#'perhaps you should have left him there????'

[littlcdarlin]

My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 || read on AO3

summary: Reader goes on a beach vacation with Joel after her father breaks his leg. tags: daddy kink, big age gap (Joel is 49, reader is 23), dbf!Joel, Joel has a lovely belly, Joel is a little mean, praise kink, Joel calls reader "kid", unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, sexual tension, blow jobs, smut with a little bit of plot, no use of Y/N, afab!reader, reader has hair (will add more as I add more parts)

note: The devil works fast but I work faster. New multi chapter smut fic inspired by those damn new Pedro pics in the works…enjoy part 1! I haven't planned all of the smut scenes, so if you have any requests for specific kinks/scenes, do let me know!

He’s dead fucking wrong. You love your father, enough to not immediately say no, but he’s wrong. It’s true you could use a girls’ trip, perhaps even a couple of days out of town with your Dad, and he’s not entirely off about university being the death of you, kiddo – you’ve spent one too many nights inhaling coffee and cramming for your finals. The idea of an all-inclusive trip is tempting, given the fact that all you manage to eat these days is pasta and store-bought pesto, if that.

Nevertheless, you need to keep studying, there’s less than two weeks left until your exams, and although the trip is only a couple of days, you don’t know Joel.

Sure, you’ve been to his barbecues, and he let you use his bike one year when yours was stolen and your Dad refused to buy you a new one, because you should have locked it up in the first place. You know how he patched up your Dad after the divorce – you never worried about your mother, who was heartbroken, but able to talk about it to her family and friends. Your Dad was the one you spent sleepless nights over. The way the beer bottles accumulated in his garage, how distant he seemed on the phone. You know it was Joel who looked after him, made sure he left the house and had anything edible inside it. You’re grateful for it, you are, but you don’t really know him. For most of your life, he has been a friendly smile and wave over a fence, and you’re shy around people you know much better than the occasional hey kid, you back for the summer? or if you see your Dad, tell him I borrowed his screwdriver, I’ll put it back tomorrow.

You do feel slightly guilty your Dad can’t go on his trip. He broke his leg, and although it’s not entirely your fault he slipped, you had been the one to mop the stairs right before the accident. As much as your Dad was looking forward to his vacation, after a week he had to admit a beach holiday would be little fun with a whole leg in plaster.

You sigh, staring at your phone screen, tapping on it every once in a while to keep it from turning black. He’s expecting an answer soon, you know he is. Who the hell books non-refundable trips anyway? When you get the time, you’ll need to tell him about a lovely invention that is insurance.

You glance over at the stack of unfinished coursework on your desk, your laptop taunting you with its quiet – no responses to the millions of job applications you have sent out have come through. At this rate, you’ll be jobless in a couple of months, when you finish your degree. You’ll have to live with either of your parents forever, no money for any sort of vacation whatsoever.

"Oh, screw it,“ you mutter, unlocking your phone, and typing quickly.

I’ll do it. Only because my A+ cleaning is the reason you can’t go. Tell Joel to bring something to read, I need to study.

***

"It’d be a shame if it went to waste, kiddo, I’m glad you’re doing this.“

"Yeah,“ you answer, thinking of the endless powerpoint slides you haven’t even looked at yet. "Maybe studying at the beach works wonders.“

There’s a knock on the door, and you move to open it, your Dad chained to his chair by his broken leg. You’re not particularly excited about the smalltalk you’ll have to make with your Dad’s friend, but if you remember correctly, Joel is as much the quiet type as you are, and might actually appreciate your studying. Great, you think, at least one of us will enjoy it, then.

When you open the door, the first thing that strikes you is how hard you find it to envision Joel at the beach – he’s all mountains and trees to you, with his lumberjack boots and flannel shirt. His smile is friendly, and only gains warmth when he notices the critical look you give his outfit.

"I know,“ he says, voice deep and quiet, "I’m king of dressing for the occasion.“

You grin, and open the door wider.

"Come on in. Dad’s in the living room. What’s with the…uh…“

Your voice trails off, as you gesture towards his distinctly un-vacationy clothes.

"Thought you might bail,“ Joel answers easily, stepping into the house. "Can’t imagine you’re overly thrilled about this.“

You think about denying it, but this is your chance to come clean about how you would much prefer keeping to yourself and preparing for your finals, so you sigh.

"Well, it’s kinda my fault Dad was, like, almost paralyzed from the neck down, so I figured the least I could do was not let his trip go to waste. I’ve got finals in two weeks, so the timing is…suboptimal.“

"Yeah, your Dad said. I brought reading material, so I won’t bother you too much.“

He’s easy, you realize. Easy to talk to, and easy to accept your reluctance to bond with an almost-stranger, quick to make you feel comfortable by hinting at that boundary. You smile back, and are struck by how he holds your eye contact until you break it yourself, nodding towards your suitcase.

"Think this will fit inside the car?“

"Sure,“ he answers, "I’ve got a Bronco.“

You have no idea what that means, but you assume it’s a good thing, so you smile vaguely.

"It’s an SUV,“ Joel explains with a hint of good-natured amusement in his voice.

"Right,“ you say, attempting to overplay your obvious lack in car-knowledge, "SUV. One of the big ones.“

It makes Joel smile again, and you notice the wrinkles around his eyes that make his face look all sunny. 

"Yeah,“ he says. "One of the big ones.“

You lead him into the living room to say good-bye to your Dad, who’s expression is a weird mixture of sombre and excited at the sight of his daughter and best friend getting ready to drive to the airport.

"Take care of her, Joel,“ he says, when you’re getting ready to leave.

"Don’t worry,“ Joel answers with a pat to your father’s arm. "I’ve got her.“

"I’m twenty-three,“ you remind your father, "I’ve done more dangerous things than a trip to the beach.“

"Yeah, but you’re still my little girl,“ he answers with a smile, squeezing your hand. You squeeze back, though his comment irritates you.

"See ya, Dad. Call me if something’s wrong with your leg, alright?“

"Sure, kiddo. Have fun, you two, and bring me a seashell.“

Joel grins at the open envy on your Dad’s face.

"We’ll go on another trip next year,“ he says in an attempt to cheer him up.

"Yeah, yeah,“ your Dad answers, glancing at his watch. "Better get going, or you’ll miss the flight.“

"We’ll be fine, Joel’s got a fast car,“ you argue, "A Bronco. That’s an SUV.“

Joel snorts.

***

Joel lets you take the window seat and plops down next to you, legs slightly spread so as to fit into the little space the two of you have. His leg nudges yours, and he pulls it back immediately, though you can see how uncomfortable it must be with his knees pressing into the seat in front of him. You move your legs towards the window with a glance at Joel, who looks grateful and is able to relax his muscles into a more comfortable position without invading your space.

"Thanks,“ he mutters, "Fucking hate flying.“

So do you, though not because you’re too big to fit into the space, and not because you’re afraid – mostly because it’s boring. Sure, takeoff is exciting, but you get nauseous from watching movies and the plane is much too loud to really enjoy your music the way you would lying on your bed at home. You could study, you suppose, but you tell yourself you wouldn’t be able to concentrate and kick your backpack further under your seat. Joel notices and chuckles.

"Finals, huh? You almost done with your degree?“

You can’t imagine him finding your boring university struggles interesting, but you’re not exactly fantastic at smalltalk, so you take the conversation he’s offering you.

"I’ve got one more year, but I’ve got to do a six month internship, and write my thesis, so yeah, this is, like, the last of my regular classes and exams.“

"You enjoy it?“

The question is strikingly honest, like he really wants to know, like it’s fine if you don’t. You look at him, his eyes already on your face, and for a second you think how handsome he is. You didn’t notice before, when he was just the owner of a bike you could conveniently borrow, when life was all skinned knees and staying up till sun-down. Now, he looks like an equal, like someone who wants to know about your life, someone you want to know about yourself. The change is a little unsettling, but thrilling. You realize you haven’t answered him, so you clear your throat.

"Sure, it’s alright. Not what I would have done if money didn’t matter, but it does, so…I can be content with it.“

Joel considers this, eyes still lingering on your face, as the plane starts speeding up for takeoff.

"What would you do if money didn’t matter?“

You shrug, and smile to yourself.

"Creative writing, maybe. Or English lit.“

"You always were the smart one in your family,“ Joel answers with a chuckle.

You glance at him, and feel a pang of something warm in your stomach as he compliments you. When the plane takes off, you look out of the window, but get the feeling Joel’s eyes keep looking at you. It makes your skin prickle, though not at all unpleasantly.

***

You get to the hotel when the sun is high in the sky, burning the top of your head and making you long for a shower and an ice-cold coke. Joel courteously carries your suitcase and although you don’t want to inconvenience him, you don’t mind the way his muscles bulge under the weight, arms straining against the navy shirt he had underneath his flannel. You wonder how he’s not suffocating in the heat, wearing his thick jeans and boots.

When you get to the front desk, he fishes his phone out of his pocket, searching for his reservation details with furrowed brows. You smile when you notice he uses two hands to scroll. It takes him a couple of minutes, cursing under his breath, and you smile at the lady, who smiles back, patiently waiting for Joel to find the right email.

"Sorry,“ you say to her, and try to catch a glimpse at Joel’s phone, so as to figure out what’s taking him so long. "Need some help?“

He throws you an offended look that makes you grin, and finally shows the lady his phone. She smiles, types something into her computer and gets out two room keys.

"Go easy on your Daddy, it’s easier when you grew up with the internet,“ she says, handing you each a keycard. You feel Joel stiffen beside you, and your stomach flutters.

"Here’s your keycards, you’re on the third floor. Enjoy your stay!“

"Thanks,“ Joel mumbles, taking the cards and handing them to you, before grabbing the two suitcases. He huffs, when you walk around a corner and towards the elevators.

"She was makin’ fun of me,“ he says accusingly when the lady is out of earshot, as if that would be your fault. You snort, all of a sudden feeling giddy at the prospect of being at the beach soon, your holiday only a couple of minutes away.

"I don’t think so, she was trying to help you by blaming your incompetence on your age,“ you say, Joel looking at you like he can’t believe what you said.

"Sorry.“ Your voice is quivering with amusement at how offended he is. "Daddy.“

That makes him clear his throat, and if your eyes aren’t playing a trick on you, his cheeks turn a shade darker. Bingo.

"Don’t say shit like that,“ Joel grumbles, "’M not that old.“

"How old are you, then?“

"Why?“, he asks, eyes meeting yours, and suddenly you’re the one blushing, your stomach swirling with something you definitely should not be feeling for your Dad’s best friend. Joel shakes his head. "Don’t start something neither of us can finish, kid.“

It’s just an offhand-comment about the way you jokingly flirted, but you feel all bashful all of a sudden. His mention of there being something to potentially start, the fact that the possibility even crossed his mind…when you look up at him again and watch him press a button on the elevator, you study the grey patches in his beard, the way his jaw clenches and unclenches as you’re waiting, his thick fingers drumming against the handle of his suitcase. It’s not what you expected to happen, but Joel’s got you intrigued.

***

You both agree to take a shower, get settled in and meet outside the rooms in half an hour – they’re neighboring, so it’s not far. You’re too lazy to properly unpack, so you just grab a bikini and a comfortable white sundress to change into after your shower. The water is welcome on your skin, washing away the grit and sweat of the hours spent on the plane, and you feel like a new person when you step out of the bathroom. You put on sandals and a pair of sunglasses, grab sunscreen, your books and notes for class, and a bottle of water, and throw it all into your beach bag, then head for the door. Joel is already waiting for you, leaning against the wall opposite your door wearing a different shirt, red swimming trunks and dark sunglasses. He’s got a towel thrown over his shoulder and you grin.

"Raw-dogging the beach?“, you ask, which makes him furrow his brows.

"The hell does that mean?“

You snort at his obvious annoyance at your innuendo.

"It means you’re only bringing a towel, nothing to entertain yourself with,“ you explain, gesturing towards your bag. Joel shakes his head, still frowning.

"I’m going to the beach, not the library,“ he answers, and starts walking towards the elevators, his flip-flops making their soft sound on the floor. Your gaze flickers down towards his legs, his swimming trunks revealing tan thighs.

"Comin’?“

You swallow, and catch up with him.

***

He’s fucking gorgeous. It’s a problem, how gorgeous he is, tan torso, swimming trunks low on his hips, bits of dark hair scattered across his chest and soft belly. His shoulders are wide, like they were made for swimming, his hair glistening as he shakes like a wet dog when he comes up for air. You have been staring at the same page for far too long now, but there’s no way Joel is able to notice your staring, not when you’re wearing your sunglasses and he’s busy swimming.

You know it’s a bad idea, that there’s no good that can come from crushing on a man twice your age, more than that, even. You know he must surely see the girl who came over to borrow his bike with tears of anger in her eyes every time he looks at you, and you know how much he respects your father.

Still, you are allowed to have fun. You’re doing this for your Dad more than anything, and you’ve been bending over backwards trying to make him proud with your good grades, so if there’s something you’re able to get out of this trip, you figure you’re at least allowed to look. And anyway, it’s not hurting anyone. It’s just natural, the half-naked bodies and blissful relaxation would affect anyone who has spent the last four months cramped up in a little dorm room.

You watch Joel swim towards the beach again, rising out of the water like some sort of Poseidon sent to personally make this trip unbearable for you. You think of his reaction when you teasingly called him Daddy, and swallow.

"Fuck,“ you mumble to yourself, when he tugs on his swimming trunks so that they don’t slide over his hips, dripping water onto the dry sand all around him. He smiles at you as he makes his way over to your spot – two deckchairs shielded by a parasol.

"Wow,“ Joel says sarcastically, when he looks at your book, still on page two. "Real page turner, huh?“

You blush, and open your mouth to defend yourself, but Joel’s expression softens, all biting humor gone, as he grabs his towel.

"You’re allowed to take a break from studying, you know?“

You watch him dry himself off, big hands rubbing the towel over his chest and stomach, leaving his legs to dry on their own, as he lays down on his deckchair.

"Easy to say, you’re not the one who has to face my Dad if you fail all your exams.“

Joel turns his head towards you, and you’re struck by how gentle his expression is.

"I know he can be a hard ass, but I guarantee you you’re not goin’ to fail all your exams, kid.“

You sigh and shrug.

"He give you a hard time ’cause of your grades?“

"No,“ you answer quickly, all of a sudden feeling defensive of your father. "I just wanna…make him proud.“

Joel smiles.

"I know for a fact you’re doin’ that without even tryin’. And anyway, it’s good to take breaks. Let’s your brain cool off and absorb information much better afterwards.“

Can’t argue with that logic, you think and close your book with a thud. Joel grabs it from you and throws it into your beach bag.

"I grant you two hours of studying each day,“ he says, and you have to laugh. "The rest is for having fun, gettin’ tan and drinkin’ cocktails."

It’s preposterous, that he would order you around like that after you told him you need to study, back before you even made it to the airport. But something is different here, away from your desk, and your Dad’s broken leg (and the rest of him, for that matter). Joel and you have fallen into an easy dynamic, and although it’s unusual, your reservations are gone. You’re actually looking forward to spending time with him, and not just because of the way his belly nudges against the waistband of his swimming trunks, or how his accent seems to thicken in the sun.

