#//But these are all traits that Rain would look for | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

incognit0slut · 1 year ago

Text

BATTLE SCARS

Part 2 of kinktober | main masterlist

What started out as innocently counting body scars with your coworker, who you were stuck in the same bed with, ended far from being innocent.

sub!spencer x fem!reader; Face sitting, male and female oral, body worship, cockwarming

words: 6,300 (I couldn’t help it the buildup was fun to write)

a/n: I hope this shows up on your page because apparently this app hates me

"THERE’S ONLY ONE ROOM LEFT."

Of course, there is, you thought, eyes glancing over to your partner of the day. Spencer was the one you were partnered with when Hotch had sent you to check on the victim's childhood home. He's good at deducing clues, was what your unit chief had said, and although those words were well-intentioned, you couldn't help but feel slightly dejected.

One month of working in the BAU meant that everyone would scrutinize you, even when you knew you were more than capable of doing the job. It wasn't like you were randomly picked for this position. You went through the same process as everyone else did. You were as smart as everyone was but it seemed that your boss still thought you needed a babysitter to do this simple task.

One month of working as the latest addition to the team also meant you didn't know your colleagues that well, which was why you wondered what was going through Spencer's mind in this current predicament. What did he think of the sudden thunderstorm hitting this remote town just as you were about to leave? What did he feel about having to seek shelter because driving in this terrible condition wasn't a choice anymore?

And what ran through his mind when the guy behind the counter, who looked like he didn't even want to be here in the first place, said there was only one room left?

"Are you sure?" Your coworker pressed on, eyes darting across the computer screen sitting on the desk. "Did you check every room? All of them?"

The man in front of him quirked an eyebrow. "Are you saying I'm not doing my job right?"

"No, he's not," you cut in. You glanced at Spencer, noticing he was constantly fidgeting on his feet. You might not know him well enough, but you were a profiler, and with the way he kept shifting his weight from one leg to another, you could tell he was uncomfortable with the situation. You wondered what had him so worked up like this. Was it the idea of having to spend the night with a woman?

Well, he did seem like the type of guy who didn't have his fair share of nights with the opposite sex, but then again, you weren't going to start guessing his personal life. Although you did once see him act all bashful in front of a witness who, you had to admit, was the epitome of sweet and innocent. Her traits were probably on the top list of his preferred type, exactly the opposite of yours.

Huh.

So was it just the idea of spending the night with you that ticked him off?

"It's fine," you said, looking back at—you narrowed your eyes at the name tag clipped on his shirt—Kevin. His name was Kevin. "We'll take it."

Spencer's eyes fell on you. "But—"

"But it's pouring outside and neither of us should be driving in this horrible weather," you added. "End of discussion."

He looked like he was about to retort a reply when a sudden string of light cackled through the night sky, followed by another heavy downpour. He winced as his shoulders slumped, another posture of discomfort but one with a hint of defeat. You saw him reluctantly nod from the corner of your eyes.

"Alright," he finally said. "We'll take it."

Kevin slid a key across the wooden desk. "Room 306."

You thanked him and grabbed onto the key before turning on your heels. The walk to the room was extremely quiet except for the constant sound of the rain pouring outside. Spencer shuffled his feet beside you, and even though you wanted to fill in the silence, the thought of him not wanting to room with you annoyed you more than you wanted to admit.

Were you really that bad? Was the idea of sharing a room with you repulsive for him to act this way?

When you finally reached your shared room, an immediate sense of awkwardness washed over you like an unexpected wave. The room, though not large, was well-furnished and neat. But what caught your attention was the sight that greeted you in the dimly lit space. In the center of the room was a bed—not large enough to be luxurious, yet not small enough to be cozy.

Your eyes met briefly with his and a moment of unease passed between you two. Finally, he broke the silence with a hesitant voice. "I can sleep in the car."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his suggestion. "It's pouring outside."

"Right." He sighed, realizing the impracticality of his proposal. "Well, then I'll, uh, sleep on the floor."

"Reid." Your narrowed eyes fixed on him, your patience wearing thin. "The bed is big enough for the both of us. I don't mind sharing."

He paused, clearly taken aback by your straightforward response. "A-Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't have suggested it if I wasn't," you replied, showing your back to him. "I'm going to use the bathroom first."

"U-uh, yes. Sure. Of course," he stammered, his voice trailing off as he watched you leave the room.

You retreated to the bathroom, closing the door behind you with a soft click. As you washed your hands and splashed some cool water on your face, you couldn't help but wonder what had led to his initial hesitance. The storm outside was fierce, and the idea of venturing into it to sleep in the car or on the floor seemed impractical, to say the least. You knew that sharing the bed was the most sensible option, but there was an unspoken tension in the room, and you couldn't quite put your finger on why he had been so reluctant.

Turning off the tap, you took a deep breath. Whatever. He could act all uncomfortable as much as he wanted and you could pretend he wasn't even there. So you decided to shed your jeans, leaving yourself in the oversized button-up shirt that served as your makeshift nightwear.

The shirt fell gracefully to the middle of your thighs, offering a sense of ease you couldn't find in your uncomfortable jeans. With them neatly folded and placed on the bathroom counter, you looked back into the mirror one last time, straightening your wrinkled shirt, and ran a hand through your hair before stepping back into the room.

You found him seated on the edge of the bed, his posture awkward and uncertain. You watched as he shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting toward the single window in the shared space, his eyes narrowing each time a particularly strong gust of wind rattled the pane.

You decided to break the silence. "You know, it's just a little rain. We'll be out of here as soon as the weather clears up tomorrow."

His gaze finally met yours, and you saw a mixture of frustration and something else, something deeper, in his eyes. "It's not about the rain," he replied, his voice laced with a hint of exasperation.

So it really was about you.

His gaze then traveled over your exposed skin, and you could see his eyes growing wide, clearly taken aback by your choice of attire. "W- What are you wearing?"

Unable to suppress a chuckle at his sudden shift in demeanor, you decided to play along. "Do you mean what I'm not wearing?"

He blinked, his response caught in his throat, leaving him momentarily speechless. His gaping mouth and wide-eyed expression only fueled your amusement. You shrugged in response, trying to play off his intense gaze, but you felt his eyes linger on your thigh, fixated on the long scar mapping along your skin.

"Reid," you called out, and he looked up at you, his expression wry as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have been.

"Y-yes?" he stammered, clearly flustered by being caught in the act.

You pointed toward the bathroom. "You can use it now," you suggested.

His face lit up with realization. "Oh! Right," he exclaimed, his flustered state evident as he stumbled on his way to the bathroom.

The awkwardness seemed to follow him as he disappeared into the other room. After turning off the main lights, you left only the soft glow of the bed lamp, which cast a warm ambiance in the room. The covers provided a sense of security and comfort as you finally settled beneath them.

A few minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a white shirt he seemed to wear under his button-down shirt. However, unlike you, he still had his pants on, although he did discard his belt.

Seeing him in this stripped-down, casual state was a bizarre sight. You had grown accustomed to his poised and professional demeanor, and the sight of him dressed in ordinary clothes seemed oddly intimate as if you were witnessing a side of him that few others had seen. It was as if you were seeing him naked even when he was still covered in most of his clothes.

He then settled onto the bed with a noticeable awkwardness, causing the mattress to sink down slightly under his weight. He lay far away from you, in a stiff and distant manner, clearly still grappling with the awkwardness of the situation.

"Reid, relax, I'm not going to bite you," you said reassuringly, trying to dispel some of the tension in the room. A small, playful smile danced on your lips. "Unless that's what you want me to do," you added, your voice taking on a teasing note.

A brief moment of silence followed, and it almost seemed as if he was contemplating your playful offer. You felt the tension shift into something else, but before it could further linger, you decided to break the silence with a forced laugh, shaking off the tension. You then rolled over to your side, closing your eyes shut, ignoring the sound of heavy rain hitting the window and the bolt of lightning occasionally flashing through the sky. You just wanted to rest. You just wanted peace. You wanted to sleep.

But sleep didn't want you.

About ten minutes later, you groaned softly and rolled over onto your back. "Reid," you said, breaking the silence.

He hummed in response.

"I can't sleep," you confessed, your voice carrying a hint of restlessness. Turning to face him, you propped yourself up on your elbow. "Tell me something about yourself," you suddenly requested, your curiosity cutting through the awkwardness.

He hesitated for a moment as if considering whether he should respond to you or not, but then he eventually asked, "Anything?"

"Anything."

"Well, I—uh," he cut off, and with a faint hint of modesty, he began again. "I'm extremely smart."

From all the information he could share, he decided to share that. But it was still something, at least you could get your coworker to talk instead of fidgeting in discomfort. "Yeah? How smart?"

"Well, I have an IQ of 187 and three PhDs."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That's impressive," you responded, but then you let out a scoff. "And extremely conceited. Someone asks you to share a fact about yourself and you decide to brag about your brain."

Your remark earned you a small, amused smile from him. "You told me to share anything."

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you leaned in a little closer. "Alright, your turn."

He gulped at your sudden movement but kept his attention on your eyes. "My turn for what?"

You laid on your back again. "Ask me something," you suggested.

There was a moment of hesitation as if he had been contemplating whether to ask the question and then his voice filled the air. "What happened to you?"

"What do you mean?" You asked, your brows furrowed slightly.

"Y-Your scar."

You couldn't resist a teasing tone as you turned your head toward him. "Spencer Reid," you taunted, a playful glint in your eye. "Were you checking me out?"

His response was quick and slightly flustered. "What? No!" He cleared his throat awkwardly. "It was a mere observation," he clarified, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush.

Your laughter filled the room, a light, and genuine sound that seemed to dissolve some of the remaining tension in the air. "Alright, alright," you conceded, still amused by the exchange. "Observation duly noted."

Without warning, you kicked off the covers, a spontaneous decision driven by a mix of curiosity and the playful atmosphere that had developed between you. Your actions were unanticipated, even to yourself, but perhaps it was his flustered self that had spurred you on.

As the covers fell to the side, you extended your leg, showing him the white scar dancing along the inner part of your thigh. His eyes widened in surprise, his gaze drawn to your exposed skin. For a moment, there was silence, as if the room held its breath, and then he met your eyes.

"Fell off a cliff from a hiking trip," you explained, your voice softening with the memory. "I was exploring a trail and had a bit of a mishap. It left me with this scar as a souvenir."

His eyes flickered over the scar. "Did it hurt?"

You shrugged. "It did, but I guess I got through it."

Then, to his surprise, you began to unbutton your shirt. His eyes widened in disbelief at your actions. "W-what are you doing?"

You merely grinned in response, your confidence unwavering. You pushed the material of your shirt off your shoulder, revealing another scar, smaller and darker than the one on your thigh. "This is the most painful one," you explained. "A bullet from a handgun."

He examined the scar intently. "What happened?"

"A chase with a suspect a few years ago," you recounted, recalling your life before you joined the BAU. "We cornered the suspect in an abandoned warehouse, it was a tense standoff. He was armed, and in the chaos of the moment, a shot was fired." You gave him a smile. "I was the unlucky one in the way."

Your eyes locked with one another in a moment of shared understanding, and then you asked, "What about you? Any battle scars?"

He paused for a moment, considering your question. He seemed hesitant at first as if debating whether to share, but then he slowly lifted his shirt, revealing a scar on his lower abdomen. "Flying bullet."

He turned slightly, revealing a slight scar on his lower back, the result of a sharp weapon grazing his skin. It was a subtle yet significant mark. "An Unsub armed with a knife." He then laid back on his back again and tapped his right leg. "There's another scar from a bullet on my knee."

You couldn't help but tease him lightly, your tone playful. "Well, aren't you a magnet for disaster?"

His expression softened at your teasing. You stared at each other silently, taking in each other's presence in the close proximity the bed offered. You weren't sure how, or when for the matter, but it seemed the distance you both created grew shorter in the span of time you were talking.

Your gaze drifted over his features, from his brown orbs to his pointed nose, then along his high cheekbones before settling on the small scar underneath his jawline. It was a subtle mark, but it caught your attention, and you couldn't resist reaching out to gently touch it.

"What about this?" you inquired, your finger tracing the scar. "How did you get it?"

His breath seemed to catch at your sudden touch, and he stammered slightly in response, "I-I cut myself with a razor this morning."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his explanation, and your finger continued to graze his skin, skimming along the faded scar in a circular motion. "And how bad did it hurt?" you asked.

"Not so much," he whispered, his breathing starting to become uneven and it was at that moment you realized how compromising of a position you were in. He was on his back, and somehow you managed to press yourself onto him with a leg resting on his, your hips flushed against his side.

Maybe the rain, the rhythmic pattern of the raindrops beating in synchronized with your heart pushed your actions. Or perhaps it was being in the same bed. Whatever it was, the undeniable proximity between you created a charged atmosphere in the room. Every breath felt heavy, and the air seemed to thicken with unspoken tension, drawing you even closer.

You wanted to kiss him. How could you not when he was looking at you with those eyes? It was hard to ignore this sudden pull of attraction, but Spencer seemed like the type of guy who rarely made the first move. Maybe you needed to initiate it first.

"You know..." you began, your eyes trailing across his tiny scar. "I was thinking of kissing it better?" Your words hung in the air, and you felt him stiffen beside you. "If it was painful, that is."

A charged silence enveloped the room after your suggestive offer. Your heart raced, taking a leap at the first step in crossing the line. He could either play along or push you away, it was a risk you were willing to take, and you prayed he was into it just as you were.

"A- Actually," he stuttered. "I think I'm starting to feel the pain now."

You bit your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling. "Oh, you poor thing." And before he could respond, you bent over and pressed your soft lips against his scar. You felt him momentarily freeze. "Better?"

You thought he was about to back away when he didn't answer, but then his words had you grinning from ear to ear.

"...I'm not sure," he replied, his voice cutting through the silence. "I think it still hurts?"

Your smile grazed his scar again, softly, barely even touching it, before you trailed down his jawline, stopping on the crook of his neck.

"I.." He breathed out, his voice sounding strangled as you felt his grip on your hip. "I-I don't think that's where the scar is."

"I know." You opened your mouth, your tongue slightly tasting his skin. "I'm making a scar of my own."

Your parted lips were hot against his skin, his eyes fluttering close as you softly sucked on the spot below his ear. You always loved receiving neck kisses, but giving them? There was a certain sense of power to be able to make someone shiver under you, and it was what he was doing right now, breath hitching every time you sucked on a different spot.

You cupped his face as you continued to trail your lips along his neck, pressing your body closer to his. You moved your hand lower, fingers grazing his jawline before it rested around his throat, and as you put slight pressure on your hold, you heard him inhale sharply. You paused, not sure you were hearing right, but then you tightened your grip around his neck and a soft, strangled moan escaped his lips.

You smiled.

Spencer Reid, you naughty, kinky boy.

"We can stop if you want," you murmured against his skin because truthfully, you knew you couldn't restrain yourself after this.

"N- no," he sighed. "Don't stop."

It was enough for you to throw your leg over him. You lifted yourself up and straddled his lower half, stifling a moan as you felt the hard pressure between your thighs, and pressed your lips against his. You couldn't stop yourself from kissing him with so much fervor. Your lips collided with his as you pushed your tongue inside his opened mouth—tasting him, exploring him, devouring him. Who would've thought you would enjoy kissing your coworker this much?

You pulled away and studied him. Spencer was a blessing to witness. His eyes were heavy and hooded, his hair was disheveled with some strands stuck to his forehead and his lips were swollen and parted as he breathed slowly through them. His pale complexion bore the marks of a flush and you couldn't stop yourself from pushing away a strand of hair from his face.

"You're so pretty." Those words came out of your mouth without much thought in which you received a breathless sigh in return.

"You're.... you're more pretty."

You giggled and ran your fingers through his hair. "You understand I'm not going to stop now, right?" He faintly nodded. "And do you know what that means?"

