spine. Your goosebumps travel across Yoongi’s skin too.

Now you’re left bare and sensitive under his skin. Yoongi works to avoid your empty eyes. Instead, he makes sure to support your vulnerable soul. You’ll remain in his arms where he’ll keep you warm and safe. He clings to your fading existence as he takes you into the bathroom. He holds a patient pace, wary of the wind that might steal away more pieces of you.

He tears his clothes off in a blur, focused on attending to you. Sitting you on the edge of the bathtub, he reaches over to turn on the shower. Each minute is counted in Yoongi’s head as he waits for the water to warm up. One hand extended out to feel the heat, and the other rested on the crown of your head. You rest against his stomach, forehead sticking to his stress induced sweat. So limpid and lazy, you don’t even take the chance to outstretch yourself and grasp onto him. His waist is cold without your arms wrapped around it. Your brittle breath against his belly-button only startles the man instead of teasing a lustful heat that such a position would usually bring. You just lay like a dead doll against him. So silent and still you can almost hear the snakes that stir up a storm in his stomach.

When the water is a tender temperature, Yoongi picks you up from the meat of your thighs and slides you two into the steam. You stay standing under the water for a while; waiting and watching as time continues its cascade. Yoongi tries to take away all the blood smeared across both of you. Slender hands slide across your skin, rubbing at the red until it washes away.

His actions soon become more aimless as he grows selfishly desperate to feel your soul. His hands laid heavy upon your hips. His grip tightens and he places meaningless pecks anywhere he can find. His fingernails press a little too deep into your pink flesh, yet there’s no reaction to the pain. His hands work in a flurry to fist any piece of skin he can latch onto. Your wet bodies are so close you’re on the verge of blurring into one. So close, yet Yoongi still can’t feel you. There’s no life beneath his fingertips.

Your despondency startles him. Usually your energetic nature is what he relies on most. A permanent piece of his life that never changes and never falters. Just looking at you now, feeling the cold statue in his arms, he wants to cut himself to shreds attempting to bleed out this displeasure. Even if it is his own doing, he’ll make sure he’s also the one to fix you.

Yoongi starts by shifting you both so you can sit in the base of the bathtub. He reaches to the shelf above your head and grabs the shampoo. His hands work their way through your hair. He detangles the knots from both your curls, and hopefully your mind. Yoongi has always been so meticulous in everything he does. He takes long, languid movements to assure no soap gets in your eyes. And when a droplet slips past his grasp, he’ll kiss away the escapee while grimacing at the suds his tongue tastes.

His caring efforts are used to calm himself just as much as they are meant for you. He’s trying to distract himself from his uneven breathing that edges the line of a mental breakdown. His rasping continues as he now reaches for the second bottle above you.

Once again, Yoongi works to lather the conditioner in his hands before smoothing it through your hair. He’s petting you how someone would comfort a dog, or console a crying child. Each easy touch he makes in order to not startle you any further. When he grabs the soap, he’s diligent with his motions. Efficient at scrubbing you clean, but tender in the way he maneuvers you.

An hour washes itself down the drain. The water has run cold and the stream has cooled away. Yoongi takes your hands and wraps them around his neck before picking you up. He places you on the bathmat and reaches to grab a towel. You're patted dry before being wrapped in the dirty towel. Lifted up again, the man in front of you takes another dry towel off the rack. Yoongi is shaking from the frigid temperature that creeps around him. This feeling could be the least of his worries and he only pays attention to scaring away the icy droplets from your hair. He smooths your hair in one stroke with the towel then follows up by softening your strands with a brush. This two step process continues until Yoongi has been completely air-dried by the bitter cold. Random but repeated chills bite along his bare back and stir up shivers.

Atrophy sets in when Yoongi begins to dress you. You're shock-still and there are no signs of it stopping. Unstirring and motionless, set to fall unless Yoongi was there to hold you. It’s significantly more difficult to dress you, so Yoongi only settles for underwear and one of his shirts. He decides to only wear boxers, opting to show you the most humane and vulnerable parts of himself. He leaves himself defenseless, ready to accept anything you give him. You’re pulled and pushed until you settle into the sheets. Both Yoongi and the bed wrap around you. Clinging to every empty space of you, they work to make you warm and soft for sleep.

Yoongi pushes himself closer against you and tugs at the covers to bring them up higher. His bitten lips lay resting on the nape of your neck. He navigates his hands through the blankets to find your own. He noses the back of your neck and wishes pretty pleas for you to wake up like none of this ever happened

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” His melody of the sincerest apologies sings you to sleep. His hymn echoes off the shadowed walls of the bedroom and settles into background noise. The soft words vibrate against your back, almost resembling a purr. Saccharine sorrys and repeats of “Don’t be afraid, I’d never hurt you,” are mumbled until Yoongi loses his voice. His sore throat stings with a metallic taste.

Feverish determination ends up sedating his sorrows. He’ll guide you into his good graces once again. He’s patient and gentle. As time tumbles onwards, he’ll be the best boyfriend once again, because everything about Yoongi is sugary sweet.

207 notes · View notes

blueparadis · 1 year

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❝ GOOD GIRL ❞ + AKI HAYAKAWA.

+. CWs —» f!reader, m!oral, f→m receiving, cum-play, corruption k!nk; word count — 1kish

+. PRECIS —» Sometimes Aki takes a little advantage as your supervisor.

+. NOTES —» each and every brain cell is soaked in his thoughts which is quite shocking for me since I'm Yoshida stan but oh well we shall see; to read more of my works browse through navigation links.

One and a half months of being under division four. One and a half months yet all he did was to howl orders to all the members in his unit. You didn't anticipate how you would end up working under him given the fact he was once your supervisor.

Aki was anything but professional. He shared his half burnt cigarettes, listened to your stories with rapt attention about how you ended up being from ordinary college girl to a devil hunter. Sometimes he would hit the bar with you and he did all of it in the name of breaking ‘rules are meant to be broken’.

If you were to tell these to anyone in his unit they would probably think you were talking about someone else but fortunately you don't have a habit of rambling if things became haywire. And things did become haywire.

It seems like a common notion to conclude that you wouldn't be under the same division led by your supervising officer. Aki believed that too yet he could not help but bring you home after you nailed your first hunt.

“Open your mouth.” Aki snarls, looking down at you as you sit on his bed, folding your legs, with your knees kissing the bed sheet.

“Why … ?”, your voice drifts as his eyes meticulously scan you from head to torso. Your eyebrows jump deciphering his thoughts. “But I’ve... never...” you stammer, struggling to put it in words let alone do what he demands of you.

“sucked a cock, yea ?. Right” Aki finishes, holding your chin up so he has your eyes at him. He rejoices at the bashful sight of yours, eager to try yet unaware of how to proceed.

You lick your lower lip feeling the warmth smothering your cheeks carefully conveying, . “y... y-es. never... did that.”

Your sheepish whisper, the coyness in your glimmering pupils that is roaming all over the dim apartment room of his refusing to look at him and those perfectly plush lips that declines to say the word makes Aki’s heart bubble with joy.

He wishes to fuck you in all positions known to a man. He wants to fuck you on this very bed you are seated to the point that your supple skin becomes flush, your pussy all sore, your mind betraying you.

But he can wait. He wants to wait, wait and see how long this ivory facade of yours is gonna last.

“come on, you've never . . .” Aki demands, lips curving in delight hoping that you'd say the word, imagining how lewd you'd look. He grasps your chin as you blink and manage to blurt out, “i... i’ve never sucked a... cock... before.”

Aki grins , his cock pulsating inside his pants as he leans closer to your face, crouching so he could look your eager eyes. “you will ... now.”, he rasps finally releasing his cock from his pants, pumping it a few times in front of your astonished face before lining it up to your mouth. You clear your throat staring at his girth.

“i don’t know how...” , Aki’s brow jumps in fascination, “hold and spit on the head.” what on earth did he do to have to go through all these? Not that he complains but he has experienced sloppy blow jobs to mind ravaging ones that made him never go for the inexperienced ones.

But here you’re, his one and a half months subordinate, popular and demanding devil hunter who has not only managed to occupy his bed but also his mind.

“wh-at?” you blink at him, lips slightly brushing against the swollen head of his cock. Aki brings froth his cock closer to your mouth while holding your head in place so as to push the tip to your lips, to open by lightly grazing.

“ lick it, the pre. . . a good girl should.”You open your mouth slightly, feeling your pussy clenching around nothing when his precum spills on your tongue. You squeeze your eyes shut wrapping your mouth around the head.

“fuck,” Aki hisses, spreading his feet on to the floor mat , toes curling to prevent himself from jamming his cock into your mouth.

“Yeah, like that.”, he assures as half of his cock enters your mouth, saliva coating your mouth due to inexperience which Aki finds to be an undeniably alluring sight. A soft moan escapes your lips, eyes widening to glance at him with your brows pinching together as you notice him let out a groan. He only smirks at you encouraging you.

“you’re doing great, baby,” Aki cooes, watching as you struggle to suck him all in. “like that. Mmgh...just like that,” his words roll smoothly, eyes focusing on your stretched lips that are wrapped around his cock. You work your mouth wider, throat bobbing to adjust to his length touching the back of your throat.

“Wait…ugh… stop.” Aki’s voice becomes ragged that makes your heart drop instantly, you're not sure why that is.

“lick it.”, he instructs in one breath without meeting the eye.You glup all your wary before flattening your tongue ready to lick on his silky smooth shaft.

You accumulate a little bit of courage to lick and suck half-way of his throbbing member, occasionally earning more of his low moans. This is why he likes to work with you, a few straight directions and you're quick enough to build your own pace.

He cups your face with both of his palms before snapping his hips forward, making your nose graze the skin above his cock. You gag, tears suddenly pooling at the corner of your eyes yet Aki refuses to stop. He slowly thrusts in and out, his grip getting stronger trying his best not to lose control.

“take it,” he grunts. “All. Of. It”Aki never bothered to have a memory of how many times he had his cock sucked by different girls who has worked with him and who has not worked with him. Sometimes, he doesn't even bother to know the name unless they’re from his line of work.

He rarely sullies his professional relationship. He has no iota of idea of how many times he has shot his cum down someone else’s throat while still face-fucking them. You are no where to be labelled as skilled.

However, he can't deny that this one would imprint on his mind. Aki groans head inclining upwards with his Adam's apple being pronouncedly on display. “holy fuck,” he utters as his fluid fills your mouth, some escaping along the lines of your lips, some spilling on bedsheets. He pulls out his cock jerking a few times before zipping it up inside his pants.

And as he does he looks at you amazed how your cheeks are bulged, a lazy pout forming on your face. “swallow it” he pants rashly and you obey him without a second thought gulping his fluid down. You tore your gaze away immediately licking your lips thinking of what to do now, fidgeting with the loose ends of your unbuttoned shirt.

Aki still finds its amusing how a skilled devil hunter like you ended up being his subordinate. He thinks you're quite skilled to be a solo operator or perhaps he has grown fond of your pretty face.

“Good girl,” Aki chimes with a smile before kissing your puffy lips pushing you down to the soft mattress. There is a reflexive resistance as he desperately sucks your lips. You hum before caving in to his kiss as he proceeded to your neckline.

“God, you're so cute.”, and in that moment you regretted it, all of these, letting your heart soak in desires and affection. Perhaps,he did too when you desperately clawed his back as you deepened the kiss.

—

@akicore , @tokyometronetwork

2K notes · View notes

artists-ally · 3 months

Text

{She Gets The Flowers, Right?} Reader x Lucien {Pt.2}

Welp. Here we are. Didn't know this was gonna happen. I had ZERO INTENTIONS of writing a part two but I basically got cyber bullied into making another so here ya go fuckers. Someone literally threatened to stop taking their meds so to whoever that was I hope you get to keep your kidney! Enjoy! This part is inspired by this song.

Word Count: 6,111

Warnings: ANGST (yall thought you’re gonna get a happy ending? HAHAHAH) Some pretty negative self talk.

Tagging: @bubybubsters @cyrygher @thelov3lybookworm @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @anuttellaa @lookingforamissingpage @thehighlordishere @crazylokonugget