"Fine,“ you say, "but you’re paying for my tuition if I do end up failing, Miller.“

He grins at you.

[sir-tuitsum]

An Empress' Harem.

In where, some of the honkai star rail men become your concubine. Focused on how you came to meet them and integrate them into your harem.

Men: Sunday, JingYuan, DanHeng, Gepard, Aventurine, Dr Ratio.

Note: no warning, just a birthday gift to my friend <3 thanks for winning the battle of the sperms. probably choppy and feels rushed, wasn't edited but this is for you <33

***************************************

Sunday

During your years as a princess, of course your husband would need to come from a strong clan to provide you better supporters in your campaign to become crown princess and later Empress. At the age of 9, your father had already gotten to work and convinced your mother, the then Empress, to betroth to the Oak Family's young son who was close in age to yourself.

You met the 10 year old only weeks later, he was as gentle and man-like as you'd expect from a son of a noble family. You easily sensed his tense demeanor around you, he made it his mission to make sure you were pleased the entire time you both were together.

"I will ask the maidservant to give us treats. What do you like?" You took the Oak clan's son for an outing in the Southernmost Imperial Gardens, it was closest to your father's palace as he would've liked it anyway.

"Ah, are you a fan of treats? What treats do you usually like getting?" He stood quite straight with a hand behind his back, as he should be.

You blinked, "Treats are okay. I usually end up eating Honey Cakes I suppose."

"Honey Cakes are sweet, I think I'd like to have one too."

When you asked him why his face scrunched up a bit while taking a bite, he simply brushed it off and said it was sweeter than he was used to. You assumed the maidservant had messed something up in his cake and asked your father to replace her later on.

Either way, Sunday was your personally chosen future royal consort by the former Empress, your own mother, so naturally you held him to high regard.

He was then and now, the very epitome of a perfect consort. He was given praises by both your mother and father quite often for his etiquette and behavior whenever he came by the Imperial Palace. It was enough his family received praises for their efforts in kingdom management by your mother, also with your father praising his family's influence, seeing you as set in stone for the throne being already favored well by your mother.

You married him as soon as the age was appropriate. On the wedding night, he had frigidly arranged old husbands' tales, from using plants said to boost fertility to saying prayers to placing down objects rumored to be favored by the aeons. He had kneeled before the bed after the priestesses and servants had left the private chambers, his hands clasped in prayer.

"The priestesses gave us enough blessings, no?" You jested. You were not surprised of course, years of being together with him had shown you his sweet devout heart towards the aeons. You found it an entertainment to tease him over the years.

"It is good to show the gods your own faith as well, to ask them personally shows your trust in them and pleases them more after all.." you felt almost bad for interrupting his prayer, with the way he glanced up at you afterwards, "perhaps you should join me, we could give honor to Ena for a stable marriage."

It was not uncommon for you both to spend your leisure time praying. Maybe your fondness for him came from the fact he didn't only run to the gods when something went wry. You remembered the first time, when you were but 11 and had visited the Oak's residence without much of an announcement due to having been passing by and decided to stop to visit him, you had been told the young lord was praying as he usually did around his hour. Your better manners told you to wait but in the moment you had made your way to the family's temple and easily made your way inside, as no one would stop an imperial heir so easily.

You found him on his knees, offerings before him as a painting of Ena laid before him on the wall. He was focused, not noticing your entrance. You observed him from where you stood, the relaxed look on his face wasn't normal for you. He was always at attention and the image of sophistication every man wanted to be, composed at all times. The gentleness of him this time wasn't the expected one of his stature, something about the moment almost felt intrusive. You were quiet in your strides towards him, having a closer look at his face now, you assumed it was the dim lighting of the candles but he looked like a different person. You looked forward at the image of Ena then kneeled next to him and clasped your hands together as well. It just felt right.

Praying with the other became something shared between you two when you both found time together.

You shrugged, "I don't see why not."

JingYuan

An incident had occurred during the celebratory banquet in which the pet kitten of a noble had disturbed the peace by causing a servant to lose balance and create a mess. A great disrespect to the royal family, your mother then had chastised the pet's owner publicly and declared the kitten to be skinned alive to teach everyone a lesson of letting creatures run wild in an event like this one.

Well, you found this sentence to be bad, for the kitten at least but your mother's temper was something to be observed carefully, you'd rather not make the evening more unpleasant for her. Or yourself.

It would be three days later when you'd hear noises when you were taking strolls after a long day in your lessons to clear your mind. You had stopped to rest in a pavilion before you'd journey your way back to your palace and heard it. You told your servants to wait for you at the pavilion as you made your way towards the noise as stealthy as one could be, peeking from behind a wall, you saw a boy perhaps older than you kneeling before a bush. There was a bowl next to him and his hand was stretched into the bush.

"pspspspsps-" you had heard from his mouth, ringing confusion bells in your head.

Then you saw it, the pearl white kitten itching out from the bushes only to be attacked with immediate petting from the young boy. That cat looked an awful lot like the cat ordered to die. It shouldn't be, as you saw the peeled skin yourself. It shouldn't be, what person in their right mind would walk straight into a death sentence like this. This definitely wasn't the cat sentenced to death.

So, you watched the should-be-dead kitten make its way toward the bowl of food, meowing in gladness then going right back in to continue eating.

"Does that feel better, Mimi?" The will-be dead boy muttered softly, his tone soft as he ran his hands through the kitten's head.

You felt more uncomfortable when you recognized his face, the amber eyes and the white hair, the black spot on his face-

Jingliu was a popular swordsman hailing from a clan who rose to a respected military family from her great efforts and achievements in conquest. She took in a young distant cousin whose family had fallen on hard times and raised him to take after her and continue her legacy of sword masters. You met this boy after he had accompanied his caretaker to the Imperial Palace for the banquet to celebrate her recent victory. You remembered seeing his face when he had come to greet you and your mother formally before the banquet commenced. You remembered how much your mother revered and praised Jingliu for her military prowess. You recalled thinking the cat faced boy had delicate features.

Military families were highly regarded by the Imperial family. They were considered military when someone received honors and official recognition from the imperial family for carrying out a successful military operation. These families usually aimed to produce soldiers and were determined to ensure all their descendants carry out their military duties for generations. You were curious about Jingliu’s choice to have a man carry on her military legacy though, most unusual.

You looked back at the white haired boy caressing the young kitten like a babe. You admired his idiocy in a sense. His actions were careless and could cause lady Jingliu trouble if he was not careful- this he was not being either. And yet his actions had somewhat touched you.

You also wanted to help the kitten during the banquet, maybe this could be your second chance.

.

.

An invitation was given to the Jingliu's household inviting the now young man to enter a concubine selection for one of the princesses. To his surprise, he was one of the first chosen by her.

Gepard

During your concubine selection, you heard the name Gepard Landau and you immediately decided then and there you would take him as your concubine as well.

In the years before your dynasty sat the imperial throne, the Landaus had supported your family during the civil war. The first Empress of your dynasty had taken a Landau son for her main husband, the royal consort then, the empresses after her had them as apart of their harem for years. This was an easy decision for you.

Moreover, it keeps the Landaus in check, they had weird influence over the imperial military. It would be tricky for you, if Gepard caused any trouble you can't be too strict on him, his family would find way to stick their hands into harem issues and shield him.

Either way, the Landaus are close with the Imperials, this was expected.

With your royal consort next to you, you watched the carriage wheel in with the Landau's sigil, the proud lion, waving from its flag as it pulled up to your palace gates. The custom was that you shared chambers with the concubine on the day they arrive as per tradition. You didn't have much appetite for him. You met the Landau and his older sister when you were still a girl, you had proudly announced to your father the moment he left your presence that he was beautiful and you should have his hand when you grow older, much to your father's pleasure. Whenever the Landau family bought their children around you were always expected to play with them, this was your pleasure, then you had a strong craving to have him.

Out of sight, out of mind. The Landaus preferred to raise their younger offspring away from court. Gepard and his baby sister would spend their time in the countryside with their father from the capital while their big sister would have to handle the duties as the heir apparent in the palace with their mother. Your childish affections dispersed over time. He was now a thing that was a part of the happier times of childhood more than a person you wanted.

Watching the blonde lion step from the carriage, dressed in the colours of his house and the veil on his head, your mind wandered back to the boy you knew. You recalled you barely looked up during the concubine selection and only said yes because she heard his name and accepted him immediately. You never got to look at him.

As per tradition, he kneeled before you every 2 steps he took until he was directly in front of you. At the final kneel, he didn't rise and awaited his new wife’s command to rise, her official welcome of him into her household. Your expression softened, though only slightly. With deliberate grace, you extend your hand toward him, “Gepard of House Landau,” your voice calm but carrying the weight of tradition. “Rise and take your place among those who are my harem.”

He took her hand, her touch steady and warm, yet undeniably regal. As he stood, the space between them felt both vast and impossibly close.

The things that were not said, unspoken words and battered feelings, it was obvious your feelings didn't go as deep as his. The consummation night was not as deep as he wanted it to be. The words, “Tradition demands our Union but I shall not ask any more of you than what you are expected to.”

Control, commands, longing, he did not expect indifference.

Gepard watched you leave, his thoughts a tempest. The girl he had once played with as a boy had grown into a ruler he could not yet fully understand. But for the first time since entering the palace, he felt less like a pawn and more like a participant in a game he was only beginning to learn

Dan Heng

Your history tutor himself held personal vendetta against the Vidyadharas, if you listened to the man explain the history surrounding them, you'd think he was personally there to experience the atrocities.

Though, you did not dislike him for it. The consequences of the old dynasty's actions did not disappear with time.

389 years ago, before the first Empress of your family overthrew the Vidyadhara Dynasty in the 5 Year War, the final ruler of the Vidyadhara was a man. Male rulers were few to none in the country's history, the only reason Dan Feng found himself on the throne of Gold was from a lack of women in the succession. The fertility of the Vidyadharas has dwindled over time until it reached a point they had to turn to a man to inherit the throne. This was their final mistake.

Undoubtedly, this was the worst sovereign to ever step foot on the throne. The first Empress of your dynasty led conquest against the tyrant and in five years time, the Vidyadhara dynasty were no longer legitimate rulers. They were stripped of their lands, titles and wealth, casted off and put under surveillance by your family after the death of

the tyrant. Bans were carried out against them, stay away from the capital, they couldn't hire help without the approval of the new dynasty, the next head of their family was chosen and controlled by your family, etc.

Now, there were two bans you had to be mindful of; Marriage of a Vidyadhara was determined by your family. Vidyadharas are forbidden from entering the royal harem. For the safety of their dynasty never rising again. This wasn't a problem for you until you were approached by an advisor, speaking of a young Vidyadhara being seeked out by a noble for marriage, a noble of importance. Your natural response would be to ban this immediately, you can't mix Vidyadhara blood with your allies. Perhaps it was the late night meeting but you asked for the noble to bring forth his intended bride.

You will continue to blame the late night, the young man, Dan Heng he called himself, a pretty Vidyadhara from the main branch of the family. I'm your own defense, the pretty boy seemed less interested in the idea of the noble woman being wedded to him and his responses seemed almost robotic. In your own defense, his corrupted blood shouldn't be mixing with your allies. It doesn't matter how you took action to stop this, what matters is the marriage was cut off that night. It doesn't need to be bought up that you made conditions to a serious ban your family pressed on since childhood.

As long as Dan Heng was banned from ever becoming the Royal Consort, having any children he produced inherit your throne and his family did not receive the honors the average concubine’s family was given, you could handle this. You won't regret this later.

Aventurine

In your opinion, the Interastral Peace Cooperation had a too heavy grip on the nations, even empires like your own. You recalled a visit of an ambassador from one in your youth, finding the preparations grand enough for a king to welcome one.

Even as an adult, you found their existence in the continent as a pack of dogs being held on a leash by one person. You weren't stupid enough to deny the good they've done to unite nations in peace but you weren't ignorant enough to deny their less honorable pursuits.

Your ascension to the throne naturally led to an ambassador of theirs being sent to congratulate you. It was a natural tradition for them to appease their royals and for the rulers to accept it.

Here in the banquet hall, you observed the other envoys bought with her as they entered. They approached you first with the proper greeting, Jade took the liberty of introducing herself then everyone else. You masked your disinterest until you noticed the blond, you hadn't seen him before, his frame seemed to be smaller and hidden behind the rest. You leaned back in your seat, looking over his form as Jade introduced him.

“Aventurine, a young man in training by myself.”

“What would you train a man for?” You didn't take your eyes off of him, he must've not grown very fast as a child, for whatever reason.

“Whatever a man can understand, there are good ones out there, like him.” She gestured to the blond with a smirk on her face.

You smiled in response to her jest then looked back at Aventurine, “if he is so good, he can tell me about it.” You motioned to the close spots to yourself at your table, inviting the blond to sit with you instead of his colleagues for the remainder of the banquet.

Well, this training, he won't be able to complete it anymore.

Dr. Ratio

Your first tour as Empress took place in the capital, the pride of the Empire. Your last tour had been when your mother was alive, only last year in another smaller city. On the third day of your tour, your royal consort and yourself were set to visit a distinguished university, personally funded by your family for years.

Education was one of your most prized priorities, there was a pull back before your ascension that you sought out to fix when you were Empress. You made it your own issue to get the universities and lower level schools back on track. If your ears were right, others took advantage when the imperial eyes looked away from it.

In an attempt to not disrupt the school day, you met the staff of the university privately and spoke with them about affairs in education.

Though, mid conversation, a man with purple hair had made his way into the room, abruptly so. His eyes locked rather aggressively with some of the educators in the room but he made his way before you, all proper greeting requirements met and rising when you gave him the permission to. He took a seat close by, opening the book in his hand, “It is my ill manners I arrived so late, it was not intentional on my part and I mean no disrespect to you, my liege.” He bowed his head to you as he spoke, you did not respond with anything but a nod.

“If I am so bold, I want to ask for more than just funding to the schools but for funding to the students as well,” he started, “I just think these funds benefit the schools more than the students. Even with the school funded by your majesty’s kind grace, it's not enough to have their needs met to stay in it.”

Well, it was a pleasant change of pace. You've spent the last half hour here with the inhabitants in the room sending you praises for the funds, then asking for more, then praising you, then repeating. Even his tone was too high to be asking that for someone of his standing. Whatever the person next to you said, you didn't hear it, you lowered your chin to look the purple haired man in the eye.

“And what else?”

The amber eyed man's eyes widened slightly as if he had expected a different response from you. He composed himself quickly after, spinning through his books, “I have personal petitions from my own students in here, some I've tried to sponsor myself, I had them write down their troubles-” you found the reactions of the other folks in the room to be almost comedic. Perhaps a less public inspection was needed.

You rose from your seat, “Perhaps you can tell me more about your students and requests, somewhere else, a stroll or a room to ourselves, whatever you desire.” You looked the man over before making your way towards the door, expecting him to follow in tow. You cared less for what the other women in the room had to say at this moment about your sudden leave, you only looked back to make sure the purple beauty was following you.