He shook his head.

"It means I'm going to fuck you," you taunted, a wicked smile curling on your lips. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to use that smart brain of yours.”

The whine flying out of his mouth was enough for you to lean in closer, your lips extremely close to his but not quite touching. "Can I be rough?" His strangled whimper had you wrapping your hand around his throat again. "Use your words, baby."

"Y-yes," he breathed out. "Please."

"Good."

You pulled your hand back and brought it down sharply on his cheek. The sound startled you because it sounded harder than it felt, ringing out loud with only the faintest sting on your palm.

Spencer looked genuinely surprised. His head turned with the impact of the slap, jaw falling open. He blinked himself back into focus and you were about to ask if you were being too much, but then he looked at you in a way he had never looked at you before. The dazed and desperation of his gaze moved right through you, flushing you with heat.

"Such a pretty boy for me," you said, gently rubbing his cheek. You watched him, a curious smile playing at the corners of your lips. In that moment, you felt a peculiar sense of power and intimacy that was unlike any other you had experienced. It was an odd but exhilarating sensation, feeling an almost illicit delight in the power you held over him.

You then slowly straightened yourself. Taking your time, you began to unbutton your shirt as his gaze burned into you. You popped each button open until it left the sight of your black, laced bra on display for his eyes to devour. Your bra showed a hint of skin over the top, bouncing a little as you pulled yourself out of your shirt.

You reached behind your back to unhook your bra before slipping it from your shoulders, allowing your breasts to bounce free. Spencer couldn't help but swipe his tongue across his lips at the sight. Your breasts were on display with hardened, aching nipples to taunt him. You brought them in your palms, playing and squeezing your flesh for a moment just to tease him.

"Do you want to taste me?"

He let out a desperate sigh. "Please."

You placed the palm of your hands on his chest before leaning in, dropping your breasts right in front of his face. It didn't take him long to know what you wanted, and he quickly wrapped your right nipple in his mouth, his tongue hot against your skin.

"Fuck, Spencer," you moaned. You shivered upon the contact. His mouth sucking on your nipple was making your head delirious. Warmth spiraled from your core to the rest of your body as he tasted you, and when you thought you couldn't feel more aroused than you already were, he let go of your swollen nipple just to give his attention to the other one, sucking even harder.

You couldn't handle it anymore. A moment later your fingers ran down his chest, brushing over his stomach to feel him tense beneath your touch until the second you grip the hem of his pants. "Take these off for me."

You had never seen someone move so fast before. The moment you climbed off the bed, he started peeling his clothes from his body piece by piece. He left no article on before throwing his clothes to the floor, eyes raking your body as you stood before him in nothing but your panties. Those were quick to go, however. You pushed them down your hips and flicked the thin fabric past your feet.

A strained groan filled his chest as he looked at you, marveling at your naked form with wonder. Thoughtlessly he wrapped a hand around the base of his hardened cock and your eyes instantly take in the sight. The way he was biting his bottom lip, fingers around his thick, hard length had your mouth watering, but you stopped yourself from giving in.

"Who said you could touch yourself?"

His body tensed. He quickly placed his hands on the bed as you climbed back on the bed, the mattress sinking in from your weight.

“I like to be warmed up a little first," you told him as you settled on top of him again, but this time, you scooted further, putting your knees on either side of his head. Spencer's eyes went wide as he looked up to see you wet and bare, hovering inches away from his face.

"I'm going to sit on your face, and if you can make me come on your tongue..." You started to lower yourself. "I'll give you your reward."

You felt his breath on your center, and the minute his tongue touched you, you let out a moan. He worked his tongue over your clit, swallowing every drop of arousal dripping down his mouth. You gripped the headboard and rocked yourself back and forth while he continued to lap on your pussy without any care for the mess you made. You were wet and sloppy as his tongue moved in and out of you, up and down your folds while also sucking on your swollen clit.

"Oh my god," you moaned, looking down at where you could see the top of his face, his eyes closed as he groaned on your flesh, wrapping his arm around your thighs while never stopping stroking your wetness with his tongue. He held you tight, keeping you in place, and there was nothing else you could do but buck your hips as you ran your hands through his hair and tugged on the strands, receiving a deep, rough yet excited groan from him.

You exhaled his name, not being able to find the words or the breath in you to speak as you felt the familiar coil in your stomach. He flicked his tongue over your clit a few times before gathering up your juices and circling back to the swollen bud, massaging your flesh with the flat of his tongue. You felt the bliss swelling inside your body. You knew you wouldn't last much longer.

"I'm getting close," you warned him, beginning to grind your pussy against his mouth. He groaned against your flesh, sending vibrations through your body in return, and with a few more laps around your clit, you finally reached your high.

You felt the warmth from between your legs surge through your whole body. Your pussy walls tightened as you kept rocking your hips against him, whimpering, moaning, crying out that you were coming. You shivered and trembled above him, tossing your head back, gripping his hair even tighter, and pressing your thighs together around his head.

It took a moment for you to come down from your orgasm, and as you did, his motions slowed down, licking you gently, his hands soothing down your thighs. You finally lift your hips off his face, hovering above him on shaky thighs.

"You did so well," you cooed. You slowly shifted down his body, and when he thought you were about to straddle him again, you surprised him by moving lower.

“Let me give you your reward." You sighed while wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock in a firm grip. "You deserve it."

He felt so hot in your hand, so thick, so big, and utterly beautiful. You slowly moved your hand along his length, stroking him gently as you watched his lips parting open from the pleasure. You continued to stroke him, motions slow and steady, and he eventually closed his eyes, head falling back against the bed. You swiped your thumb across the tip, his eyes shot open as he looked at you.

"Keep your eyes on me."

He carefully propped himself on his elbows to get a better view just as you gripped him tighter while leaning close. The droplet of wetness on the tip looked too nice to be ignored so you leaned in and licked it up, your eyes meeting his gaze, and his jaw slacked open in pure pleasure. A pause settled in the room before you finally took him fully in your mouth, giving him an exploratory suck.

You kept swallowing him down, your jaw stretching wide as you struggled to get every inch of him inside your mouth, wrapping your hand around what was left. You hollowed your cheeks and greedily inhaled him. His smooth, warm length slid across your tongue and his cock hit the back of your throat.

Without warning his hips jerked up, and you gagged, rearing back off with a cough, eyes watering. "I'm s-sorry," he apologized.

"It's okay, baby, I'm giving you your reward," you whispered before holding his throbbing cock in your grip again. "Hold my hair up for me?"

He did exactly as he was told, gathering your hair in his hands. Your mouth enclosed around him again and you repeated the movement, trailing down his cock with your tongue, hands twisting back and forth, lips sliding back down until you had every inch of him in your mouth.

You glanced up at him, brow-raising mischievously as you moved your head in a rapid motion. He panted out a whine, his chest heaving as he inhaled a lung full of desperately needed air.

"Please..." he whimpered, bucking up ever so slightly. His cheeks burned at the sound of his own desperation. You gazed up at him, entranced by his sweat-slicked, heaving body, so pretty and needy. He blinked down at you, your cheeks flushed and lips stretched wide, an utterly obscene sight as you kept swallowing the entire length of him.

And then you felt him starting to shake, his body trembling while the grip on your hair tightened at every stroke of your tongue. You could tell he was on the brink of exploding, yet you didn't want him to finish inside your mouth, so you pulled away just as quickly as you began.

You could tell he was about to whine a protest, but he immediately stopped himself as you climbed on his lap, gripping his cock in your hand and guiding it towards your aching pussy. But then you stopped, eyes meeting with his, your voice softening. "Should I use a condom?"

"You can..." he mumbled as if it was hard to even articulate any words when his tip was already brushing against your wetness. "You can do whatever you want."

You lingered for a moment, grinding yourself against the tip of him, getting wetter as your arousal dripped out. "I want to feel you."

The whimper he let out was loud, almost pornographic. "I want to feel you too."

Then you began to slide his cock into you, slowly, taking your time to draw the moment out. Your body went tense in an instant, you could hardly handle the way his size was pushing into you.

"Fuck, you're stretching me," you moaned the words, tossing your head back while closing your eyes. The content sigh leaving your lips was loud when his tip finally hit that soft spot. You had never felt this full before and you wanted to soak in the way he was filling you so deep, so you buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent as you sit there with his cock stuffed inside of you.

For you, it felt nice, but for him, it was torture. As warm as you were, as tight as you clenched him, he still needed more. With urgency, he reached for your body before his eager hands landed on your hips, a groan of desperation built in his throat as you stayed there, not moving a muscle. "Can... can you move?"

You kissed a spot below his ear. "Why should I?"

"I-I..."

"Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want." Your tone was soft, but you didn't drop the entirety of your dominance. "Do you want me to ride you? Is that it? You want me to fuck you senseless?"

"Yes," he rasped out as if he had been holding his breath. "Please..."

You gripped him by the throat. "Say it."

"Pl-please fuck me," he gasped, gulping for air.

You smiled.

"Good boy," you replied. You began moving against his cock, grinding yourself over his lap, feeling him fill you up and hit deep inside you. It was almost too much but you remained focused. Your palms pressed to his shoulders as you pushed yourself up, moving your hips against his body.

He could feel you squeezing him. Every roll of your hips, every flutter of your walls, and every moan that rumbled from your chest. His huge palms wandered over the small planes of your back, caressing every dip and roll of your body. His eyes glazed over to where you were connected, the sight of your pussy clenching around every inch of him lulled him into a bewitching trance.

Soon you found a somewhat steady rhythm, circling your hips and grinding down on him faster, picking up your pace. You felt your heart drumming against your ribcage and the concoction of arousal running down your thigh and dripping onto his legs.

"God, you're going to make me come so quick," you cried, your hand lowering between your thighs to reach your clit. With two fingers, you began to massage your flesh while bouncing down his cock, riding him, feeling the tip so deep within your walls. You let loose, moaning and whimpering. He couldn't help but groan, feeling your walls tighten around him, feeling your juices drip down his groin.

You felt him thrust upward towards you, following your pace, and a second orgasm started building low in your stomach. You felt it everywhere, from the tips of your fingers to the edge of your toes. It thrummed every nerve, vibrating you to the bone. "Fuck, I'm close."

His breath quickened as he felt your walls clenching him, his eyes brushing every inch of your body. You were such a sight to see. He was entranced by the way you were thrusting yourself on his cock, your breasts bouncing from the movement, your taut nipples begging for attention. He couldn't stop himself when he suddenly pulled you in, momentarily surprising you, and sucked onto your nipple hungrily.

You cried out when you felt his teeth softly tugging your nub. You were supposed to be in control, and you still wanted to keep your dominance, but it was hard to when he suddenly planted his feet on the bed and thrust his hips into you at a mind-numbing speed. Harshly. Roughly. Violently.

"Fucking hell, Spencer," you moaned, holding onto his shoulders. "I-I'm gonna—"

His fingers dug harshly into the tender skin of your sides, his hips were bucking up uncontrollably, desperate to reach the blissful relief. His tone became ragged as he groaned what sounded like your name entwined. He closed his eyes and threw his head back, suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that began uncoiling in his entire body. You grabbed onto his unruly hair, tugging it back roughly before smearing open-mouthed kisses all over his throat and collarbones, voicing out your whimpers right into his ear.

That was enough for him—he came undone, allowing his muscles to contract one last time as he spilled into you, filling you completely with warmth with one last thrust. You followed him with a scream, wrenched from your throat so roughly it seared its way out of your lungs and into the air. Your movements became sloppy and uneven, clinging onto him as you chased your own high.

The room smelt of sex. It was your first thought when you finally felt your body relaxing, your mind coming back to its senses. Never, not even once in your life, have you ever considered kissing Spencer willingly.

Yes, he was handsome. Yes, he had the most amazing eyes, and yes, his soft demeanor did attract you the first time you met him, but that was it. He was simply your coworker, one you didn't know that well, one who seemed to make a big deal out of spending the night with you... and ironically, one who had you shaking in pleasure.

You weren't sure what would happen next. At first, you thought your presence ticked him off in the wrong way because you were the new, inexperienced member of the team... but now you couldn't help but speculate the way he acted differently towards you had something to do with what just happened.

Maybe he didn't think of you as a mere colleague... maybe he thought of you as someone potentially more? You could be right, or you could be wrong, and there was only one way to find out. You softly let your fingers brush his cheek.

"You need to take me out on a proper date," you suggested through the silence. Then a smile bloomed on your face when you felt him dip his head in your palm.

The nod he gave you couldn't be anymore faster.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x reader smut #criminal minds smut

4K notes · View notes

ofbatsandballads · 1 month ago

Text

turn me into something tragic

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: slight suggestive thoughts from reader, brief mentions of Jason being hurt

a/n: been listening to the secret of us by gracie abrams and “let it happen” just feels so much like what falling in love with jay would be like. so here’s a song fic!

divider credit: saradika-graphics

You’re in deep. You wish you weren’t because this whole longing thing sucks. But you’re here now—so it goes, you guess. It’s not like you have any other options. You can’t just quit your job at the Robbinsville Public Library because there’s a very handsome man that always shows up from one to four in the afternoon. You can’t uproot your life and your ability to pay rent because he smiles at you whenever he returns his books, because his voice makes your chest feel warm when he asks if you can put a copy of Emma on hold for him.

No. You just need to suck it up and stop thinking about Jason fucking Todd.

A remarkably hard task, honestly. Especially when he shows up at one o’clock on the dot as always. The weather’s pouring rain today, a clockwork symptom of Gotham winters. You watch as he diligently drags his boots along the entry rugs, careful to not track water on the hardwood floors of the library. It’s sweet. He’s sweet—no. You don’t need to be thinking anything about him.

He walks up to your circulation desk, unzips his black leather jacket and places the books he’d been keeping safe from the rain on the old oak. He always returns them early. He must be a particularly voracious reader. It’s a trait you find ridiculously attractive. He reads all these classic romances, so he must have a good appreciation of longing and devotion and soul crushing love and what would it be like to be loved by a man like that—God, you need to stop.

“Hi Jason,” you greet him cheerfully.

“Hi,” he says quietly.

His voice is so pretty. It’s deep but not rough, and he’s got that lilt that all born and bred Gothamites have. He’s so soft spoken, whether by choice or nature, you don’t know. But it’s a beautiful combination, his tone and inflection. You could listen to him talk all day. You do listen to him talk for at least 30 minutes of each day you work.

“Your hair looks nice.”

It’s sheepish and it’s nearly a whisper, but it’s got your heart racing nonetheless. You’d cut your hair over the weekend, wanting a change. And if you’d hastily curled it this morning before work in a vain attempt to make it look extra pretty, then that was for you to know.

“Thank you,” you say, face growing warm, “Oh, your copy of Emma just came in!”

You reach into the cubby under your desk where you’d specifically placed the book once it was returned by a guy named Dick. You had asked how he liked it and he’d just said he didn’t get why his brother enjoyed these things so much. You didn’t talk to him much after that.

“Took ‘em long enough,” Jason mutters, shaking his head and causing little droplets of water to fall from his damp curls.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Most times people don’t wait over a month, but I got the sense that the guy didn’t really like it. Probably DNF’ed it,” you ramble as you push the book towards him.

Jason rolls his eyes.

“Some people have no taste,” he grumbles.

“Your taste is incredible.”

You don’t realize how horrible that double entendre is until you see the bright red of Jason’s cheeks. Oh, God, your inside thoughts are becoming outside thoughts. You really, really need to reel yourself in.

“I mean–I just meant–obviously books. Your taste in books. I have no idea about your taste otherwise.”

Yeah, that didn’t help. You want to crawl under your desk and die. Maybe the little old lady who works the morning shift will find your corpse when she clocks in.