Summary: In the days and weeks that follow your downfall with Lucien, he has no fucking clue how to go about life without you. He can’t cope. And he desperately wants to fix everything with you.

~~~~~~~

LUCIEN’S POV

I have made the biggest mistake of my entire life. I thought that would be reserved for not being able to protect Jesminda. No. This… this is… I don’t even know.

I’m just standing on the sidewalk, staring at our- her home. At the rustic, auburn door we painted. At its brass knob, at the rusty, creaking hinges that would ring through the house when someone came in. At the little potted plant in the corner, the vines spilling out of it.

I’ll never be back here again.

I’ll never get to hear her laugh.

I’ll never get to taste her new recipes.

I will never be able to take all that I said back. That is the most haunting feeling of it all.

I’m an awful person. After all she’s done for me. After saving my life– on more than one occasion– I went and did nothing in return. I gave her nothing for her endless kindness. All I was capable of doing was destroying the one person in my life who has given me everything I’ve ever wanted.

Unconditionally. She always loved me unconditionally. How could I have been so blind and naive to it? How did I never see it?

Gods every single time she made me something to eat, a recipe to try… she was basically shoving the bond in my face, hoping I would see it. And I never ever considered it. I was so lost in Elain. Lost in the fact that I finally had feelings for someone after Jesminda… Not once did I think it could be Yn.

I don’t deserve her. I never did. I was a bitter, rotten shell of a man when she met me. She dragged me by the arms to her house to fix me. She thought I was worthy of being saved when my own father thought the opposite. Yn put me back together. She made me who I am. And this is the thanks I give her?

Elain has said all of ten sentences to me in the past year. I haven’t been able to do anything but replay every single one of them in my head. A thousand times– a hundred thousand times. I wish I couldn’t. It’s exhausting. Constantly thinking of her. But I don’t have a choice.

I like the feeling of being able to feel again. But at the cost of Yn? At the complete sacrifice of all I’ve known for the past century? My rock? My best friend? Nothing is worth more.

But it is far too late to do anything about it. I’ve lost her.

I want her back.

Yn did things to me that no one else could. She just seemed to know when things were wrong. She always knows what to say, when to say it, and how. She never tells you what you want to hear, it’s always what you need. She is the most well rounded person I’ve ever met. She’s never afraid to feel her emotions.

I envy that skill.

I’ve always hid my feelings deep down. It took years to decipher them again. But it was Yn who made me do it. She always fought for me, fought me for me. Yn never let me do it alone. Refused to, actually. Was there every step of the way and never told me I was taking too long or wasting her time.

I get it now.

And there is nothing I can do. I have nowhere to go. Tears scald my eyes as I trudge down the little path that we beat into the grass. Day in and day out.

I remember when we picked this place. We had only been in Velaris for a week or two when we stumbled across it. It was run down and needed a new roof. As a thank you for keeping Feyre safe on our journey across the Courts, Rhysand gifted it to us. Complete with a new roof, new furniture, a new kitchen for Yn to cook in. And he let us be. Well, let her be. I still had my debts to pay off.

And then I met Elain and… fuck. Everything went to shit after that.

There is no way of processing all of these emotions at once. These very real feelings I still have for Elain. And these all-of-a-sudden very fucking real feelings I now have for Yn. It’s how I imagine imploding feels like. My body wants to cave into itself and never fold back out.

I pray to the Cauldron that I do self destruct. This feeling, a mixture between irrational rage and betrayal… I don’t wish it upon another living soul. And Gods know I’d sell mine to change everything I’ve just done.

I don’t even know how I ended up at the Town House. All of a sudden I was just standing in front of it. I normally resent coming here, but for some reason I was relieved to see the bricks and busted up cobblestone sidewalk. Maybe no one would be here; Rhys was more often than not at the River House with Feyre and Nyx, indulging in the life of parenthood. Nesta and Cassian were probably somewhere in the House of Wind with Elain, Mor at Rita’s, Amren with Varian, and who the hell knows where Azriel is.

I can’t wait to be alone to scream.

Fuck, the door is locked. Of course the door is locked, no one’s here. It takes every bit of control in my shiver-ridden body to not rip the door off its hinges. And it takes even more control to not collapse against the door and break down for the whole street to see.

The lock clicks and the door opens.

I force myself to appear relaxed. I wipe my tears and brush away my loose strands of hair. No use. My face is probably as red as the burning self hatred inside my twisted heart.

“What are you doing here Lucien?” The High Lord asks.

I gulp. Of all the people, it had to be him? At least it’s not Azriel, I think. I might hate him more than I hate myself. For actually getting Elain’s attention. Yn was right, I am selfish. “Sorry, didn’t realize you were in.”

“Did you leave something?” I don’t move, and I stay deathly still. Rhys looks me head to toe, and I know he can scent me from a mile away. “Lucien, what the fuck did you do?”

“Stay the fuck out of my head,” I snarled, pointing a finger at his chest.

“I don’t need to read your thoughts. Your face says it all.” Rhys crosses his arms over his chest, “Look, we’ve all told you that Elain is hard to reach these days. She isn’t worth-”

“This… this doesn’t have anything to do with Elain.” I lied. He seemed to know it. “Can I just come in?”

Rhys just steps aside, shutting the door behind me. “I don’t really have time for-”

“I fucked up.”

“Clearly.”

“Rhysand,” I said. So full of disgust. He looked at me with a blank expression. One I have seen too many times to not know what comes next. I eased up my tone. “Is anyone else here?”

“No,” he answers, moving around me and heading into a study on the other side of the living room.

I can’t help but think of how we all gathered in that living room a few months ago for Solstice. Exchanging gifts and drinks and smiles and stories. I vividly remember making Yn laugh so hard she tipped her head over the arm of the couch, sending her wine tumbling to the ground. The stain still on the small rug almost makes me smile, and it almost makes me burst into tears.

“I ruined everything in my life. Yn’s gone.” I could feel the air freeze around me. “Not like, gone gone but she’s… I don’t think I’ll ever be seeing her again.”

“So this is because of Elain.”

I bit my tongue so hard I thought I’d bite it off completely. But I sighed, the tears coming with it. “Yes.” A really long pause. “She told me I’m-”

“You’re Yn’s mate?”

“Yes.”

“And you never knew because you were so focused on Elain.” “Is that supposed to be a question?”

“It was, but you just gave me your answer,” Rhys sat. “Do you want me to keep guessing or are you going to tell me what happened?”

I took the biggest breath I could, steading my words. “I missed the opening of her restaurant because I was with Elain.”

Rhysand looked at me with such revulsion that I thought he might put me through a wall. Those wicked, violet eyes could’ve boiled my bones. For a split second I wished he would. I could tell he wanted to say something, but I don’t think there were enough words in the world for how much of an awful person I was.

“There are things in this world that we sacrifice in this world Lucien,” Rhys said.

Hesitantly, “I know.”

“And Yn gave up the biggest of them all. She shut her mouth to let you be happy. She did what I did for Feyre until she realized what situation she was in. You are one spineless bastard for doing anything but giving your life to her.”

“I know.”

“Have you any idea what you’ve done to her? She gave you everything you could ever ask for. From the moment the two of you stepped in my Court I could tell she only had eyes for you. When you are in the room you’re the only one she looks at. How could you have not known?”

“I don’t know…” “Yes, you do.”

I plunged my nails into my palms. “For Cauldron's sake Rhysand of course I know.”

“Then why did you continue to ignore Yn?”

“Because I couldn’t ever let myself think a female like her would like such a broken, dismantled and lost soul like mine.” Rhysand stared at me. “When Yn pulled me from the border to fix me, she spent every waking moment of her life stringing my mind and body into one piece. If I let myself think for even a second that it was anything other than kindness, I would’ve gone mad.”

“Would it have been so terrible to love her?”

“I’ve always loved her. I just never thought I’d be allowed to love her the way she loves me.”

“Because of Elain?” “Because of Elain.”

Rhys blew out a breath, sitting down on the corner of his desk. “So, let me see if I have all of this correct. You wouldn’t let yourself fall for Yn because you thought you were unworthy. Instead, you sabotaged both of your happiness for Elain simply because she was your mate and you just wanted to feel something?”

“It sounds so much more fucked when you say it outloud.” I rubbed my hands over my tired, burning eyes. “And it’s not just because she’s my mate, Rhys. I genuinely like her. She’s… she has the potential to be so sweet. I’ve seen glimpses of it, heard stories from Feyre and Nesta. Why won’t she let me see?”

“You are still clueless, aren’t you?” He scoffed. “Here you are, a ruined man because you drove away your best friend, and you’re still worried about someone who doesn’t want you. Pathetic. You are a selfish son of a bitch.”

“I can’t just ignore Elain. It’s impossible to think of anything else but her and how I can help her.” “Lucien,” Rhysand stopped me from going on another tangent. “Maybe start considering that she doesn’t want you.”

“What?” My lip trembled. “N-No she… we have a bond. It’s there she just needs time. I’m her mate, she’ll want one eventually.”

“Just like Yn will want one?” His eyes were as viscous as the tone of his voice. “You are doing the same thing to Yn that Elain is doing to you. You understand how that feels. Now imagine that Elain was the one you found on the border of the Spring Court and you spent decades nursing her mind back into her body. Recreating her personality and passions. Wouldn’t you be a little fucking irate if she started showing interest in another male after all you did for her?”

I froze.

This was so much deeper than I ever thought it could be. But I could see it. Bringing Elain back to herself all for it to be thrown away by another male. Azriel filled that roll, and I was filled with raw fury at the mere thought of that happening.

“So now you see what Yn has been dealing with. And Gods, Lucien, she has been dealing with it for a long while. What you did was wrong, unjust, and unfair. And for you to be with Elain on the day of her grand opening, where all of us just were, is… that may be unforgivable.”

“I don’t deserve to be forgiven for what I’ve just done…”

My shoulder hunch, and my chest cracks. I am a bleeding mess of tears. I can barely stand as I openly sob in front of Rhys. I’m surprised when he shoves a chair under me instead of letting me crumble to the floor in my self induced agony. And I’m even more surprised when he puts a hand on my shoulder.

It’s Yn. It’s always been Yn. There is nothing in this world that can compare to her or her kindness or her love. What a fool I have been to not take the hand that was given me. What a selfish, self-serving waste of a man I have been to her.

I can’t take it. I have to have her back. I have to fix this. I have to. I have to. I have to.

I stand. “Woah, what are you doing?” Rhys tried to get me to sit down.

“Yn- I have to fix this with Yn-”

“No,” Rhys slams me back into the chair. “You are not going to march back over there.”

“I have to,” I yelled. “I can’t let her kick me out without her knowing that I’m sorry. That I’ll do anything she wants me to to win her back. I can’t be without her, I need her.”

“She kicked you out?” I nodded. “You’re not going anywhere. She clearly doesn’t want to see you. Nothing you could say to her would suffice. Especially right now. She needs time. She needs space. If I find out that you go back to your- her house, I’ll drop you back in the Spring Court, do you understand me?”

I nod viciously.

“Good,” Rhys let out a heavy breath. “You can have your old room back. Nothing in it but a few storage boxes. Everything is otherwise untouched.” Great. My old memories to haunt me. Just what I needed. For a very short week we stayed here. Yn’s room was right across from mine. Just another reminder of everything that’s happened between now and then.

I slump in the seat, letting tears trickle down my nose and onto my knee. Watching them evaporate and dry, just for the material to be soaked again. “I’m so sorry Yn…”

I heard Rhys whirl around, and I could feel the tension across the room. He probably thinks I’m mad. I might as well be.

More footsteps sounded than people in the house and Cassian walked in the room. Luckily I was facing away from him. “Don’t tell me he’s a part of our special detachment.”

I rolled my eyes. Cassian, ever the charming.

“No, he’s… well, he’ll be living here for a little while.”

“Do I wanna know?”

“It’s none of your business,” I snapped. No one spoke. I sighed for what felt like the billionth time today. “Sorry.”

“What happened?” Cassian asked, coming to stand next to me, his body reeking of sweat and dirt. All I had to do was lift my head and I think he understood enough. That or Rhys told him. “I won’t say anything cause I’ll probably just make it worse.”

“Probably,” Rhys nodded.

“Probably.” My eyes burned, so did my skin. “I have to get all my stuff out tomorrow. She told me to.”

“Then you’ll do it tomorrow. Not tonight, tomorrow. Respect her wishes, or I will make you.”

“I heard you the first time.”

“We’ll be back,” Rhys grabbed a few things from his desk then ushered Cassian out the door. “Don’t do anything. Just stay here.”

It could’ve been twenty minutes or two hours until I finally moved upstairs. Forcing myself to not go to Yn’s room was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. All the conversations we had, all the plans we made. It’s where she first got the idea of her restaurant. She literally had a dream and made it a reality.

I’d be lying if I said I told her how proud of her I was. I never have. Why have I never told her that? Could I really have been that caught up in Elain that… Wow. It’s funny how you only realize after the fact.

My bed caught me as I collapsed into it, tucking my knees into my chest. I am such a loser. Pathetic. Just like Rhys said. My heart would burn up and die at this rate. It was a mystery how I hadn’t burst into flames yet.

There are so many things I need, and Yn takes the top of the list. She had always been everything I needed. When I needed comfort, I went to Yn. When I needed solutions, I went to Yn. When I needed answers, to be heard, to be validated, to be loved… who was I supposed to go to now? Definitely not Rhys or Cassian, and certainly not Elain.

Maybe for the first time ever I wanted nothing to do with Elain. I didn’t want to see her. I couldn’t care less if I ever saw her again. Her presence in my life has done nothing but tear my other relationships apart.

She’s the reason I’m here in this mess.

_____

At some ridiculous hour of the night– morning? Is that the sun?– I heard the door open. I shot up, then deflated down. I wasn’t in my bed. I wasn’t at home. And that wasn’t Yn walking in the door.

Every thought and emotion rushed back into my head, creating an endless tangle of thoughts. The next more horrid and self destructive than the last. I deserve it.

Missing the opening of her restaurant, Latibule–an ancient word for refuge or safe place–was the biggest mistake of my life. I will never be able to make that up to her. I turned her biggest accomplishment into a slimy, diseased memory. I ruined what was supposed to be the best night of her life.

I’ve let her down in a way I’ll never be able to repair.

Even Rhys and Feyre were there last night. And I wasn’t. Nesta and Cassian. Azriel, Amren, Mor… they were all there, supporting her. And I was with Elain. She probably wanted to go, and I was there, holding her back.

I need to get out of this room before it crushes me whole.

I could see the sun just barely peeking over the Sidra when I stepped outside, cloak wrapped tightly around my head and shoulders to keep out the early morning bite.

There wasn’t a soul around, Velaris still blissfully asleep besides this one small corner store that sold hot tea and pastries all hours of the day. Rustling in my pocket was just enough for a peach turnover and a cherry blossom tea.

The bell chimed above the door as I walked in, knocking my boots against the step to not track dirt in.

“Early start to the day, Luc?” Ms. Immy smiled from behind the counter, polishing a few mugs before moving to come to the display case, packed full of delicious goods, savory and sweet.

“Unfortunately,” I sighed. “Couldn’t really sleep.”

“Well I am glad to have you in, the usual?”

“That would be great, Ms. Immy.”

The lovely owner of the bakery was Ms. Immy. One of the older members of the Night Court but as wise as they come. She’s the kindest, most gentle fae to roam Prythian. With her soft, sage green eyes and long, slender ears adorn with piercings, Ms. Immy was by far one of my favorites here.

The kettles whistled behind her as she dipped a tea bag into my mug. Ms. Immy always had designated mugs for her regular customers. Mine was made of green clay, mostly green with a white oval on the front with two lines of flowers. In the center of it all was a simple fox. She once told me that I had the spirit of one of those extinct creatures in the human lands. That I was reserved, and at my core I fiercely protected those I cared about.

If only I had been able to protect Yn from myself.

Her mug had been one crafted of the moon and the stars. With all the constellations of the Gods being lifted into the air by the magic of the Cauldron. Ms. Immy had told her it was a visual representation that Yn was a great reminder of the past to the current world. That she was lost art that was to never be forgotten.

There is nothing I want more than for the rest of the world to be loved as fiercely as she had loved me.

“Here is your tea, Lucien,” Ms. Immy set the mug on the counter, pushing up the glass case and plucking a peach turnover out. “And for you as well.”

“Thank you,” I tried to smile. I stared at the blackberry tart next to the peach turnovers. Yn’s go-to. It made my blood run cold.

I put the coins in her hand before I could begin to cry again and scooted out the door as another person was coming in.

The table and chairs outside were hard and covered in a light mist. It creaked as I sat, just as it always did. I should've sat anywhere else, but my body naturally drifted to this exact spot. It had a good view of the street so Yn and I could watch the people walk by. Pretending we know every bit of their personal lives and beyond. Make up extravagant stories and adventures for the most boring looking individuals in hopes they may one day get to go on them in another lifetime.

Gods she is everywhere. She’s in the tavern across the street, in the stones on the ground that we used to kick on our walks. She’s in the sunrise, the same color of her heated cheeks filling the sky. There is no escaping what used to be my whole world.

Silently, I let a few tears roll down my cheeks. I ought to be ashamed of showing so much emotion in public, but for some reason I can’t find the will to care.

The door chimes and footsteps go back down the street. The door chimes again.

“My fox boy,” Ms. Immy says so softly I almost don’t hear it over the roar in my ears. “What troubles you so badly you can’t sleep?”

I bite my lip to keep from making any embarrassing noises. “I don’t know how to fix something that I’ve done.”

“You missed the opening of Yn’s restaurant.” She says.

I nod. “How did you know?”

“Because I did not see you there, fox boy.”

“She kicked me out, Ms. Immy. I deserved it, every bit of what she said was true.”

“I think that is true, Lucien,” Ms. Immy came and sat in Yn’s spot, folding her hands in her lap, letting out a breath of air as she extended her old, feeble legs. “Nobody is happy with what you’ve done but-”

“I didn’t mean to blow her off Ms. Immy I just-”

“But,” she cuts me off with a pointed look. “I think you are a very lost soul. For the first time in your life you are truly free. No High Lord to obey, no throne to fight for, no war to fight in. Just a High Lord to serve and to respect. You have everything you could ask for, and yet you have no idea what to do with it.”

She’s right. She’s always right. “I want to fix it. I have to.”

“I am afraid that may not be what the spirit of the Gods wants.” Why is it that I get called fox boy and Yn get’s called something as majestic as ‘spirit of the Gods’? “If those are her wishes, you are going to respect them. Eternally.”

“I will go mad. If I don’t have her by my side for the rest of my life I will go mad.” “So you share a bond with her as well?” She asks.

“I don’t know. All I do is that I haven’t stopped crying and shaking at every reminder of her. No matter how small. Life without her in it is meaningless to me. Afterall, she is the one who gave it back to me.”

“And a good job she did, fox boy,” Ms. Immy smiled softly. “You are a good male who has been blinded by instincts. While it is not your fault, it has become your problem. And by the looks of you, it seems like it has become quite the ordeal.”

My shoulders dropped as I put my head in my palms. I breathed. “I don’t know how to function without her. She has been there, every day of my life, for nearly seventy years, Ms. Immy. We did everything together. Our mornings were spent as one, our evenings, all the restaurant planning and-and brunches here with you-”

“Breathe, Lucien-”

“How am I supposed to just pack up my things today and move on? H-How am I supposed to just carry on as if she never existed in my life? The thought of not being able to see her every day makes me want to peel the skin off my flesh.”

Ms. Immy looked at me, the hard lines in her face becoming more defined. “Listen to me very carefully, fox boy. What’s done is done. You cannot go back in time and take back what you said. The worst of it is over. Now comes the long process of trying to piece your life together. Whether Yn will be able to help you will depend on what you decide to do in the next several days. If you follow her wishes of moving out and staying clear, there could be a chance in the future. But, if you neglect her wishes, as you had neglected her to lead you to this moment, then there is no hope.”

If you neglect her wishes, as you had neglected her to lead you to this moment, then there is no hope… Words have never stunned me quite as forcefully as Ms. Immy’s had. The true gravity of the situation has set in, if it hadn’t already. One wrong move and she’s gone. For good.

“There is a reason why you are my little fox, Lucien,” Ms. Immy stood, taking my cold mug that I hadn’t touched. “They were intelligent, cunning creatures, just as you are. Do not let your instincts guide you to a decision. Let your heart and the facts do it for you.”

“The facts? What facts?” “The fact that you have screwed up. The fact that Yn has made a decision for you since you were incapable of doing it yourself. It is truth, and it hurts, but it has to for change to come.” And then she went inside.

I sat with those final words for far longer than I anticipated. It was long enough for people to begin leaving their homes, the streets beginning to fill with people.

Yn would be out of the house by now, opening for the restaurant’s breakfast hours. I could go now. Or I could stay here and try to blend into the hundreds of faces passing in and out. But I need to move. Yn might come in for her apple cider and blackberry tart. If I saw her right now I’d surely do something stupid.

As I walked, the clouds blocked out the sun and it began to drizzle. The drizzle turned into a steady rain, then a downpour. I was soaked through my cloak and boots, water seeping in and out with every step. My hair stuck to the back of my neck.

I kept my head down as I walked, afraid of being recognized. If Ms. Immy had been there to not see me at Latibule, who else?

The cobblestone ended and mud replaced it. I knew where I was.

The old, beaten path dared me to go up to the house. It beckoned me. From here, at the bottom of the hill, I could see several boxes stacked up outside the door, the disposable brown material soaked through with the rain. She was serious…

Some part of me– the extremely selfish part– has been secretly hoping that she’ll tell me she made a mistake and that she wants me back. But I think those boxes are a not-so-gentle-shove in the opposite direction.

The key in my pocket might as well have been the key to another universe, because when I opened the door it was like I entered a whole new world. One without me in it. All the pictures of us, all the paintings Feyre had done for us, were off the walls. All the plants and trinkets and decorations I gifter here were piled in the corner for me to collect.

How could so much damage have been done in just a few hours?

One by one, I packed away the things into the soggy boxes. I moved from room to room. Silently. Hoping this was all a dream only to be launched back into reality with every memory that surfaced. Every possession I had given her in the last seventy years was piled here for me to take.

She wanted no trace of me here. And I didn’t blame her. I don’t want any trace of me either.

I must’ve stayed there for hours– crying, packing, reliving moments I had long forgotten only to cry again– because it was close to sunset now. Every trace of me was packed up; all those pictures, all those trinkets, all my clothes and bathing goods… everything I owned fit into these boxes. Everything except for the one person I didn’t want to do life without.

But Rhys and Ms. Immy are right. If I try to do something now, to get her back, I’ll ruin any real chance. That is something I can’t afford.

To an immortal, a few months or years equivalates to just a few minutes of human life. But if it takes years for Yn to accept me back in her life…

Besides the clothes and membranes from the Autumn and Spring Courts, I discard everything. I will tear myself to bits if I don’t get rid of them. Will I regret it down the road, probably, but I can’t have them.

The two boxes and bag of clothes I carry from her house to the Town House are water logged and falling apart. It’s a miracle they didn’t unravel completely. Just add more humiliation to a High Lords son dragging boxes and bags through the street. I deserve all the stare’s and hushed questions.

Nothing could’ve prepared me for the sights of Rhys and Cassian helping me carry them up the stairs.

“I don’t know how you’re feeling but-”

“Don’t,” I pleaded. “Just… just don’t. I don’t want your pity, Cassian.”

“I am probably the last person besides Azriel who would pity you, Lucien. And I had no intentions to belittle you for what you did. I was going to offer you a spot in my training ring if you ever needed an escape.”

His kindness shocked me. I can’t say I know the Illyrian well, but this gesture spoke a lot to his character. So I sighed, of course I thought he was going to be hostile to me. Everyone should. “Oh.”

“Training starts at eight and goes to one. Come well fed and in something warm. The top of the House is colder.”

Neither of us said anything else as he left me to unpack.

______

Some weeks later I had taken Cassian up on his offer. Him and Nesta were great at kicking my ass and telling me about it. This side of both of them was far different than the ones I had seen. Here, Cassian wasn’t a prick. He was an instructor, teaching me how to defend my life and my honor. Nesta was… less Nesat. She channeled this otherworldly presence and became one with her weapon.

Me on the other hand… it was far more difficult. Fighting and battle wasn’t rooted in my blood like it was for Cassian. It was much harder for me to get it but I sorta did. Sorta.

“Just keep working on that footwork and it’ll help with the sword placement. If you’re solid by the end of the week, I’ll put a real one in your hands,” Cassian grinned, chucking me my practice weapon.

It brought a quick smile to my face. As fast as it was there it was gone. Like most these days.

When I got home, I rifled through my closet. Brown and green and cream colored shirts after another. Where was that Night Court Blue one I had gotten a long time ago? I could’ve sworn I plucked it from the pile on the floor- no, that was a towel. I was planning on wearing it to dinner at the River House tonight for Mor’s birthday.

Oh, Yn has it. I had given it to her to wear for a meeting with a realtor when looking at properties. She had tucked it into this black leather skirt.

I’ll swing by on my way to the party to get it. Mor always liked the color on me, and said it brought out the fire in my hair. She’ll appreciate the gesture.

After a shower and some other outfit choices, I can’t help but want that blue shirt. I’ll just go get it.

Through the falling leaves, I make my way down the street, across it, and to the meadow. There are six or seven houses with smoke billowing out of their chimneys. But there, right in the distance, is her house. She’ll be at her restaurant tonight so I know I’m safe.

I scurry up the path, still worried about being seen for some reason.

Has it been easy these past couple weeks? No. I haven’t been able to think of anything but her. Or dream of anything but her. It’s awful. Not her, but the fact that somehow, someway, she is still everywhere I am. In those memories in the darkest part of the night. The darkest part of my mind reserved for her and her only.

I hadn’t dared to go visit Elain. I don’t feel the need anymore. Which is relieving and frightening at the same time. It’s like there is a gaping hole in my heart that nothing will fill. Not even training. It proves a good secondary distraction, but nothing can suppress the primary guilt I feel every waking–

What is that smell? I stopped just shy of the door, key in hand. It wants to smell like the rest of the smoke and ash wafting into the air from the nearby cabins, but it’s… more alive? What if she left the stove on? Or a candle? There are hints of woods mixed into it, but not the type of woodsy scent from pine or maple logs.

I jam the key in as fast as I can to unlock the door. What if she left the fireplace burning or had an electrical fire or-

In the span of five seconds, three things happened. One: Yn was here. And she looked so beautiful. Her eyes are bright and full of color. Two: she was being held by someone, his hands on her cheeks. Three: boiling rage shot through when I realized who it was.

Eris.