Yes, you can't wait to learn more about what he has to say and can do.

*************************************

[ozzgin]

It's Christmas Eve, and you wake up to a baby outside of your home. Your yakuza friends quickly come to your rescue, and thus begins your journey of finding the baby's parents. Daitou ponders his own future family with you. content: female reader, violence, mentions of pregnancy, based on Tokyo Godfathers

[Yandere Yakuza Masterlist] | [More Yandere Works]

You stare at the little basket in disbelief.

On the front steps of your apartment complex, a lone baby is crying and shuffling in the bundle of stale sheets. The event would've been baffling enough by itself; even more incredulous is that someone has decided to drop an infant in the middle of a yakuza quarter, in winter, during a gang war. You glance at the bullet holes left in the entrance wall with pursed lips.

You do the only reasonable thing that comes to mind: call Daitou.

As you settle the baby in your much warmer living room, you hear the door rattle. Daitou barges in, face pale as a sheet. Behind him, Kazuya struggles to catch his breath.

“Why- Why didn’t you tell me,” he shouts, collapsing to his knees.

“What? I literally just did,” you argue, eyeing him in confusion.

Kazuya pats his friend’s shoulder, giving you an awkward smile.

“Just my two cents, (Y/N) love, but perhaps telling him ‘I have a baby’ wasn’t the smartest idea. I didn’t have time to explain the logical fallacies to him.”

Indeed, it was a speedy affair. They were hanging out at the headquarter across the street when Daitou answered your panicked call. He nodded, hung up, then sprang out of his seat, bemoaning that he’s the biggest dumbass on this Earth. How could he have missed the fact he’d gotten you pregnant? When did it happen? Was it a surprise birth? There was no time to consider the logistics – he ran, and ran, indifferent to Kazuya’s desperate pleads to listen.

“Oh my God,” you whine, ruffling his hair. “I found the baby, you idiot. Outside my apartment. It was there, in a basket. I hear it crying this morning and went downstairs to see what’s happening.”

The dark-haired man swings his head back up, having finally connected the dots. The movement is so abrupt, his prosthetic eye plops out and rolls away inconspicuously. You catch it before it reaches the edge of the sofa.

“So, what now?” the blonde man is the first one to break the silence. “Does it have a return address?”

“Nothing,” you confess. “We should figure something out; I don’t have any food or diapers.”

“We could keep it,” Daitou mutters mainly to himself. Maybe it was fate, y’know? Or something like that.

“Yeah? Are you going to breastfeed it, momma?” Kazuya groans, flicking his friend. “A stray cat caring for another stray.”

He’s about to place a cigarette in his mouth, but you slap it away and angrily gesture towards the baby. Ah, yes. Of course. He stuffs it back into his pocket, and continues:

“I say we take the kiddo over to our brothel. Plenty of girls that’ll have a better idea.”

You nod thoughtfully. Kazuya’s mom is one of those girls. How many children came out of this business, you wonder? You wrap the infant back into its sheets, and carefully lift the basket.

The street is suspiciously empty as you make your way to the soapland. Well, it’s Christmas Eve, after all. You recall last year’s Family event, when you met Boss for the first time. Back then you were pouring sake for all the underground elite, now you’re carrying an abandoned baby around. It seems that peaceful holidays aren’t something you can enjoy with the yakuza.

In an immaculately ironic timing to your complaint, a loud, thundering sound flashes past your ears. Before you can turn around, you feel Daitou’s brawny arm around your waist, effortlessly lifting you in the air. You let out a quick, involuntary shriek.

“Keep your head down,” he barks, suddenly grim and serious.

Kazuya mutters a curse under his breath, swiftly turning on his heels and shooting at targets out of your sight. You’ve been caught in one of the armed conflicts.

What a day, you think, hands gripped tightly around the basket. The baby is crying, the bullets are pouring. Daitou is holding you with one arm, the other is occasionally returning the shots.

“You get used to it,” you whisper to the infant. “I’m telling you now, there’s no better company than these two.”

It’s probably better to not be involved in the first place, of course, but if you do find yourself caught in gangster business...Kazuya and Daitou are your guarantee to survival.

Eventually, after what feels like an eternity, your feet touch the ground once more. The matron of the brothel hurries over, fanning herself and tugging at the collar of her kimono.

“My, what a mess. I hope you managed to put a few holes in those rascals,” she says in a husky voice. One can immediately guess she’s a heavy smoker.

She notices your unusual package.

“What’s that?”

“Haven’t you heard? (Y/N) and Daitou are parents,” Kazuya announces with gravity.

The rest of the women gather around, gasping and cheering. You elbow the blonde man, furrowing your brows in annoyance.

“Nonsense. This baby was dropped this morning in front of my building. We thought we’d-”

“Ah!”

One of the women steps forward, inspecting the basket with trembling hands. She narrates the story to you: her friend – the mother – was involved with one of the rival Family members. She’d planned on running away with her partner, you see, but escaping the biggest yakuza branch with a baby in the backseat wasn’t an easy task. She begged to drop the newborn in her friend’s care before her departure. They’d decided on a locker by the train station to perform the unusual exchange.

“I waited for hours, but she never arrived,” the woman concludes. “My God, I thought the poor kid froze to death in one of the postal boxes. She must’ve gone for the nearest convenient hideout!”

You hand her the bundle, and she scurries towards the neighbouring room to do a proper health check. Daitou follows her movements in silence.

“Don’t tell me you wanted to keep it,” you joke.

Kazuya jumps in with a smirk:

“Are you kidding me? He probably planned a whole family trip on the way here.”

The yakuza coughs dryly, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

“D-don’t be ridiculous, man. If we’re done here, I’ll be taking miss (Y/N) home.”

The idea of starting a family with you has crossed his mind, certainly. On the other hand, Daitou isn’t in a rush by any means. He’s rather enjoying the current arrangement, and he loves having you as the most important thing in his life.

“Oh, will you be staying over?” you turn towards your boyfriend. “I haven’t finished wrapping your presents.”

He twirls the glass eye nervously. If you ask him, he’s already gotten the deal of a lifetime. You.

[getobitchs]

What You Took From Me - R. S.

✧.* content warning : angst, fluff ig?

✧.* w/c : 1.07k

✧.* n/a : nothin

✧.* tagline : @sugurus-thoughts ; (text me to be on the next tagline)

₊ ⊹🪻 ✧ ˚i

The Heian era was a time of elegance and tradition, where the beauty of the cherry blossoms mirrored the fleeting moments of happiness that mortals clung to. For you, life had once been simple, your days spent tending to the small garden by your family’s home, your nights bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. Until him.

Sukuna.

You had met him by chance — or so you had believed. A man of devastating beauty and an aura that sent chills down your spine, he was both terrifying and magnetic. Sukuna wasn’t just a man; he was a force of nature. A god among mortals, cloaked in an ever-present air of danger and power.

Yet, despite the fear he inspired, he had chosen you. Out of all the women in the land, it was you who had caught his eye. And in an act of defiance against both his nature and the world that feared him, he had married you.

At first, you had been afraid, unsure of his intentions. But Sukuna — when he wasn’t reigning over curses or instilling fear — had been a surprisingly gentle husband. He brought you rare flowers, sat beside you while you worked in the garden, and listened as you spoke of your dreams and fears. He wasn’t one to smile often, but when he did, it was like the sun breaking through a storm.

You fell in love with him, despite the warnings whispered by the wind and the shadowy aura that clung to him like a second skin. And for a time, you were happy.

But time was unkind to mortals.

Your health began to wane, your once-strong body betraying you as the years passed. You tried to hide it, to keep the growing weakness in your limbs and the ache in your chest a secret, but Sukuna knew. He always knew.

He watched helplessly as you grew weaker, his frustration manifesting in the crackle of his cursed energy. He could destroy entire villages, topple kingdoms, and command legions of curses, but he couldn’t stop the inevitable march of time. He couldn’t save you.

You died one spring morning, the scent of cherry blossoms heavy in the air. Sukuna had held you in his arms as you took your last breath, his four crimson eyes fixed on your face as though he could will you back to life.

“I’ll find you,” he had murmured, his voice breaking in a way you had never heard before. “No matter where you go, I’ll find you again.”

And then you were gone.

Centuries passed.

For years after your death, Sukuna clung to his memories of you, reliving every fleeting moment of happiness he had shared with you. He tried to forget, to bury your image beneath the blood and chaos of his reign, but no matter how much he destroyed, no matter how many lives he claimed, your face always lingered in the corners of his mind.

When he was eventually sealed, he welcomed the silence. If the world had nothing left to offer him, perhaps oblivion was the only answer.

But fate is cruel, and the threads of destiny are never truly severed.

In 2018, Sukuna awakened, dragged back into the world through forbidden sorcery. It was a strange new time, filled with loud machines, flashing lights, and a world that had forgotten his name. He should have reveled in the opportunity to spread fear and reclaim his throne, yet his mind was elsewhere.

The centuries had dulled nothing. He still thought of you. Your laughter, your touch, the way you had looked at him as though he weren’t a monster. He had lost you once, and the thought of living without you again filled him with an ache he couldn’t name.

Then, one ordinary evening, he saw you.

You were standing outside a café, bathed in the soft glow of a neon sign, your laughter carrying over the hum of the city. Time seemed to freeze. Sukuna’s crimson eyes locked onto you, his heart — something he had long believed dead — thudding painfully in his chest.

It was you.

You looked different, your modern clothes and styled hair unfamiliar, but there was no mistaking you. The shape of your smile, the way you tilted your head as you laughed — it was the same as it had been centuries ago.

For a moment, he could only stand there, staring. He had spent so long believing he would never see you again that the sight of you now felt like a dream.

You didn’t notice him at first, engrossed in your conversation with a friend. But then your eyes flickered toward him, and the world shifted.

You froze, your laughter dying in your throat as your gaze met his. There was no recognition in your eyes, but something passed between you — a spark, a faint pull that made your heart stutter.

Sukuna crossed the street without hesitation, his movements as smooth and predatory as they had been in the Heian era. He stopped in front of you, towering over you, his presence commanding your full attention.

“Can I help you?” you asked, your voice polite but wary.

His gaze softened as he took you in, his crimson eyes scanning your face for any hint of familiarity. “Do you believe in fate?” he asked, his voice low and resonant.

You blinked, startled by the question. “I… I guess?”

His lips curled into a smirk, though it lacked the malice it usually carried. “You should.”

Your friend nudged you, murmuring something about him being strange, but you didn’t move. There was something about him that felt… familiar.

“Have we met before?” you asked, your voice hesitant.

His smirk faltered for just a moment, replaced by something more vulnerable. “In another life, perhaps.”

You didn’t understand what he meant, but there was something in his gaze that made your chest ache, a strange and inexplicable feeling of loss and longing.

Sukuna didn’t press further. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to frighten you or risk losing you again. But as he turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder. “We’ll meet again,” he said, echoing the promise you had made to him centuries ago.

You stood there, watching him disappear into the crowd, your heart heavy with an emotion you couldn’t name.

And for the first time in centuries, Sukuna felt hope.

[little-diable]

The Agreement - Rafe Cameron (smut)

So, this is a new one. But I am so deep down the Rafe and Drew rabbit hole, I just had to write something. This has potentional for more parts, but I will settle on that once I get your reactions on this part 1. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader is new to the area, but it didn't taken long for Sarah's and her ways to cross. But life in the area is expensive, so the reader is in desperate need for someone to support her, perhaps Rafe Cameron, the guy everybody warned her about, is the right guy to help her out. But Rafe Cameron isn't a guy with a soft heart, the devil doesn't make one sided deals.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f), sex with a stranger somewhat, sex in an unfamiliar room, spitting, slight choking, degrading, talks about the reader working as a sugar baby

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!reader (3.1k words)

I LIVE for this gif. Jesus.

“Honestly, I am so ready to marry rich and forget about all these payments. Who can even afford to pay for all these things?” A groan left (y/n), head rolling back while she pressed herself further against the mattress of her bed. For a moment she was met with silence, waiting for Sarah to reply, but her friend kept quiet, seemingly deep in thought. 

“Well, maybe it’s time we finally find you someone good. I bet you’d easily find someone fitting at the Country Club.” (Y/n) had to fight against the urge to roll her eyes, Sarah was all too aware of her distaste for all these rich people who only cared about themselves. She was still relatively new to the area but had instantly picked up on the struggles between the pogues and kooks, fights (y/n) desperately wanted to stay away from. 

“Thank you, but I’d rather sell my soul than step a foot into that place.” Sarah’s giggles forced a smile to widen on (y/n)’s lips, knowing that her new friend wouldn’t back down from this discussion.

“Oh c’mon, live a little. But you could also just try to mingle at a party, I guess.” It took (y/n) a moment to think through the idea, especially since she knew she’d feel by far more comfortable at a party rather than at the country club. The hum leaving her drew another giggle from Sarah, already excited about whatever (y/n) may stumble upon.

“I guess I could but only if you join me to figure out if there are any parties worth joining.” She had interacted quite a lot with Sarah Cameron so far, a friendly face she had crossed paths with every now and then when she had first moved here. Something seemed to connect the two of them, something (y/n) couldn’t pinpoint yet but was insanely grateful for nevertheless. 

“Absolutely I’ll text you in a few!”

…

She should have stayed at home, away from all these unfamiliar faces, the alcohol which would undoubtedly leave her massively hungover, and the horrible music she couldn’t endure much longer. So far she still hadn’t crossed paths with Sarah, clinging to the promise that she’d eventually show up with some friends in tow - people (y/n) could click with, according to Sarah at least.

The distaste clung to her face as (y/n) pushed through the crowd of sweaty bodies, trying to stay away from those who looked at her for a few seconds too long. Her feet carried her towards the kitchen, set on pouring herself another drink to at least endure another hour of this party.

With her eyes set on the open cabinet, (y/n) tried to reach for one of the almost empty bottles, weight shifted onto her toes to grasp it - though miserably failing. The exhausted huff clawing through her was swallowed by the sound of a raspy laugh filling the kitchen, forcing her eyes to find a pair of bright ones. 

“C’mon, you almost had it, don’t stop the show now.” The smirk clinging to his lips left her scowling, instantly recognising him, Rafe Cameron, Sarah’s brother. Even though (y/n) hadn’t been around for long, she had picked up on numerous warnings, telling her to stay away from the guy who was followed around by trouble. 

“Fuck off.” Her words made him laugh again, letting the sound ring in her ears while he pushed himself closer. Rafe’s cologne wrapped itself around her, making her heavily swallow the second she felt his front pressed against her back. With one hand finding her waist, he held her close while reaching for the bottle she had tried to grasp. Wordlessly he poured her some of the liquid, letting go of her seconds later, but she stayed quiet, not saying a single word to the smirking guy.

“Where’s my thank you? Or is cursing the only thing you can do?” Rafe leaned against the kitchen island, arms crossed in front of his chest. Her eyes couldn’t help but find his bulging muscles, hating that he was that handsome while she had promised others she’d stay away from him. 