“I–um–thank you?” Jason says, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

He looks pretty when he’s flustered. You wonder just how pretty he’d look if he was under you all flustered like that. Jesus Christ, you want to gag your own inner monologue. You take one steadying deep breath.

“I’m sorry. It’s been a day,” it hasn’t, but he doesn’t know that, “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

He pauses, shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He looks to be contemplating something of extreme importance. Then a resigned look crosses his face and his shoulders drop as he lets out a deep sigh.

“No, nothin’ yet. ‘M just gonna browse.”

And with that he’s off into the stacks. Once he’s out of your sight, you drop your burning face into your hands and groan. Humiliating. You’re so embarrassed that you’re jittery. You toss Jason’s books into the cart of returns and decide to make your way through the library returning them. The work distracts you from your own social suicide, as do the headphones you’ve pulled over your head.

You’re wandering along, head bobbing to the playlist you’ve entitled “book return bops”, when you encounter the source of your sudden emotional instability reading peacefully on the ground. He doesn’t notice or acknowledge you at first. It gives you time to admire him.

He truly is pretty. The cloudy light from the window throws shadows on his face, accentuating the sharpness of his cheekbones, his jaw, his nose. He’s like an old Roman statue. A beautiful man that reads, is kind, and is built like a brick house. You’re doomed.

You wheel your squeaky cart into the aisle and start placing the books back in their rightful homes. Jason looks up at you, a soft smile blooming on his face as he watches you work. Little do you know that he stares at you the same way you stare at him.

You glance over at him and see that he’s reading Frankenstein. You drag your headphones to hang around your neck and interrupt the peaceful quiet that’s settled between you.

“I need to know what you think of that book,” you demand.

Jason raises an eyebrow, gaze roaming from you to the book in his hands and back.

“It’s one of the best novels ever written. And one of the most widely misinterpreted by modern media. It’s a little infuriating, actually, just how much every adaptation misses the point.”

You’re in love with him. End of discussion.

“Thank you!” you exclaim. “First of all, the Creature isn’t green and bolted! Second, he’s not the fucking villain! Victor is! How do you create something, knowing every step of the way what you’ve made, then abandon it altogether once you’ve given it life. It’s bullshit. He’s neglectful and obtuse and utterly unaccountable.”

You continue to rant about Frankenstein for a good ten minutes, allowing Jason to make annotations to your verbal essay. In your literary fire, you completely miss the stars that are dancing in the eyes of the pretty boy sitting on the floor. If you did see them, maybe you’d realize that you’re not the only one with increasingly absurd inside thoughts.

“Anyways,” you sigh, “you’re the only person I’ve ever spoken to who gets it. So thank you.”

“No problem. You’re the only person I can talk to about it,” he says, voice going quiet at the last part.

You cock your head and raise an eyebrow in question.

“Well, my best friend isn’t much for reading. He prefers building weird shit. And my…dad,” he chokes the word out like it’s poison, “he just reads fuckin’ history books. Not even the good ones. He reads stuff like the history of semiconductors.”

You laugh so loud that it echoes. You slap your hand over your mouth, suddenly conscious of where you work. You’re still giggling as you sit down next to him. You look over and feel any of the air you’d regained leave your lungs. He’s smiling at you, bigger and brighter than he ever has before. And the way he’s looking at you…it’s not at all dissimilar to the way you look at him. Maybe you don’t have to stop thinking about him after all. You steel your nerves and dig your fingers into the shelf behind you.

“Well, maybe I could get your number so we can book club it sometime. Just so you don’t have to talk about semiconductors,” you joke, nerves coming through in the slight shake of your voice.

His smile grows even bigger.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he says as he hands over his phone to you.

As you punch in the numbers, you swear that you can see how it’ll all unfold. You don’t love him yet, but you will. One day you’ll love him so much you don’t know how it stays contained in your body. You’ll discover that he loves chocolate chip cookies and you’ll learn how to make them for him. You’ll learn he’s ticklish right under his ribs, that the muscle that joins his neck and shoulder is extremely sensitive to kisses.

You’ll have bitter arguments when he comes to pick you up for a date with a black eye or a busted lip or a bum shoulder. You’ll have a vicious screaming match where he finally tells you what he does at night. He’ll vanish for a week, then come back to find you curled up in a ball on your couch. He’ll never vanish again, he’ll make a home with you. You’ll worry every night he leaves your side. You’ll rejoice with every sunrise you watch together on your fire escape.

Jason Todd will turn you into something tragic, into a love-struck, devoted, messy version of yourself that you didn’t know existed before he walked into your life. And, just for him, you’ll let it happen.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #remy writes 🖋️#I may or may not have listened to let it happen the entire time I wrote this #just let me love jason todd goddamn it. the universe should isekai me if it has to. just gimme my boy!!!

643 notes · View notes

queers-gambit · 3 months ago

Text

Tower Scrolls

prompt: during the Siege of Eregion, Elrond barters for his fiancé's life, and her life's work.

pairing: Elrond x intended!female!reader

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 4.1k+

note: brain go wonky, don't take this too serious

warnings: we got angst! we got drama! we got spoilers! i think it's more hurt and comfort, but to each their own! there's cursing, character injury, canon-complicit character death, blood, depiction of abuse and torture, violence, is this a reader insert? i don't know anymore, but i think so. oneshot, filler, very abrupt ending.

Fire rained from the sky. Ash snowed on once white-sand buildings. Tension permeated the air. Blood irrigated soil.

Eregion was under attack.

Elves screamed in despair, Orcs snarled from outside the city walls, and no matter where you turned, you were trapped in this never ending barrage of violent misfortune. To the best of your ability, you manned the city walls and ordered the citizens of Eregion to find shelter, tunnel out of the city, or pick up arms and fight - fight for their homes, their families, their lives.

It was nearly a natural succession of power after dedicating majority of your life to Eregion and Lord Celebrimbor; a common presence, friendly face, such an outstanding ally that few hesitated to take your command. Yet you were met with resistance, some Elves rejecting your orders in favor of this "Annatar, Lord of Gifts," apparently sent from the Valar themselves to aid Celebrimbor in his creative work. They thought he was Lord of Eregion now, and since you were loyal to the previous Lord - who Annatar claimed had lost his ever sharp mind - you were looked upon with the same frown.

So, you did the only thing you thought you could do.

You protected your Lord, almost to the extent of your life. Too many had already fallen, you refused to follow; insisting on remaining with Lord Celebrimbor for the duration of his efforts so long as Annatar was in Eregion. The immortal being wasn't keen on the idea, but Celebrimbor was much soothed around you - so, he agreed, on the condition that your Lord finish his work on the Nine Rings.

After escaping before, Annatar thought the best suited idea would be to chain Lord Celebrimbor to his work bench; knowing you did not have the means to break him free and feeling it was a safe move. However, as you witnessed, the will of the Lord of Eregion was by far stronger than that of The Deceiver.

"I cannot!" You begged your Master. "No, you will not ask this of me! The audacity you possess - "

"You must!" Celebrimbor insisted, taking your cheeks in hand to smush your lips in a pucker. "Listen to me - listen! You have always known right from wrong, but now is not a time for rationality, it's a time for action. He mustn't get the Rings, I need you to run with them. Run away - far, far away from here, use the tunnels - "

"I will not abandon you," you snarled, "nor will I abandon this city, not while she still stands!"

"This is bigger than us, bigger than Eregion," Celebrimbor tried to convey his severity, forcing the Rings in your hand - but you were stubborn. For all the traits he loved, he despised your pigheadedness the most - despite admiring it once upon a time. So, he managed to convince you to cut just his thumb off after originally asking you to take the whole hand so the cuff could slide off, but he downgraded to just his digit for the same desired effect.

"Go," you begged him, tears in your eyes as you wrapped his hand with a clean(ish) cloth to staunch the bleeding. "Go, please, before He returns. Do not look back, my Lord."

"Come with me - "

"I'll hold Him off to give you more time. Now, go. Go!"

It wasn't easy, but Celebrimbor left you behind. No sooner had you confirmed his escape did Annatar return; surveying the workshop and you with sinister eyes.

"Where is he?"

"With luck? Far from here. With hope? Even past that," you answered, stood in the middle of the room - looking as if nothing could phase you. All a lie, of course, but Sauron didn't need to know you were close to pissing your pants out of sheer intimidation. "So... You're Him? I have to admit," you gestured at him, "it's a bit of a let down."

"I have many names - "

"Oh, spare me the personal lore all of Middle-earth knows," you snipped, offering a stale look. "You need a new story."

However, Sauron smirked and circled you, taunting, "I know you know where he went. I know you know where the Rings are, too."

"Then have a look in my mind, see for yourself," you smirked back, "go ahead and see that I purposefully did not ask and my Lord did not tell. Go on, if you do not believe me, have a look and know you are wrong - " You were cut off by your own gasp when Sauron's eyes rolled before he brandished a sword to pierce through your foot and into the floor.

"Where. Is. He?" Sauron seethed in your face; hot breath fanning the fly away hairs.

"Away from you," you managed to grit, the sword in too deep to yank free by yourself. "You'll never find them," you laughed without humor when Sauron's anger got the best of him; storming through the workshop, tearing it apart, searching in vain for Nine Rings that were not there. In his anger, you obtained a series of fresh blemishes as he threw anything he could to the sound of your amusement.

Yet any glimmer of hope in your chest was doused, all traces of faith and humor vanishing when guards lead Celebrimbor back into the workshop; discovering the destroyed forge and you, pinned by a bloody foot in the midst. You couldn't move from your place as the guards surrounded Sauron with the intention to apprehend him, yet you saw the threat before anyone else. You begged the guards, your kin, your brethren, to back away, to take your Lord and flee! You begged them to run. You begged them to listen, to hear you!

But it was too late.

Sauron turned your people on one another and had them slaughter each other before disposing of the final guard himself. You screamed at Celebrimbor to run, nearly tearing the blade through bone as you attempted to reach for the man who had taught you your entire life. The man who gave you a chance. The man who built you a home. The man who introduced you to your intended. The man you loved like a father.

But Sauron's grasp extended to all.

Celebrimbor was beaten senseless, the Dark Lord trying to pry information about the Nine from him by any means. Yet your Lord did not budge... And that's when Sauron turned to you. "Please, no! Don't! She doesn't know anything! I swear, please, spare her!" Celebrimbor pleaded when Sauron ripped the sword from your foot before knocking you to your knees; bowstring pulled back, arrow armed and aimed at your calf. "She doesn't know amything!" Celebrimbor screamed as your first tear fell.

"But you do," Sauron narrated, loosing the arrow into your flesh. You tried to subdue your screams, but the immortal took to alternating between shooting you and Celebrimbor with arrows; though his struck lethally, yours struck painfully. To Sauron, you were a plaything; a token to negotiate with, attempting to withdraw information by offering you harm, thinking it was enough to break Celebrimbor.

He was mistaken.

You panted as blood dribbled from the corner of your mouth, wincing as Sauron's boot came down on your knee; smearing his heel into an open wound with you flat on your back. "She... She doesn't know," Celebrimbor tried again. "She is... She's the Lady of Eregion now, and I would not curse her with such a burden as you have me!"

"Oh, a promotion?" Sauron mused, glancing at you - but you saw his underlying desperation.

"Eregion is no more," you whispered, head lulling on the floor to meet Celebrimbor's eyes and smile sadly. Blood lined your teeth. "It would've been the honor of my life should I have been able to defend your city, my Lord."

"Our city."

"How touching," Sauron's eyes rolled.

"She doesn't know," Celebrimbor repeated in anger.

"I know," Sauron nodded, "I looked in her mind. Still, the bond between you is greater - perhaps, you'd be more inclined to share with her?"

"He'd never," you chuckled in delirium, "he'd never sacrifice this world for the likes of you." Another arrow thumped into your shoulder, making you groan as Sauron angrily tossed the bow aside. Fearing your life was soon to be extinguished, you whispered, "I-I'm so sorry, my Lord. I failed you."

"No, do not say such a thing," Celebrimbor insisted, Sauron stalking over you before squatting in front of the Elven smith, "for it is I who failed you..."

Sauron sighed, sounding condescending yet soft as he reached over to stroke Celebrimbor's cheek, "Look what you have done to yourself."

You didn't care for his poisoned words, knowing your time was limited - just like Celebrimbor's. Yet the Dark Lord tried one last tactic: mercy. He promised to end your joint suffering should the location of the Nine be revealed. Your Lord was defiant still. So, Sauron tried gaslighting, and when that didn't work, he begged, "Please."

Still, it did not work and Celebrimbor affirmed his time was ending... So, naturally, after he plucked up a spear, Sauron threatened, "There are ways of keeping you both alive." In Sindarin, he added, "Friend." To the look of horror on Celebrimbor's bloody face, Sauron offered, "Must I show you my mastery of that craft as well?"

"'Craft'?" Your Lord chuckled ruefully. Then he spat, "Your only craft is treachery. So pure, it shall betray the very hand that forges it."

Sauron stepped over your limp, bleeding form too casually, quietly seething, "Your words are empty."

"No," Celebrimbor insisted, sitting himself up slightly. "No, hear me. Hear me!" Your dimming eyes widened as your Lord found his feet, back against the stone pillar he had once slumped against as support. "Shadow of Morgoth! Hear the dying words of Celebrimbor! With only Y/N, Lady of Eregion as witness!" You didn't move, you couldn't... You were defeated, you knew there was no way Sauron would let you leave this tower alive. So, you listened and bore witness for as long as you were capable of doing so. "The Rings of Power shall destroy you. And in the end, I foresee one alone shall prove your," he shouted, "utter ruin!"

"NO!" You screamed when Sauron turned, shouting in anger as he strode over you and stabbed Celebrimbor with his spear. You could only watch in fearful disgust as the Dark Lord, still in fair form, hoisted the Lord of Eregion up the stone pillar as if a flag on a pole.

Celebrimbor was in obvious pain, mouth agape, blood dribbling from his slathered lips. Sauron's words were still heard despite the low, quiet register, "You're wrong. I am their Creator." He growled, "I am their Master!"

"No," Celebrimbor's head shook as if pitying the immortal. "You are their... Prisoner. Sauron, Lord..." He trailed as his life's light was snuffed, "of the Rings."

You let your grief manifest in tears, watching as Celebrimbor's eyes found yours - conveying his goodbye as he mouthed one last apology... Then deflating as his soul, as promised, vacated this form to return to the shores. You didn't voice your note of Sauron's single tear, just staring at your Lord in disbelief - until the Dark Lord planted the end of his spear to the ground, staking Celebrimbor above all.

"N-No, no, wait!" You begged, trying to turn over onto your stomach to pull yourself across the ground. "No, please, please, take him down - get him down from there! Please, do not - do not leave him up there!" You cried out as arrow shafts were irritated back to life, reaching blindly - helplessly - upward as if you could reach the Lord of Eregion from his hoist.

Sauron watched you for a moment, the Orcs heard marching up the tower. With a swift swing of his leg, Sauron kicked your jaw - effectively knocking you out and overturning your body to your back; splayed out as if on display... Similar, but not akin, to Celebrimbor - whose pooling blood soaked into your gown.

Through your unconsciousness, Sauron eventually ordered Eregion be razed to the ground, every Elf slaughtered, and the Elven leaders be brought before him - unharmed. He gave specific instruction for every scroll in Celebrimbor's workshop to be torched; his way of punishing you for your insolence over supporting and protecting Celebrimbor.

When you awoke, the tower was quiet. You stiffly lifted your hand to your jaw; rubbing it tenderly, letting your sight refocus and being acutely aware of every feeling in your body.

"Fuuuuuuuck," you whimpered, trying to sit up but being unable due to protruding arrows. You went limp again, feeling a single twinge of anger you had to wake up because your eyes caught sight of and stared at Celebrimbor.

You failed...