~~~~~~~~~

Part 3

#acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #lucien x you #lucien x reader #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra #acotar #acotar fandom

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rynwritesreid · 4 months

Note

Phone sex, Spencer is on a case, his gf (reader is at home), he talks her through it, etc. etc. Do your thing 😉

A/N: My sweet sweet iluvreid, you have got to stop giving me such good requests. MunchReid. Now this??!!. Sorry for the delay, I had gone to visit my parents and I had no time to write :(. Also, if you stop sending me requests now, I do not know what I’m going to do. As always, Jag älskar dig 🫶🏼

Content: Smut/fluff. Fem!reader. 18+ guided masturbation. This is a lot softer than my usual smut, but I had no idea how to write phone sex, so I hope it’s okay and that everyone enjoys it.

Masterlist| requests are open| Navigation

You were on your nightly call with Spencer, you were both talking about your days had been, how the case Spencer was working was coming along. Though, while Spencer was talking, all you could think about was him touching you.

Your hand snaked its way into your underwear, thinking about all the things Spencer could be doing. Spencer had noticed how your breathing had changed, how you hadn’t responded to what he had been saying for a while.

As the silence lingered on the call, Spencer's voice trailed off. He sensed something was amiss, a shift in the atmosphere that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Concern etched across his face as he tried to decipher what had distracted you so abruptly.

"Hey, everything okay?" Spencer asked tentatively.

You cleared your throat nervously, a faint blush creeping onto your cheeks. "Yeah, sorry about that. I just got lost in my thoughts for a moment."

A flicker of curiosity danced in Spencer's eyes, his voice tinged with a mix of confusion and curiosity. "Lost in your thoughts? Anything you want to share?"

“Well”, you began hesitantly, “I’ve been missing you. Missing how you make me feel. How you feel when your inside of me.”

Spencer's eyes widened slightly, a hint of surprise in his expression. "Inside of you?" he repeated, his voice a soft murmur.

You took a deep breath, feeling your heart race as you spoke the next sentence. "I was just imagining... what it would feel like if you were here with me right now. My hand... it was just exploring how we could... connect."

Spencer's heart skipped a beat at your confession. A silent moment passed between the two of you as you both felt the weight of your words. Finally, he found his voice.

"I've been thinking about you too," he whispered, his voice low and filled with desire. "The distance between us has been hard, but I promise, we'll find a way to be together soon."

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, and it made your heart swell with relief. He understood how much you needed him, and he was willing to do whatever it took to make things right.

"In the meantime," Spencer continued, his voice growing more confident, "let me show you how much I care."

Your breath hitched as Spencer began to speak in hushed tones, his voice growing more intimate with each word. As his soft whispers washed over you, you found yourself getting lost in his deep, sultry words. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you could feel a warm, flushed sensation spreading across your body.

Your hand continued to move beneath your underwear, exploring the sensitive areas that Spencer's touch had always brought to life. You had never been one to fantasize about anyone else, but there was something about Spencer that made you feel alive, desired, and irresistibly attracted to him.

Over the phone, Spencer's voice grew more passionately, guiding you through a sensual journey that you had only experienced with him. Your breath caught in your throat as he described the feeling of your lips locked in a passionate kiss, his hands roaming your body, and the intensity that built between you both.

As you became lost in the moment, feeling Spencer's presence through the phone, your breathing became heavier, your body responding to his every word. The connection between the two of you deepened, bringing you closer than ever before. Your heart swelled with love and desire as Spencer whispered his deepest secrets into the silence, promising you a world where you could be together forever.

As the minutes ticked by, the moments became blurred, and time itself seemed to stand still. Spencer's voice grew more urgent, guiding you through a fantasy that was both erotic and emotional. You felt a sense of vulnerability and intimacy that you had never experienced before, and you knew that it was all because of him.

With each whispered word, the tension between you both grew, and you knew that the time had come to let go. Your body trembled with anticipation as you felt the culmination of the night's events building to a crescendo. It was in that moment, with Spencer's voice still echoing in your ears, that you allowed yourself to surrender to the ecstasy that had been building between you both. Your body shuddered in response, and your breath caught in your throat as the pleasure washed over you.

In that moment, as you lay there basking in the aftermath of your shared experience, you knew that Spencer was not just a man who had brought you to the edge of ecstasy, but a partner who could bring you to a level of intimacy and connection that you had never known before.

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shxtodxroki · 7 months

Text

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚁𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚘 𝚂𝚞𝚗𝚊, 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙷𝚎 𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚈𝚘𝚞

Summary: From the moment you met him to now, there have been 4 times where you’ve fallen harder and harder for Rintaro Suna, until he "finally" falls for you as well.

Flufftober Day 5 Prompt: ___ + 1

Warnings: Brief mentions of gore (nothing is described, just a vague mention of a gory/graphic horror movie), reader is depicted as scared/uncomfortable of said horror movie

Pairing: Rintaro Suna x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Check out my full Flufftober masterlist here!

The first time you meet him is at work, and honestly, you've never seen a guy that hot in your life before.

It's been an incredibly boring shift at work, like all shifts are. You're working the typical high-school student job at your local smoothie bar, your head pounding from the sound of the blenders whirring behind you at full-speed, and haven’t even bothered to look at the door as you heard the bell chime to indicate a new customer. “Welcome in,” You mutter, doing your best to sound somewhat personable as you make your way over to the cash register. “What can I get for you today?”

When your eyes finally glance up at the customers your gaze is instantly drawn to one of the five men standing in front of you, watching in awe as he mindlessly stares at the phone in his hands and waits silently for his turn to order. He is without a doubt the cutest guy you’ve ever met, and you suddenly find yourself wishing your work uniform were just a bit more attractive-looking, though the boy in question had yet to even meet your gaze as he remains entirely focused on his phone.

You take each of their orders one by one, doing your best to smile and act like the perfect friendly cashier to each of the boys in hopes that they won’t notice how your eyes are irresistibly drawn to one boy in particular, though you’re unable to fight off the way your heart rate picks up slightly as he’s the last one left to order.

“Suna, your turn man.” The boy with silver hair nudges your newfound crush, and the boy in question finally looks up from his phone to meet your eyes.

“Oh, I’ll have the peanut butter chocolate smoothie, I dunno what it’s called though.” He mutters, eyes seeming disinterested as he stares at you, though a small smile tugs on the corner of his lips once he begins actually taking the time to observe your features.

“That’s fine, I know which one you’re talking about!” You smile just a bit brighter at him than you did towards the others, though you hope they don’t notice as you put his order into the system. “Will that be all for the five of you today?” You ask, forcing yourself to turn your attention to all of them rather than just the boy whose eyes are now stuck on you. One of the boys nods, pulling out his wallet as he steps up in front of the others.

“Yes, that’ll be it. I’ll be paying for the five of us.” He smiles softly, and you can see the faces of the other four light up in gratitude as they thank him one by one. “Don’t worry about it, it’s my job as captain.” He simply responds to them, before handing you his card.