“I don’t want to further inflate your ego, Cameron.” (Y/n) tried to push past Rafe, though without any luck. His bright eyes wandered over her features, grinning down on the frowning girl. His hands kept holding onto her, settling on her waist as if they had crossed paths numerous times before, more familiar with one another than they let on. 

“I can see why you haven’t found many new friends so far, (y/n).” A scoff left her as she tried to push him away, though without any luck. Anger began to bubble deep inside of her, wondering how she could get rid of the devilish handsome guy. But Rafe seemed all too comfortable with their closeness, looking at her like a predator ready to snap, already high on her blood he’d feast from any second now. “What’s your problem with me, huh?” “I have no problem with you, Rafe. Let me go.” He clicked his tongue before letting it run along his lower lip, a motion she couldn’t help but stare at, eyes following his every movement. 

“What did my sister tell you about me?” His thumb began to move, softly stroking along the silver of skin her top showed off. Goosebumps covered her arms, something (y/n) could only curse at, hating her body for feeling that drawn towards him. Sarah had told her all those gruesome stories about him, a psychotic guy she should desperately try to stay away from – and yet something intrigued (y/n), something she couldn’t shake.

“Drugs, guns, whoring around, the list is long, and I really don’t want to catch anything from you.” She shot him a sickly sweet smile before finally pulling herself free. Without giving Rafe the chance to stop her, (y/n) managed to disappear from his sight, finding shelter in another spot of the mansion. Her heart was racing in her chest, beating faster than probably ever before. 

Sarah’s words kept hallowing in her mind, sharply reminding her of the bad news following Rafe Cameron around, words that began to lose their importance when her eyes were drawn back to his bright ones. They held contact as she drowned her drink in one go, still feeling his hands on her body as if he had burned his touch into her skin. Her breath got hitched in her chest as Rafe began to move, seemingly set on speaking to her again – and yet he didn’t get far, forced to watch his sister find (y/n) first, pulling her outside. 

“I was looking for you, I want to introduce you to some people.” Sarah clung to (y/n)’s side as she led her to the pool area, introducing her to people whose names she didn’t pick up on, still thinking of Rafe. Sarah’s words from this morning reached her again, overthinking their plan of (y/n) finding a guy to keep around at a party like this, a plan she had to scoff at now.

“Sarah told us you’re currently working as a surf instructor around here, would you want to go surfing with us tomorrow morning?” A blonde guy smiled at her, forcing her to focus for a second. The cap he wore only showed off a few of his strands, enough for her to pick up on how cute he looked. She was close to denying, wanting to spend the morning sleeping in, but the way Sarah squeezed her wrist forced a soft “Sure” out of (y/n). 

She didn’t listen to the other things the group shared, feeling a pair of eyes on her. Slowly, (y/n) let her gaze wander, finding Rafe looking at her from one of the windows. He raised his brows in an almost mocking manner, taking a sip of his drink as if he was daring her to find her way back to him. She rolled her eyes at him, and yet she stepped away from Sarah a moment later, murmuring something about having to find the bathroom. 

Rafe was back at her side the second she stepped into the house, pulled through the room by the hand finding hers. The loud music momentarily managed to drown out her racing thoughts, thoughts that were completely silenced the second she found herself pushed into a dark room, front pressed against Rafe’s.

“Is this one of your famous tactics? Pulling girls you don’t know into dark ro-,” she didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence, interrupted by the feeling of Rafe’s lips finding hers. Even though her first instinct was to push him away, she didn’t find the want to do it, instead (y/n) chased his lips, swallowing the raspy chuckle leaving Rafe.

She was all too aware of the way Rafe’s eyes had followed her around for the past weeks, trying to find the right moment to speak to her whenever he was at the beach with his friends or when she met friends near the club. Late at night he’d stroke his cock to the thought of her, painting the screen of his phone white while looking at her pictures, only further fuelling his obsession with her. Something about (y/n) stuck to Rafe, perhaps it was the fact that she was all too oblivious to the struggles they all had faced for the past months, perhaps it was the fact that she didn’t seem to give a shit about him, whatever it was, he needed to get his hands on her. 

Without breaking the kiss, Rafe led her to the bed, plopping down on it with her falling into his lap. Their tongues got tangled, brushing together while his warm hands found their way underneath her shirt, feeling her tremble in his grasp. His name rolled off her tongue as (y/n) needed a second to breathe, high on the feeling of him kissing his way down her throat.

Her mind screamed at her, asking her what the hell she was doing, and yet her body didn’t seem to care. Rafe Cameron had pulled her into his trap, unable to rip herself free while slowly letting him in. She didn’t protest as he pulled her shirt over her head, didn’t protest as his lips found her right nipple, softly biting and sucking on the soft skin before finding the other. 

“Fuck, we shouldn’t do this.” For a second he froze at her slightly panicked words, waiting for her to say something else, to push him away. But (y/n) didn’t find the strength to pull herself free, tugging on his golden strands to reconnect their lips, allowing him to shift them around to press (y/n) against the mattress. It felt as if her body was on fire, set ablaze by his touch, by the way he towered over her and looked at her as if she was the prettiest sight he had ever set his eyes on. 

“Breathe, sweetheart, let me do this.” Rafe kissed his way down her stomach, pulling her shorts and soaked panties down her legs to settle between her thighs. The moan that left him the second he brushed his tongue through her slit made her arch her back, pushing herself further against his mouth. Rafe’s eyes were set on her pleasure-drunken features, watching her get lost in the sensation. 

“Fuck, Rafe.” (Y/n) squeezed her eyes shut, hands finding his hair to hold him close. It had been a while since she had last been with someone, no longer used to feeling this alive. His thumb circled her pulsing bundle, tongue slowly fucking into her tightness to push her further towards the edge. No longer was her mind racing, no longer did (y/n) find herself overthinking this situation, solemnly focused on Rafe’s skilled touch.

“Look at you, pretty girl, at the mercy of a guy you claim not to like.” It was clear that he enjoyed this all too much, smirking up at (y/n) who couldn’t reply to his teasing words. She was desperate to cum, to let go with his name rolling off her tongue like a prayer spoken in a need of guidance. 

He put his mouth back on her heat, sucking on her clit while he pushed two of his long fingers into her, fucking her with his fingers curled against her swollen spot. Another moan clawed its way out of (y/n), reverberating through the dark room, a sound so sweet Rafe couldn’t help but groan against her skin. The sound was enough to push her over the edge, cumming on his tongue with a call of his name. 

Rafe’s fingers fucked her through her high, enjoying the sight of her trembling body, watching her fall apart with his bright eyes that had slowly adjusted to the darkness. Only when she loosened her grip on his hair did Rafe move up her body again, pressing a kiss to her slightly swollen lips which allowed (y/n) to taste herself on his tongue.

“Will you let me fuck you, (y/n)?” She was spaced out, and yet her mind was still clear enough to pick up on his words. A moan left her before she could stop the sound from making it past her lips, set on the same goal as Rafe. His ringed fingers rested on her throat, keeping a tight grasp on her, “Gonna need you to speak up, use your words.” 

“Fuck me, Rafe, please.” It was all he needed to hear, momentarily letting go of her to pull his shirt over his head, to free his hard cock from the confines of his trousers, and to pull a condom down his length. She forced herself up on her forearms, resting her weight on them to watch him tower over her. Their eyes held contact as Rafe pushed into her, letting his cock spread her tight walls.

For a second, neither of them moved, allowing their bodies to adjust before Rafe began to fuck her with a faster growing rythm. With one hand resting on the pillow next to her head, he kept himself balanced while the other found its way back to her throat. She stared up at him, fully at his mercy as if the devil himself was fucking her, forcing her to accept that she had just gambled with her soul and lost it to him. 

His thrusts were ferocious, hips meeting hers with every movement, drawing sinful sounds from the both of them. Rafe’s thumb tapped against her lip, forcing (y/n) to open her mouth – seemingly understanding what he was about to do. He stared down at her as he spat onto her tongue, making her swallow his saliva without protesting once, finding the way he was claiming her too hot to fight against it. 

“I should have fucked that tight cunt of yours the first time I laid my eyes on you.” Rafe’s rasped out words left her gasping, eyes rolling back into her head for a second. His words had an instant effect on (y/n), letting her stuttering breaths break out of her as if she hadn’t been allowed to inhale any air for the past minutes. “Such a pathetic little slut, letting the guy others warned you about fuck you. But you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” 

“I am, fuck, you’re so good at this, Rafe.” She no longer cared about his way too big ego, didn’t care about how desperate she sounded, solemnly focused on her second nearing orgasm. One of her hands found her pulsing bundle, circling it while her free hand moved up his naked back, feeling his muscles tense beneath it.

“Beg for it, baby, let me hear how desperate you are to cum on my cock.” Another moan left her, and another as his thrusts met the spot that made her choke. It took (y/n) a second to find her voice, blabbering a few incoherent begging words before finding her strength.

“Please, let me cum, fuck, I need it, Rafe.” He chuckled against her lips, once again picking up his speed before a raspy “Cum” found its way to her. She choked on her moans, sobbing his name while he followed her down the edge seconds later, moaning into their kiss. 

Heavy breaths left them both, clinging to one another without speaking for a moment or two. Only slowly did he let go of her, pulling away to throw the condom into the trash. (Y/n) watched him move around, redressing while he seemed deep in thought, no longer wearing that arrogant smirk she secretly loved. 

“I heard what you talked about with Sarah this morning.” Rafe had his eyes focused on her, eyebrows furrowed as if he struggled to find the right words. She didn’t say anything at first, dressing herself before plopping back down on the bed. “About bills and payments and all that shit.” 

“Mhm, what about it?” Her tone had something almost bored to it, not daring to let him in on the panic that slowly began to simmer inside of her. She shouldn’t care about what he was thinking of her, even though he had just fucked her better than any other guy she had been with so far. 

“I have a proposition for you, an arrangement if you want. You need someone to help with your bills and I need someone I can trust by my side for all these galas and events I need to show up at, someone to fool partners with.” A humourless laugh left (y/n) at his words, not daring to believe the words Rafe had just spoken. 

“I knew you were an asshole, but I don’t need you to fuck with me like that, Cameron.” She rose to her feet, set on fleeing from this room, but Rafe didn’t let her, hand snapping down on her wrist like it had back in the kitchen. 

“It’s the truth, Sarah seems to like you for whatever reason, and even though her people skills are fucked, I fear she may be right with this one.” His words had a strange undertone to them, a desperation that made her halt for a second. (Y/n) let her eyes wander over his features, studying Rafe who stared at her with an unreadable expression. 

“Do you really mean that? You’d pay me for making you, what? Look good at events? Would I be like a sugar baby?”

[comesatimecomesashadow]

meet the frownies *ೃ༄

pairing *ೃ༄ sunday x reader

fic type *ೃ༄ headcanons, once-shot, comfort

cw *ೃ༄ mentions of mild/severe depression (no mentions of SH or other similar topics)

summary *ೃ༄ sunday takes care of you during your hardest moments.

note *ೃ༄ i've made so many of these for different characters, its crazy | also its my first time writing 4 sunday so don't judge too harshly TwT

masterlist *ೃ༄

ᡣ𐭩 . . Sunday is already reluctant to have you out of his sight for too long, so he notices right away when you’re dealing with a particularly bad episode of depression. Being the attentive lover that he is, he studies up on your condition and equips himself with knowledge to learn how to take care of you and how to approach you during these episodes. 

ᡣ𐭩 . . He isn’t one to beat around the bush and frankly, he hates it when others do too. However, he understands if you don’t want to come with him about your mental issues. He’ll coax you into it sooner or later, you of course, won’t notice. 

ᡣ𐭩 . . Sunday won’t force you to do anything (per sé), he’ll only suggest something and make you feel like it was your choice in the first place. He’ll have the butlers and servants of his mansion tend to you with the utmost care. Craving something sweet? Or perhaps a book to read- maybe pages to color? Chances are, he’s already sent for it. 

ᡣ𐭩 . . If you have a preference for solitude, he assumes that your solitude excludes him. Whether you like it or not, Sunday will always stay at your side during these moments and make sure his dearest isn’t lacking the care they need or putting themselves in danger. 

ᡣ𐭩 . . If you can’t tend to your hair, can’t find your appetite, or just can’t bring yourself to emerge from the confines of the plush bed of your shared room — Sunday will help you care for yourself. While the Head of the Oak Family wouldn’t otherwise find himself doing such things for others, he won’t hesitate to do it for you. 

ᡣ𐭩 . . But as much as he is your lover, that doesn’t mean he isn’t a little twisted. Sunday likes it when you rely on him so in these moments of depression, he’ll find his ego skyrocketing by the way you allow him to help you take care of yourself. 

༝༚༝༚ oneshot under the cut !

   Three days, sixteen system hours and fifteen minutes. 

   That was all the time Sunday needed to realize you were not your usual self. He noticed the despondent gleam in your eyes and the sluggish air that surrounded you as of late. Surely you’d come to him sooner or later.. He didn’t want to scare you with his confrontation and drive you away, you were a fragile thing — You needed patience and loving care. 

   Sunday would bear the weight of the world for you, but even he has limits. 

   As the month passed, your condition only deteriorated which only served to concern him even further. When you left his office after reporting to him, he searched The Family’s archives high and low to learn what he should do to aid you. “-’people who suffer from depression may experience episodes of lethargy, numbness and in severe cases, may even suffer from suicidal ideation. While one cannot cure this condition, depression may be alleviated by understanding company, healthy foods and therapy in severe cases.’..” 

   Should he get you a therapist? Did you need one? Sunday smiled to himself and thought his abilities to be better than any therapist; All you needed was him and he was sure of it. He closed the book promptly and put it back in its place, he’ll have to talk to you later — It was about time that you came to him after dealing with all of that yourself. 

.

.

.

   Later that night, you withdrew to Sunday’s mansion after work. Three years of a relationship with the Head of the Oak family had provided you a warm stay at his residence and you couldn’t be more than grateful — Especially during times like this. Lately, you hadn’t been eating much and you began to get out of bed later than you usually did. The servants only looked at you with concern, but said nothing lest they incur the wrath of Sunday. 

   You sighed upon entering your shared quarters. A moment to breathe and try to collect yourself. The act of going to work and coming back was already a tiring task so you were glad none of the servants asked you anything. You wouldn’t know what to say anyway. 

   The weight on your shoulders felt lessened when you got into your sleeping clothes and crept into the inviting sheets of the king sized bed you slept in. They enveloped you whole and warmed you up after a few moments. You knew what you were going through and after so many years of dealing with it on your own, you’d believed the best remedy was to sleep it off. 

   But Sunday had other plans. 

   When he got home that night, he asked the butler about your whereabouts. After being informed that you had withdrawn to your shared quarters and were asleep, Sunday thanked him and sought you out. He wasn’t sure how he should confront you or let you sleep.. But for now he’d do the latter and address your condition tomorrow. 

   Sunday wasn’t unfamiliar with your current mental state; You were usually like this every few months but it was the first time he had seen it affect you so much. Usually you’d be back to your usual self after about a week or two; This time it had been unusually extended for almost a month. 

   Which is why he was so concerned. 