You gasped shrilly when hands seized your upper arms and heaved; lugging you over the shoulders of two Orcs as a third swiped at the arrows to break them in the most painful way possible. Considering their brutish nature, you would've thought they'd have lopped your head off and moved along - but instead, they began carrying you towards the door.

"Wha-What's happening?" You asked through a slur, feet dragging under you, spying one of the Orcs gathering scrolls and tomes you spent your life writing alongside Celebrimbor in their dirty arms. "Wait - wait - what're you doing? What're you doing!?"

"Quiet!" An Orc snarled, dropping the hilt of his dagger to the soft part of the base of your head where it connected to your neck. You were silent out of sheer pain.

Down the tower you were drug, brought into the devastated courtyard where Orcs snarled at you from all sides; the two that carried you dropping you on your shattered knees. You were held at knifepoint as Orcs streamed from the tower and dropped your scrolls and tomes in several different piles a short distance away. Head injury caused your sight to blur in and out, but you knew what they were doing... What they intended.

"Please, please, don't do this," you whimpered, hearing several Orcs laugh. "No... No, no, no, no, please! Don't - " You had no more fight as collectively, your records were so extensive that several piles were made, few set ablaze.

All around you, Elves were slaughtered mercilessly, bodies left behind where they fell; the sounds of the city dying with them as the Orcs ran out of the innocent lives to claim. You could only watch. Before you, the Orcs tossed banded lassos around the decorated statue of Faenor, evident their desecration knew no bounds.

Yet hope sparked... The blade at your neck tightening when you perked up upon seeing several Orcs leading few saved Elves into the courtyard - your fiancé one of them.

"Elrond!" You cried, the Orc snarling a hiss as the hand in your hair yanked back. You struggled to the point of blood draw when Elrond's sight casted on you - trying to escape his captors, but being held back.

"Y/N!" He called back, the High King Gil-galad at his side and finding you amongst the rubble, too. The King muttered something you couldn't hear, but to Elrond, he understood the Sindarin word: wait.

"Hey!" You snapped, blade drawing a line of blood from your neck; pressure mounting as he pressed closer. You growled in annoyance.

Faenor toppled to the ground, shattering the heart of any Elf left to witness - Orcs mounting him, ravaging for hidden and seen treasures. With Gil-galad, Elrond, and other survivors, the Orcs moved inward as if to ensure the Elves had a front row viewing to the incineration of their culture.

"Y/N," Gil-galad called to attention, earning several snarls and hisses, "where is Lord Celebrimbor?"

"Dead," you whimpered, Orc growling at you in reprimand.

Elrond's eyes swept over the scene and swiftly understood the impending doom. The largest of the scroll piles was before the Elves now, an Orc pacing around it with his torch alight, tears down your cheeks as you couldn't look away as if in a trance you did not realize.

"No, Uruk! No!" Elrond begged when the Orc went to drop the flame; you struggling against your captor, both hands around his meaty wrist.

"No!" Gil-galad's beg echoed around you.

"That is the full record of Celebrimbor's works," Elrond tried to make the Orcs understand potential ramifications. "The wisdom of all who ever dwelt in this place, all accounted by the Lady Y/N, whose work cannot be found outside Eregion! Its value is beyond jewels or even blood! Take our lives," Elrond gestured to himself and the King, you struggling again on horridly abused knees, "but leave it be, I beg you."

Perhaps you were far too used to people listening when your fiancé spoke because you eagerly sat forward best you could while thinking perhaps the Orcs would listen to Elrond. Imagine your acute and heavy despair when the Orc laughed manically and turned to shove the torch into the bundle of fragile parchment. "NO!" You sobbed uselessly, watching the last of your life's work go up in flame.

You fought against the Orc's grip as Gil-galad snarled, "Cowardly traitors!"

"You fucking bastards!" Your head reared back to (painfully - nobody wins with a headbutt) break the Orc's nose. He released you as other Orcs were wrestling Gil-galad to the ground, able to pick up a blade and take out three too-close enemies.

It was the first time Elrond heard such language fall from your lips, but all he could register was the Orc punching you in the jaw in an attempt to subdue you - blood spitting to the side, seemingly darkening a bruise already blooming. He's never felt such rage.

Elrond fought with his bare hands; elbowing the Orcs behind him, punching the ones before him, fighting to get closer to you. He got ahold of a torch, screaming in white-hot anger as he set the Orc that hit you ablaze; dropping the torch and taking you into his embrace.

"My love," he breathed in your ear, able to peck your cheek just as the snarling Orcs forcefully ripped you out of his arms. "No, no!" He tried to reach out for you, but both were wrangled in.

"Please, don't! NO! No, no, no!" You gasped when Elrond was taken in custody, yet it wasn't you who saved him.

Another Orc reminded, "No! Lord Sauron wanted their leaders unharmed."

"Well, what about her? She looks injured," A different Orc growled, jostling your shoulder and pointing his dagger at your throat. Elrond was forced to his knees as you were, facing one another.

"Lord Sauron did that, said to discipline her should she resist," the Orc answered in a hiss, others shoving more Elves into the courtyard - including Arondir from the battlefield. A blade was held to Elrond's throat as your head bowed in the heat of the bonfire; being ripped up by your hair and forced to turn to watch the flames. The Orcs noticed the pair of you seemingly cared more about the literature than your lives, so, they thought you should relish in this moment.

So Elrond was held in a similar position, but his sight was on you; watching you crumple into despair while more Orcs tossed the last of the scrolls into the flames. Your life, since a youthful student, had been spent intermittently in Eregion under the care of Lord Celebrimbor, whom you thought of as an adoptive father, learning heraldry. He let you work at his side, keeping accurate, detailed record of his philosophies, ideas, processes, and creations for the histories. Yet, now, they wafted into the air as ash - lost to this Age, never to be recovered or duplicated or seen again.

Once more, you dropped your head, earning a backhand to the temple. Gritting your teeth, you let the Orc force your head up but shut your eyes tightly, defiantly; hearing their breathing turn ragged. "Cut her eyelids open!" An Orc barked.

"That's not what Lord Sauron said," another seethed with refusal.

"She's resisting!"

An Orc scoffed and stabbed your thigh with a dagger, eyes flying open as you gasped in pain. "There! See!" It laughed, holding you in a chokehold as tears leaked down your cheeks. Elrond struggled and shuddered against his captors, hating the sight of you dismantling yourself emotionally, but to witness your abuse, he hated more.

Then, from a short distance, a horn bellowed.

"Dwarves!" King Gil-galad identified, the Elves rejuvenated by the surprise (and delayed) arrival of aid. In tandem, they began to resist; yourself included by ripping the dagger from your thigh and driving it into your captor's ribs; praying flesh came too when the blade was ripped free.

He grunted and shoved you forward onto your chest and hands, able to flop over to watch your approaching demise - only to discover Elrond surging up to the Orc and snapping its neck with his bare hands.

"Elrond!" You gasped when the Orc fell to the side... Dead.

"C'mere," the half-Elf you intended to marry panted, reaching down to yank you onto your bloody feet; catching you on his chest when your weight buckled. "I got you, I've got you, love, you're safe," he whispered, hoisting you into his embrace before turning for the stream of Dwarves. "Durin!" He greeted jovially.

But when the Dwarf turned, it wasn't the ginger prince Elrond knew like a brother. The dark haired Dwarf heaved a sigh, informing, "The Prince... Is in mourning," before rushing off into the fray.

"'Mourning'?" You repeated in a daze. "Over Disa?"

"His father, perhaps?" Elrond guessed, tightening his arms to lift you and turn away from an Orc rushing forward. He blocked the enemy's advance, trying to keep secure hold of you - leaving an opportunity for you to use the last of your strength to drive your dagger (still in hand) into the Orc's throat. "Good girl," Elrond praised as the creature fell, panting from exhaustion. "Can you still fight?"

"I can barely stand on my own, Elrond," you whimpered, gripping his neck and shoulders in a vice grip to remain upright.

He nodded, "Right." With a sniffle, he lifted you again and rushed for an alcove, depositing you in rubble before caressing your face. "How bad?" He asked softly.

"Enough."

"Let me see - "

"Elrond, there's no time," you snatched his hands when he attempted to reach for your skirt, "the city is under attack, it's falling to Sauron - you need to help them. Go, go fight."

"I won't leave you."

Your ears rang with the same words you told Celebrimbor.

"You have to, this is bigger than any of us," you repeated what you'd been told.

"Elrond!" Gil-galad was heard calling, Arondir appearing in the mouth of the alcove.

"Over here!"

When the High King arrived, he paused to take in the sight of the pair of you. "Good," he panted, "you're both alive. The Dwarves are aiding our escape, we must leave now... The city is fallen," he directed at you.

"You should all go," you sniffled.

With confusion, Elrond snapped, "Without you?"

"I've business to see to in the tower."

"The tower will fall," Arondir explained, slowly lowering to a squat to put himself on your level. "Whatever you think is left is lost, my Lady."

"Celebrimbor's in there. I was taken before I could get him down."

"'Down'?" Gil-galad repeated, "What does that mean?"

Tears filled your eyes, telling the trio what Sauron did to you and your Lord; the King insisting hope was lost and it was time to go. "I cannot walk," you whispered, shaking your head, "and my injuries surpass - "

"I will carry you," Elrond rushed, holding your cheek gently, "I will not leave you behind."

"No... She will walk," Gil-galad stepped forward, revealing his Ring of Power, Vilya. You were unsure what his intention, but Elrond moved behind you to let you lean back into his chest as the King chanted his prayers.

Yet you passed out before fully healed.

"My King - "

"She's alive," Gil-galad soothed Elrond, the hand hosting Vilya laid to your forehead, "just exhausted. She's been through much, far more than I care to fathom. Sauron took it easy on her, he used mortal weapons against her."

"He didn't intend to kill her?" Arondir questioned.

"He needed her alive - whatever the reason," Gil-galad frowned.

"Will she wake?" Elrond worried.

"I have faith she will, trust in the Valar," the King nodded. "Now, if you intend to fight another day, we must go. Now."

And so, the Lady of Eregion was smuggled out of the smoking city in the arms of the Elf she loved, leaving behind all she knew and created. By the Third Age, at least one scroll written by her hand could be found in every library of Middle-earth; and in the Great Library Elrond built for her, detailed accounts of Lord Celebrimbor's work as recalled and honored by his adopted daughter, future Lady of Imladris.

requesting rules and masterlist

TROP masterlist

510 notes · View notes

morverenmaybewrites · 26 days ago

Note

What traits are they attracted to for jason n pg please💖 :0

What traits are they attracted to? | Jason Todd x Reader

I think if someone were to ask this of Jason—maybe Dick in a thoughtless fit during a particularly boring stakeout, Jason would reply with a scowl and an embarrassed shrug. He wouldn’t bother to answer and let the silence lapse into something uncomfortable.

After all, he’ll think to himself—what would be the point in answering?

He’s legally dead in Gotham City, a vigilante with a bounty on his head.

It’s not exactly like he’s spoiled for choice in the dating realm.

And—adds a nasty little voice in the back of his head, one that sounds eerily like the Joker (even dead he haunts Jason like a ghost)—there’s the scars.

His torture under Joker’s hands had left him his body a patchwork of scars and knotted flesh. And each one of them tells a story: the splash marks on his back where the Joker slowly dripped acid on him, watching it eat away at the flesh and boil the fat. The ring of thickened skin around his throat, where he had once (once?) been strangled with piano wire.

And then

(And then—)

There’s the brand.

He’s seen how people react to it—even in a place in Gotham City, brands are not something one sees often. It speaks of an intimacy to violence that even Gothamites are uncomfortable with.

His face is something that makes people look away. The quick, almost imperceptible widening of their eyes, then the averted gaze.

As if he were something hideous

(He is hideous.)

The voice again, snide and burning in acidic, like the slow drip of chemicals on his back, blackening the skin and boiling the fat.

(And he so hungry, that he feels his stomach rumble at the smell of his own burning flesh. There is a certain kind of humiliation in that, an animal kind of shame: the knowledge that, if given the choice, he would have eaten his own flesh just to ease the ache in belly.)

The question echoes in his head, and it sounds uncomfortably like laughter: Who would ever want him?

So when asked—what traits does he find attractive?—he doesn’t answer. He bites his tongue, he pretends he doesn’t care. But in reality, he just doesn’t see the point.

After all, what is the point of answering, when no one else would find him attractive?

Jason has his work, his missions, and his purpose as a vigilante.

He has more than he ever had as a street rat in East End, palms cracked and bleeding as he sorts through yesterday’s trash to maybe find something that will ease the gnaw of hunger in his belly.

(The smell of his own burning flesh.)

He has a safe house, something to keep the rain off his head and to keep him warm during the winter. He has a gun to protect himself.

He has a purpose.

Except.

(Except.)

God help him, he wants more.

There is a hunger to Jason Todd that he is afraid that he will never be quite able to fill.

It is an orphan’s hunger, shared with every abandoned street rat that ever lived in the gutters of East End.

It is a hunger for a roof over one’s head, one that is not made of rotten plywood and stained tarpaulin. A gnawing ache in their belly for a meal that does not have to be fought for at every turn.

A longing for a home, a place to belong.

God help him, he wants to be held dear.

He wants a roof over his head that is not just made of four walls, a place, however safe, that is only ever somewhere to lay his head on for the night.

He wants a meal that isn’t fought for or eaten absentmindedly for nourishment during long stakeouts.

He wants someplace to come home to, somewhere warm to keep out the cold. He wants warm coffee on cold mornings and soft music playing on an old speaker, and he wants someone’s smile when he talks about his favorite book.

God help him, he wants you.

(And yet, and yet.)

Who would ever want him?

So when asked, he does not answer. He replies with a scowl and an embarassed shrug, and he’ll let the silence lapse into something uncomfortable.

After all, what would be the point in answering when no one else would ever find him attractive?

#ask #anon #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #arkham knight x reader #jason todd #red hood #arkham knight #ask game #i got a little mean with this i’m sorry HA #have this little image in my head where once jason starts healing he gets a new place for himself #asks the reader for help redecorating #HMMM might have to write that down

332 notes · View notes

idanceuntilidie · 7 months ago

Note

Huloo, just read Yandere cheater and it was hook line sinker for me, do you still do request? If so can you do a Yan! cheater but the reader is like one of those cold stone face to others but warm to their friends and family but especially soft towards someone they really like? (In this case the cheater). Im curious about your take 😭. Scenario would basically be the same same I guess, like Yan! Cheater jumped to conclusion and, being an idiot, decide revenge cheat is the solulu to his delulu thoughts.

(If your requests are closed, please ignore this, Id be embarrassed)

I would have finished this way earlier today, slowly back to posting I hope yall are proud of me Warning: non con touching * blood * mentions of rotting meat and killing people * yandere themes ofc

yan cheater x gn reader

„SMILE FOR ME ALRIGHT?”

“I like when you smile, you look really cute when you do” “Haha aren’t you a charmer?” “Listen, I am serious! Your smile is special, not many can see it bunny.” “I love you” “I love you too.” Your face doesn’t reflect on how you are feeling, unless it is someone that you actually care about. It is only natural that people can’t tell what you are feeling, and that comes with its pros and cons.

People won’t know if they hurt you. Ciaran was pretty, but underneath all of that hid a disgusting freak. Too bad you have learned that when you saw the man you love kiss someone else. You remember he kissed you with such passion not even a few hours later. You hate to admit, he looks pretty even now. Standing at your doorstep, red hair clinging to his face. Make up slightly smeared because of the water. Ciaran looked beautiful, even if messy and wet. It made your blood boil. You wanted to rip his hair out, punch him and then curl into a ball and cry your eyes out. Instead you kept leaning against the door frame, the scent of rain calming you down. You didn’t say anything to him, and he didn’t to you. He knew that you found out, and you knew his only regret right now was that he didn’t hide well enough.