Once their order has been paid for you direct the group to where the finished orders are called out, telling them to wait there as your coworkers get started on their drinks. Four of them easily follow your directions, with the two identical ones (twins, you assume) bickering as the other two chide them for acting out in a public place. You immediately take notice, however, of the fifth boy still standing in front of the register, your face heating up as you get a longer, up-close look at his undeniably beautiful face.

“...Is there anything else you needed?” You ask after a moment of silence between the two of you, using the same cheery customer-service voice in an attempt to mask how anxious you feel beneath his gaze that you can’t quite decipher. He cracks a small grin at that, before pulling out his wallet as he steps closer to you.

“Not really, I was just thinking…. I just got paid today, and since my drink was already paid for, why don’t I leave a nice tip for the sweet cashier with the pretty eyes?” He says this so nonchalantly as he pulls out a $20 bill, handing it to you with a relaxed grin as if he can’t see the way your heart is pounding out of your chest at his blatant flirting. “Don’t share it with any of your co-workers, though. That’s just for you.”

And with that he walks off to join his friends, not even giving you a chance to respond as you’re left dumbfounded and incredibly flustered in front of the cash register.

A few weeks later, when you return from summer break, you’re surprised (and mildly flustered) to realize that the incredibly cute, flirty boy from that day actually goes to your school, and you’re even lucky enough to have been placed in a few classes with him this year. You have no clue how you haven't noticed him before, stunned that you had missed out on seeing his pretty face for so long. He notices you on the first day, shooting you a cat-like grin as he enters first period late and makes his way to the last seat left open. But you don’t actually get to speak to him again until a few weeks later.

Once everyone’s settled into the new school year and classes are in full swing, one of your teachers assigns you a partner project, and you find yourself lucky enough to be partnered with Suna. You force the grin brewing behind your teeth back as the pairs are read aloud, not wanting to seem too eager, though you can’t help but grow flustered as he saunters over to you after class with the same relaxed grin you always see on his face. “How lucky am I, getting to work with the cutest person in this class?” He flirts as if it's as easy as breathing, and you force yourself not to overthink his words for the sake of the project.

Luckily for you, he seems to take the project fairly seriously, which is a surprise in comparison to his typically unbothered personality. You had been prepared to take on the majority, if not all, of the work yourself, knowing that it would likely sully your opinion of the admittedly gorgeous boy in the process. But somehow he had exceeded your expectations and sent you a suitable set of research for his half of the project well before the due date, giving the two of you plenty of time to prepare and practice your final presentation before the final presentation day.

You know it would seem rude to outwardly admit how you had doubted him at first. You made a baseless assumption about him, one that would likely hurt an ordinary person’s feelings. Yet as you and Suna grow closer and more comfortable around one another through this project, you can’t help but let your internal monologue slip out one evening as you’re rehearsing your presentation late one night at the local library.

“You know, I’m really impressed with how hard you’ve worked on this.” You admit after running through your presentation so many times that you’ve practically memorized it word for word. Suna raises his eyebrow at your words, a curious smirk on his face as he pushes you for clarification though he's fairly sure he already knows what you mean.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that, you think I’d make you do all the work?” He teases, though it’s clear he’s not upset or hurt by the assumption even if he probably should be. You sheepishly look down at your fidgeting hands upon hearing his words, ashamed to admit how shallow you had been when you had first been assigned to this project with him.

“Sort of…. You seemed so laid back and unbothered all the time, so I guess I just assumed you’d be that way about your grades as well, and I’d end up carrying this project.” Your face is hot again, eyes avoiding his pressing gaze as your voice is soft with shame. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed that without even really gettng to know you.”

“It’s alright, I’m happy to prove you wrong.” He shoots back, keeping the mood light and relaxed as he eases your guilt ever so slightly. Days later once the project is over, however, you go to thank him for helping you to get an A on the final presentation and happen to overhear the boy in question chatting with his friends, their conversation telling an entirely different story than what he had impressed upon you.

“Dude, I can’t believe you got an A! How the hell did you do that?” His blonde friend questions, trying and failing miserably to whisper as you hide behind a corner to remain out of sight as your curiosity is piqued. “You never even turn shit in for that class, so what the hell?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get an A in your life. What gives?” The grey-haired twin adds on, their words only serving to confuse you. Before Suna can get in a response, however, the boy with the grey hair begins to smirk, as if he’s put the pieces together faster than you (and his blonde counterpart) could even begin to understand. “Oh, I get it. You wanted to impress your partner. They were the cute person from that smoothie place a few weeks back, yeah? I’ve seen you flirting with them after class the past few weeks.”

Though Suna’s attitude remains laid-back, simply insisting that he decided to be nice for the sake of your grade rather than his and there was nothing deeper to it, you could feel the butterflies zipping around your chest with more intensity than ever before as you silently made your way to your next class, face beaming in an irresistible grin. You fail to see the barely-there blush that dusts Suna's cheeks at the question, however, or the way he corrects the twins by insisting they use your name that slips off his tongue just a bit softer than everything else.

From there your relationship with Suna could only improve, moving steadily from acquaintances as you got to know each other over the course of the project into a genuine friendship as Suna kept in contact with you even after getting your final grade. He had texted you a few days after the project had ended, simply asking if you wanted to hang out after school with him, and since then the two of you have grown more and more comfortable in one another’s company just for the sake of it.

Days blurred into months, and somehow, you now found yourself walking beside Suna with a stomach full of convenience-store ramen as you made your way back to his house, the newly chilly air nipping at your fingertips and nose as you silently stewed in your past neglect to bring a scarf or gloves.

“Suna,” You start, to break the peaceful silence that had lingered between you two over the past several minutes as you walked. “Do you have Mario Kart? I wanna race you when we get back to your place.” Your question is a simple one, and you don’t expect the way he looks at you with an emotion you can’t quite decipher in response.

“Yeah,” He responds, though the tone of his voice and the way he’s looking at you makes it clear something else is on his mind. “But you know you don’t have to keep calling me by my last name, right? We’ve been friends for months now, just call me Rintaro.”

His words are as casual as ever, he plays them off easily as they fall form his lips with a blank expression though they send your poor, fragile heart into overdrive at the implications behind them. Not only had Suna never called you his friend before, but now he was asking you to call him by his first name, and while you knew that wasn’t a particularly intimate offer, it still had the butterflies caged deep within your chest fluttering wildly about as you did your best to play it cool as the heat on your face starkly contrasted the cool afternoon air.

You should leave it there, you really should. Pushing his potential boundaries would risk your friendship altogether, and you never want to make him uncomfortable if you accidentally went overboard under the assumption that the two of you were closer than you truly were.

But you’re feeling greedy, even in the eyes of Suna- No, Rintaro- ’s friendly offer. So you decide to test the waters, see if you can take your budding friendship one step further.

“Hmm…. how about I call you Rin instead?” The grin on your face seems so at ease, playing it off as a simple suggestion. You had to act like you wouldn’t take it to heart if he said no, like it was nothing special. But you nearly betray yourself as your legs fall weak upon seeing him nod, watching a genuine smile spread across his face in response to your request.

“Sure, go ahead. I like the sound of my name from your pretty lips, however you wanna say it.” He has yet to cease his playful flirting, though it's less common now that the two of you have grown closer. Before you can get another word in, though, he manages to completely melt you to a puddle as he takes off his scarf and gloves, swiftly placing them on to you as the two of you continue walking towards his house. “Here, put these on. I can see you shivering, you clearly need them more than I do.”

You want to protest, to insist that he keeps himself warm since you were the one foolish enough to leave the house without warm attire, but you can’t find it in yourself to do so when his things feel so cozy, so perfect on your body. So you remain silent, settling with simply shooting him a thankful smile as you make your way to his house with warm hands, a warm face, and a positively burning heart.

From there things seem to stay the same, at least for a while. You’re well beyond the point of being able to plausibly deny your feelings for the man you now call your friend, but you’ve also managed to convince yourself that it’s nothing more than a simple crush that you’ll eventually grow out of as your friendship with him progresses.

Until the day when you realize you’ve lost your heart to him for good.

Your now blooming friendship with Rintaro has led you to develop a surprising friendship with the infamous Miya twins as well, a fact you still marvel at even as the four of you sit together on the twins’ living room couch, a plethora of snacks (and some of Osamu’s positively delectable cooking) laid out on the table in front of you as you move on to tonight’s third movie of the evening, Atsumu's pick this time.

Osamu manages to snag your attention for a moment as he explains to you the simple recipe for the homemade sushi he was kind enough to make for the four of you this evening (a recipe you most likely won’t try to emulate, but that you’re still thankful for nonetheless), so you miss the not-so-subtle wink Atsumu throws a disgruntled, annoyed Rintaro’s way as he chooses what movie to watch for his turn during this movie night.

Before you realize it, and much to Rintaro’s dismay, Atsumu’s quickly presses play on an incredibly gory, graphic horror movie, the sinister smile on his face causing the contents of your stomach to churn as you’re immediately put off by his choice in movies.

“What the hell, Miya?” Rintaro grumbles, unusually perturbed by something he’d typically react all too casually to as his eyes never leave your face which is currently twisting in discomfort. You don’t seem to catch the way the twin in question mouths ‘I did this for you’ to the man beside you, though it serves to deepen Rintaro’s scowl as he reluctantly turns to you.

“I’m sorry, I told him not to pick anything that would weird you out. I know you hate this stuff.” He apologizes, sounding shockingly sincere as he looks at you with a remorseful gaze. He knows that a seemingly perfect opportunity has been presented to him, though, and he can see the anxiety brewing in your stomach, so he chooses his next words surprisingly carefully as he slowly inches closer to you.

…”C’mere, let me try to make you feel a little better.” Rintaro mumbles, simultaneously scooting closer and pulling you towards him until you’re snuggled cozily into his side. The two of you have never been this close before, never genuinely cuddled like you are now, and the affectionate gesture wipes the gory movie completely from your thoughts as the scent of his cologne and the warmth of his skin fills up all of your senses. “If you’re too freaked out, I can kick him out and we can turn this off.”

Neither of you even bother to acknowledge Atsumu’s disgruntled “Hey!” in response to Rintaro's threat, his voice slipping into the ambient noise surrounding the two of you as you stare into one another's’ eyes. The disturbing movie isn’t the slightest concern to you any more, as it’s suddenly given you the perfect excuse to do what your heart has longed for with the man beside you, and you try to hold off a bit before rejecting his sweet offer in feigned nonclalance and reluctance.

“...It’s okay, I feel better now that you’re here.” You mumble, trying not to sound utterly lovestruck as you tuck yourself further into his welcoming hold. But in that moment you can no longer convince yourself that this is nothing but a simple crush, struck by the forceful truth that you’re falling deeper and deeper for Rintaro every day you spend in your presence. “Thanks, Rin.” You mumble, ignoring the truth as you melt into his warmth and his touch.

“Any time, Y/n.” He whispers back, squeezing your side gently and your heart right along with it.

Though you’ve finally gained clarity on the true depth of your own feelings, Rintaro’s remain just as much of a mystery to you as ever. Since the first day you met him you’ve always assumed his flirting was mindless and playful, nothing more than a physical attraction that didn’t run any deeper for him like it did for you. He had taken root in your heart and blossomed from that very first day, encasing your lungs with infatuation, but you never believed his flirtiness to mean the same for his heart. Your growing friendship only strengthened this belief of yours, as he made no efforts to make a genuine move on you even as you grew closer and closer, and you had long ago let go of any hope of Rintaro returning your feelings as you were now content to enjoy the friendship you two had cultivated.

But then, just like always with Rintaro, New Year’s Eve brings forth a new development in your relationship, one that shakes your world and sends your heart into more of a frenzied fever than ever before and permanently altering the status of your relationship for the better.

He was looking for you, searching for you for quite a while in fact. The New Years Eve party the twins were holding at their house had quickly gotten a bit crowded for his liking, and he eventually found himself searching out the sole reason he had come to this party in the first place: you. At first he was simply meandering around, eyes glancing around for you as he kept on his usual nonchalant mask and made casual conversation with a few tolerable classmates. As the time drew closer and closer to midnight, however, his search grew more anxious, and when it was less than a minute to the new year he grew frantic as he felt the plan he had formulated for the evening crumbling beneath his very eyes without any sight of you.

His eyes widen with dread as his peers begin the traditional ten-second countdown, each number spiking the levels of stress coursing through him tenfold as he eagerly swims through the crowds in search of you. He had wanted to use this night as his chance to finally take the next step with you, but it seems that fate was not on his side this evening, blinding him to you in the mass of people enclosed in such a small space and instead leaving him crashing unceremoniously into a random partygoer, sending both of them tumbling to the floor as his hopes plummet all the way down into his feet.

“Three!” The crowd yells as his eyes fly open, two hearts nearly stopping at once as his eyes meet yours beneath him. Maybe fate hadn’t completely forsaken him after all.

“Two!” A genuine smile, not some sneaky smirk or grin, rapidly takes over his entire face, his minty breath wafting onto your skin as he leans down even closer to you. “Fancy seeing you here.” He teases, his hand fumbling out from under him as he hastily and clumsily cups your cheek in his palm.

“One!” His eyes meet yours as he leans in, seeking for confirmation, for consent that you were okay with this. And when you give him a small, almost imperceptible nod, he hands his heart over to you on a silver platter as your lips meet his for the first time and sparks all around ring in the new year. “Happy new year!” Echoes all around you from dozens of different voices, and it's in this very moment that you realize that Rintaro, your Rintaro, has been all yours from the very beginning, and that he had actually fallen from you from the very first day on, at the same exact moments that you had fallen for him.

Request - ⛄️ anon said: HELLOOO!!! i really hope you're doing well this week!!! i just came to tumblr and saw the flufftober post so i wanted to suggest three characters if nobody have suggested them already??? so, i have in mind suna rintarou (haikyuu!), bakugou katsuki (bnha) and/or historia reiss (snk)??? hope you would write something for one of them but if not that's totally fine!

A/N: Eeeee I was so excited when I got this request, I’ve been obsessed with this man ever since I first saw him and I was stoked to write about him! He’s so pretty omg I see why he’s so popular within the fandom <3 And I’ve always wanted to try writing one of these ___+1 fics so I really had a lot of fun writing this and I think it turned out super cute! :D Also I apologize for posting this way late in the day, somehow my saved post in my queue was deleted and I didn’t notice until way late, so I had to go back and re-edit everything once I got home from school! (This is what I get for proof-reading and editing in Tumblr I guess) Still made it in time though, so yay! I hope you guys still enjoyed this, and my requests are currently open so feel free to send any requests you have my way!

Taglist: @flufftober

If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, you can fill out this form here! Thank you for your support <3

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granolawriting · 8 months

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⍣ ೋ Makeout with Anakin

Summary: Anakin, a stoic Jedi and hard to read, finds himself faultering at the sight of you. And no amount of discipline will be able to rectify it anymore.

A/N: A rework of an old fic I wrote, and requests are open!! :)

word count: 1k

・❥・

Anakin is a man of few words. His actions, speaking louder than anything he ever verbally said to you. So any slight deviation in gestures, word usage, or even posture was the only way you could ever truly read him. Trying to read a Jedi was a difficult task, but one you learned quickly with Ani purely because of how much time you and him spent together.