   When he opened the door, the room inside was dark, as if a black hole had enveloped it whole. The moon outside only served to dimly light the inside of it. As Sunday discarded his work clothes, he was pained upon gazing at your sleeping form. The notable signs of your lethargy were evident by your slow, deep breaths. 

   As he settled in beside you, he adjusted his position so he was spooning you. He was delighted when you turned over to curl into him, a subtle moment of vulnerability he missed seeing in you. He wrapped his arm around you, like a snare encircling its prey. Sunday placed a soft kiss on your forehead before closing his eyes and succumbing to sleep. 

   The rest of the night was quiet and soon after, the morning came. When morning crept up on the both of you, Sunday was the first to get up. Now that there was a little light in the room, he saw the prominent shadows that settled under your eyes. You seemed at peace but tired at the same time. 

   After getting ready for the day, Sunday reached out to cup your cheek to slowly lull you out of your slumber  with his soft touch. He needed you to tell him what was going on, he wouldn’t let it go on any further. After a short while, your lashes fluttered and you awoke with a soft yawn. 

   “You’re here.” You noted as you sat up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. 

   “Of course I am, dearest. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

   You rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes once more, barely awake. “You’re usually at work at this hour.” 

   He smiled a little and lay his head on top of yours. A warmth settled on his heart as he took note of how perceptive you were when it came to him.  “You’re not wrong. But I have more pressing matters to tend to here than at work.” 

   You straightened up and gazed up at him lazily, “Yeah?” 

   He nodded, “Mhm.” 

   “Like what?” 

   He smiled, your curiosity was a thing that never seemed to diminish. “Your state of mind, I’ve noticed you’ve not been well, dearest.” Once you heard his words, you tore your eyes away from his, 

   “Oh.” You played with the fabric of the fluffed up sheets that covered you. “That.” 

   “I’m not going to ask if you’re fine, I know you aren't.” Sunday began, “But I want you to come to me if you’re struggling. I can’t have my lover drowning in their own issues, you know that right?” His voice had a sincere lilt to it. 

   You brought your knees up to your chest and hugged them close, as if to curl up into a ball and hide yourself from the world. Sunday hated seeing you so tired and apathetic, so caged in. 

   Like a dove in a cage. 

   “Dear you know I hate to see you hurting..” He reached out to lift your chin towards him, “Won’t you entrust me with your troubles?” 

   “I’m afraid you can’t fix this one, Sunday..” you muttered quietly. 

   Sunday smiled tenderly, “I’m not trying to fix you, dear. This isn’t something that can be fixed.” You looked up into his eyes, as if you were searching for something in them. Maybe answers.. Maybe comfort. “-But if I can help you feel better, that would be enough for me.” 

   You hadn’t been feeling much in the past few weeks, but for some reason, his words touched your heart. People throughout your life always treated your mental illness like it was a part of you to remain undisclosed, hidden from public view. It was like an interminable mistake; a blot on your person that you could not erase no matter how much you tried to correct it. 

   Sunday noticed the glimmer of emotion in your eyes, it had been a while since he’d last seen you so .. hopeful. While he did like having you rely on him.. He knew this wasn’t good for you. He rubbed your back, “I know you haven’t been eating well, your appetite has been diminishing. But is there anything you’re craving? Even if it’s something small, you should eat, my darling.” 

   You wiped the tears in your eyes that had begun to form. “Uh.. well, ..Can I have something sweet?” Your voice was low, but soft. 

   “My, my.. If you wanted to have me for breakfast you could have just said so, dearest.” He joked. To his satisfaction, you let out a small laugh at his joke. It was the first time in weeks he had seen you smile so genuinely. It wasn’t a fake one, like the one you used at work when greeting your coworkers. “Sweet treats can be arranged. In the meantime, would you like a bath?”

   ‘A bath would seem nice..’ you thought to yourself. But then, you thought about how you’d have to wash every inch of your body, the shampooing and conditioning.. Once you thought about it, it seemed like a chore you didn’t want to get into. And as if he knew exactly what you were thinking, Sunday spoke up once more. “I’m offering, dearest. You’ll just sit back and relax, hm? How about it?” 

   So one nod and a couple minutes later, here you were. 

   The water surrounded your body, the bubbles felt nice around your skin. Sunday was singing what sounded like a lullaby while he gently undid the knots in your hair. Usually, it was a feat to take care of your hair, but Sunday made it feel as if it was no trouble at all. You swore you could fall asleep to the sound of his voice, if he let you. 

   The sweet timbre in his voice came to a stop after he finished the song. “Why did you hold off on telling me about your condition..?” 

   You kept popping the bubbles around you, but at a slower pace. “..I didn’t want to trouble you, I know how busy you can get with the hotel guests and The Family.” 

   Sunday was amused by your thoughtfulness. But it still saddened him, that you rarely trusted him with issues like these. “Dearest, I’ll always make time for you.” Once he finished detangling your hair, he rinsed off the conditioner carefully. Seeing him so focused on you was something you had missed. 

   “I know, I know.. I just didn’t want to bother you with something so trivial..” You honestly thought that it was something you should just deal with on your own. It had worked so well for years, the years before him.. So it should work now, right?

   Sunday moved the stool he sat on to face you. Yellow irises met yours and you think you’ve never seen a man look so ethereal than now. “I know you can handle yourself, but I am your lover. I want to know when you’re feeling distressed, or saddened for the sole fact that, to me, it is anything but trivial. It matters to me.” His words were sincere. You knew it from the way he looked at you when he said them — As if you were the only person in his world. 

   You nodded, but that wasn’t enough for Sunday. “I want you to let me know when you feel like this, okay? I do not want to see you suffering alone. We’ll bear the weight of it together.” 

   A familiar warmth set into your heart upon hearing him. In the many years you’d dealt with your mental condition, you’d never met someone so willing to shoulder the burden that you felt you were, until now. You knew for a fact that Sunday loved you, but hearing it like this and seeing it in his actions was different entirely. 

   Overtaken by your emotions, you sprang out from the tub and wrapped your arms around his neck. The cold air nipped at your skin but you could care less. “I’ll tell you about these things more often, just.. Be patient with me.” 

   Sunday was surprised by your actions at first and he didn’t quite like being wet, but he’d bear it for you. He returned your hug and nodded. 

   “I’ll wait however long it takes.” 

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Yuji, Megumi and Inumaki with a reader who is a former delinquent?

“Is it weird being back at your old school?”

“I guess,” [Y/N] agreed. “A lot has changed since I was last here.”

“Oh hells no!!”

“Or…maybe not….”

Yuji & [Y/N] turned around to see an older faculty member marching over to them. A vein nearly popping out of his balding head. “You aren’t allowed on the properly anymore, you hooligan!”

“Hooligan?” Yuji repeated.

“Wishful thinking, Baka-sensei.” The man growled. “I was never ‘banned’ just asked to not return the next semester.”

“Next semester?”

“Which implies you aren’t supposed to be here! I’ll talk to the principal and have you removed by the police!” The teacher threatened.

“Go ahead. He called us.” [Y/N] jeered at him. “Look, if you want me gone, talking is just prolonging our stay. Let us do our jobs and we’ll be out of your hair. What’s left of it.”

The man seemed fit to burst. Rather than argue, however, he just marched back off angrily. Arguing with himself in a mutter as he left. “Who was that guy?”

“An old teacher of mine.”

“What was he going on about? [Y/N]-chan…were you a bad student when you were here?”

[Y/N] chuckled. “I was, perhaps, a bit more spirited than most. I didn’t commit murder or anything.” Yuji was concerned that that was the part the listed as concern. “Come on, let’s find this curse and get out of here.”

“You think you know a person….”

It wasn’t often that they got time off to hang out around the city. In fact, they weren’t supposed to have time off now. But since the mission had ended early [Y/N] insisted on stopping at a local fast-food place to get milkshakes. As a reward.

“Oh man, I missed these. Did you used to get these when you went to school around here Megumi?”

“No.” He told them as he sipped his vanilla shake. “I can’t say that I have.”

Besides money being tight when he was a kid, this area was run by another school’s gang at the time. Though Megumi wasn’t officially in a gang, just a lone wolf taking his anger out on everyone, he still knew better than to come on this side of town.

“Well, you were missing out.”

“Oy! Sea urchin head!” Megumi turned around to take note of the shouting. Realizing very quickly that a teen from a small group was pointing & talking to him. He didn’t know whether he should be confused or just offended. “What are you doing on our side of town?! I know you went to Saitama East, and you have no business being here!”

“I don’t go there anymore.” Megumi told the other teen calmly. “And, I’m just here with a friend.”

“A friend hn?” They repeat with a spit. “Well, that friend isn’t welcome here either. You gotta lot of nerve stepping your crew on our turf! So why don’t you….” The young man’s bravado died down quickly, and Megumi realized he wasn’t looking at him anymore, but past him. “[Y-Y-Y/N]-sama!”

“Yes,�� they chirped as they came out from behind Megumi’s frame. “Do I know you?”

“N-N-No! I was a year behind you in middle school!” The teen began to recall the terrifying tale of [Y/N] the Slayer. How they defeated every foe that challenged them. How they single handedly brought all the other clubs and gangs at their school to heel. How they even drew the lines in the city between Saitama East and their school. “Your legend still lives on [Y/N]-sama! We still follow your creed!”

“Creed?” [Y/N] replied in confusion. “Oh…that. I didn't really mean it. I mean, it’s good to have rules. That no honor among thieves crap is for short timers. Hopefully you boys learned a thing or too. Like apologizing when you’re wrong?”

“We’re sorry!” The group unanimously shouted at Megumi. Startling him a little. “We didn’t know that you were with [Y/N]-sama. Please forgive us!”

“Uh…it’s ok…”

“Please let us buy you a new milkshake for the trouble!”

“Thanks…I already got one though. You can…go though.”

“Thank you sir!”

The group then ran off with their tails between their legs faster than his Divine Dogs, and Megumi turned to [Y/N]. “I seem to make an impact on people.”

“I guess.” Megumi agreed, as they left before more adulators showed up. “I didn’t know that we were both so much trouble in middle school.”

“Aww…I think it’s cute.” [Y/N] cooed as they linked their hands. “Like a modern-day Romeo & Juliet. Only with middle schoolers. And no suicide.”

“Who’s the Juliet in this story?” He asked, and [Y/N] laughed at his joke.

“Uni, uni.”

[Y/N] turned to Toge when they heard his voice and saw him pointing to a wall with a bunch of graffiti on it. “Oh, yeah. They don’t really clean this place up that much. This stuff has been here for years.”

“Bento?” He asked. Meaning ‘who did it?’.

“It was a lot of students when I was here. Some just wanted to tag to be rebels. Others, I guess, just wanted to be remembered somehow.”

“Bento?” He asked again. Only this time meaning ‘who did this one?’.

[Y/N] smiled. “I did.” Toge seemed surprised and they put their finger to their lips. “It was a long time ago. Don’t tell anyone.”

“Bento?” ‘why did you do it though?’.

“I don’t know. I guess I was bored. Or…maybe I wanted to be remembered. Before I came to Tokyo High, I still always somehow knew my life would be short. I suppose I wanted a piece of me in the word.”

Toge could understand that. Their lives were usually short. Only the strong, or the clever, or just the downright lucky made it to old age. Who would remember the youngsters when they were gone?

Toge then fished around in his pocket and pulled out a marker. He then walked over to the wall and scribbled a little figure next to [Y/N]’s tag. A small little salmon nigiri with a ghost beside it. “Salmon.”

[Y/N] smiled at him. “I guess we’ll both be remembered then.” They then walked off. Their art and their memory resting into the stone. Maybe one day they would be able to come back and see it. Maybe not. But, it would always be there.

[weskie]

The Wolf and The Lamb (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

2000 words, established relationship, wound tending, possessive behavior, biting, blood, briefly saucy, probably counts as angst, part of the lover, leader, liar series | Fic Directory

"Love blackens the lamb." -Hélène Cixous

Wesker has never been one to yearn for a sense of permanence.  Change was a necessity.  One of life’s constants.  The constant in a world of variables.

At any moment, you could walk.  He made sure you knew the consequences long ago, of course.  You’d been presumed dead after the incident at the manor.  It only made sense given the magnitude of the self-destruct sequence.  You could return to the world beyond the compound at any time, but trouble would surely welcome you with open arms.  Justification for your absence would be mandatory, and that’s not to mention the tax-based nightmare that awaited you if and when the IRS should discover that you are not, in fact, deceased.

But you could leave.  

A thought that weighs heavily on his mind day in and out.  He’d never quite been one to be… possessive before.  Why bother when things move along so rapidly?  From the time he was a boy, he’s been going from class to class, school to school, laboratory to laboratory… His time with S.T.A.R.S. seemed to be the most consistent his life had ever been.

And now… there’s you.

You’re unlike anything he’s ever experienced before.  He supposes you’ve always been this way, though.  Always reaching out to him beyond the line others would never dare to cross.  Pushing through whatever shell he’d cocooned himself in for safety.  Distance was a form of protection, he’d come to realize.  Distance shielded him from the pain of loss.  It always has.

Not even Birkin, for all they had been through together, could be more than an admired colleague.  A decision that proved… apt in the end.

It’s difficult to pinpoint the origin of this new screaming need that had made itself more than at home within his chest.  It grows worse, he realizes, every time you treat him with tenderness.  Perhaps that’s where it all began.  Back in the station.  Growing like a living thing until its life spilled into his very being.

“Does it hurt?” 

The skin on his face is broken and marred.  The burns are nothing short of hideous. 

Wesker had regarded you with a scowl and turned toward the bathroom, making his way in to strip away the remnants of his failure.  He’d had half a mind to shatter the mirror.  Had that explosion not interrupted them, he would have torn Chris in two.  Or perhaps beaten him to a bloody pulp.  Maybe he would have even brought his lifeless corpse back to the compound for experimentation.  What is it that makes the Redfields so inexplicably lucky?  To face death and live despite all odds…

Despite him. 

He grit his teeth, leaning forward with clenched eyes.  The edge of the vanity is a fragile buoy in the storm of his own anger.  A new development following his perimortem injection and subsequent gain of power.  Fury comes as easily as breathing these days.  Impulses are a tad harder to control.  Were it not for a lifetime of training and conditioning, Wesker doubts he would have as tight of a lid on it as he does.

He’d only stripped his upper body bare by the time you made your presence known.

You’ve never left him to drown in his rage.  Even then, despite how he’d pushed you away at the door, you still found it in yourself to wrap your arms around his waist and rest your cheek to his back.  You are warm, but his skin runs hot.  In this way, you are like a balm.  Something cooling to douse the hellfire scorching his body and mind.

You made him sit at the edge of the bed.  It’s funny to think of it that way… that you could make him do anything at all.  An impossible feat for any other.  Yet it’s the truth.  Just as you make his anger dissipate bit by bit.  Perhaps it’s the glide of the pads of your thumbs against his forehead that sap away at it.  The way they smooth and slide with loving ease over the parts that hurt, spreading an ointment that chills the belligerent bite into something far more tolerable.