The more you look at him, the more sick you feel. You waited for him to come back though, so you could spit on his face and throw him out of your apartment. You didn’t even bother with a suitcase, a trash bag fitted his personality more. “I have nothing to say to you Ciaran, take your shit and get lost.” Your voice was cold, monotonous but it made him shudder. You threw the bag into the closest puddle and finally slammed the door in his fucking face. There was something about you, Ciaran couldn’t put his finger on it. He doesn’t know why you are so attractive to him. Your eyes are cold, dead just like your expression that you wear. It’s like making eye contact with a corpse. Despite your very dead expression, you are quite attractive. Beautiful. It made his heart flutter, so it was only natural that he tried to get close to you. With time he got to see more of you, your little traits. Likes and dislikes. What you listen to, and what you eat.

The best part was when your stoic expression was replaced with a smile. He lived for those moments, but then it got boring. Can you even blame him? It all felt lukewarm. He needed that excitement back, and you couldn’t give him that. That is, he thought you couldn’t. But he was wrong. Ciaran wouldn’t admit it of course, it would hurt his pride. He was too proud, and you were just difficult and used.

He couldn’t admit that after just a week his body ached for your touch, scent. He wanted to see you smile again, hear you speak, touch you.

Every single time he tried to crawl back to you, you welcomed him with an ice cold stare and blank face. After God knows how many times he appeared in front of your house, you didn’t even bother opening the door and soon enough you moved away.

How could you? Leaving him wailing in the dirt in front of the place both of you called home. You are so cruel, didn’t you say people deserve a second chance?

Maybe he just needed to try harder.

The house breathed with you, calm and unbothered. The air felt heavy still and moist, in other words it stank in here quite badly. Slightly rotten food with the mix of your sweat made you gag. You laid still in your bed, eyes tired, achy and dry from the lack of sleep. You feel like you are going to suffocate in here. You listen to the melody of the forest surrounding your house, the gentle sway of the trees and cicadas. It’s dark, why were you up again? Your eyes start to wander around the room trying to adjust to the soft light of the moon. It’s dark, you see your furniture and that pile of clothes that looks a lot like a human now that you stare at it.

You turn on the light, it blinds you and you close your eyes and hiss in pain. When you open them again you see the same pile of dirty clothes. It looks normal, like a pile of unwashed clothes would. You thought it was.. nevermind, brain tends to imagine weird shapes when you can’t see shit. That’s what it was, you sigh as you get up. The air feels stuffy.

If it wasn’t for the crippling anxiety you would open the window, you can’t see outside but it can see you. That makes you worry.

You dragged your heavy feet to the kitchen to grab something to eat even though there is not much you can choose from. You need to go shopping. Your stomach recoils at that thought. Ciaran just waits for you to leave. He is probably not very happy that you have ignored him as much as you did. His gifts lay unopened at your front door, slowly piling up. The sweet scent of rotting meat emitting from them. Just thinking about it makes you weak in the stomach. The kitchen is dark, after the bedroom incident you didn’t bother even turning on the light. Your poor eyes. Your shaky hands search for the least dirty cup so you can at least drink some water.

After your break up, Ciaran hasn’t left you alone. Blocking him didn’t help, the police didn’t help. He made sure you were alone, with no one to help you. Your ex successfully tracked you every single time, that's why you are stuck at home. Looking and smelling like shit. It has been a week without him trying to contact you but you aren’t sure he finally moved on. You will sneak out of the house, leave everything and just escape this madness. You will be free. There is a warm breath on your neck.

The glass shattered against the wooden floor. “Did you miss me?” he rasped out. He smelled like forest. His voice goes through your ears, making them ring. You didn’t respond, praying that your brain is imagining things. It surely is, he imagines how he nuzzles into the crook of your neck and his hands slowly wander around your body.

You feel weak in your knees, hands gripping the sink in an attempt to get some stability. Ciarans cold hands painfully dig into your stomach. You feel like you are going to puke.

Then everything stops. You turn around and you are greeted with the sight of your kitchen. No Ciaran.

You raise your shirt, no marks.

You were going crazy or the lack of sleep is really getting into you. Forget the water or food, you are going to sleep. Ciaran is not here, you are safe and you need sleep. Badly. The floorboards creak against your weight, the trip to your room. It’s like being like a kid again, and you feel like someone is chasing you so you run up to your room to turn the light on and scare the evil away. The thought of it makes you chuckle. Something feels wrong though, you look at your front door. It’s open.

Fuck the sneaking, you are ready to run to your room when someone grabs you. Their hands are sticky, warm. The metallic and sweet rotting smell fills the room. “Bunny, bunny calm down. It’s okay, I am here finally.” “Ciaran, Ciaran please…” you choke out as he squeezes your frail body. “Ahh how I missed that voice of yours.” he moaned into your ear and hugged you tighter. You want to cry, you want to throw up but you can’t give him the satisfaction of that. You can show him any basic human emotion, that’s what he wants.

He kissed your neck, nipping at some places. Like he used to, when you two were together.

“You missed me too, right bunny? you missed my voice?” “Ciaran leave my house.” “But baby why? We are finally together again.” He let go of you. Your body ached, head pounding and all of your senses screaming to run.

“Aren’t you happy? Please bunny, smile for me like you used to.” His hands grabbed your face, fingers jamming into your mouth forcing it to open. It hurts, you can taste the blood coating his hands. He forces you to smile and you stop yourself from actually throwing up. Your thoughts are muddy, body weak. You claw at his hands but he grips you together. Nails digging into your gums, you gag. Ciaran beams at you, happy. Smiling widely, just like he used to.

“Now, was that so hard?” he hums.

You try to protest, but you are unable to speak. You are so tired, so weak. He took notice of that. Kissing your forehead.

“Oh my poor baby, you are exhausted waiting for me right? Don’t worry, I will help you.”

The last thing you remember is pain, the amazement on how strong his head is and a small thought that no matter how far you run. Your loving ex will find you.

543 notes · View notes

inkdrinkerworld · 7 months ago

Note

You're little corner of the world seems so cozy! I love your background pic 🫶🏻

If you wouldn't mind, could you write a polymarauders story with an autistic female reader? Where she shows autistic traits but doesn't realize what she's doing until Remus asks her about her autism and she's like "what"? Symptoms shown are stimming and going nonverbal whilst watching a movie at home with the boys.

Thanks love!

You’re wringing your hands to all hell as the movie plays on the tv screen. Your boyfriends had wanted to watch an action horror and while you weren’t opposed to horror, this one had your heart racing.

Remus is in the kitchen getting you more kettle corn, James is laying on the loveseat waiting for his return and Sirius’ head is in your lap.

You’re all a picture of cosiness, the rain outside beating down on the roof while you’ve all opted for long sleeved sweaters and fluffy blankets across your laps. Still, the comfort of both the weight of Sirius, James near you and your blankets isn’t enough to help you not twist and pull at your fingers.

“Doing alright, doll?” Sirius asks, turning in your lap so he can look at you. His question isn’t loud enough to pull James from the macabre scenes on the tv; at least not yet.

“Mhm,” Sirius’ eyes narrow as you push the joint of your thumb.

“Need me to find something else for us to watch?” That would honestly be ideal, but you’ve all been wanting to watch this for weeks.

“No, I think it just needs to get past this part and I’ll be okay.”

Remus comes back just as Sirius sits up, changing his position so you’re laying in his lap instead.

“Everything okay?” James asks as Remus keeps hold of the popcorn bowl.

“Fine, think she’s just overstimulated with the scenes right now.” Sirius says softly, not wanting you to feel bad but also not wanting to hide anything from your boyfriends.

You’re not upset by it; though you do wish James wouldn’t look at you in as much horror as he is now.

James is ready to flick off the tv and find something else for you to look at when you shake your head.

“S’okay Jamie, I’ll be better once this is over.” You sound less sure than you’d like to. James pauses the movie anyhow.

Remus sets the kettle corn down and kneels in front of you, holding onto your ankle.

“Dovey,” his voice quiet but not one you can lie to. It’s hard to lie to any of them, but Remus is even harder to lie to. “If you need us to change the movie it’s no biggie. We can watch it another day.”

You’re thankful Remus doesn’t say ‘on a better day,’ today hasn’t been bad, this was just a sudden shift.

You hold his eyes, Sirius stroking your cheek as James stands, not able to bear the fact that he’s the only one with his hands off you.

“Can we look at something else?” James breathes a relieved sigh, looking through your favourite set of movies.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, not wanting to look at any of them in their eyes. There’s a little bubble of shame, that you can’t sit still for a two hour movie because your mind is whirring and overstimulated.

“Stop it, baby.” James says, opening his arms to you and you rush over. James lets you tuck your head under his chin, his big arms holding you close to him as you relax. Sirius and Remus cuddle up next to the two of you, not even minding that you all hardly fit on the loveseat.

“Legally Blonde okay, poppet?” you nod, stretching to kiss all your boyfriends on their head, cuddling right up between them as Elle Woods braves your screen.

502 notes · View notes

wandascrush · 4 months ago

Text

Runaway Bride

Summary: There’s only one person you really want on your wedding day

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Weddings, love, crying, running away, lots of angst

Song: Someday I’ll get it by Alek Olsen

You were out of breath by the time you got there, crisp cold air hurting your chest. Your throat was as dry as sandpaper. Natasha was there, waiting for you like she always was. Your legs were tired from running, broken nude heels in your hands, beautiful and forgotten. The white flowy, soft fabric of your dress touched your body delicately, dragging and picking up the color from the wet mossy grass. Sore legs lowered down to sit on the grass next to the girl who once captured your heart…but she was silent. Just you two, alone. The air was so cold it hurt your bones.

You rested your head against the large oak tree that sat behind you two, making a little cove under its branches. So many thoughts were racing through your mind, “I’ve ruined everything. What will people think? I have to say sorry.” But once you saw your favorite spot waiting for you, with your favorite girl, everything melted away. You shouldn’t even be here right now, you shouldn’t have been thinking about Natasha, but she was the only person that ran through your mind.

“Long time no see, Natty.”

You’ve gotten used to her silence though, it kind of became her new character trait these days. Sometimes you pretended it didn’t hurt anymore, but it always did. A little more each time. Rain droplets started to fall around you, wetting every inch of dirt and stone. More green from the grass started to slowly seep into the beautiful white fabric of your dress. You knew her deep gaze was on you, looking at you with pity…maybe with love?

Your chest tightened as you blinked hard, vision blurring, “I was supposed to get married today, you know,” a sad laugh escaped your throat as you played with the fabric of your dress, “I looked beautiful. My hair was done and my makeup was perfect and-I was supposed to be happy today,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I was supposed to be standing at that altar, looking into her eyes, promising forever. But I couldn’t even say the words. Because every time I looked at her, I saw you. And I hated myself for it.”

“I’m so tired of missing you. Some strange part of me thought getting married would make me happier. But all I see is you. When I say my vows, it’s your name they’re written for.”

I think of you all the time, now that you’re gone.

The rain poured down in relentless sheets, soaking through the dress. The sky above was a swirling mass of dark clouds and angry wind. Digging your manicured fingers into the soft mud, it felt like the only grounding thing. The feeling of mud seeping under your nails was the only anchor you had.

You checked your phone, trying to wipe the rain off of it and realized that you’d already been there for over an hour with Natasha. You needed to get back, answer all the missed calls and texts. This would be the last time you two saw each other…something inside you was certain about it. Shaky legs stood up, using the big oak tree as support and grabbing the bouquet you forgot about next to you.

You slowly kneeled down in front of your first love, first everything, and pressed your forehead against her cold grave stone, “If love could have saved you,” breaths came in short, sharp gasps, salty tears falling into your mouth, “you would have lived forever, my Natasha.” Soft lips kissed the engraving of her name as you gently lied the bouquet down for her, grabbed your broken heels, and said goodbye. It took all your strength to not look back as you walked out of the private cemetery.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff au #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff blurb #natasha romanoff marvel #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x you

301 notes · View notes

flemingsfreckles · 5 months ago

Text

First Snow

Synopsis: based on this request!

Warning: none, mention of showering together (non-sexual nudity) but nothing descriptive

WC: 2.1k

A/N: hi, I had some personal stuff happen which pretty much ruined my motivation for writing, I wasn’t even sure I’d ever be posting on this account again… but here we are.

“Okay do you have a coat packed?”

“Yeah it’s right here.” You pull out the two hoodies, one of Jessie’s that you had stolen and one of your own.

Jessie just stares at you. “Babe.”

“What?” You shrug as you shove the sweatshirts back into your suitcase.

“I mean a real coat. A winter coat.” She grabs a large puffy coat out of her own bag and holds it up to you.

“That is what I wear in the winter.” You point at the blue and green hoodies that still suck out of your bag.

“Yeah, in Australia, Canada isn’t Australia.” Jessie throws her hands out, looking in confusion at you.

“It’ll be fine!” You brush her off with a wave of your hand.

“No, you’ll be cold.”

“It can’t be that cold.” Jessie just shakes her head at you, a smile creeping across her face. She’d just let you figure out how cold it was on your own.

Turns out, it was that cold. You felt it in your lungs as soon as you stepped off the plane. Jessie took a deep breath as if she was enjoying the sharp sting of the air in her lungs. She must have noticed the way your breath got caught in your throat.

“Cold eh?”

“I mean it’s fine.” You couldn’t let her have the satisfaction of being right already.

“Good because this isn’t even cold yet.” Your eyes widened at her words.

When you arrived at Jessie’s childhood home she gave you a quick tour before she stopped at a window looking out into the backyard. “See the lake?” She says peering over your shoulder and pointing out.

“Yes.”

“It’s frozen.”

“No shit.” You say, grin on your face. You could see the water wasn’t moving, you could tell it had frozen over.

“That’s how cold it gets.” Jessie whispers in your ear. You roll your eyes at her. She turns, giving you a quick smile before walking away and down the stairs to find her parents.

You spent the evening in the living room with Jessie’s parents. You’d met them a few times, at the World Cup, again at the Olympics, a few times when they had visited Jessie when she lived in London, but this was your first time in Canada and your first time meeting them in their own home.

Jessie’s family was warm and welcoming just as they had been every time you had met them prior. The four of you sat around the table having dinner before quickly moving to play cards where Jessie was teased about being overly competitive, a trait of hers you knew all too well.

“Did you see it’s supposed to snow tonight?” Jessie’s mom asks, directing her question to no one specifically.

“Really?” Your girlfriend pipes up, looking excitedly between you and her mom. “She’s never seen a real snow.” Jessie sticks her finger in your direction.

“I have.” You quickly defend yourself. You had always lived by the beach, and while it cooled down in the winter, never enough for a snow storm. London commonly rained, you’d only gotten a light snowing last year.

You had rolled over in the middle of the night to see the streetlights illuminating the tiny dots falling. You had immediately sat up, poking your knee into the thigh of your girlfriend. “Jess.” She shifted but didn’t open her eyes so you tried again. “Jessie, wake up.” You shoved her a bit harder, leaning down to kiss her forehead, hopefully easing the mood you knew she’d be in for you waking her up. “Babe.”

“What?” Jessie’s voice heavy with sleep mumbled out at you. She kept her eyes closed but tilted her head in the direction of your voice.

“It’s snowing, I’ve never seen snow.” At the sound of your words, you’re met with Jessie’s brown eyes. A small smile breaks onto her face as she watches you look excitedly between her and the window. That smile immediately fades when she herself turns to see what would be considered no snow by Canadian standards.

“Look!” You point, sitting up to watch out the window, still excited seeing the flakes fall for the first time.

“Oh babe.” Jessie gently rubs your back as she softly shakes her head. “That’s hardly a snow, it won’t even be on the ground by morning.”

“Oh.” You feel the smile fade on your face, you hadn’t known, in your mind you had expected to walk out to white covered streets in the morning.