But these coming days came and went, that grew.. Difficult. For some unknown reason you felt as if he had become distant, you could no longer understand him. His mannerisms are ones that you had never seen or been able to deduce before. The Anakin that would fiddle with his uniform everso slightly when uncomfortable or flustered, the Anakin that was prone to fingering the sides of his saber when he was lying, that all became obsolete as it seems a new wall was formed and you would have to decipher a whole new level of cues.

This plagued your thoughts for every day leading up to today, as he reverted to only interacting with you when necessary and keeping himself proper and straight, similar to when you first met him. You thought you had gotten him to feel comfortable around you, but not until today did you realize he was actually, quite comfortable with you.

Anakin has always been good at hiding his emotions. Of any kind, really. Especially romantic ones. It was only natural. He still tried very hard to obey the code of ethics laid before him as a Jedi, so even when he has an inkling of emotional yearning, or especially romantic yearning, he seems to almost shut it down immediately. So when you find yourself walking down the halls one minute, to being swooped into an empty room in another, feeling his hot breath inches away from your face, surprise was a broad understatement.

As your eyes finally find the courage to move upwards to connect with the man who had dragged you in there, you’re even more shocked to see how Anakin looked. He looked hungry, slightly disheveled. Strands of his hair falling in front of his face and the way he held himself screamed something you couldn't quite place. He was and always is the quiet type with you, never truly doing anything without it being told to him, he was far past his stage of rebellion as he graduated to jedi. He was most often calm with you, deliberate. So this burst of dominance he portrayed was, new.. But you didn’t mind it.

Once he locked eyes with you, you watched as his ravenous eyes dilute to something softer. Still filled with desire of course, but more so love. Want, even. You stand in shock, your body and his having almost no room in between them after he grabbed you so harshly. But once he had noticed this he automatically backed up. Sternly, but soft nevertheless, apologizing for his crassness. But as you looked at him, not answering to his apology but just staring, he began to move again. This time, in your direction. His back straightened and his usual demeanor at the forefront, he takes a glove covered hand to softly raise your chin.

A soft look was painted on his face as he stared into your eyes, almost as if he was staring at a beautiful painting. With a quiet whisper, never breaking eye contact with you, requests a simple;

¨may I?¨

You knew what he was talking about of course, there wasn’t much else to refer to, really. But internally, god had you wanted this. You had been enchanted by his charm for so long you couldn’t even remember a time where your days were not filled with thoughts of him. You felt like a schoolgirl always walking around temples seeing if you could catch glimpses of him, smiling like a fool at the sight of his praise. He was hard to decipher, but that's what made him so alluring to you. So at the implications of him reciprocating that to the point of.. This, was enough to send you into a whirlwind.

Though, through it all you were able to respond. A small ¨please¨ escaping your lips before he placed his on yours. Feel his soft skin graze yours as he continues.

He wanted just a kiss, but after he had tasted you he knew that once wasn’t enough, and no matter how much he tried to hold back he knew that this wasn’t something he could let up on. He held you closer, taking one hand around your waist to pull you in closer as the other stayed on your jaw, lightly lifting it to the perfect height to meet your lips.

With a little more aggression, passion, he went deeper into you. Letting a soft moan leave his lips every time you let up for breath. He seemed obsessed with your taste, every gasp he made for breath seemed like a chore at the sight of your lips connecting with his, his tongue maneuvering It's way inside you to taste even the depths of your throat as he became a mess at your taste. His hands no longer in their original gentle form he's found gripping your jaw, and clinging on to the fabric that you had around your waist. He was holding back so much, you can tell. And he wanted every inch of you now that he gave in. though of course, you weren't one to mind.

#anakin skywalker #fanfic #fanfiction #star wars #anakin fanfiction #anakin smut #anakin x reader #hayden christensen #star wars smut #anakin imagine #anakin star wars #prequels #star wars anakin #sw anakin #x reader

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yrluvjane · 2 years

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| ʜᴇʀ ɢᴏʟᴅᴇɴ ɢʟᴏᴡ |

[Harry Potter x fem!reader] [Warning: most annoying ending ever.]

"I never promised Hermione anything, I mean, all right, I was going to go to Slughorn's Christmas party with her, but she never said . . . just as friends . . . I'm a free agent. . . ." Harry mocked Ron voice as he sat with Y/n in the back of the library, filling her on the Ron's latest speech about his freedom. "That book please." Said Y/n mindlessly pointing towards a heavy-paged blue book titled Transfiguration of sentient beings.

"We're taking this in two weeks! Why in Merlin's name are you doing it now?" He asked flipping through the book but shut when he saw an entire 13-paged chapter on transfiguration of garden animals. "I like to be ready, and Hermione isn't being any better really."

"He's at perfect liberty to kiss whomever he likes, I really couldn't care less." Said Y/n making a face which Harry believed had to be Hermione's. She raised her quill and dotted an i so ferociously that she punctured a hole in her parchment.

"You should really start studying." Said Y/n without looking up. He bent a little lower over Advanced Potion-Making and continued to make notes on Everlasting Elixirs, occasionally pausing to decipher the Prince's useful additions to Libatius Borage's text.

"And incidentally," said Y/n, after a quite a while, "you need to be careful."

"For the last time," said Harry, speaking in a slightly hoarse whisper after three-quarters of an hour of silence, "I am not giving back this book, I've learned more from the Half-Blood Prince than Snape or Slughorn have taught me in - and I thought you were on my side -"

"I'm not talking about your stupid so-called Prince," said Y/n, giving his book a nasty look as though it had been rude to her. "I'm talking about earlier. I went into the girls' bathroom just before I came in here and there were about a dozen girls in there, including that Romilda Vane, trying to decide how to slip you a love potion. They're all hoping they're going to get you to take them to Slughorn's party, and they all seem to have bought Fred and George's love potions, which I'm afraid to say probably work -"

"Why didn't you tell on them then?" demanded Harry. "They didn't have the potions with them in the bathroom," said Y/n scornfully. "They were just discussing tactics. As I doubt whether even the Half-Blood Prince" - she gave the book a suspicious look - "could dream up an antidote for a dozen different love potions at once, I'd just invite someone to go with you, that'll stop all the others thinking they've still got a chance. It's tomorrow night, they're getting desperate."

"There isn't anyone I want to invite," mumbled Harry, who was still trying not to think about how Y/n would certainly go with Hinderson, a Ravenclaw prefect, any more than he could help, despite the fact that she kept cropping up in his dreams in ways that made him devoutly thankful that she could not perform Legilimency.

"Well, just be careful what you drink, because Romilda Vane looked like she meant business," said Y/n grimly. She hitched up the long roll of parchment on which she was writing her Transfiguration essay and continued to scratch away with her quill. Harry watched her with his mind a long way away. "Hang on a moment," he said slowly. "I thought Filch had banned anything bought at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?"

"And when has anyone ever paid attention to what Filch has banned?" asked Y/n, still concentrating on her essay. "But I thought all the owls were being searched. So how come these girls are able to bring love potions into school?"

"Fred and George send them disguised as perfumes and cough potions," said Y/n. "It's part of their Owl Order Service. A Hufflepuff kept showing it off in the common room."

"Yeah, well, never mind that," said Harry quickly. "The point is, Filch is being fooled, isn't he? These girls are getting stuff into the school disguised as something else! So why couldn't Malfoy have brought the necklace into the school - ?"

"Oh, Harry . . . not that again . . ."

"Come on, why not?" demanded Harry.

"Look," sighed Y/n, "Secrecy Sensors detect jinxes, curses, and concealment charms, don't they? They're used to find Dark Magic and Dark objects. They'd have picked up a powerful curse, like the one on that necklace, within seconds. But something that's just been put in the wrong bottle wouldn't register - and anyway, love potions aren't Dark or dangerous -"

"You broke into a gate that was bewitched by Dumbledore!" Whisper-shouted Harry as Y/n hit him with a parchment roll on the head before shushing him. "And if I didn't, you would've been dead due to frostbite." Said Y/n with a glare and slamming her book shut signaling this discussion is over.

True to her words, Romilda Vane had cornered him the moment he had climbed through the portrait hole. "Hi, Harry!" said Romilda, "Fancy a gillywater?" He could imagine Y/n giving him a "what-did-I-tell-you?" look over her shoulder. "No thanks," said Harry quickly supressing a snort. "I don't like it much."

"Well, take these anyway," said Romilda, thrusting a box into his hands. "Chocolate Cauldrons, they've got firewhisky in them. My gran sent them to me, but I don't like them."

"Oh - right - thanks a lot," said Harry, who could not think what else to say. "Er - I'm just going over here with . . ." He hurried off, his voice tailing away feebly.

When he arrived in the entrance hall at eight o'clock that night, he found an unusually large number of girls lurking there, all of whom seemed to be staring at him resentfully as he approached Luna. She was wearing a set of spangled silver robes that were attracting a certain amount of giggles from the onlookers, but otherwise she looked quite nice.

Harry was glad, in any case, that she had left off her radish earrings, her butterbeer cork necklace, and her Spectrespecs. "Hi," he said. "Shall we get going then?" "Oh yes," she said happily. "Where is the party?" "Slughorn's office," said Harry, leading her up the marble staircase away from all the staring and muttering. "Did you hear, there's supposed to be a vampire coming?" "Rufus Scrimgeour?" asked Luna.

"I - what?" said Harry, disconcerted. "You mean the Minister of Magic?" "Yes, he's a vampire," said Luna matter-of-factly. "Father wrote a very long article about it when Scrimgeour first took over from Cornelius Fudge, but he was forced not to publish by somebody from the Ministry. Obviously, they didn't want the truth to get out!" Harry, who thought it most unlikely that Rufus Scrimgeour was a vampire, but who was used to Luna repeating her father's bizarre views as though they were fact, did not reply.

Whether it had been built that way, or because he had used magical trickery to make it so, Slughorn's office was much larger than the usual teacher's study. The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson, and gold hangings, so that it looked as though they were all inside a vast tent. The room was crowded and stuffy and bathed in the red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the center of the ceiling in which real fairies were fluttering, each a brilliant speck of light.

"Harry, I'd like you to meet Eldred Worple, an old student of mine, author of Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires - and, of course, his friend Sanguini." Worple, who was a small, stout, bespectacled man, grabbed Harry's hand and shook it enthusiastically; the vampire Sanguini, who was tall and emaciated with dark shadows under his eyes, merely nodded. He looked rather bored.

A gaggle of girls was standing close to him, looking curious and excited. "Harry Potter, I am simply delighted!" said Worple, peering shortsightedly up into Harry's face. "I was saying to Professor Slughorn only the other day, 'Where is the biography of Harry Potter for which we have all been waiting?' " "Er," said Harry, "were you?" "Just as modest as Horace described!" said Worple.

"Here, have a pasty," said Worple, seizing one from a passing elf and stuffing it into Sanguini's hand before turning his attention back to Harry. "My dear boy, the gold you could make, you have no idea -"

"I'm definitely not interested," said Harry firmly, "and I've just seen a friend of mine, sorry."

He pulled Luna after him into the crowd; he had indeed just seen a long mane of brown hair disappear between what looked like two members of the Weird Sisters. "Hermione! Hermione!"

"Harry! There you are, thank goodness! Hi, Luna!"

"What's happened to you?" asked Harry, for Hermione looked distinctly disheveled, rather as though she had just fought her way out of a thicket of Devil's Snare. "Oh, I've just escaped - I mean, I've just left Cormac," she said.

"Under the mistletoe," she added in explanation, as Harry continued to look questioningly at her. "Serves you right for coming with him," he told her severely. "I thought he'd annoy Ron most," said Hermione dispassionately.

"I debated for a while about Zacharias Smith, but I thought, on the whole -"

"You considered Smith?" said Harry, revolted. "Yes, I did, and I'm starting to wish I'd chosen him, McLaggen makes Grawp look a gentleman. Let's go this way, we'll be able to see him coming, he's so tall. . ."

The three of them made their way over to the other side of the room, scooping up goblets of mead on the way, "Who are we hiding from?" whispered a voice from behind them as Hermione shreiked.

"Y/n! Oh thank merlin!" Said Hermione placing her hand on her chest as if she just had a heart attack. Y/n chuckled, "Sorry?"

She looked beautiful.

Harry's breath hitched and caught in his throat as he raked her up and down with his eyes. She was dressed in a stunning, glittering gold dress that pushed off her shoulders and slitted up her thighs leaving others imaginations go wild, especially Harry's.

She had her hair tied up in a low bun, decorated with pearls. Her gold heels reflected the light. Her middle finger had a gorgeous wildly sparkling gem on but what caught Harry's eyes wasn't the expensive rock.

It was the large bruise forming on her knuckles, staining her skin with blueish purple marks.

Harry's hand immediately grabbed hers in worry, his mind racing with what could have caused it.

"Y/n! What happened?!" He asked, the monster crawling inside him was both in rage and worry. It was as if it wanted to climb out and tear everyone apart and push Y/n behind it, protecting her.

"Oh, it's nothing." She said as she pulled back her hand a dismissively waved it.

"Y/n punched one of Williams friend's in the face after he said something bad about you, Ron and Hermione." Luna said in her dream-like voice as if she was retelling a story.

"What?!"

"Why?"

Both Harry and Hermione asked at the same time though Harry felt the monster calm down and he had to hide the grin that was about to litter his face.

She defended him. She had punched someone for him.

Well technically she punched someone for you, Ron and 'Mione ... A voice in his said but he pushed it away. Harry felt special.

"He just said something unacceptable." She replied just as Luna interupted

"He said Harry is bias and an attention seeking freak, Hermione was disgusting for dating Weasley, Krum and Cormac and that Ron was a patheticly poor excuse of a wizard." Luna said expressionless as Y/n tried to send her 'Cut it' signals with her hand but the Ravenclaw ignored her.

"Y/n then punched his face in front of the Ravenclaw common room, breaking his nose. Then she told William she couldn't date someone who had friends that shamelessly talked in such vulgar ways and she'd rather date a Slytherin. And made sure to remind us that Hermione here is the smartest in our year, Ron saved every single throw at the match and Harry was more braver and selfless than all of us combined. That's why he isn't here, he was escorted to the infirmary."

Hermione seemed both shocked and grateful as she lunged herself at the Hufflepuff and started muttering nonsense of how she shouldn't have done that and how she'd get in trouble and how she's grateful for her words.

Harry on the other hand was a grinning freak inside. She thought he was brave. He felt the urge to giggle and held it in. Sure he was pissed off with what Hinderson's friend had to say but she stood up for him ( them ) but who cares.

She said he was braver and selfless then all of them combined. But before he could let the butterflies in his stomach get the best of him, he needed to make sure.

"So you and Hinderson are over?" He asked as Y/n nodded. "Did I go to far?" She guilty asked her friend but Harry answered and answered too fast.

"No!" He had shouted gathering some of the surrounding people's attention causing the three girls to look at him either in shock or curiosity. Hermione squinted her eyes at him and raised her brow.

He felt his face flush as he stumbled for words. "Sometimes they're just not meant to be." Grimcing as he remembered his epic failure of a date with Cho last year.

"Yea, so? I don't have a date and Hermione is hiding from her date. . . May I have this dance, Miss Granger?" Y/n asked in a deep posh accent that made Hermione giggle and blush.