Until now, he hasn’t acknowledged the pain of his injuries.  That was the golden rule throughout his life.  Not minding that it hurts.  Disregarding the pain lest he give it power.  He’s never realized before that such an instinct is absent in your presence.  Here you are tending to his pain.  That which he refuses to acknowledge, you embrace and seek to soothe.

He lets his nails bite into your forearm.  He’s unsure if it’s a way to admit the truth to you or to ensure that you will remain in place, here, tending to him.

He fears the answer is far more complex.

His touches grow more firm by the day, it seems.  A hand at your cheek becomes a grip at your jaw.  An arm around your waist now pulls you tightly to his side.  You’ve noticed, of course.  Commented on it.  He’s never admitted that he can tell how your body reacts to such deeds.

At night, if and when he permits himself to rest, you must be pulled tight to his chest.  In turn, you always make a teasing remark about him being a ‘snuggle bug.’  His hands roam, but he dares not venture too far.  Despite the many months since that fateful night your lips first met his, neither one of you has caved to the call of flesh.  He’s unsure of your reasons, and frankly finds no trouble in the matter either way.  But for himself..?

Lust was no stranger, but you are more than a sensation to be chased and left behind.  As much as he yearns for such a coupling with you, he fears it.  What he may do to you… What you may do to him…

For as much as that burning, yearning need to lay claim to every part of you threatens to overpower his self control, he knows, without a doubt, such a unification would result in you consuming all that he is.  It is excitement and terror all in one.

He’s already given you the power to ruin him.  Maybe, though, he should sink his teeth and nails into you and ensure that you never do.  

The thought runs rampant in his head all day until you settle beside him for a nightly routine you’ve insisted upon taking over since day one.  His arm rests in your lap and, for a time, his mind is silent.  The alcohol pad glides over his skin, followed by a gentle blow of air from your lips.  He hasn’t the heart to tell you that such an act just contaminates the injection site all over again.  Perhaps it’s that you are contaminating him that makes this misstep fail to ring any alarms in his head. With the bite of the needle piercing his flesh comes the knowledge that there is some part of you now inside of him.  It courses through his veins in tandem with the stabilizing agent.  It will pass through his heart.  

You will pass through his heart. 

The thought hits him so rapidly that you’ve barely drawn the needle from his skin before he’s–

“Mmph!”

He swallows your startled sound in a kiss far more forceful than he means.  He can’t help it.  Can’t help the resurgence of that gnawing feeling, that desperate need to consume all that you are.  Every noise, every breath of yours is his to take.  Your tongue holds no chance of fending him off once he’s breached your lips, but he’ll surrender a sliver of control to ensure you stay right here, a pliant, sweet lamb in the maw of an especially greedy wolf.  

But you don’t seem to ask for such a relinquishment.  There’s no apprehension on your part as he plants a firm hand to your chest and guides you back, following inch by inch until he’s bent over you like a beast ready to feast upon a carcass.  Wesker’s deaf to the groan that leaves him, but he’s not at all oblivious to the way your mouth quirks into a smirk against his.

Is it hubris?  Or are you a lover enjoying the reactions of his body?  Perhaps you’re a sadist reveling in the thought that his control has waned so far.  

Your wrists are like porcelain in his grip.  He could break you and not even know he’d done it until you cry out for mercy.  But there is no need for such extremes.  Not when you hook a leg around his hip and pull him flush to your pelvis.

He parts from you to gasp.  

How dare you?  How dare you take the weakening threads of his self control and tease a razor's edge at their fraying strands?  Don’t you know what you’re doing?

His hips roll seemingly of their own accord.

You do, don’t you?  You know that leading him into this tears down every wall and puts him right in the palm of your hand.  You must know. 

Your lips dance like butterflies up the curve of his cheek, sporadically graceful in every delicate brush to his skin.  He realizes how tight he’s holding your wrists.  His nails are biting into your flesh not unlike they’d done back then.  For a brief second, he locks eyes with you.

You say the words, but his ears are ringing.  He heard it, but he can’t process it.  And, just like that, he can’t hide it anymore.  Just like the burns.  Like the memory of atrocities long buried in the skeletons of schools and punishments hidden away by healed flesh.  You pull the truth from him with such ease.  Three little words…

He doesn't mean to let it happen, only to hide and bury his secrets against your warmth. His teeth find you all the same. Finally, he bites. Finally, a mark that makes you squirm. A mark that makes you his.  The mewl that leaves you compliments so perfectly the coppery tang of your ichor.

“When you think of love, do you think of pain?”  

He should’ve never told you of his youth.

“What do you mean?”  He asked, eyes fixed on the file before him.  What a strange question…

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “But do you?”

He has no answer to give.  No point of reference, no foundation upon which to envision what love could be.  Perhaps he should think of his mentors or of the dormitory mothers employed for the care of the students.  Neither summons such a feeling.  When he was still a hopeful boy, he often imagined what it would be like to have parents – siblings, too, maybe.  In such fantasies, he found something warm growing in his chest.  Like a light nestled deep within.  It always ended the same, though.  He’d cease his thoughts and the light would dim, snuffed out and smothered by a rotten, hollow feeling.  By something painful.

Was that love?

Try as he might, he cannot cease the quiver of his jaw.  

When did your hands escape his grasp?  Why do your fingers rake so gently through his hair?  He holds you between his teeth, yet you cradle him.  

“I love you,” you say once more.  The words fall off your lips with such ease. A natural admission. 

The breath in his lungs has gone stale.  His eyes sting.  

He believes you.  

Why does the lamb love its wolf?

He believes you.

The lamb loves the wolf’s fragility, and the wolf loves the frail one’s force. 

He came to bed early that night.  Something in him screamed to do so.  Perhaps it was the lack of focus on his work.  A mind clouded by your question.

The warmth spills from between his clenched eyes.  He had no chance of hiding it.

He came to bed early that night.  He was greeted by welcoming arms and a smile brighter than the sun could ever hope to be.

Your lips press to his shoulder.  He swears he’s trying to hide every pathetic noise.  He doesn’t know why they escape anyway.

“Shh…”

He came to bed early that night because he thought of love.

“I’ve got you.”

Because he thought of you. 

*special thanks to @nshtn for pre-reading :)

[pillowspace]

Thoughts on isat's one hat ending? It doesn't get talked about enough but it has a lot of angst potential for post-canon

I find it so tragic that after Siffrin's outbursts against everyone, he gets the chance to apologize and make amends for all of it... except for with one person. Siffrin will always know that Loop did their best to help him even after he went into the House in Act 5, but the last thing he will have ever personally interacted with Loop was him telling them "curse you, Loop," so perhaps knowing that Loop still tried to help him after he said all that is just worse.

It's hard to think about just how little comfort Loop had when they likely faded away. They'd seen the Party, sure, but nobody recognized them. Siffrin wasn't there to say nice things- and why would Loop have expected them to? The interaction with the Party must have left them very stressed, the closest thing they even had to a friend(? conversation partner?) lashed out at them then beat the loops so what's even the point in Helpful Loop anymore, Siffrin couldn't convince them of the fact that he wouldn't have been able to escape if it weren't for Loop so Loop might not realize just how integral they were, etc. etc. etc...

But what do you do when you can feel yourself fading away? Do you just try to... accept all the injustices the Universe has placed upon you? Try to find some sort of peace but in the wrong direction? Do you settle into the idea that you were simply born to fail because you don't want to die angry?

I also think that, should a reunion occur, that in itself would be fascinating. Does Loop seek out Siffrin, not because they think it's a good idea, but just because they need to know what he has now? Does Siffrin take their time to give Loop the apology and gratitude that they deserve, grateful that he even can? Does Loop still want to replace Siffrin (here's a fic about that)? Does Loop tell Siffrin who they are? If they don't, does the Party figure it out before Siffrin even does? What if Loop had their pre-star human head, what then? Do they still seek out Siffrin even then? Would Siffrin even recognize who they are? It'd be their first time seeing Siffrin after the Party didn't recognize them, why not throw Siffrin into the mix now

I think one hat is fascinating <3

[cheshireliam]

"Wrapped in Wicked Romance" Story Event: Chapter 2

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

(Now… I wonder what I should talk to Ring about.)

(... Huh?) 

While I was trying to think of a conversation starter, I realised that Ring was already way ahead of me. 

Kate: Ring! Wait up! 

Ring: !? Why are you so far behind…? 

I hurriedly chased after him and he rushed back toward me.

We met halfway and started walking side by side again.

Kate: Perhaps my strides aren’t as long as yours. I’ll try to keep up. 

Ring: No, I should’ve slowed down to match your pace. … My bad. 

Ring: A-anyway, you can hold onto my arm.

Kate: Thank you. 

Ring: Actually… I wanted to have you hold my arm back at the meeting point. 

Kate: Was that during your sudden warm-up session just now?

Ring: Yeah. … I should've let you hold my arm earlier if I knew you were going to be left behind.

Ring: I’m not good at acting like a lover at all. Even if it's Dari’s orders…

Kate: Neither of us are acting the part right now, so don’t let it bother you. 

Kate: Is there anything else you wanted to say but couldn't?

Ring: There is. It’s about… your outfit. 

Ring: “I love your outfit today. It suits the little robin very well”.

Ring: “Where did you get that bracelet? I want to get a matching one”. 

Kate: Huh…? 

Ring: “The design around the collar is fun. It really looks like your kind of thing. Also—”... 

Kate: Um… are those your own words? 

I couldn't help but interrupt when Ring, who had been acting awkward the whole time, suddenly started complimenting me so smoothly that it felt unnatural.

Ring: … Y-you’re sharp. As expected from a member of Crown… you’re dangerous. 

(It’s not that I’m sharp, it’s that Ring’s behaviour is so obviously unnatural…)

Ring: Actually… I had Nica teach me some words to compliment you, so that I can do a better job at pretending to be your lover.

Kate: So that’s what happened…! I’m happy you prepared yourself in advance, but…

Ring: “But”? 

Kate: I’d much rather hear you use your own words, Ring.

Kate: Do you usually compliment your lover using words someone else said?

Ring: N-no, I don't… I-I think. 

Ring: A-anyway, give me a moment while I think of the words to compliment you. 

Kate: … You don't have to force yourself to compliment me if nothing comes to mine, okay?

Ring: No, I really do think your outfit looks nice, it's just… umm… 

He took my comment about wanting to hear him use his own words seriously and struggled to respond. 

I couldn't help but find it endearing that he was trying so hard…

(You can do it…!) 

I silently cheered him on in my heart.

Ring: Your outfit today looks… frilly and soft… I-I think it’s c-cute.

Ring: It reminds me of a purple Hardenbergia flower… the subdued color is comforting to look at. 

The words he finally managed to string together sounded hesitant and awkward, but they struck me deeper than any borrowed praises could ever.

Kate: I never would've thought of comparing the colour of my clothes to Hardenbergia flowers! It makes me so happy to hear that.

Ring: …! I-I see… that's good to know.

Kate: You must know a lot about flowers, don’t you?

Ring: Y-yeah… I probably know more about flowers than most other things. 

Kate: There are some flower beds on the way to The Scala.

Kate: If you don't mind, could you tell me what flowers they are?

Ring: … If I can identify them. 

…

And so, on our way to The Scala, Ring taught me about the flowers blooming along the road… 

Thanks to that, his nervousness seemed to have eased significantly by the time we reached Piccadilly. 

Ring: … It’s about time for the play to start. We made it just in time.

Kate: You’re right! The Scala is right up ahead. Let’s go. 

(... He’s still a little awkward, but I feel that he’s conversing more naturally now as compared to this morning.)

Even Ring was wary of me and said some disturbing things earlier on… 

He was an honest, upright person who was willing to listen to what I had to say. 

That honestly was likely the reason why I could freely interact with him without feeling on edge myself. 

(I’m looking forward to watching the play. I wonder what kind of reactions Ring will have.)

(... Huh?)

Ring: … Why did you suddenly stop? Is something wrong?

Kate: P-pardon me. There’s something I want to verify… you come too, Ring! 

I grabbed Ring’s arm and led him toward an alley in the opposite direction of The Scala. 

…

Ring: … What business do you have in an alley like this?

Kate: There’s been a rise in child abduction cases in the area lately, and I thought I saw someone resembling the suspect on the run… 

Kate: Ah… it’s him! 

I lowered my voice and pointed at a man lurking in the shadows of the alley. 

Kate: There’s a chance I got the wrong person, so I’m going to act casual and try to get information out of him— 

While I was explaining the situation to Ring, a young girl wandered into the alley, perhaps by accident.

At that moment, the man made a move. 

(Ah…!) 

He crept up behind the girl and covered her mouth with a piece of cloth he had in his hand. It seemed to have been laced with some sort of drug. 

The girl fell unconscious, and the man skillfully stuffed her into a bag before attempting to flee the scene.

Kate: Ring, let’s go after him! 

Ring: … No, we need to report this to Dari and have him make a decision first. 

Kate: What…? B-but there's a kidnapping happening right in front of our faces! We must act now! 

Ring: I was ordered to only ensure you return to the castle safely today. Any actions taken beyond that are prohibited.

Ring: Getting involved in strange situations would be going against Dari’s orders.

Ring: I understand that you want to help, but we should only act after reporting to Dari. 

(How can he say such things when a serious crime is being committed right under our noses…?)

Just a couple of minutes ago, I concluded that Ring was an honest and upright person that would never tell a lie.

But it was precisely because of that, I instantly knew that his words right now weren’t lies. 

In other words… Ring had no intention of stopping the crime from happening at all. 

Ring Schwartz, the person I thought I was starting to understand, became a complete stranger to me once more.

Kate: … F-fine. Then I’ll go after that criminal MYSELF!

Ring: H-hey…! 

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 35

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, NSFW, MDNI, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: rude bitches, rich people being wildly out of touch with the modern era, vague hints of body image issues, comfort, and lots of holiday fluff

wc: 3.6k

A/N: Happy holidays all! I had hoped to have this chapter up yesterday, but the characters stopped talking to me for a few days so ... here we are. 😅

Chapter Selection

Jason healed fast, when he bothered to get medical attention. By the end of the week he was back to his standard training regiment, the arm wound was already shaping up to be one of his less pronounced scars, and Bruce insisted he couldn't use the incident to get out of the Wayne Foundation Christmas Gala. So, the Friday before Christmas I found myself back in my red dress, this time paired with a white faux fur wrap draped across my shoulders. Jason bit back a grin when I held out the necklace he'd given me, eagerly taking it. I held my hair out of the way while he clasped it around my neck, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of my neck.

“Stunning~” he purred softly, wrapping his arms around my waist.

I giggled softly, leaning against him. “Thank you~”

Damian cleared his throat behind us and I turned toward him. He looked downright regal in his suit; it was perfectly tailored, and the vibrant green tie matched his eyes beautifully.

“Oh my god, Damian! You look incredible, sweetie!” I squealed a bit, clenching my fists by my cheeks.

He flushed, looking away awkwardly. “Calm down, sister.”

I bit back the coo’s that threatened to pour out of my mouth. Damian rolled his eyes at the face I was making, and Jason laughed softly; “You might want to let her get it out, demon brat. Wouldn't want her squealing like that when the socialites get here.”