“Come here.” Jessie grabbed your arm gently pulling you down into her embrace. She adjusted before gently kissing your forehead just as you had done to wake her up. “I promise, I’ll take you to see real snow some day.”

“The eighth of an inch we got in London doesn’t count, I’ve told you that.” Jessie jokingly rolled her eyes at you. “You’ll get to hopefully see real snow while we’re here.”

It wasn’t long until you and Jessie had called it a night, feeling tired from the long travel day, you both cuddled into Jessie’s bed, under piles of blankets and drifted into sleep.

“Get up.” You feel Jessie’s sharp elbow poking into your side, you roll over and try to register why she’d be waking you up in the middle of the night.

“What?”

“Get up, get dressed, we’re doing something.” She whispers to you before clicking on the bedside lamp.

You flip over again, staring at the freckled face before you. “You’re joking right?” The alarm clock sitting behind Jessie’s curls tells you it’s 2:47 in the morning, you can’t fathom why she’d be waking you up at this hour.

“No, get up.” She yanks the blanket off of your body making you squeal at the sudden chill. “Dress warmly.” She says as she walks over to where her suitcase was sprawled on the ground and begins getting changed. You watch as she strips from her sleeping shirt and shorts. “Quit staring.” Jessie teased when she turns and catches you watching her change. You felt your face flush and you broke your eyes away from her freckle covered skin to move to your own suitcase. Jessie tosses an actual winter coat in your direction, insisting you put it on. You quickly get dressed and follow Jessie out of her room and down the stairs.

“Come here.” Jessie turns you facing toward her before she holds up a blindfold. “Can I put this on you? I want to show you a surprise.”

“Yeah.” You say as she gently slides the blindfold over your eyes.

“You can’t see right?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, we’re gonna walk, I’ve got you though.” Jessie stands by your side, her arm wrapping tightly around your waist. You feel her start to gently pull you and you follow her step by step slowly through the house. You hear the sound of a lock and a door opening and you’re suddenly hit in what little exposed skin you have by a rush of freezing air.

“Okay, step carefully out.” You follow her instructions and hear the door close behind you. Jessie’s fingers find the edges of the blindfold and she gently pulls it up, revealing a sight like no other to you.

The backyard was covered in a thick layer of snow, real snow. The same real snow that continued to fall from the sky. The same snow that you felt melting as it hit your already rosy cheeks. You turned to Jessie, the flakes catching in her hair, her cheeks equally rosy and her smile as big as can be.

You pull your eyes away from admiring Jessie’s face and you start to look around. You were standing in what was probably 6 inches of snow, admiring the way the trees were glistening in the moonlight, the way everything seemed peaceful. It was like you were living inside of a snow globe.

“Wow.” The only word you’re able to come up with as you continue to look around with wide eyes, feeling a sense of childlike excitement in your stomach, the same feeling you’d get trying to go to sleep the night before your birthday, or the sense of adventure you had when you’d get on a plane and feel it lift from the ground. Everything around you was blanketed in the fluff.

You’re pulled out of your admiration for the view by the feeling of something hitting your side before it disintegrates. You turn to Jessie, looking guilty with another ball of snow in her hand.

“Don’t you dare.” You hold a hand out at her and before you can get another word out, she flings the ball at you hitting you square in the chest, some of it coming up to hit your face as it explodes. “You’re gonna pay for that Fleming.” You say before you lunge at her.

Jessie manages to slip from your grip and she takes off running around the yard. You suddenly learn it’s a lot harder to run through snow than it looks. You stumble every couple of steps while Jessie snickers to herself as she watches you chase after her. You manage to hit her with your own amateur snowballs a few times, catching her legs and her back before she turns on you and it’s now you running from her.

Your lack of experience in snowboots and the snow catch up to you and within a minute Jessie’s arms have wrapped around your midsection and you both trip ending up in a tangled pile on the ground. You’re both laughing as you recover from the chaos, feeling yourself sink into the white layer around you. You shiver at the contrast in feeling the cold snow on your back, neck, and down your legs while Jessie’s body heat keeps your front warm.

“I told you it’s cold.” Jessie says, pushing herself up slightly to look at you, a smug look across her face.

“Ehh it’s not too bad.” You try to play it off, it was a lot colder than you expected.

The girl above you leans in, placing her lips on yours and you revel in the warmth of her kiss. “You’re lucky I lent you a jacket.” She says as she rolls off to lay beside you. She doesn’t say anything before starting to swing her legs outward before repeating a similar action with her arms swinging them down to her sides then back up again.

You look over, admiring the love of your life. The way her curls peaked out from under the hat she wore. You started at how the snowflakes caught in her hair, making it sparkle. You admired her rosy cheeks, both from chasing each other around and from the cold air. What you admired the most was the way she was smiling. Her eyes would flutter open, looking up at the snow falling for a moment before closing again, all while she had a huge grin across her face. You loved seeing her this happy, this carefree, this was your Jessie.

“You’ve got a staring problem today.” She teases you again just as she had while she was changing. “Copy what I’m doing.” You don’t ask why, you never had to with Jessie, she said jump you did have to ask how high, you just would, you trusted her, whatever she asked, you’d do your best. So you do, you mimic her movements swinging your own legs and arms.

Jessie stands up, offering out her hand to you, she helps you stand and turns back to face where you had been lying. “Snow angels.” She nods her head at the imprints your bodies had made. You go to answer but when you open your mouth your teeth chatter. Jessie laughs, looking over at you as you shiver.

“Alright, time to go in.” Still holding your hand she pulls you inside where you both take off the big puffy coats, still left in cold clothing. You leave your boots at the mat and follow Jessie back up the stairs and into her childhood bedroom. She moves into the bathroom that was joined between Jessie’s bedroom and what was formerly her sister's bedroom. You hear the shower start running.

“Come, we’ll warm up in the shower.” She says as she begins to strip off her own cold and wet layers. You follow in suit before climbing into the steaming water. The two of you shower together, warming back up slowly between the steaming water and Jessie’s presence, before dressing again in your clothes. You climb into bed, eager to get back into the warm layers of blankets while Jessie moves to her window, adjusting the curtains so that you could watch the snow falling. She then cuddles up behind you in bed, her arms wrapping around your waist, holding you tight against her front.

“I promised I’d show you a real snow.”

#jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #jessie fleming blurb #canwnt x reader

263 notes · View notes

bonefall · 3 months ago

Note

Hey, what makes a character a 'plot device but not a character'? And how do you not do that? I'm trying to do it on purpose but also I need to still make them interesting because it's on purpose, yknow?

A good skill to pick up is to learn to criticise criticism itself. A "plot device" is simply a thing that moves the plot along, it's a neutral literary analysis term! Usually, when people are angry that "a character has been used as a plot device," it doesn't mean they hate plot devices. It means they're gesturing at something deeper.

Runningwind and Bumble are equally plot devices in their deaths. They are both killed by the antagonist to escalate political tension. Runningwind is rarely "accused" of just being a plot device, and yet, we're talking about Bumble for the same thing.

So, why?

Well, Runningwind is just a background character, but in life, he was a part of the community. He was characterized as impatient but responsible. Yet, he wasn't SO important that he died with a bunch of unresolved plot threads.

He is mostly an extension of the entity of ThunderClan. His killing by Tigerstar, and the fear and paranoia that settles on the group after this, feel like a progression of the story insteas of something forced.

Bumble, on the other hand...

Is hated immediately by Gray Wing, when she's established as Turtle Tail's friend. Bumble's abuse at Tom the Wifebeater's hands invites even MORE investment. The rejection is shocking and upsetting. There's a story there about our main characters being imperfect; jealous, bigoted, and judgemental.

But, she is simply killed off. Everything they set up for this character is gone with little personalized fanfare. It's not a tragedy with a lesson about cruelty, or something anyone regrets.

It's just... plot. Gray Wing whinging that no one will like his shitty brother now that his body count is 2.

More than that, in the discussion of women in particular, "Fridging" was coined to give a name to the way women characters often don't get their stories told at all. There is a CULTURAL trend of female characters facing disproportionate violence, for the sake of advancing male plots.

Bumble has a lot going for her. Petal had a lot going for her. Turtle Tail had a lot going for her. Bright Stream had a lot going for her. When they died, they took their potential with them.

It's not always wrong to kill off a character of high potential, mind you. In Gurren Lagann, Kamina's death is sudden and shocking, leaving a massive hole in the hearts of the cast that never heals. Grappling with that loss, but also letting his memory fuel them, is a major theme of that story.

All that to say... there's no formula for avoiding it. You've gotta identify what the deeper issue is, in your specific narrative.

I can't say for certain what that will look like for your story, but here's some things I keep in mind;

When you make characters who exist to die, make sure they're people before you axe them.

Ask yourself; what about them does the cast miss?

If they just miss them because they were (pre-existing relationship), go back to the drawing board.

Fluttering Bird as an example. Who was she? Dead sister. Why do they miss her? Dead sister. No traits until after her death.

Runningwind was short-tempered and helpful. Kamina was a valuable leader who made people believe in a brighter future. Swiftpaw was fiesty and desperate to prove himself. The better characterized, the more profound the loss usually is.

If this is a female character who is dying just to serve the plot, be aware of cultural bias and tropes. How is the gender ratio looking in your cast? Is this happening disproportionately with your girls?

Note how Quiet Rain's litter had both a boy and a girl, but the girl was chosen to be "weaker" and wither away.

And how most of the time in DOTC, whenever a man had to be upset, a girl would get killed for it.

If you ever feel like the character on the chopping block is NOT a full character, ask yourself why it needs to be a character at all. You don't need to spend narrative time building out someone when a literal object of high value might suffice.

"My sister died when I swore to protect her and I can't face my family" = Old. Tired. Ive seen this.

"I lost my heirloom sword when I swore to protect it and I can't face my family." = Fascinating. Why was the sword so valuable? Will they really not take you back? How did you lose it?

When you do kill off "high value" characters, try to make sure you're not leaving too many plot threads hanging. Or at least make a point of how they will never get closure.

#Bones gives advice #These questions can be hard for me to advise on because making characters is one of the easy parts for me.#It's more the “working them into a story without overwhelming it” part #But making characters that are fun and interesting has always come naturally to me as a writer.#I just work out some fun dialogue and fill in what their wants and desires would be based on backstory #And the rest kinda fills itself out as the message and themes of my narrative forms.#In fact the thing that makes BB so easy for me to work on is having an existing “story template” in mind #I don't have to chart out the long term events in advance because I do have a full picture of what leads where #And what I want to say with each rework.#I've always been told I'm really good at killing off characters though #Especially in my RP days. I remember I singlehandedly turned a pretty standard 'escape from evil lab' plot into--#--a painful story about loyalty and suffering. I was the main villain and the escapees knew he would never give up.#Because he loved their master and believed fully in the idea of 'sacrifice for the greater good.'#Always friendly. Passionate. Would have been a dedicated leader in a slightly different setting.#They knew he would never want to actually hurt them so they had to trick him into trying to “coral” them with his fire powers on ice #He didn't know it was ice and melted through #I guess the thing I do is just... make them cool lmao. It's hard to give advice on this #''Draw the rest of the owl 4head''

193 notes · View notes

majesty31 · 10 months ago

Text

𝙳𝚒𝚎 𝙰𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎 | 𝙼𝚒𝚗𝚑𝚘 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝒂/𝒏: 𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒈𝒖𝒚𝒔, 𝒔𝒐 𝑰'𝒎 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒂 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒛𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒇𝒖𝒏 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆. 𝑰 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒊 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒛𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒇 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒔𝒌. 𝑬𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒓𝒖𝒏 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒛𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒔. 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒎???

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔/𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕: 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇, 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒎𝒂𝒅 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒐, 𝒄𝒓𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒚𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 𝟑.𝟓𝒌

It was late, the sun was slowly starting to set, and still the boys weren’t back. At first you thought they were just late, sometimes it happened, where they just lost track of time, most of the time when they found something or when they get lost.

But they have never been this late before. And to make matters worse, your leader Alby was in there also. And everyone knew that if the doors closed with Minho and Ably inside, you would all be screwed.

So when the rain had stopped pouring, you along with every other glader stood at the entrance of the maze, watching, waiting. You bounced on your heels anxiously, your eyes trying to peer around the corridors for a shadow, a glimpse of life. But nothing.

It was getting darker, the doors would close any minute now, and you felt sick to your stomach. You hadn't felt like this since they banished Ben, and if you had to lose Minho too, you wouldn't even want to live anymore.

And if you were being completely honest with yourself, you always had something more than friendship for Minho. You two weren't as close as you would've liked to be, you've talked to him before but that was just because of Ben or Newt. Other then that you two never spoke, he didn't even seem to notice you, always looking somewhere else when you'd speak to him and just act cold towards you.

Which you never understood. You had come up only four months after Minho did, and right at the beginning he acted as if you were a burden to the whole glade. You knew straight away it was because you were a girl but you never called him out about it because you were also a little scared of him. Minho was a big guy, bigger than any boy in the glade. And you knew of his sarcastic banter but he never showed that to you, all you got was the cold shoulder and the blank stares.

But you couldn't help but fall for him, he might have so many bad traits, such as being cold towards you, never paying you any mind or maybe because he acted as if you were some child who everyone always had to look after. But the good ones overtook the bad, he seemed caring to his friends, funny, determined, always thinking of finding a way to get everyone out. He put his life on the line for everyone, and that was something that took a lot of amount of courage and will power.

You admired him, from afar of course. You wanted to have the determination he did, you wanted to be able to wake up every morning with a set mind and heart.

"What if they don't make it?" You heard the new greenie say, his words snapping you back to reality, the reality that this was actually happening, that they might not make it. And that you will never be able to tell Minho how you really felt for him. But you knew he wouldn't even care if you did.

"They're gonna make it." Newt replied, his eyes boring into the maze, searching, hoping. Like you all were. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes as you heart began to race. It was happening, you were letting your panic slowly take over. And you didn't know if you'd be able to stop it now.

You could feel your hands begin to shake. They just can't die, they can't. You could feel a warm hand on your back, it was Newts. He knew of your feelings for his friend, and you knew he was trying to reassure you but it did little to no help.

You felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach when you heard that all to familiar sound, followed with the ground rumbling and soon the wind blew back your hair. Finally you let your tears slip when the walls slowly started to grind together.

But then.

"Over there!" Chuck yelled, his finger pointing at the two figures who staggered past the corner, reaching into everyones line of sight. Everyone went dead silent as they all tired to figure out why Minho was moving so slow.

"Somethings wrong," Someone, you didn't know who said. Your eyes widened when you saw Alby slouched over Minho's shoulders, unconscious or maybe even dead. It was taking everything in you to try and keep yourself from screaming his name, yelling at him to hurry the hell up. But you just couldn't keep your mouth shut.

"Come on Minho you can make it!" You were the first to break the silence, yelling as loud as you could and soon everyone else erupted into yells and screams at Minho. You couldn't even hear your own voice over all the noise, but you didn't care.

Dread filled your entire body when he dropped Alby to the ground, but he didn't just leave him like Gally was yelling at him to do, instead he grabbed his legs and started dragging him towards you all.

You stopped your screams, and everything around you seemed to go silent, like background noise. Your breathing was just picking up in pace and your whole body shook with fear. Everyone around you knew he wasn't going to make it, not if he moved as slow as he was. And everyone also knew he would never leave a man behind.

Absent tears slipped from your eyes as you stared at the scene in front of your eyes. Minho looked so tired, but still he dragged Alby as fast as he could, and the closer the walls got to each other the more he seemed to panic. Sweat dripped off his arms, his face and his muscles bulged through his shirt as he dragged Alby.

The more tired he got the slower he became. You could see him slowing down, everyone could. You could feel yourself on the furge of a panic attack, everything was happening too fast but he was moving so slow.

Minho let out a panic yell as he tried to will himself to move faster, but he was just too far away. Your eyes shifted to the walls as a thought came to your head, a stupid thought, a really really stupid thought. One that you didn't let yourself rethink.