"No, yo-" Hermione began but squealed when Y/n pushed her onto the dance floor. Y/n placed a hand on Hermione's waist and grabbed her other hand in hers as Hermione placed her hand on Y/n's shoulder, laughing as the latter lead them across the dance floor in quick, funny strides.

"You like her." Luna's voice came.

"Yea, I do." He said. He's face morphed into a soft lazy smile as he watched the Hufflepuff twirl them in circles making Hermione laugh as she tried to slow the badger down.

"I'm sorry Luna, I didn't mean to ruin your night." He said but the blonde waved her hand and smiled at him warmly.

"Your my friend Harry, I'm happy if your happy." She said, Harry stared at her with a friendly smile before bowing down slightly and placing his hand out.

"Miss Lovegood, may have your hand for this dance?" He asked as the Ravenclaw smiled before pulling a chuckling Harry onto the dance floor.

An hour later, Harry sat with his drink on a couch alone while Luna spoke with a friend on the other side of the room. He looked around staring at the dancing figures as they twirled and swayed under the light.

His eyes caught Y/n' figure. It wasn't that hard, she was glittering like a disco ball, her sweet laugh filling the room, making Harry smile.

He watched her dress flow every time she twirled.

How the strand, that fell from her elegant hairdo, swayed every time she laughed, throwing her head back.

He watched how she tapped her, done white nails, on the glass of her drink, into a rhythmical sound.

He watched how she twirled Hermione and complemented her in a deep voice mimicking a man, making the bushy-haired girl swat her arm playfully and covered her mouth as she laughed.

He sat mesmerised by the ethereal beauty that filled his mind, painting his every nerve and cell in a glowing haze.

His thought we're cut off when he felt the couch dip next to him. Hermione had just flopped down next to him, out of breath sporting a happy smile.

"Oh, I don't think I've ever danced so much. Should've gone to the Yule ball with her, boy can she keep going." Hermione said as she turned and faced her friend, who was staring at the said girl.

"Go, go ask her to dance!" Hermione encouraged as Harry shook his head bringing his glass to his lips.

"C'mon Harry, you can go dance with her and grow this relationship into something more or you can spend the rest of your life regretting it for being a coward." Hermione said as Harry kept quiet for a moment, downing the rest of his drink.

Hermione was about say something else when Harry jumped up and placed his empty glass on a passing tray. "You're right, 'Mione." He said.

He walked over to where Y/n was speaking to Zabini, his chest tightened at the sight wanting nothing more than to hex the Slytherin into the next century.

As Harry aproached them, he caught Zabini's eye, who looked at him in disgust before saying a few words to the Hufflepuff and leaving.

"Hey." Harry said softly as Y/n made a surprised sound before chuckling and facing him with a tired smile.

"Hey, well don't you look ravishing?" She teased as Harry felt a shiver run down his spine, the words making more problems then it should.

He swallowed before putting on a similar tone. "Isn't that my line?"

"You wish, Potter. We both know I'm much more of a gentleman." She said. Harry's eyes locked on her lips as she raised her glass and drank it.

"Dance with me." He said abruptly. She raised her brow and put down the now empty glass at a nearby table.

"Are you asking or demanding, Mr. Potter?"

"Will you give me the honour and pleasure of having this dance with you?" He asked putting his hand out, every fiber in his body begging for her to say yes.

"The pleasure is all mine." She said as she slipped her hand into his.

He slid them to the middle of the room as he placed a hand on her waist and held her other hand in his.

"You look gorgeous." He said filled with seriousness. He watched as she blushed, chuckled, looked down then up again at him.

"I'm not the one who's got the eye of everyone in the room." She said.

"You're mistaken, you're the most beautiful one here. They're blind if they think otherwise." He said, he felt her grip on his shoulder tighten.

"Didn't know your the charmer type, Harry."

Harry.

The sound of his name on her lips made his heart beat like never before. He let go of her waist and twirled her around, bringing her closer to him.

Her hand rested on his chest as his slipped slightly lower than it was before. "Maybe there are things about me you've yet to see." He whispered.

"Maybe there is." She mumbled as she drummed her pointer finger against his chest. Harry pulled her out before twirling her out and pulling her in, wrapping his arms around her waist as her back flushed with his chest.

"Harry." She whispered as he twirled her out. There it was again, his name. His clothes felt to tight. The air felt too hot.

When she came back this time her hand was on the side of his neck wrapping around it as she brushed his jaw with her thumb. He's hand dropped to her hips, brushing his thumb up and down.

"Y/n." He whispered so softly he barely heard it. It came out as a warning, as he shut his eyes.

She was close, too close.

"Yes?" She asked as she ran her hand down his shoulder and to his chest, the hand that held hers tightened it's grip.

"Yo-" He was about to say something when the perfect moment was cut off by Hermione's shouting.

"Get off me!" She shouted, both and almost everyone in the room faced the commotion.

Both Harry and Y/n rushed over, apart of both their minds annoyed and slightly pissed off.

"You don't have to make a scene. Let's just dance." Cormac said.

"I said I don't want to." Hermione said as she stepped back from him. Y/n stepped in front of her pushing her back, behind her.

"This is none of your business, L/n. C'mon Hermione, if it was anyone else they'd beg for me to dance with them let alone date them."

"Shove off, Cormac. Hermione values those with brains and character." Y/n said as Cormac scoffed, pushed Y/n and reached to grab Hermione's wrist.

Harry was already on his way to punch the bastard when, Hermione raised her fist and punched right in the jaw.

Before anything else could happened, Y/n kneed him where the sun doesn't shine.

"Nice form, 'Mione." Y/n praised as people turned their heads to see Cormac rolling on the floor. Hermione on the other hand stared at her fist as if it punched Cormac with it's own mind.

"Next time she says 'No' you get the hint and piss off," Y/n commented as she kicked him with her heel. People began to rush over and crowd the boy.

"Y/n!" Hermione yelled horrified.

"I've got detention anyway, may as well stretch it to it's limits." She joked just as she got pulled by Professor Slughorn. Harry stared at Cormac with undisguised disgust before grabbing Hermione and rushing her out after saying goodbye to Luna and Y/n.

That night, Harry stayed wondering at all the possibilities that could've happened if Cormac wasn't being a pain, which made the Potter hate the boy even more.

#harry potter x reader #harry james potter #harry james potter x reader #harry potter #harry potter x fem!reader #harry james potter x y/n #golden trio era

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livingdreams97 · 17 days

Text

Wednesday Addams -- "The wolf in my bed" (Part 3)

Wednesday Addams x Male reader/oc

Summary: The new girl at Nevermore Academy is forced to live with a person who is the complete opposite of herself. But what will happen when the brother of said roommate has a personality similar to Wednesday's?

Words: 3.679

Masterlist

Wednesday POV

My research on the monster was progressing, but it was not doing so at the expected speed and every time I managed to advance one step, I was forced to take two steps back.

I don't know how he does it, but it's like the monster knows every move I'm going to make and I don't like that at all.

For example, the homeless man who lived in the old meeting house; who was murdered two nights ago. The monster sees me in the ruins and that same night kills the person who lived in that same place?

It's not a coincidence.

But thanks to that event, I got all the information about the bodies in the morgue and I have deciphered a pattern. It's subtle, but reading the reports and seeing the photos of the bodies it's easy to decipher.

Each victim has had a part of their bodies removed. The first victim was missing a kidney, the second a finger, the third his gallbladder and the homeless man from the meeting house two toes.

I don't know why the murderer needs these parts, but I plan to find out.

Thornhill 's class is anything but new information, since everything she is saying about orchids and their pollination is something I learned when I was 9 years old.

I hear a complaining sound from my left, causing me to look towards the person sitting next to me through my peripheral vision and seeing the school artist.

Xabier: I hurt my back fencing.- he excuses himself quickly without me asking him.

Mrs.Thornhill: The orchid produces pheromones that imitate a female insect, thus attracting males.- continues with her explanation. -Once the plant is pollinated, what do the male insects get in return?- questions waiting for the answer from one of the students.

Bianca: Nothing. - she answers before anyone else. -Like all the boys at the dance.- she finishes amusingly, causing most of the students to laugh at it.

Mrs.Thornhill: Okay, okay.- she says to get the attention of all the students. -I know you're all looking forward to Saturday, that's why I'm not going to send you homework.- she informs us, causing a small celebration on the part of the rest. -But I'm going to need volunteers for the decoration committee, anyone interested can come see me.- she says with a smile ending the class.

As soon as class ends, everyone gets up from their seats and immediately starts talking to each other.

Xavier: What? Aren't you going to participate? - he asks me directly. -Don't you like disco balls and surprise punch? - he asks with some sarcasm. -There will even be a DJ, Mc Blood Suckaz - comments with some amusement .

Wednesday: I prefer to stick needles in my eyes.- I respond immediately. -Although maybe I will do it anyway.- I comment casually, knowing that I would prefer it a thousand times over going to the dance.

Xabier: Invite someone to have a little fun.- he says bending down to put the book in his backpack and that's when I see it.

On the right side of his neck, which was being hidden by his shirt and jacket; three scratches. That has not been done in fencing.

I get up from my chair, deciding to follow my classmate and try to find out how those injuries could have been caused. He's hiding something and I plan to find out what he's hiding at all costs.

POV You

I grunt tiredly, hiding my face in my arms and resting on one of the tables in the square. This is getting repetitive too fast.

Enid: Do you want to stop growling, you're exaggerating.- she assures me, hitting my arm.

Y/n: Then stop asking me the same thing fifty times.- I growl again, raising my head from my arms and giving her a dirty look.

Enid: I haven't asked you more than 3 times! - she exclaims in defense and I look at her, raising an eyebrow.

Y/n: Three times in the last five minutes.- I point out. -But you've been asking me the same thing for five days.- I remind her breathing deeply, not wanting to lose the little patience I have left.

Enid: I'll stop asking you when you do it.- she assures me, crossing her arms and with a smile full of superiority.

Y/n: And why do you want me to ask Wednesday if she wants to go to the dance with me? - I asked her confused with the reason behind her insistence. -What do you get out of all this? - I say without understanding anything.

Enid: Because you would be a perfect couple and because unlike you, I would love for my best friend and brother to be together. - She answers with a huge smile.

Y/n: Three things- I list with my fingers. -First, what makes you think that Wednesday of all people wants to go to the dance, this being an unnecessary social event for her?- I ask, raising a finger. -Second, at what point has your mind thought that your best friend wants to be in a romantic relationship with someone, when she almost didn´t agree to be your friend?- I raise the second finger.

Enid: Because I know... - she starts in her defense but I tell her to shut up.

Y/n: I'm talking.- I remember, looking straight into her eyes. -And third, haven't you learned from what Ajax did to you?- I ask her with some anger in my voice, but my anger is not directed at her.

Because even with all my warnings not to go out with any of my friends, she asked Ajax on a date and he stood her up. The worst thing of all is that my best friend doesn't want to tell me why he stood her up and I haven't spoken to him in several days because of that.

No one plays with my sister's feelings, and Ajax 's black eye is an example of the consequences of that.

Enid: You didn't need to say the last point.- she growls at me angrily and with a certain gleam of pain in her eyes. -But whether you want to listen to me or not, there is something between you two and you can't deny it.- he assures me, looking me directly in the eyes.

Y/n: Well, look how I deny it.- I say with a false smile. -There is nothing between Wednesday and me.- I assure seriously.

Enid: You don't even believe that yourself.- she snorts, shaking her head. -It took her a month to let me hold her arm and you slept in her bed the first week, plus I can see the looks you give each other.- She points her finger at me accusingly.

Y/n: What looks are you talking about? - I ask, completely confused with what my sister means.

Enid: Oh please, the looks you give each other every time the other isn't looking and the intense but strange way of flirting you have.- she comments with exasperation.

Y/n: I don't flirt, I just have fun getting on Wednesday 's nerves.- I shrug with an amused smile.

Enid: That's called flirting.- she assures me as if it were obvious. -And don't deny it because you know we can spend the whole day like this.- she points her finger at me again so I can close my mouth. -So are you going to ask her to go to the dance with you or not? - she asks again with a big smile.

Y/n: I'll think about it.- I accept tiredly. -But you promise me that if I do, you won't bother me anymore with the looks that you say we give each other and the supposed flirtation.- I stretch my hand towards her, watching her bite her lip and think carefully about whether to accept or not.

I can see the internal struggle she is having in her head through her eyes and every slightest gesture on her face. I just wait in silence and keeping my hand outstretched.

Enid: I promise.- she growls after a while, accepting my hand. -But only if you ask, otherwise I can continue bothering you.- she says with a smile, shaking our hands energetically.

Y/n: Whatever. - I deny amused by her attitude and getting up from the bench.

Enid: Where are you going? - She asks me confused when I let go of our hands.

Y/n: I have homework to do.- I respond, raising my shoulders.

Enid: But Professor Thornhill hasn't sent us anything.- She remembers me confused.

Y/n: Do you only have botany class? - I ask amused by the look f confusion on her face. -I'm leaving.- I say goodbye, entering the school hallways.

I walk towards my room, thinking about what my sister told me and as if on cue I see the person we were talking about.

Y/n: Wednesday! - I exclaimed, calling her and running to catch up with her. -How are you going with the investigation?- I ask her when I get to her side.

Wednesday: Good.- she nods her head, continuing walking. -I have new clues and I have discovered something about the deaths.- she tells me and I walk next to her.

Y/n: Do the dates or the shape of the wounds form some pattern?- I ask interested.

Wednesday: No. - she denies in response and doesn't say anything else.

She continues walking in the direction of Ophelia Hall, so I understand that she doesn't want to continue talking and I decide to stop walking. I watch her walk away and turn around to resume my walk to my room.

Wednesday: Where are you going? - I hear her question from behind me so I turn around seeing her with her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.

Y/n: To my room.- I respond confused. -I thought that since you haven't continued talking and haven't stopped walking, you wanted me to leave you alone.- I explain simply.

Wednesday: At any other time you would be correct about the message of my actions, but this is not the case.- she assures me with her monotonous tone of voice. -Now follow me.- she practically orders me, turning around and resuming her walk towards her room.

I quickly look around, making sure no one is around and run again to catch up with her.

We do the rest of the way to the room she shares with my sister in complete silence. Once inside the room, she walks over to a cork board and looks over her shoulder at me.

I approach, looking at the board and appreciating the reports and photos of what I assume are the victims of the monster.

Wednesday: There have been a total of four murders, but none of them are related to each other other than by the monster that killed them. - she explains to me, pointing to the files of the victims . -The attacks have happened on random days, there is no pattern regarding a specific number of days between one murder and another, nor any lunar phase or anything like that. - she continues explaining to me and I see each date of the murders on each victim.

Y/n: That means that wolves, for example, are ruled out since all the murders would had to be during the full moon. - I comment, reading the forensic file of the second victim.

Wednesday: Exactly, although it is clear that there are some wolves that do not need the full moon to transform. - she comments with a knowledge that I did not know she had. - You, for example. - she points her finger at me.

Y/n: How do you know that? - I ask confused, since not many people know it and it´s better to keep it that way.

Since it is very rare that a werewolf can make a complete transformation at any time, without the need for a full moon and it is something that must be kept secret.

It is very dangerous for it to be known, since it would be a perfect excuse for the normies to blame us for any crime like this and also such information can be dangerous in the hands of another supernatural being .