Damian frowned, staring up at me before holding his arms out for a hug. “... Proceed.”

I squealed and pulled him in, kissing the top of his head. “My handsome baby!”

He allowed my babbling for several minutes before gently pulling away. “Alright, alright, that's enough.”

I took a deep breath, getting myself under control again. “Sorry, sorry ... Who else will be there tonight?”

“Cain and Thomas will be around. And Father and Grayson are on Bat-duty.”

“Ok, cool.” I nodded. “... Where's Tim?”

“He’s needed at a Drake Industries event tonight. But he'll be here tomorrow for the holiday.” Jason rolled his eyes, but couldn't help the smile on his face.

Damian stayed glued to my side throughout the evening. Since Bruce was ‘inescapably occupied', the Gotham social scene had their eyes on those of us who were present. The WE board was also at the gala, so we were fortunately not accosted with requests to meet with Bruce at the office, but we were left on our own to deal with the social aspect.

An older woman approached us on the side of the dance floor, an insincere smile plastered to her face. “Now you must be Jason Todd. And young Damian Wayne, ah, such a pleasure to meet you both! Mr. Wayne has told us so much about you!”

Jason raised an eyebrow; “oh, has he?”

“Of course! He's terribly proud of his boys, you know. Oh, we were just devastated when we heard he was busy tonight. Perhaps you could tell your father we spoke?” She smiled brightly down at Damian; “it is getting to be about that time, isn't it? And our Maria would just love to meet you, young man.”

Damian pressed closer to me, reaching for my hand. I frowned, gently squeezing back. “... Sorry, it's getting to be what time?”

The woman tittered; “well, young men of status must be introduced to their social equals, mustn't they? Mr. Wayne will want to secure a good match for his son.”

I blinked a bit, wrapping an arm protectively around Damian's shoulders as I turned toward Jason; “what year is it? Have we fallen through a wormhole to the Regency period?”

Jason laughed as the woman's expression soured. “Perhaps we should call Mr. Wayne directly...”

“I'd love to hear that. When are you going to call? I'll make sure we're visiting.” Jason snorted.

The woman scurried away, huffing softly. Damian frowned deeply, staying close. I gently stroked his hair. “... Do you want to go up to your room, sweetheart? We can say you got tired.”

He slowly shook his head. “No, not yet, I'll be ok.”

Cass came over, looking at me as she held a hand out to Jason; “I need to borrow him for a minute.”

Jason rolled his eyes; “why?”

“I told the VP I couldn't dance with him because I promised you this one.”

He sighed, taking her hand. “Why me? Why not Duke?”

They made their way onto the dance floor, and Damian looked up at me, offering me his hand. “... Sister, shall we dance?”

I chuckled softly, taking it. “Such a little gentleman~”

He smirked a bit, leading me onto the floor after Cass and Jason. Damian was a surprisingly good dancer, and we spun around the dance floor a few times. Eventually, we ended up at the buffet table for some punch. A group of women were giggling amongst themselves nearby, and I caught just a bit of their conversation.

“It's just a shame about his face, you know?”

“Ugh, tragic. He was such a cute kid.”

“I know! I could have gotten past his poor upbringing, but that scar … that’s a deal breaker.”

“Didn't he have to find a girl from the bad side of town?”

“Yeah, he did! And I heard she's pretty f-”

Damian snapped; “yes, my new sister is very pretty. She's also clever, and kind, and we're all very pleased to call her family.”

The girls gasped softly, eyes darting toward us; “... This is a private conversation.”

“Is it? You weren't doing a very good job of keeping it to yourselves.”

I gently placed a hand on Damian's shoulder; “ignore them kiddo, they're not important.”

“Excuse you?” One of the girls shrieked; “my daddy could buy and sell you!”

“And yet he can't buy you some manners?” I sipped my punch, rolling my eyes as she sputtered.

I felt a familiar hand on my back as Jason slid in next to me. “Princess? Is everything alright?”

I smiled softly, leaning against him slightly; “hello, handsome~”

“These imbeciles are under the incredibly flawed impression that their opinions on our family are worth listening to.” Damian growled softly.

Jason's arm tightened around my waist. “I see … Well, which of us is the star of tonight's gossip?”

One of the girls cleared her throat; “n- nothing like that, Mr. Todd. These two misheard…”

“I highly doubt that. Come on, say it to our faces.” Jay raised an eyebrow.

“... Really, there's nothing to say-”

“They were commenting on your scars, Todd.”

The girls paled, clearing their throats awkwardly. “N- now that's just not true. None of us said anything about you…”

“My brother is a lot of things, but a liar isn't one of them. Tell the truth now, you don't have any vapid comments for me, maybe about this one?” He gestured toward the J branded onto his cheek. “Everyone's always so curious about it. If you want to talk, talk. Don't let me stop you.”

I gently squeezed his hand. “Jace, they're not worth it. Come on, let's get some air, yeah?”

He slowly nodded, frowning. “... Yeah, alright baby.”

I nodded, letting him lead the way. As we passed the girls, I leaned in to whisper; “it's Christmas, so I'm going to be nice to you today. But if I hear one more unkind word about my man tonight I will find you, and I will show you exactly how we handle these things on the ‘bad side of town'. Got it?”

The ringleader of their group sneered at me; “what are you gonna do, sweetheart?”

I looked her over; “... Let's just say you'll look more interesting when I'm done.”

“Is that a threat?!” She growled.

“Of course not. It's a guarantee.” I smirked, rejoining my boys as they stepped into the gardens.

The snow swirled lazily around us, and Jason leaned against a stone railing. I gently stroked his back, and he sighed softly, holding me close. “... You weren't particularly subtle. Someone will have heard what you said to them.”

“Fine, they can share the story far and wide for all I care. It will spare me from having to repeat myself.”

He chuckled softly, looking over at me. “... It's supposed to be my job to defend your honor…”

“How exactly will you do that, Todd? Shoot the trollops?” Damian smirked a bit. “That will be even less subtle than her threats.”

“... Did they say something?” He frowned.

“Damian didn't let them.”

He smirked; “I was not about to let them speak unkindly of my favorite sister.”

Jason chuckled, ruffling his hair a bit. “Good.”

I smiled softly, kissing Jason's cheek. “You feel alright?”

He leaned in, nodding slowly. “Yeah … I just … I'd almost forgotten what that was like.” He leaned against me, and I held him close. “... At least they don't know about the rest of them though.”

I cupped his cheeks, kissing his forehead. “They’re nothing. They’re insects taking cheap shots at a king because it makes them feel better about how insignificant they are. It lets them pretend they don’t burn with jealousy every time they see you.”

He chuckled weakly, cupping my cheek and pulling me into a kiss. “A king, huh? Does that make you my queen?”

“I suppose that's for you to decide, my king~” I giggled softly.

Damian gagged a bit. “Ok, both of you need to stop, or I'll have to follow Thomas around for a while.”

I woke on Christmas Eve to an insistent knocking. Jason's arms tightened around me and he groaned softly. “... Whaaat?”

“Snowball fight!!!” Duke roared from the other side of the door.

Jason shot out of bed, stumbling for the closet.

“Woah!” I blinked a bit. “What's going on?”

“Snowball fight! Get dressed!” He grinned, tossing some warm clothes onto the bed for me. I chuckled softly, pulling them on. Jay grabbed my hand as soon as I was dressed, pulling me toward the door.

We met Duke, Tim, and Steph in the foyer. Tim grinned, leading us all outside. The grounds were blanketed in pristine white, with more flakes fluttering down around us. “Come on, we gotta make a base!”

We ran for the yard. Dick and Bruce were already building a shelter while Damian and Cass made snowballs. We hunkered down a good distance from them.

“Duke, Steph, you're on snowballs!” Tim announced. They got started, and the rest of us began creating a snow hill to hide behind.

“Sister! It's not too late, you can join the winning side!” Damian called across the yard.

“Funny, I was going to say the same thing to you!” I laughed. “Join us, baby brother, and our victory will be glorious!”

“I will not betray my father!” He roared, laughing. “If you will not join us, you are the enemy! There will be no mercy, sister! Reconsider your loyalties!”

“You reconsider yours, little one!”

Jason laughed, offering me a snowball. “Ladies first?”

I grinned, kissing his cheek, and threw. The ball burst against Bruce's back, and the game was on. Soon I could barely make out Tim's attempts to shout instructions to our team over the sounds of laughter and snowballs bursting all around us.

We must have spent hours out there. Duke snuck away at one point, bringing back donuts and thermoses of coffee. After a long while, a taxi van came up the driveway. Bruce called time out as Bernard hopped out. The driver lowered a ramp, and Babs rolled out as well.

Tim beamed, running over to greet his boyfriend, and Dick ran over to give Babs a hug. Everyone gravitated toward the house to say hi, and Alfred called us all in for hot chocolates. Jay wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a couch to cuddle and warm up.

“Should we do first presents now?” Dick grinned.

“First presents?”

“On Christmas Eve everyone gets to open one present!” Steph grinned, pressing a box into Cass's hand. “Open this one, Cass!”

Everyone took turns opening gifts. Jason tried to give me one, but Tim shouted; “wait!”

I jumped, looking over to him. “... Tim, we had an agreement. You got me jewelry for my first gala, that was my Christmas present from you.”

He grinned, holding out a box. It had blue wrapping paper with a big silver bow. “Yes, but this isn't a Christmas present. This is a Christmas Eve present. … And if you don't buy that, it's a Hanukkah present.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “... Are you Jewish?”

“Bruce is.”

“... Do you celebrate Hanukkah, or are you using it to make me accept your gift?”

“Sometimes we do, when his cousin visits. But otherwise, it’s hard enough to get him to do a one day holiday.” He shrugged, pressing the box into my hands.

“... Ok, fine. Thank you, Tim.” I chuckled, rolling my eyes affectionately as I took the box. I carefully unwrapped it, blinking in shock; Tim had put together an assortment of rare and luxurious spices, including saffron, Tahitian vanilla beans, and several things I'd never even heard of. “... Woah! Tim, this is so much…”

He grinned. “You like it? I figured you probably haven't had a chance to cook with some of these before.”

“You'd be right. Thank you so much!” I gave Tim a quick hug, and Damian peered at the spices.

“Sister, we must make saffron cookies. Please?”

I grinned. “Sounds good, kiddo! Next weekend?”

He beamed and nodded, leaning against me a bit. I stroked his hair, holding him close as Bruce and Dick brought out some games. The rest of the day was spent playing and eating. Bruce surprised me with how enthusiastic he was; given how Dick and Tim spoke about it, I had assumed he would participate in a little bit, then disappear for a while. Instead, he spent the whole day with us, and he even seemed to be having fun.

Bernard and Babs stayed for dinner before heading back home, sharing a cab into the city again. At bedtime Damian had me go up with him to tuck him in. I sat on the side of his bed as he got situated, smiling softly as I offered him a small red box. “I have a present for you, baby brother.”

He tilted his head, curious; “not tomorrow?”

“You'll get a present tomorrow too, but I thought you'd want to receive this one in private.” He opened it slowly, sliding my old ipod into his hand. “I recorded something special for you.”

He looked up at me, sliding an earbud into his ear before pushing play. His face lit up as the song started. “... You recorded my lullabies?”

I nodded, grinning; “so that you can listen to them even if I can't sing for you myself.”

He grinned, hugging me tight. “... Thank you, sister.”

I stroked his back gently, kissing the top of his head. “You're welcome, baby.”

I set the ipod on his bedside table for him, tucking him in. Once he was comfy I cleared my throat and began to sing. The words flowed, almost effortlessly, and I silently thanked the grandma's who'd spent so much time helping me practice at the Arab Cultural Center. Damian's eyes stayed glued to my face as I sang, a look of shock and wonder frozen on his face.

As I finished the song, he whispered; “... You … you learned an Arabic lullaby … for me?”

I nodded, smiling softly; “I know my accent is very American, but the ladies at the cultural center said it was coming along. What do you think?”

“... It is very American, … but it's perfect. … Can … Can you do it again?”

I nodded, singing the song again. He curled up and I gently trailed a finger down the bridge of his nose, lulling him to sleep. His eyes fluttered shut, and soon he was snoring softly.

In the morning I woke to Jason's fingers delicately tracing designs on my shoulder. I smiled softly, leaning in to kiss his chest. “Morning~”

“Morning, doll~ … merry Christmas~”

“Merry Christmas~ … ready for your present?”

He chuckled softly. “I don't know, am I?”

“Not that kind of present, silly.” I chuckled, stretching as I sat up and grabbed a big bag of presents. I found Jason's, offering him the red and gold wrapping. He kissed me gently before carefully popping it open. He slowly smiled, looking over the handmade book inside. The cover was a watercolor painting of the pair of us, Jason cupping my chin about to kiss me. It was a perfect mirror of the kiss scene in the 2005 adaptation of Pride and Prejudice. He carefully opened the book, reading the scenes I had dutifully transcribed; scenes that reminded me of us.

“It's beautiful, baby girl, thank you.” he smiled softly, pulling me into a kiss. “I love you~”

I grinned, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I love you too~”

He smiled softly, offering me a silver wrapped gift. “Your turn.” I grinned, opening it to find a book; ‘Love in Prose: An Annotator's Book of Love Poems'. “I was going to write something for you, but … well, you know I struggle with words. I try, but they don't come to me the way they come to you, you always know what to say. ... I did find some of my own words; they're not very pretty, but I can promise you that they are true. But, mostly I found myself quoting the experts. ... So, I thought it best to just … give you the experts.”

I flipped open the book, reading the first poem; Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe.

“Oh, Jason … it's perfect.” I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, hugging him tight. “I love it! Thank you~”

He hugged back, kissing my temple. We cuddled like that for a little while, until a soft knock on the door interrupted the quiet.

“Todd? Sister?”

“Morning, kiddo~”

He popped the door open, still wearing his pj's. “Hi. Breakfast is ready.”

I nodded, getting up. “Thanks Damian!”

Jason stretched, popping his back, and picked up the presents. “Ok, let's go!”

We met everyone in the family room, and Jason set the presents out. I passed out hand painted snowflake shaped platters loaded with cookies, brownies, and fudge. Damian's platter had extra ma'amoul, but everyone got a selection. Jason passed out mugs filled with hot chocolate packets, candy canes, and marshmallow toppers.

“So cute! Did you guys paint these yourselves?” Steph grinned.

I nodded, beaming. “We went to the place in the mall! Jay did the mugs, and I did the platters! And we made the treats ourselves!”

Everyone got comfy, and more presents were passed out. Bruce gave everyone gift cards for a bunch of fun things around Gotham; mine included several coffee shops and restaurants near Gotham University, as well as craft stores, and book stores. Jason, Damian and I all also received year passes to the Gotham Zoo. Dick had opted for practical gifts; lots of cozy slippers, favorite snacks, and upgrades for people's home goods. Tim gave high tech presents; lots of hologram art and smart devices. Steph passed around self care items, all luxury brands. Finally, it was my turn. I gave everyone their gifts, chewing my lower lip a bit. I really hoped they liked them.