"Y/N NO!" Newt yelled right as your feet stepped between the two walls. You kept your eyes forward and your panic at bey as you ran with everything in you to the other side. The side no one wanted to be on, the side that would most likely lead to your death. But that was the last thing on your mind. The only thing you could think about was the boy who you loved, and not letting him die out here alone.

You barely made it to the other side alive, having to push yourself out as the walls closed with a crash behind you. You didn't even have time to think about what you did before Minho came charging at you. His face full of anger, disbelief and fear.

"Y/N what the hell did you do!" He yelled, his eyes wide as he grabbed your arm, pulling you harshly towards him. Your heart raced with adrenaline as you stared back into his eyes. "You just killed yourself! What the hell is wrong with you!"

"I couldn't just let you die!" You yelled back, ripping your arm away from his tight grasp. He seemed taken a back by your tone but he regained himself quickly.

"And what? That means you just kill yourself too! What do you think you'll do that will save me? Save us? You know nothing about the maze!" He was so close to you, his tone scared you more than you wanted to let him know, and his words just made it a whole lot worse. You darted your gaze to the ground as they filled with tears.

"Crying isn't going to help us." He might have wanted it to come out harsher but his tone softened. He was right, you didn't know two things about the maze, or how to be a good runner, but that didn't matter, you weren't about to let him die, even if that meant to kill yourself too.

You turned your eyes up into his. "You're right." You wiped your face with the back of your hand as you took a step away from him, which caught Minho's attention immediately, his eyes following your smaller form. "I don't know a thing about the maze, and I might have just walked into my own death, but I wasn't going to let you die alone,"

He didn't say anything, his eyes just staring into yours. And this was the first time he didn't seem cold towards you, the first time his eyes weren't empty as he looked into yours. It made your stomach fill with butterflies, which was so stupid in the situation you were in.

"You don't deserve to die like this Y/N," His words caught you off guard, and for some odd reason made tears well up in your eyes again. You sucked in a deep breath as you turned away, your gaze darting towards Alby, who was limp on the ground.

"We should hide him somewhere," You said, already moving to kneel beside Alby. Your hand brushed over his face, and your heart dropped a little when you saw the gash on his head. But you didn't mention it, knowing why he had done it in the first place.

Minho didn't say a word as he took him by the arm, slinging on over his shoulder. Not knowing what else to do you followed suit, your knees almost bucking with his weight. But you just willed yourself to move even if he was heavy.

After maybe 5 minutes of walking around Minho dropped his side causing you to almost fall over as all of Alby's weight fell on you. Having no other choice you dropped him as gently as you could by the nearby wall.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" You breathed out in annoyance, getting up on your feet as you tired to regain your raged breathing. Minho turned towards you, his eyes hardening but you cut in before he got the chance to speck. "We can't just leave him here. He'll die. We have to put him somewhere. Or hide him-"

"Where?" He interrupted, his voice full of frustration and panic. You had never seen Minho panic before and while you understood you were also getting annoyed with him. He's supposed to be the Keeper of the runners and here he is not using his head and instead using his panic.

"I don't know." Your own voice matching his. Your eyes shifted around, trying to find somewhere out of sight. But he should be the one to know the maze better than anyone, or so you've been told. "You're supposed to know everything about the maze. Isn't there one place you can think of to hide him-" He let out a frustrated groan before he grabbed your waist, pinning you to the wall.

"You don't fucking get it! Take a look around, we're trapped and we aren't getting out of this alive!" Your breathing was fast from the shock and the truth to his words. His face was close to yours, his hands were warm which made shivers run up your spine.

"With an attitude like that, yeah no klunk we're dead!" You pushed him away from you with slightly shaking hands. "Be the shucking keeper Minho!" You yelled. "And lead me."

"You are a shucking builder Y/N! How the hell am I-" A horrifying cry rang through your ears, shutting both you and Minho's mouths as your eyes shifted behind Minho. You couldn't see anything but you knew what you heard and you did not want to meat the creature that made that terrible sound.

"Okay okay, it doesn't matter Minho. We just need to hide him," You were panicking, you could feel the rise in your stomach and your throat. But you had to keep it down, this was the worst place to have a full panic attack, and the wrong person to have it in front. "What about underneath?"

Minho looked to what you were pointing at, which was under the ivy at the bottom of the wall. "Okay okay but hurry, the walls are already changing."

For the next ten minutes you and Minho got Alby safely under the ivy, you didn't know if it would work but you prayed to whoever was out there that it would. You didn't even notice when Minho had stopped helping you, all your mind was focused on was making sure that Alby was safe to leave.

"We gotta go!"

"What?"

"We gotta go!" You felt Minho grab your arms, pulling you up onto your feet. Your eyes darted behind you as Minho dragged you forward, and thats when you saw it.

Your breath caught in your throat as you laid eyes on it for the first time. The thing everyone in the glade feared, the thing no one has ever seen and lived to tell the tale. It was unlike anything you'd ever seen—half-machine, half-monster, with twisted limbs. It's movements jerky and unnatural. Panic rushed into your body like lighting and thats when everything started to feel real. That you might actually not make it out alive.

You could feel your body turn stiff, and your blood turn cold. You thought for a second you were going to throw up, cry or scream. Maybe all of them and Minho sensed it immediately.

"Y/N Y/N no no no." Minho tried pulling you with him but your feet refused to move as you watched the griever turn into another corridor. "Don't do this now. We have to go!"

"I can't do this Minho!" You felt tears burn in your eyes, your breathing was ragged and heavy, and you were starting to see spots. "I can't-"

"Yes you can!"

"No I-"

"Listen to me!" He turned you around to face him, his hands cupping your face harshly, causing your eyes to connect with his. "Look I don't know if you're brave or just brain dead for running in here, but you did okay? So don't panic now, in-fact you aren't allowed to panic now. You have to learn to control it," Minho said, his voice low and dangerous. "Because if you can't, you'll get us both killed. So shove it down you got that. Shove. It. Down."

You nodded into his hands, your mouth trembling and the tears slipping down your face. You were about to wipe them away but Minho did it for you. You would have questioned it but you were far too scared to even think about anything other than death.

"Y/N, we need to run!" Minho shouted, his voice tinged with panic as his eyes widen, looking behind you. Your heart dropped to the ground as you heard it's dreadful scream and mechanical run but this time you didn't wait for Minho to drag you along. Instead you broke into a sprint, hot on Minho's heels.

The Griever's mechanical legs clattered against the ground as it raced after you two. You could hear its heavy breaths echoing behind you, driving you forward with a surge of adrenaline fueled fear.

"We can't outrun it," You panted, your voice strained with exertion as you darted around a corner, narrowly avoiding the Griever's grasp.

Your heart sank as you realized you were trapped, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. But giving up was not also not an option—not when your life, and were at risk. And not when Minho still didn't know your true feelings.

With a desperate burst of energy, you pushed forward, dodging the Griever's relentless attacks with quick reflexes and determination. Every step felt like a battle against death itself, but you refused to surrender.

Your legs burned, your lungs screamed for air, and yet the Griever remained hot on your heels. As exhaustion threatened to consume you, you felt your pace slowing, your steps faltering with each passing moment.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. The relentless pace was wearing you down, both physically and mentally. The maze seemed to stretch on endlessly, its walls looming ominously overhead.

"We can't stop!" Minho's voice pierced through the darkness, sharp with frustration.

But despite his harsh words, you struggled to keep up, your muscles aching with every step. As you rounded yet another corner, you stumbled, nearly falling to the ground.

"I-I can't," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper as you fought to catch your breath.

Minho's patience snapped, his frustration boiling over as he turned to face you, his expression a mix of anger and desperation.

"Dammit, Y/N!" he barked, his voice laced with frustration. "Get it together! Do you think the Grievers care if you're tired?" Minho snapped, his tone harsh. "Do you think they'll show you mercy because you can't keep up? No. They'll tear you apart without a second thought. We need to keep moving, or we're dead."

His words struck you like a blow, the harsh reality of your situation sinking in with chilling clarity. Despite the fear and exhaustion, you forced yourself to push through.

"Come on we can lose it down here! The walls are changing, closing! Keep moving, Y/N!"

Heart pounding, you glanced back to see the Griever's glowing eyes fixated on you, its mechanical limbs clattering against the stone floor as it got closer. With a surge of adrenaline, you broke into a sprint. As you ran, Minho's voice became a distant roar.

But then, a plan formed in your mind—a reckless, desperate plan. With a quick glance back, you veered off course, leading the Griever away from Minho's path.

"Come on, you ugly piece of scrap!" you taunted as you drew the Griever's attention to yourself.

Behind you, Minho's voice rose in panic, his yells desperate for you to turn back. But you ignored him.

As you ran, the walls of the maze began to shift and close in around you, sealing off your escape. With the Griever hot on your heels, you pushed yourself, every muscle burning.

And then, with a surge of determination, you made a leap, narrowly avoiding the closing walls as you launched yourself into the narrow gap.

With a sickening crunch, the Griever collided with the closing walls, its mechanical form crushed between the shifting stone. A triumphant roar echoed through the maze as you emerged on the other side, breathless and exhilarated, the sound of the Griever ringing in your ears.

As you caught your breath, Minho's voice reached you, sharp with a mix of anger and disbelief. "What the hell were you thinking, Y/N?" he barked, his tone harsh. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"

Your chest heaved, but you squared your shoulders, refusing to back down. "I did what I had to do," you retorted, your voice tinged with defiance. "We needed to stop that Griever, and I wasn't about to wait around for it to catch up to us. You're not the only one capable of making tough decisions, Minho."

Minho's eyes flashed with fury at your retort, his jaw clenched with suppressed rage. "You don't get it, do you?" he growled, his voice dripping with frustration.

"What don't I get?" you challenged, your own anger flaring as you met his gaze head-on. "Why do you suddenly act like you care huh? Back in the glade you've always acted as if you don't want me around."

Before you could even take a breath Minho was in front of you, with a harsh tug, he pulled you close, his eyes blazing with intensity as he stared into yours.

"Don't you dare say that," he snapped, his voice low and dangerous. "You don't think I care?"

Before you could form a response, Minho closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a bruising kiss. The anger and frustration melted away in an instant.

Caught off guard by his sudden change in demeanor, you found yourself melting into his embrace, your hands tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss. In that moment, nothing else mattered—there was only Minho and the electrifying connection between you.

As you lost yourself in the heat of the moment, you couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was more to Minho's harsh exterior than met the eye. And as you and Minho surrendered to the intoxicating pull of desire, you knew that despite the challenges that lay ahead, you would face them together.

419 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 months ago

Note

What're your thought on Skully/Skelly so far? Personally, I like the kid, he seems fun and cute (might even adopt him too lol)

I’ll make an update post later once the full event is out; this post will be my first impressions of the guy! Thought it might be interesting to document my feelings now and see how those change over time.

First thing I’ll say is while I like his design, his personality didn’t match my expectations. I expected him to be polite yet also eccentric and a little sinister, not… going around kissing the hands of everyone he meets. Skully also comes off as much more harmless than he appears. It’s an odd mix of demure but also really excitable when his special interest (Halloween, lol) comes up in conversation. A fun-loving guy! He definitely looks a lot more imposing and mysterious than he actually is.

I think a lot of his intimidation factor comes from the shades. If you take them away, he looks more like a dejected fuzzy animal or a Halloween-flavored Idia/Saeran (Mystic Messenger boi). LIKE SORRY BUT WHY DOES HE LOOK LIKE A SAD PUPPY LEFT OUT IN THE RAIN… His spiral eyes are cool though ^^ It’s just slightly hard to see sometimes because of the shadow his hair casts and the shading around that area.

His overall expressiveness is great! He looks cute when he smiles and blushes (from his idol complimenting him, haha). It feels very pure and innocent, which contrasts with his more… deranged expressions.

The way he speaks surprised me too… He talks about coming from a rural place, but he speaks so formally! Sometimes even more formally than Jade. I wonder if that implies being of high class/social status or if he just taught himself to speak this way for personal reasons. My worst nightmare (hah) is that Skully devolves into a heavy Kansai accent later in the event (if only because I’m not sure how to transcribe the Kansai accent into English when I write his dialogue 💦).

I mentioned in an earlier post that Skully’s outfit is a Nightmare Suit provided by the book. We don’t know what he actually dresses like irl which is a shame. Knowing that would really help with getting a read on his character, even if he were just in a school uniform (because different people can wear their uniforms very differently, as we can see in the NRC School Uniform line of cards). Stuffing Skully into a Nightmare Suit by default doesn’t tell me much about how he presents himself outside of the book, in reality.

There’s definitely a lot of interesting (and vague) lore around him 🤔 like how he doesn’t know what magical pens are and how his hometown is the only place that knows who Jack Skellington is… Hopefully those questions get answered by the end of the event. I also have to wonder why he’s such an intense Halloween otaku??? There could be no deep reason behind it, but I’m a little suspicious since this is a Halloween event. It feels like Skully’s hiding something and/or he’s not confident in himself since his dialogue implies he’s a loner irl. Maybe he’s attracted to the idea of Halloween because even the dead and creatures of the night can fit in (so he, the outcast, can also have a place among them)?

That being said, I do find Skully’s personality charming, especially when he’s opening the event with his little dramatic monologue about Halloween. It’s a nice way to interpret Jack Skellington’s whimsy and child-like wonder into a Twst character. However, I don’t exactly find myself completely endeared to his character yet. He feels a little too… safe? Too… sweet. Unless this was all intentionally and he's actually a RSA student or something/j I’d like to see more of his villainous traits and weaknesses on display to get a full scope of his character. *rubs hands together* I want to see what he’s like when he snaps… We already saw some glimpses of his nastier side when he calls his classmates worthless for not understanding him. I want to see that unleashed on the NRC students! As is, I’m not sure if I enjoy him talking down to others (he calls his classmates worthless) for not being on the same wavelength as him when it comes to his interests. It feels like something elitist otaku do (Idia has definitely done this), and that’s a big yikes for me.

#twisted wonderland #twst #Skully J. Graves #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst jp #twisted wonderland jp #jp spoilers #twst halloween #twisted wonderland halloween #notes from the writing raven #question #jack skellington #mysmes #saeran choi #mystic messenger #Idia Shroud #Jade Leech

236 notes · View notes

call-sign-shark · 1 year ago

Text

After the Storm, the Sun || Tommy Shelby x Reader

➢ Prompt "Don't you Dare" requested by @runnning-outof-time

Words: 1K (no proofreading)

If there was one thing you had never seen since your wedding with the infamous Thomas Shelby it was his smile. As both his wife and new secretary, you knew every feature of his face and how they contorted at his emotions’ discretion. Slightly, almost imperceptible. But day after day you ultimately learned how to read through the lines and catch those glimpses of faint emotions. For instance, you could tell he was mad by the way his sky blue eyes became blank and his brows slightly furrowed. That was when you knew someone had cross the line.

When it came to sadness, the change in his traits was even more subtile but nonetheless heartbreaking for observant eyes. He would avoid looking at you, rather focusing his attention on paperwork or something else as if a sole glance at your iris could break the fortress he had spent years building around his heart. All of these held no secret anymore for you — But regarding joy, you could not tell.

You started to wonder if Thomas was even able to feel happiness, or if the war, responsibilities and Grace’s death had definitely faded colors away from his life and turned it into a dull black and white movie whose ending would be definitely woeful.

Sometimes you would caught sight of a light, almost imperceptible smirk at the sharp edge of his lips — especially when Arthur would stumble on his own feet. It also happened that one time John almost choked with his toothpick after laughing too much at Finn’s clumsiness. But these short moments of innocence usually disappeared as quickly as they had appeared as if they had never really existed. Thomas’ genuine smile was a mirage and you, the thirsty and exhausted wanderer lost in the desert of his heart. At first his lack of positive emotions was mere detail, an interrogation born out of curiosity. Yet, the idea of making him smile soon became a bit too obsessive to admit. That was how you came to the decision to do everything in your power to snatch a sincere smirk off your morose husband — a silly mission John, Arthur and his young wife Heaven agreed to join in.