Wednesday: Enid.- responds simply.

Y/n: Of course.- I growl, annoyed with my sister, since she knows she can't tell anyone.

Wednesday: But it is clear that it is not a werewolf, since the claw wounds that the victims present are more spacious than those of a werewolf. - she explains to me, pointing to an abdomen, or what remains of it . -But I have noticed that in each victim, the murderer has extracted a part of their bodies and that none of them match.- she explains to me.

Y/n: You mean, the killer has taken a part of each victim 's body? - I asked confused. -As a type of amulet or reminder?- I question looking at the girl next to me, who is with her arms crossed.

Wednesday: It seems that way, but I still don't know the exact reason. - she answers me simply.

Y/n: I may not be right.- I comment thoughtfully. -But don't serial killers usually take the same thing from all their victims? - I ask without stopping looking at the photos.

Wednesday: Not always, most prefer to take any of the victim 's personal belongings. But when it's a part of the body, it varies depending on the murderer. - She explains to me and I nod, looking at her when I hear the sound of a piece of paper.

Y/n: What is that? - I ask her when I see how she takes out some pages from inside her school jacket.

Wednesday: Some very realistic and detailed drawings that I have gotten of our monster. - she responds, hanging the two drawings on the board.

Y/n: Where did you get them from? - I ask looking at said drawings.

Wednesday: From Xabier's hut.- she answers and I look at her quickly.

Y/n: He painted this? - I ask her without stopping to look at her and blindly pointing at the drawings.

She just makes a sound of confirmation, tearing her gaze from mine and moving it to my friend's sketches.

I imitate her action, returning my gaze to the paintings and paying attention to every detail of the monster.

I know that many times Xabier has very realistic lucid dreams that he then draws. But dreams are usually related to things he has seen or knows. Which would mean that he has somehow seen the monster.

Y/n: Do you think he has something to do with the monster?- I ask her in a low voice, not knowing if I want to know the answer.

Wednesday: It is possible.- it confirms my fears. -Today he had a fairly large scratch on his neck and was acting a bit suspicious. In addition to the fact that those were not the only drawings, wherever you looked, the monster's face was everywhere in that hut. - she tells me and I sigh without wanting to continue with the topic.

I decide to take a couple of steps back, moving away from the board a little and trying to think of something else.

Y/n: Hey Wednesday.- I caught her attention, causing her to look at me instead of the board. -Would you like to go with me to the Raven on Saturday?- I ask her the first thing that comes to mind unconsciously to change the topic.

I open my eyes realizing what I've said and my heartbeat skyrockets. I can see that her eyes have also opened in surprise, but they have barely opened two millimeters and if I wasn't staring at her I wouldn't have noticed.

The air in the room becomes very heavy, due to the silence and lack of response from the black-haired girl. I swallow heavily, feeling my body temperature rise and my heart beat in my throat.

Wednesday: No. - responds monotonously and for some reason that I don't understand, I feel disappointment invade my body and a phantom weight in my heart, as if I had stones in it.

Y/n: I know that you are not the type of person who enjoys unnecessary social events like dancing and that you prefer to stay in your room writing your novel. - I explained quickly without thinking. -But I wanted to ask you just in case.- I lift my shoulders, feigning indifference.

Wednesday: I don't reject you for that reason.- she assures me and I look at her confused. -It's because I've already asked someone and that person has accepted.- she tells me with the same monotony as always.

I think since I've known her, it's the first time I hate how monotonous her voice is and how impassive her face is. Because for once, I would like her to express a minimum of feelings with her features so I can at least know what she thinks.

Y/n: Oh.- I murmur a few seconds after her response and processing the information she has given me.

She doesn't say anything, she just watches me in complete silence and for the first time, it makes me uncomfortable.

Never before had I felt so watched by her and so uncomfortable and embarrassed in her presence. I don't want to continue feeling her gaze on me, trying to read me, much less for her to realize that this rejection has somehow caused something in me.

Y/n: I think I've bothered you enough.- I clear my throat, taking a step back. -I have things to do.- I excuse myself, pointing to the door and walking towards it.

Wednesday looks at me, nodding and turning her attention back to the board.

I take advantage of the fact that her back is turned to flee from the room and walk towards mine, feeling the disappointment latent within me.

These feelings are the reason why I didn't want to ask her to go to the dance in the first place. I knew she was going to say no and that I would feel bad, but I didn't think will fell this bad.

I thought it would be like that day in the ruins, when Xabier appeared and they both ignored my existence, as if I were not by their side. I thought I would feel a certain heaviness for her failure to acknowledge my existence and anger for having her full attention on Xabier instead of me.

But it has not been that way. I know that what I felt the other time was jealousy and I still don't really understand why.

Although this time it wasn't jealousy, it was as if they were piercing my chest and squeezing my heart, preventing it from pumping blood to the rest of my body.

The worst thing of all is that she has asked someone to go to the dance, it was not another boy who asked her and for some strange reason she has been forced to accept.

No.

She was the one who asked someone to go to the dance with her and I didn't see her very upset about it when she told me.

On the other hand, how can I know what she feels if she never shows it.

Wednesday POV

After the strange interaction with Y/n and my refusal of his invitation to the Raven, he excuses himself and I am left alone in my room.

I don't spend much time alone before my extravagant roommate walks into our room and looks at me with a slightly disturbing smile.

Enid: I've seen my brother walk away from Ophelia Hall.- she comments in a sing-song voice, causing me to look at her seriously.

Wednesday: I have shared with him the progress of my research.- I respond walking towards her.

Enid: And you have only talked about the investigation? - she asks with some emotion to which I cannot find an obvious origin.

Wednesday: Yes.- I agree emphatically. -But I need your worldly wisdom for a last minute situation that has arisen.- I say, maintaining my usual seriousness and impassiveness, but without knowing very well what I have to do.

Enid: Okay? - nods with some insecurity.

Wednesday: What are the steps to follow to attend a social event like the Raven? - I ask, maintaining my position and avoiding reacting to the inhuman scream that my roommate lets out.

Enid: Oh my goodness! Wednesday Addams is going to the dance! - she exclaims, jumping on the spot and with a somewhat high-pitched voice. -Do you know what you need? - she asks me excitedly.

Wednesday: A shot to the head? - I ask sincerely.

Enid: A dress! - she exclaims full of emotion.

Wednesday: I already have one.- I assure her without reacting to her emotion.

Enid: Is it the one you showed up here with? - she asks with some fear on her face. -It was an abomination for fashion that not even I could resurrect.- she assures me. -Thing, help me.- she says to the hand on my right.

He responds with a thumbs up, implying that he agrees with her and that I cannot wear the dress in which I arrived at Nevermore .

Enid: You need something that says: First date, get out of the way bitches! - she exclaims with too much energy. -Besides, being Y/n's sister, I can help you better.- she assures me with an even bigger smile than the one he had before.

Wednesday: What does your brother have to do with all this?- I ask normally and with some confusion at the mention of the boy.

Enid: Aren't you going to the dance with him?- she asks, erasing the smile from her face and frowning in confusion .

Wednesday: No. - I deny immediately. -I'm going with Xabier, for reasons that aren't important right now.- I explain and I see how her face contorts in a similar way to her brother's when I rejected his invitation to the dance.

Although the expression on my roommate's face is lighter and she doesn't have the lost look like her brother has had for a few moments.

In addition, the range of emotions that her face shows is not exactly the same and there is a difference between the emotions of confusion, some sadness and perhaps guilt that Enid reflects, which are easy to decipher.

His brother's were more difficult, since I had only been able to clearly see the gesture of disappointment and the emotion of pain he made for a second.

But otherwise I can't say exactly what emotions he felt, much less the reasons why he felt them.

#wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday #jenna ortega #wednesday addams x male reader #wednesday 2022 #wednesday imagine #wednesday netflix #wednesday x y/n #wednesday x you #wednesday addams #netflix wednesday #wednesday addams x male oc #male oc #oc character #enid sinclair #wednesday and enid #jenna ortega x male reader

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mrs-monaghan · 7 months

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Hello Shaz

I would love to hear your opinion on 3D and all the talk around it

My thoughts on the talk around it is; "wow, well this is a load of garbage" (no offence to any friends I may have who don't like the song I just disagree that its a terrible song)

Alright. 3D. Let's talk. My thoughts. First, what's with the fucking homeless trousers??

I hate rich people 😭😭😭😭 if I wear this people will wonder why I didn't go back home to change after I fell in mud 😪

Anyhu, before i even say a thing. We should probably all try to remember that JK said this

(Thanks @chicknbunny13)

Yeah sure, even if he doesn't write a song, he may resonate with it. But not everything he does is a reflection of his actual life. This one, is for the Jikook antis btw. This is why my anons are still off. People, I dont have the energy for antis rn. JK sang 'girl' so what? This topic is super old and tired and consider it officially retired from this blog. I'm sooooo over it 🥱🥱🥱🥱

Now that we have that out of the way let's tackle the fact that our JK is a grown, grown adult. I don't need to bring back the live where he told people he's an adult and he is almost 30 and he will do what he wants to do. And if he wants to sing about this, that's exactly what he will sing about.

Oh my,

Even Jimin knows all about it

BAHAHAAHAHAHA!!!

Let is be known i am choosing to take that sentence literally. I think JK just means him, the girl, with champagne and confetti. I really don't think it means anything else here. But, seeing as this is another sex song, I won't put it past him.

Anyone else notice a recurring theme here?

Okay then. 😳

Also shout out to this random kid with the horse

I can't be the only one who has no clue what his point was 😂😂😂

While we are on the champagne topic,

I mean....

Make no mistake, SEVEN and 3D are singing about the same thing. If SEVEN was in your face, 3D is subtle. But they are both just talking about sex here. Which is why it doesn't make sense to me why people are so upset??? As a person who likes Harlow and has heard his songs before, this did not shock me one bit. There is nothing wrong with this song. It is meaningless and shallow but guess what, thats the type of music the GP is listening to rn. I understand why Asians have an issue with this line

And I can respect that. I don't have to understand it, but if Asians say its offensive, then its offensive. In which case I think that's just ignorance on Harlow's part. The people behind the song and JK himself are not going to okay something degrading. So it is of my opinion that people are reading too much, way too much into something that aint even meant to be deep.

It's a song, about sex. The only thing deep about it, is the holes that will be getting penetrated.

This song doesn't require to be analysed. Okay, maybe when trying to decipher the analogies being used but that's it. JK has one agenda and one agenda only; release music that the general public will devour, get his name out there and be a huge pop star. And it is working.

Cue Boracity's new video about each member and who their target audience are for each solo project

youtube

JK did not write these songs. If he did I'm sure they would have more meaning. But that's not what he's aiming for rn. Right now the man just wants to put out something that he knows will sell. Wants to put out something that will be a hit. And 3D is exactly that. Just like SEVEN. Mans was asked for the meaning of the song and by his answer, I'm not sure even he knows.

What??

Did anyone understand that???? If you did, break it down for me coz I did NOT understand that 😂😂

This song has no meaning. Its shallow, catchy, easy to remember and move to. Enough with trying to complicate shit! It ain't that deep. Period.

JK cared more about the choreo.

While Jack is calling himself a whore for wanting 4 women, JK is busy dancing throughout. So I will listen to JK and enjoy the song and choreo. Because there is nothing in the lyrics and there was never intended to be.

Idk why y'all mad when we stan a consent king:

Personally I dont have time to be angry because 1) i see no reason to be, and 2) i am too busy admiring JK's body proportions 🤤🤤

Damn, Jimin's man is hot!!!!! 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

#jungkook thirst trap #3d jungkook #3d jk #jungkook 3d #ask shaz #bts ask #jungkook #jeon j #bts #jikook #kookmin

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cherienymphe · 1 year

Text

Violet Eyes & Violent Delights (Aegon II Targaryen x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, manipulation, loss of virginity, mentions of incest (Helaena x Aemond), power imbalance, mentions of consensual fidelity

➥ banner by @maysdigitalarts | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: You picked a flower, and Aegon picked you for himself.

You always belonged to Prince Aegon.

Even when you didn’t know it.

You were never supposed to get distracted from your duties nor stray too far from the other serving girls. It was an easy enough rule for your young mind to comprehend, but it was a beautiful day, and the sun shown down on the flowers just right, and you wanted to pick some.

Aegon wanted to pick you for himself.

You hadn’t known that was possible then. For someone to just pluck another person all for themselves like you often plucked flowers. The queen had been beside herself, a look upon her pretty face that you had not been able to decipher until years later. She had rubbed her hand over her chest, pink lips pursed as she flicked her eyes between you and her eldest son, the latter with a tight grip around your wrist as he awaited her answer.

“Well…your sister will require a lady-in-waiting one day. I suppose that we can get her started early-.”

“Helaena?” Aegon had scoffed, a deep frown on his face. “I want her for me, mother.”

Her face had fallen, taut now.

“You don’t like it when I enjoy the company of my nephews, Aemond is a twat, and Helaena is…stupid-.”

“Aegon,” she snapped, eyeing you once more.

Even if you felt it was your place to speak, you had not known what to say then. One moment, you were picking flowers, and the next you were being pulled through the corridors by prince Aegon himself.

“You’re pretty,” he had told you. “…and my mother says that I can have anything my heart desires.”

You had been rendered speechless to be in such proximity to the royal family, but the more he went back and forth with the queen, the more you thought that the eldest prince just wanted a friend. Your free hand landed on the arm that held yours, and the action had caused the prince to pause in his quarrel with the queen, turning to look at you.

His own silence had triggered his mother’s, and you could feel her eyes on you. It was the strangest situation to find yourself in then, and you had cleared your throat, feeling overwhelmed.

“I will…be grateful for any place her majesty finds for me here.”

The red-headed woman had sighed, looking down at you two with a furrow between her brows. That was your first lesson in just how stubborn and determined Aegon could be, and just how much the queen would spoil him.

“I will bring it up with your father,” she had firmly told him in a quiet voice.

Years later, when you would ask Aegon what the king had said that night, he would tell you that the older man had all but waved it off, declaring that his eldest son should be allowed any friend he wishes. Overnight you had gone from a serving girl to prince Aegon’s…companion.

Getting work in the castle as an orphan had been a feat on it’s own, but to become so close to the family that sat on the iron throne was another entirely.

“I do not feel right in this,” you had said one day, gingerly touching the nicest dress you’d ever had the pleasure of wearing.

“My sister has so many. She could really stand to lose them all,” Aegon had murmured from behind a cup.

You did not agree as Helaena seemed very precious to you. In fact, you did not agree with the prince on a lot of things, but you quickly learned that your opinion hardly mattered in his eyes. In fact, a lot of things about you hardly mattered. It took longer than you would have liked for you to realize that you were not so much the prince’s friend, but instead his trinket, his possession to do with as he pleased.

You belonged to him…and no one else.

“Even if you did have any right to talk to her, she would not want to hear your crazy ramblings,” he’d sneered at his sister one day.

The white-haired girl had shrunk in on herself, timid eyes finding the floor. Aemond had been nearby, quiet and disapproving as he watched with a frown. You had wanted to say something to defend the innocent girl, but without saying as much, Aegon had made your place here pretty clear.

He had made it so that you could have a life of comfort and leisure and fine things…and he could just as easily take it away.