He did not smile when John stole clothes from Polly and made his best imitation of their Aunt, even though it was hilarious when he fell on the floor because he did not know how to walk with heels.

He did not smile when Arthur, wasted with whiskey, cut half of his mustache when he was shaving. The unfortunate event led him to shave it off and wait for it to grow back. Half of Small Heath could not recognized him for days. Let’s not be afraid to state that he cried a little.

Nor did he smile when Heaven’s gargantuan watchdog, Kaiser, jumped on her small frame, happy to see her, and shoved her right in a puddle of mud, ruining both her white hair and her expensive new coat. The expression on her face had been priceless. As well as Arthur’s silly way to run to her.

You laughed each time, almost straining your ribs, but your husband did not even smirk.

As days passed your hopes crumbled bit by bit, until you gave up on the idea. A sigh escaped your lips as you watered the roses of the mansion’s garden, for when Tommy’s darkness started to infect your mood the only place you would find peace was that place in which hundreds of wonderful flowers blossomed. Lost in an ocean of colorful petals, you did not notice the threatening black clouds that were coming your way, with an urging desire to rain down on you. When the first lightning bolt striated the sky, its roaring thunder making you jump like a scared cat, it was already too late.

You ran to the mansion, shutting the door close behind you. It was at that same moment, when you were looking down at your soaked up body with a look of pure despair on your beautiful face, that Thomas came out of the living room. His piercing blue eyes, whose quiet oceans had been darkened with memories of war, fell upon your frame. And then it happened. A little sparkle lit up in his irises at the sight of you, his wife, caught in the rain. Your entangled wet hair, your new dress sticking to your skin, your runny make up…

“The fuck are you looking at Thomas Shelby?!!”

Tommy took off his little glasses and, all of sudden, burst into laughter. The melody of joy, long forgotten, washed away the dust of his tired soul and boomed in the hallway. Laughing was so unusual for him that the corner of his mouth felt numb after a few seconds, but Tommy got the giggles and could not stop. You wanted to yell at him, to tell him it was not fun, but the beautiful symphony of his laugh awoke the flame of your love. It was the very same laugh he had before the war. Before Kimber. Before Campbell and all the other bastards… Scared of moving by fear of disrupting such a rare vision, you remained still. It was Tommy who broke down the distance between you and wrapped your hips with his strong arms, not minding to ruin his own expensive suit.

“I love your laugh. I wish I’d hear it more often.” You said with a little smile, your fingers gently caressing one of his hollow cheeks. He has been so stressed out he had barely eaten in a week.

“Well, you should get caught in the rain more.” He replied, raising an eyebrow, “You look like a wet cat.”

“Fuck you.”

“Language, Mrs. Shelby.” He leaned forward to kiss you but you denied him. Surprised, Tommy frowned and looked at you in hope of getting a reason behind your refusal, "Come on, kiss me."

“No.” You taunted him, freeing yourself from his embrace and taking a few steps back toward the closed door of the mansion.

"Don't you dare, Y/N." He warned you, for the cunning gleam in your eyes foreshadowed what you were about to do.

"Catch me, Tom!" You suddenly said, before rushing outside and running under the batting but warm summer rain. In truth, you were convinced he would not follow you.

How wrong you were.

“You bet I will.” He muttered to himself, putting his glasses on the nearest furniture before joining you in the chase.

The rain was pouring in Arrow House, but for the first time in years, sun shone bright in Thomas’ heart.

Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivated me, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

Arthur's wife is Reader in the ongoing series Heaven in Your Eyes.

#Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby imagine #Peaky blinders imagine #Peaky blinders x reader #Peaky blinders #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #Tommy Shelby smut #Thomas Shelby #Thomas Shelby x reader #Cillian Murphy #peaky blinders x y/n

2K notes · View notes

moirasdolly · 6 months ago

Text

˚ ⋆ﾟ୨୧ Vampire Heart ୨୧ ˚ ⋆ﾟ Arlecchino x Fem Reader

Synopsis: You lay out your whole past for Arlecchino and bare your soul. It gives the other woman even more of a reason to help you get healthy again, and even offer you a permanent home with her. Of course you agree, but as you live together you begin to find little secrets Arlecchino is keeping.

Contains: NSFW (men and minors dni), graphic depictions of blood sucking, hurt/comfort (only slight angst).

Listening to ♪ ིྀ: Rosemary - Deftones

Previous Chapter: 1

Notes: Yes yes yes I know I’ve written her to have very cliche vampiric traits but that’s what a vampire fic is all aboutttt! Like yes she has to carry an umbrella in the sunlight and yesss she lives in a gothic mansion and yesssssssss she’s secretive and strange, but anyway I enjoyed writing this chapter so much <3 I love this fic so far and I hope yall do too

❤︎ Chapter 2: Understanding

By the time you woke up the next morning it was still raining. To your surprise of course, you would have thought after the heavy showers from last night, it would have been calmer by now. You groaned softly as you shifted in the large bed you had been resting in for the night. Your body felt incredibly weak and it felt like a chore to even adjust your position. Your sleepy, doe eyes scanned the room for the woman who had taken you in, but there was no sign of her, admittedly you felt a pang of guilt in your heart when you realized she had probably slept somewhere else once you fell asleep. You felt horrible for intruding on her privacy and even taking her bed to sleep in for the night.

You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t even noticed the tall woman enter the room. “What thoughts are in that pretty little head of yours, hm?” She hummed upon stepping in. Your eyes widen ever so slightly at the sight of her. She no longer donned her sleek attire from the previous night, but instead she was dressed in a long, black nightgown. The top framed her breasts in delicate black lace and dark silk cascaded down the rest of her body, all the way down to her ankles. Rendered speechless for a moment, you blinked at her before registering what she had asked you. You cleared your throat to play off the fact that you were indeed staring her down. “I just feel bad… you’ve already done so much for me, but I can’t do much to make it up to you since I’m still sick.” You sigh before trying to sit up before making a pathetic noise of struggle and falling back down onto the bed.

She watched in amusement as you put on such a sad display and just shook her head slowly. Her light footsteps carried her to you before she bent down at the waist to loom closer to you. You tried to keep your eyes on hers, but even in your feverish, sickly state, you still found time to look at the way the neckline of her dress hung down, exposing her cleavage to you. If she noticed, she didn't say anything and instead placed a gloved hand on your chin and tilted it up to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry…” You mumbled out realizing you don’t even have a name to match the beautiful face. “Arlecchino.” She states simply, and you give her your name in return. “There is no need to repay me for anything, I just wish to see you healthy again.” You furrow your brows slightly, confused at why she was being so kind to you. “But… I don’t understand. I’m completely causing a disturbance for you and taking up space in your private home.” A frown had been creeping on your soft lips.

Instead of standing beside the bed she had taken a seat beside you by now and was keeping her gloved grip on you. It was odd she had gloves on, but again, you ignored it just like every other odd little detail about you. “Little doe, if I thought you were a burden it would have been made clear by now.” She whispered into your ear before pulling back to study you. Her eyes raked over your hair that suited your features perfectly, your blushed cheeks and slightly dewy skin from the fever, and your body… She wondered how cute you were under that long dress of yours as well. Oh how she wished she could slide her hands under to find out. She knew she’d have the chance once you were well again though. She noticed how silent you were for a moment and decided to fill the space with her own words. “So, what were you doing out there in the middle of the night? Don’t you know what dangers lurk deep in the woods late at night?” She moved her hand to soothe over your hair gently.

You knew she would eventually want to know what you were doing out there, but you thought she’d wait a bit longer before asking. There was really no point in hiding it though since she seemed like a no-nonsense type of woman. She also intrigued you in a way that made you want to spill your heart out to her, you didn’t know why though. A sigh pushed its way past your lips and you turned your head away from her. You didn’t want to be facing her just in case you started to tear up, the wounds were still fresh after all. She tutted slightly before gently guiding your gaze to her once more, “Eyes on me, doe.” The pet name tumbled from her lips so easily it almost made you melt. You nodded slowly before retelling your story and how your parents wanted to marry you off to a man twice your age.

“They never cared for me as I was the middle child.” You mention. “Not old enough to be the responsible example set for the younger ones, and not young enough to be the perfectly adorable youngest daughter.” I sniffled slightly as the tears began to fall. “They just wanted to toss me away so they could get a fortune off of me.” You try to turn your head away again, but when you look up at Arlecchino you catch a glimpse of something on her face that you can’t quite discern. Her brows were furrowed and she looked like if you spoke of your family anymore she’d snap. “I’m sorry if I said too much.” You say finally after a beat of silence, you had misread her expression for annoyance with you rather than your pathetic excuse of a family. “Never apologize for feeling.” Arlecchino says quickly, wanting to dispel any ill thoughts she thought you might have. “Your family should be the ones apologizing for treating someone like you so terribly.” She spat out, her voice full of venom for the ones who did you wrong. She surprised you and her own self with how much emotion she was feeling for you in such a short span of time. “I apologize for raising my voice, dear, but it is completely unacceptable.”

Your heart was almost beating out of your chest, and perhaps it was because you had never received this type of care before, but you liked how strongly she felt about how you were treated. “Thank you for listening and taking me in. It means everything to me… I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t stumbled into you.” I might have even gone back home, you thought to yourself. Of course you didn’t say it because the taller woman would have gone into a rant on why you would be a fool to do that. “Well, you’re free to seek shelter and companionship here with me for as long as you’d like.” Her deep voice is sincere, and it sends butterflies straight to your tummy. “I want to stay.” You blurted out before averting your eyes. Embarrassment was present on your face as you blushed even deeper than you already had been. Your eyes snapped back to her once a soft chuckle rumbled in her throat. “I see,” she starts before letting her fingers smoothe over your hair once more, “now rest up, little doe. You had a rough night and your fever isn’t improving at all. Call for me and I’ll be here to help you.” You nod your head, not trusting your voice to properly reply, and just like that she vanishes out of the room. You almost wished she had given you a kiss on the forehead, or any sort of affection, but you knew that was just your touch-starved mind running wild, and you decided to let yourself sleep more since it was still early in the day.

For the past week you had been in Arlecchino’s care and she was nothing less than attentive. Everytime you groaned about your head hurting she would be there with a cold washcloth and pain medicine for you. If you felt too cold, she’d be there with blankets, and if you were too hot she’d be there with remedies to cool you down. And even though she was highly attentive, it felt like she was a bit secretive. During the day she spent her time chatting with you, taking care of you and if you were resting she busied herself with her own affairs. When she thought you were asleep for the night she would leave the house into the dark, misty forest and return several hours later. On the occasions that she left during the day, she was always fully covered with a dark colored umbrella, and all these things were starting to make you question her. You didn’t want to prod at her too much though, so you asked simple questions such as, “Where are you off to?” or, “I heard the door late last night, what was that?” She would always answer your questions vaguely, explaining she was going out to do business with someone or running errands, but she never came home with anything, so you felt she was lying to you.

Your fever had lasted an awful long time and only after a little less than a month were you beginning to feel well again. You were able to wander through her home now and explore every little detail of it. She gave you a full tour eventually and you were in awe of how beautiful it was. She had an old library with an extensive collection of novels in it that you had no problem indulging in whenever you were bored or if Arlecchino was out. On one particular night she was gone longer than usual, and you had already finished the book you had been reading all day. You were growing bored of reading and you weren’t sure what else to do until she came home again so you decided a little snooping wouldn’t hurt.

When she toured her home for you there were a few places she either brushed past or outright stated were off limits, and as much as the latter was interested you, you didn’t want to be an absolute pest and break her trust. Instead you wandered to the old, dark wood desk Arlecchino had in the corner of her library. You ran your fingertips over the smooth wood before sauntering around the corner to sit in the chair. It was quite comfortable, and maybe you’d take advantage of it in the future if you ever wanted to write or journal at the desk. There were compartments on either side and you jiggled each of them, and to no surprise they were locked. All with the exception of one. She must have forgotten to lock it last time she was in there. You opened it slowly to reveal a black leather booklet. You brought it to the desk and examined it carefully. It opened up easily, and there was no dust in sight, so she must have been using it recently.

The first page was signed by a name you didn’t quite recognize and you wondered who this “Peruere” person was. The first entries detailed quite a mundane life, and you flipped the pages quickly until something caught your eye. The dates that had been signed at the beginning of each entry were from 1832. You wondered what Arlecchino was doing with an old diary from so long ago, but you didn’t have time to dwell because you heard the front door open and close swiftly. It seemed as if she had other business to attend to before coming upstairs to meet you. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding when you realized you wouldn’t get caught. Footsteps ascended up the steps and you knew the first place she would check was in here. You quickly made sure the diary was returned to the correct drawer before snatching a random book off of the shelf behind you and reclining in your seat at the desk. You tried to make yourself familiar with the plot of the book you were reading just in case the older woman asked you about it. You were halfway through a random page in the book before she had entered. She was surprised to not see you in your usual chair that you had taken a liking to.

She called out your name gently, but loud enough for it to fill up the large library with her deep voice. “Over here!” You called out to her, and she was there in no time. “ Ah, dear, what are you doing over here?” She questioned, slightly confused as to why you’d choose to sit at this old desk rather than the plush, spacious chair she had arranged for you. “I dunno. I was just wanting to read something from this section, but I didn't feel like walking back over there….” Arlecchino studied your features to see if there was any indication that you were lying, and once she was satisfied she hummed softly. “Very well. I brought home a meal for us, I don’t know if you have eaten yet though, my apologies for being gone so late.” She extends her hand to yours and whisks you out of your seat and close to her side. You shake your head as a no, and she leads you into the dining room, but not before she spares a glance back at the desk you were sitting at.

It was nothing too fancy, but she had brought home your favorite soup and bread to pair with it. Your mouth watered at the sight and you turn to hug her, but you stop yourself, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. The only physical touch had only been initiated by her, so you didn’t want to cross any boundaries.

She softened slightly at your cute behavior and pat you on your head gently. “Eat well, I already ate while I was out, but I wanted to bring extra for you since I recall you liked this dish when I made it for you from scratch.” Your eyes fluttered shut as you giggled softly. Arlecchino truly did take care of you so much that she had begun to notice your favorite foods in the short month you had been staying there. “Thank you Arle, you are the best.” You say softly before taking a seat and digging in. Your belly was full and warm by the time you finished and you felt yourself feeling a bit tired already. Granted it was pretty late at night and you always felt a bit sleepy after eating. You lean back in your chair before eventually taking your dirty dishes to the sink. Once they were cleaned and dried, both you and Arlecchino parted ways to get ready for slumber.

About 40 minutes later and you were freshly showered and adorned in a sweet little night gown that didn’t leave much to the imagination. You had your own room now in her home and you had made it entirely yours. It was filled to the brim with pink, frilly, princess like decor that contrasted nicely with the dark walls and gothic light fixtures. Arlecchino had made it easy for you to get everything you wanted and you had questioned just how wealthy she was, but you weren’t complaining at all. You heard two knocks on the other side of your door, and you were giddy for Arlecchino to see you in the slip dress you were wearing. “Come in!” Your honey-like voice rang out and the other women entered the room. She was wearing the same black slip dress from the first morning when you woke up in her home and your eyes wandered all over her just like the first time. The glances were mutual apparently because Arlecchino was looking you over as well, but there was no hiding her gaze. Her intense eyes were focused on you, and only you. If you played your cards right, you would be in for a long night.

#vampire heart ˖ ࣪ 𝜗𝜚 #dulcet fics ♡#arlecchino x fem reader #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino #arleccino genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfics

195 notes · View notes