“She was only being friendly,” you had told him later that evening.

The look that Aegon gave you, you would have thought that you were attempting to cut his throat. You had looked away, head falling as he neared you. He did not respond for what felt like a long time, and you wished that you could take it back.

“Do you wish to be hers instead?”

You frantically shook your head.

“No, I only meant-.”

“What need would you have for Helaena?”

You had looked at him then, lips parted, and he frowned at you.

“She did not find you. She did not beg mother to keep you around. I am the one who went to her to get you nice things to wear and a nice bed to sleep in. You are mine…not hers, and if you wish it to be different, then I can just let her give you all those things instead.”

The threat was clear enough for your young mind to comprehend even then. You had swallowed, slowly shaking your head at him, and it took a moment before the prince looked satisfied enough with your answer.

Your dynamic was something you grew to get used to. It was no longer weird for you to follow after Aegon like a lost puppy. Somehow, his heavy footsteps ahead of yours became something like a comfort to you. You no longer second guessed his disapproving stare at one of your dresses, a nasty sneer on his lips as he snapped at one of the maids to find you something better.

You donned what only Aegon approved of, you wore your hair in whatever way he liked, and when you spoke, it was only after a quick glance in his direction. You were well into your adolescence when you realized that you were not Aegon’s friend. You never were.

You were his doll.

He made you up and dressed you up as he pleased to sit prettily at his side. He insisted that you go everywhere with him, and while the king did not mind your presence at dinner, his spirit still jovial even with his failing health, the queen however still eyed you with that look you had yet to place. However, when you felt Aegon’s fingers absentmindedly touching your shoulder that night, like he had every right in the world to, and her face fell like her worst fears had come to pass, you understood then that she was terrified.

It had started small.

Your eyes would wander, and you would find them meeting a gaze that was already waiting for your attention. Aegon’s shoulder would brush yours when dining, his chair as close to yours as humanly possible. Even in the most mundane of settings, you would feel the faint touch of his fingers stroking along your sleeve, careless to all who might see.

Only his drunk lips betrayed his sober thoughts.

“Do you love me?”

You had blinked at him, hovering over his prone form, tucking him in as you often did when he got too much ale into him. His pale blond hair hung in his face, and there was the barest of frowns on his features as he stared at you through tearful and bleary eyes.

Queen Alicent’s fearful expression was ever present in your mind, and you wondered how you never saw it before.

You were not ignorant to the ways of men. You saw the way they behaved when they had too much to drink or even when they were sober and feeling particularly bold. You knew what Aegon had dragged his brother out for one night when the latter was only thirteen years of age. You knew it was the same thing Aegon himself had been eager to seek for himself only a year before.

You felt so cold as you realized what the queen had tried to prevent years and years ago.

Even in this moment, as the prince eagerly awaited your answer, he could not help himself to touch you. His head lolled, and his hair went every which way, and he could hardly keep his eyes open. Yet, his hand still found the strength to toy with your sleeve and trail his fingers over the back of your hand. Aegon did that a lot, and you wondered if he even noticed it now seeing as it was almost second nature for him.

“Of course, I care for you,” you eventually replied, straightening a little. “As I care for everyone in your family who has never been anything but kind and…so very gracious to me.”

Aegon’s hand fell, and he was quiet as he merely stared at you. Your heart pounded, and cautiously, you straightened and backed away.

“You should…rest. You will have a hard enough morning as it is.”

He said nothing more, and you did not look back as you left his chambers.

You could not get to yours fast enough, only a wall away from his own, and you pressed your back to your doors when you closed them. Your nails scraped against the wood, and your heart threatened to leap from your chest. The truth was not only that you did not love Aegon, but that you never would.

Prince Aegon Targaryen, second of his name, was not a good man.

His marriage to his sister had come and gone, and he treated her no better than he did before. He was quick to anger, and slow to forgive, and you bore witness to this more than anyone. Aemond had the reputation for being especially cold and intimidating, but Aegon possessed a cruelty that made your stomach turn. You knew of the time he spent in Flea Bottom, unfortunate enough to be forced to go with him sometimes, and you were not stupid.

The unmistakable white hair and light eyes a child or two possessed was telling.

Aegon was a selfish and demanding prince with a dark heart that desired any and everything it should not. Somehow, over the years, that had come to include you without you even realizing it. His pet. His doll. His poor servant girl that he had saved from the plights of poverty and decay.

His cold violet eyes starred in your nightmares many nights…

…because the truth was that he scared you beyond belief.

The same man that had changed your life in the course of a night was the same one who left you shaking most days. Where you once felt like his shadow, the roles had reversed somehow, and you felt like he was always over your shoulder instead. You felt like it was his breathing that you felt down your neck instead of the cool autumn air. His fingers along your spine instead of the soft fabric of your dress.

His presence was oppressive and paralyzing, and you feared that if you offered to give it all back as if these past years had never happened, he would not even let you go. Aegon may have never touched you in the same manner he did those poor serving girls who often ran shaking and crying from his chambers, but you were well and truly his.

You were right on Aemond’s heels as he smoothly made his way down the steps. His long blond hair swayed against his back with every movement, and you found yourself absentmindedly admiring it. You did that more often than you wanted to admit, and you quickly looked away, reminding yourself how devoted he was to his sister.

The Targaryens and their odd customs would never grow on you, you were sure, but you supposed that if Helaena had to find comfort in one of her brothers, better it be the lesser of two evils.

Sometimes you envied her in that way. You did not know how, but your future seemed so assured to you. Every time you thought about it, all you saw was the eldest Targaryen prince, and somehow someway, you knew that is all it would ever be.

It seemed inevitable, and not just to you, but to all those around you.

Once you had shown up, a drunk Aegon was much more eager to leave the brothel, preferring to hang off of you than his own brother. His breath wreaked of wine, and his hand was tightly curled around your waist. You followed Aemond down the familiar path as you snuck his brother back into the castle, nights like this a regular occurrence.

When he fell back onto his bed, eyes already fluttering closed and lips parting, his fingers were tight on the fabric of your dress. It took a lot of strength to pry them away, and even then, even in his sleep, they tightly wound through yours. You sighed to yourself just as the youngest prince spoke.

“You know what my brother is like…”

You looked over your shoulder at him, gaze meeting his as he watched you two with his hands behind his back. The fairness of his skin was made all the more so by his dark attire, and as he stared you down, you frowned.

“I…do not-.”

“I know you hear the whispers,” he quietly interrupted. “We all have.”

You swallowed, heart sinking as he brought up Aegon’s disgusting nature.

“I know you see the fear in their eyes whenever he comes around…whenever it’s their turn to tend to his chambers and food…”

You looked away, shaky gaze finding the floor.

“It’s either them or you,” he brutally murmured, causing your stricken gaze to land on him again. “…and my brother has never been one for patience.”

“Aemond-.”

“Do you think…that playing the ignorant fool…will save you?”

You furiously blinked, not even realizing you were crying until the tears hit your cheeks.

“Why are you saying this to me?”

“…because perhaps you stood a chance once, a long time ago, but the moment has passed.”

He blinked at you, and if you did not know any better, you would say that the look in his eye was pitying.

“…and I do not believe in delaying the inevitable.”

You sharply exhaled at that, chest tightening, and Aemond left you without another word. You stared after him with parted lips, wet cheeks cold from the air that hit them before turning your face away, visage crumbling as he voiced what you were always thinking.

There had always been some part of you that wondered if Aegon only did to those poor women what he really desired to do to you. There were many nights you had lied awake wondering how much torment you could save if you only gave in, but there was a part of yourself that you never wanted to face. A part of yourself that was selfish and still hoped for marriage to a nice man and a good life beyond Aegon’s reach. You had convinced yourself that it was still possible somehow despite the phantom grip prince Aegon had on the back of your neck.

When you finally pulled your hand from his, you were desolate in returning to your chambers. Aemond’s words were heavy in your mind for days, so much so that you found yourself staring at him almost with a glower, silently begging him to take them back. Inevitable. Gods, how you hated that word, but it was true.

Your life had become inevitable.

You had plucked a flower, Aegon had plucked you, and from that point on, your life became inevitable.

“They are talking of marriage for my baby brother,” Aegon slurred, chuckling to himself. “…finally.”

He stumbled into his chambers with your help, plopping onto his bed.

“Truthfully, I do not know why our mother did not just…marry him off to Helaena. We all would have been much happier for it,” he almost sneered at the mention of his sister.

You went to pull away when he reached up, fingers digging into your arms through your sleeves, a look in his eyes that you could not place. They were glassy and lilac and almost pleading beneath that layer of coldness.

“Do you wish to marry some day?” he murmured, looking up at you.

“Doesn’t every girl?” you replied, avoiding an answer.

Aegon briefly looked away, scoffing to himself before those dead eyes met yours again.

“I suppose so… I suppose you want a beautiful gown and flowers in your hair and a sweet wedding night to match…”

His tone was almost mocking, and you frowned at him.

“I suppose,” you weakly told him, trying to get him to lay down.

“…and…do you want those things with Aemond?” he almost seemed to force out, glassy eyes trained on you.

His words took you by surprise, catching you off guard.

“Aemond? No,” you lightly chuckled, shaking your head. “No…”

It was a stray thought here and there, but nothing more. Aegon seemed to study you, jaw ticking and gaze hardening.

“I see you look at him sometimes…the way you look at him lately…”

Your frown deepened.

“Aegon-.”

“He’d never touch you,” he suddenly spat, making you flinch. “Not unless he wanted to lose that other eye.”

You hissed at the venom in his words, attempting to step back, but he only held you in place.

“Don’t be cruel,” you cried.

“I am not being cruel, I’m being clear.”

You could not move, and Aegon’s fingers absentmindedly massaged your arms. He pulled, causing you to stumble closer, and he lowered his head, pressing his forehead to your stomach.

“Why don’t you love me?” he murmured.

It sounded like he was talking more to himself than you, but then he lifted his gaze, chin resting on your stomach now. His blond hair fell back away from his face, and despite the tears in his eyes, there was an anger there that made you shudder.

“I get it. I am not…the kindest…and I am no gentleman like my brother,” he sneered. “…but have I not…?”

Aegon licked his lips, the top one curling over his teeth a tad.

“Have I not given you everything?”

His hands slid down to your wrists, tight around them, and you winced.

“Have I not given you all?”

You had no response to that for he was right. Everything you had, you owed to Aegon, and some part of you had always dreaded the day he’d come to collect. He abruptly stood, and you almost tripped over your feet. He drunkenly eyed you with a wild look in his gaze before reaching out and ripping the comb out of your hair. You helped at the slight tug, eyes wide as he threw it to the ground.

“Your pretty pins…your pretty necklaces,” he ripped the jewels from off your neck. “…the clothes off your very back are because I gave them to you.”

“I-I know that,” you shakily said to him.

His hands found your throat, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to be alarming. You reached up to touch his arms, and Aegon’s gaze flickered between your eyes. His breathing was heavy, and you blinked out more tears.

“You say that,” he murmured, roughly brushing a thumb over your mouth. “…but I think it’s time I finally remind you.”

“Aegon-.”

“…time I finally get what I am owed.”

Prince Aegon’s lips were rough on yours, tasting of sweet wine. He kissed you like he was trying to take all of your breath away, and in the back of your mind, you noted that this was your first. You were unsure of what to do, pulling at his hands and trying to lean away.

“Wait,” you mumbled. “Stop, I-.”

“Stop?”

He pulled away from you, a deep frown on his face.

“What right do you have to tell me what I can and cannot do?”

Your gaze was pleading, hands futile as they pushed at his chest.

Aegon’s lips were just as hungry as before, teeth nipping at your lips and hands rough on your body. He cared little for your dress, ripping it off of you in any way possible. The cold air had you pressing yourself against him despite yourself, and he was eager to trap you in his arms, nails dragging along your skin.

The fear of what was happening wholly hit you once he tried to lay you down, and although the small grin on his pink lips told you that he enjoyed the small fight, the ravenous look in his eyes betrayed his impatience. You could do nothing but cry when your back met his bed.

Aegon took his time in kissing his way down your body, a childish eagerness in him as he seemed not to know where to play his lips next. He wanted to taste all of you at once somehow, and even though it was impossible, he was determined to try. With his face between your legs, you tried to run away, but his arms snaked around your thighs and held you in place.

“I will show you,” he promised into your skin. “I will make you addicted to my very touch.”

The conflicting feeling of pleasure from someone you feared made your head spin. Your hands flailed, unsure of where to put them at every swipe and swirl of his tongue. One eventually tore at the sheets while the other reluctantly found his hair. Your stomach clenched, and your chest arched, and you fought between pushing him away or pulling him closer.

When wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you, you did not know how to handle it. It was the most intense thing you had ever felt, and Aegon did not let up until you were practically sobbing again beneath him. Drunken lips danced their way up your frame, kissing your skin in no certain pattern, and Aegon’s hand slid along your neck.

“I plucked you…like you were my very own flower…”

Your lips parted into a silent scream, nails clawing at his skin when he pushed into you with no warning. Your vision blurred all over again, tears falling past your ears, and Aegon’s fingers pressed into the bone of your jaw.

“I watered you…I made you bloom…”

His hips snapped against yours, his thrusts short and forceful. He leaned in to bite at your neck and shoulder, marking you and tasting you. You pushed at him to no avail, and Aegon seemed to let out a growl of frustration, fucking you harder.

“I will reap the benefits of what I have sewn,” he said through clenched teeth.

His hand was harsh in your hair, tugging on it and yanking your head back. Your nails pressed into his shoulder, and you cried beneath him. Aegon either paid your tears no mind, or he actually enjoyed the sigh of them. His cock pushed into you and stretched you in ways you did not think was possible.

Much to your horror, eventually, your pain gave way to more pleasure. It still stung and was still uncomfortable, but that same heat as before began to creep along your body. It started deep in your gut before slowly spreading to every part of you. Aegon hovered over you, looking down at you and repeatedly looking down to where he disappeared into you.

You were afraid to look.

You were afraid of what you might see.

“So pretty,” he said to himself, pressing his forehead to yours. “…and all for me.”

His words had you squeezing your eyes shut, turning your head away with a cry. His mouth was at your ear, labored breathing and soft lips. His blond strands brushed your skin, and you cringed when he placed a kiss just below your ear.

“You will know true satisfaction by sunrise.”

You were still wiping away a stray tear when your chamber doors were opened. The woman behind you paused, fingers still on the laces of your dress when he spoke, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut.

“Leave us,” he deeply said, tone leaving no room for argument.

When you had quietly snuck out of his chambers during the early hours of the morning, you knew that your solitude would not last long. It did not mean you were not allowed to mourn it though. You remained still as he approached you, and a shiver traveled down your spine when his soft fingers grazed the skin of your back.

He said nothing as he finished her job, hands running down your sides, greedily tracing your curves as he stepped closer. It was only when his arms came down over you, the cold feel of a necklace on your skin, did you finally lift your gaze to meet his in the reflection. Aegon looked more than satisfied with himself as he secured the piece of jewelry at the back of your neck.

Your lips parted, another tear skipping down your cheek as his chest brushed your back. He reached around to take your chin in his hand, holding your head in place while he pressed his lips to your cheek. They lingered there, and he held your gaze.

“Flowers…for my flower.”

#aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #hotd fanfic

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