For Dick, I had embroidered an elephant head onto a royal blue scarf. Elephants are clever, and friendly, and many have a surprising sense of humor, much like Dick. Tim received a handmade journal; the cover had a watercolor painting of a dragon guarding his forest. For Babs, I painted a cityscape, with heavenly sunbeams peaking between the buildings, illuminating otherwise dark corners of the city, just like she did for all of us. For Steph, a purple beanie with green vines and a large white dahlia embroidered on - the flower of kindness.

Damian received an emerald green scarf with a black and gray wolf cub and a silver crescent moon. Wolves are loyal, and even a young pup is fiercely protective of their family. Perfect for my baby brother. Cass's black beanie was embroidered with lavender and rosemary - herbs said to foster clarity, something she seemed to bring to every situation. For Duke, I had embroidered solar motifs in gold on a white scarf. Alfred received a watercolor painting of a fjord; a peaceful, but defensibly sound landscape. And finally, for Bruce, a black scarf with colorful fringe and embroidered stripes representing each of his children.

Dick and Steph put their presents on immediately, complimenting my choices, and Damian shot up to run to the tree. He pulled a large flat rectangle wrapped in green out from behind the tree, bringing it over to me.

“Open this next.”

I nodded, grinning, and carefully peeled the paper away. As soon as I realized what he was giving me, I felt tears threaten to fill my eyes. “Damian, you're giving me the painting?”

He nodded. “You said it made you feel beautiful.”

I nodded quickly, sliding the paper away. The portrait he'd painted of the three of us on my couch was even more beautiful than I'd remembered. “It does. It's incredible. Thank you, baby brother.”

“I haven't seen this painting, what did he do?” Dick craned his neck to look over my shoulder, and I turned the painting around for everyone to see.

“Woah … you're getting so good, Damian!” Steph grinned.

He flushed a bit, clearly pleased. “Thank you…”

Bruce nodded. “It's remarkable.”

Damian smiled, taking his seat again. Jay wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and Duke took his turn passing out gifts.

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Fanart in the header by: @crowkip

Taglist (open):

@jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa @whore-of-many-hot-men @cottage-worm @v1ckycheesue @roastyyytoastyyy @sarakmec @thestarcatcher7297 @stupidlyunhinged @mishkapi @mermaidgirl-11 @bunniboo0015 @bibibusinessman @iimichie

[junixscribble]

The Holiday Spirit

I was seized by the spirit of creation and held by the throat till I wrote this. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays I guess! (thanks to the tk server for the fuel!)

Title: The Holiday Spirit

WC: 1621w

Summary: Viktor is stubbornly refusing to get into the Snowdown spirit and leave his work alone for an evening. Jayce uses the only method he knows of to get him to chill, only to realise this deal goes both ways.

-------

Piltover had grown cold with the change of seasons, and with it came a healthy dose of cheer tinged with worry for Jayce. The first snowfall on the city made him anxious and sent him back to the swirling blizzard he had been trapped in before the mage appeared to save him and his mother. It was manageable, but storms left him on edge more often than not. 

Thankfully, Snowdown was a welcome distraction. Houses were lit with warm hues and decor was slung over trees and buildings in the city, so Jayce could find as much business as he wanted in the decoration of his own home. The fire roared in the fireplace, filling the small apartment with heat and light while Jayce stood atop a cobbled together ladder and hung bunting on the window frame. A record blasted holiday tunes to fill the silence and Jayce was happy with his progress.

His peace was interrupted when the door was flung open by an appropriately disgruntled and cold Viktor, shopping bag in one hand and crutch in the other.

“It is fucking shitty out there.” He stated, chucking the bag on the counter and shutting the door before starting to take off a multitude of layers. “My crutch was slipping all over the ground and frankly I’m offended that I left the house at all.”

“Vik, you insisted you’d be fine to pick up the groceries.” Jayce said, coming down off the ladder with a grin. Viktor glared at him.

“Well Viktor from an hour ago was an imbecile and should not have been trusted.”

“You threatened to smack me with your cane if I went instead.” 

“As I said. Imbecile. Now why are you hanging fabric from the roof?” Viktor asked, head tilted.

Jayce shrugged. “It’s Snowdown. Bunting is nice!”

“Ah, yes. Consumerism central masked as a fun holiday.” 

That earned Viktor a long enduring sigh from Jayce. “Vik, you’ve gotta make fun for yourself somehow.”

Viktor hummed and started putting away the groceries, examining the apartment as he did so. “It certainly looks… festive.” 

“That’s the point! Oh, I’ve actually got something for you.” Jayce ran out into the bedroom and came out with a maroon sweater with white snowflakes embroidered on.

“This is for you!” 

Viktor took it from his hands, feeling the fabric over. “This is a holiday sweater, no?”

Jayce nodded, a proud smile on his face. Viktor couldn’t say no to him like that - and from what he could tell the sweater was very well made. 

Viktor took off his cardigan and pulled on the sweater to find it offensively soft and warm. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it before starting again. 

“I was going to say something witty and perhaps a little insulting, but this is… comfortable. Thank you, Jayce.”

“My mother made it. You should have seen the ones she made when she was starting out - they were as wonky as they come. She’s gotten quite good at it though.” 

“Tell her I appreciate it.” Viktor said with a smile, and then pulled out a thick tome filled with taped in notes. He opened it on the table, brought out a pencil, and started puzzling over an equation. 

Jayce huffed. “Seriously, Vik? We’re like 4 days out from the holidays, surely you can stand not to bring work home with you.”

“Progress waits for no one. Least of all a man-made excuse for avarice.” 

“Viktoooor, come ooooon!” Jayce wheedled. “We’ve both been working since the sun rose. We can go back tomorrow.” 

Viktor kept writing, lost in his own head. Jayce sighed and cracked his knuckles. “Well if you’re not going to get into the Snowdown spirit yourself, I’m gonna have to make you.”

It took a minute for Viktor to process the sentence and by the time he realised and tried to scramble out of his chair Jayce was almost on top of him. He braced himself for the awful feeling of fingers on his sides but when the attack came all he felt was the movement of fabric. Viktor stood in shock for a minute before looking at Jayce’s face and barking out a laugh.

“Ha! The sweater is too thick for you! Suck on thahahAT FUHUCK OFF!” 

Jayce had sent his hands under Viktor’s jumper in the middle of his sentence and that crawling feeling Viktor had been anticipating was now directly over his sides. 

“By Janna, how many layers are you wearing, Vik? I’m surprised you’re feeling this at all!” Jayce teased, genuinely amused at how much Viktor was twitching at him tickling through what felt like six layers of fabric. 

“Yohou are a cruel and unjuhust pahartner!” 

“Eh, no I’m not. If you’re that resistant about getting into the holiday spirit, then I think you need more convincing.” Jayce pulled his hands down from Viktor’s sides and found the top layer of fabric, slipping back under it and scuttling up to spider under his arms now. Viktor’s arms pinned to his sides and he hunched his shoulders up, leaning into Jayce’s chest as he laughed. 

“Coal! Coahal and beetles are all you are getting thihis year!”

 “That doesn’t sound all that cheerful to me. Do you need another layer?” Jayce cocked his head and smiled when Viktor buried his face in his neck. 

“Nohoho! Let me go!”

Instead of answering Jayce pulled his hands out again and stuck them under another layer, this time scribbling all over his stomach. He could feel that there weren’t many layers left, and by the looks of Viktor immediately trying to pull his hands away he could feel it too. 

“Jahahayce! You’re a fuhucking fiend and I am going to put snohow in your pajamas-”

“That’s it.” 

Jayce pulled out all the stops and slid his hands under the final layer of fabric, squeezing Viktor’s hips before scrabbling towards his upper ribs, completely unprotected by his brace. In one motion Viktor threw his head back and cackled while losing his footing and dropping to the floor. Jayce took a second to break his fall before going right back to drawing spirals over his ribs. This kind of tickling wasn’t as intense, but Viktor was still squirming around like a fish out of water under him. 

All Viktor did in response to Jayce’s raised, questioning eyebrows was stick out his tongue, so Jayce kneaded and wiggled his fingers between the bones of his ribs. Viktor shrieked and started swearing in Czech, hurling out several that Jayce recognised. As punishment he pulled one hand off his ribs and set it on his tummy, squeezing and spidering over the skin. 

“Are you cheered up now? In the Snowdown spirit?” Jayce asked. Viktor glared through his giggles and Jayce shrugged.

“Guess I’m pulling out the raspberries. Come on, let me at your belly.” 

“NO!” Viktor yelled and in a burst of energy rolled to the side and away from Jayce, ending up face down and protecting himself. “Keep your evil beard away from my fucking stomach!” 

Jayce laughed and sat back, giving up the game. “The beard tickles that badly, does it?” 

Viktor flushed and sat up with his arms firmly around his middle. “What the hell do you think?” 

“I’ll be sure to keep it then.”

Viktor sputtered through some words before standing with the help of the couch. Jayce handed his crutch back to him which he accepted before moving to the kitchen. 

“Get your round ass in here and cook.” 

…

A few hours later Jayce was snug on the couch with a book while Viktor was in the shower. All was well until a high pitched yelp rang out and Jayce jumped to his feet, sprinting to the door.

“Viktor, are you alright?” 

The shower cut off and was followed with some select insults at the plumbing before a reply was heard. 

“The water turned fucking ice cold! Again!” 

Jayce winced. “The wind must have blown the boiler. I’ll fix it.”

It only took five minutes for Jayce to reset the boiler and by the time it was done Viktor was dressed in warm pajamas. Despite the heavy fabric, he was shivering. Jayce stood and closed the closet door, gesturing over to the couch so they could sit down. The two of them curled up together, Viktor leaning into Jayce’s side with his eyes closed. They sat like that, content for a while, until Viktor grumbled and started pulling at Jayce’s sweater. 

“Let me in.” Viktor said, quite literally trying to crawl into the jumper with Jayce. Jayce would have been fine with this if Viktor’s hands weren’t the same temperature as an ice cube. He jumped at the contact, squirming away with half a yelp. 

Viktor was of brilliant, sharp mind, and it didn’t take long for him to connect the dots. He slid his hands further up Jayce’s deliciously warm sides and grinned at the resulting laugh. 

“My hands are cold. I think you can help with this.” Viktor said, and that was all the warning Jayce got before freezing cold, nimble fingers were crawling all over his torso. He pressed into the back of the couch, snickering and trying to take it but all it took was Viktor kneading his belly for him to break into full laughter. Viktor perked up at the sound and a dangerous glint caught his eyes.

“I wonder if you can take raspberries as well as you dish them out?” 

Jayce had less than a second to protest before Viktor pressed his lips to his stomach and sent him into a laughing fit like no other. There was no doubt about it - Jayce was completely and utterly done for. 

[destinyisastar]

I have an idea for you: How about a multivese divergence, something happens and through a tear in the fabric of space an alternate version of the alastor crashes into the original Hazbin Hotel, perhaps an angel! alastor. Imagine how funny it would be if this variant of Angel!Alastor started on top of the reader, since in Angel!Alastor universe there is no reader. Maybe the reader was those rare events that happen and not all universes have a reader...

((Note: perhaps both Alastors were yanderes by the reader))

Just the two of Us

Alastor x Gn Reader x Angel Alastor

(YANDERE)

Summary: An angel falls on you while you are walking back to the hotel and starts taking a liking to you. What happens when the Radio Demon starts to feel distaste towards this new guest?

More info: This was supposed to be uploaded a couple of days ago, but I was going through a bit of writer's block. I really liked this idea I hope I did you justice! This is a long one!

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺⌝❜❛⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺⌝❜❛⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

“Good morning my wonderful listeners!” A voice speaks into a mic, “A gorgeous morning we are having here today in our beloved heaven!” The voice laughs. “Oh, I wouldn’t trade this view for anything in the world, wouldn’t you agree!?” A cheering track is played in the background.

“Now on to today’s activities! There will be a golden hour ceremony in well… in less than thirty minutes! Oh golly! You’ll need to get there quick before there’s no more space left! Ha-ha!!” The man flips through his scripts, “Here’s one that you all will enjoy, Miss Nifty is holding a cooking competition, the winner of the competition will be the rewarded with an opportunity to practice with the little angel herself. On to other news, the grand opening of Mimzy’s dancing parlor will be at six o’clock this evening! Be sure to have your dancing shoes on!” The man behind the mic continues to joke around before he checks his watch, “I believe its time for some music…Jazz for the soul… This is your host, Alastor! I’ll talk to you all soon!”

Alastor lets the jazz music play as he grabs his coffee mug and walks to the window in his radio station. As he takes a sip he watches as the Angels down below walk around, enjoying their afterlife. He smiles as he thinks about what he plans to do today when a small red spiral forms in front of him.

Alastor chokes on his coffee and punches his chest to calm himself.

“What in the heavens is this?!” He puts his mug down and tilts his head to the side. “What should I do with this?” A spark of curiosity flows through him, he decides to poke his finger through the spiral, and it suddenly grows larger.

Alastor jumps backwards, “Oh good lord!” He walks closer to the spiral and decides to just put his whole head through. Inside of the spiral is a red sky and down below that seems to be a city. There seems to be sparks flying, it almost seems like gunshots, down below. Alastor pulls himself back to his station.

The spiral is still there as he paces around the room. “Should I call somebody?” he questions himself. Alastor shakes his head.

Urgent.

He feels a sense of urgency pulling him to the spiral. Why? It doesn’t seem safe wherever it leads to, so why does he feel his legs pull him towards the spiral? He feels his wings stiffen.

“Okay.” He takes a deep breath, “Okay…. I’ll check it out and if doesn’t seem worth my while, I can just come back… at least I think so….” Alastor grabs his staff by his desk and walks to the spiral. “Alright… here we go.”

He walks through the spiral and begins to plummet down to the city below.

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“You were right Angel, that store really didn’t have anything good.” You say as you walk side by side with your friend, Angel Dust., as you head back to the Hazbin Hotel.

“I told ya to trust me toots, we should have just stuck with what we knew.” Angel sighs as switches his bags to his other hand. “But it was kinda worth it!” He says as he waves the bags in your face.

“That’s because you got everything for free! I just wanted to see if they had any earrings….” You look the through the small bag you had, “They are pretty, I just wish they had more of a selection…”

“Don’t sweat it, I got some for you too!” He grins at you.

“Aw than-” You get cut off when a body drops on you.

You face the ground with a heavy weight on your back, you hear Angel yelling at whoever was on top of you, pulling (throwing) them off of you.

With a groan you get up, patting yourself for any injuries, “What was that?”

“Don’t know, this freak just fell on you.”

Theres a man on the ground near the wall, he appears to have white wings…. almost like an angel….

The man gets up, “Ah, I’m so sorry for dropping in on you!” The man has yet to look at you, he pats himself down, reaching for his staff…. it almost seems familiar to you.

Finally, the man looks at you right in the eyes then looking you up and down, “My oh my,” He walks up to you taking your hand in his and bends down to press a tender kiss to it. “My apologies for “dropping in” on you! Ha-ha! Oh, where are my manners! My name is Alastor! Pleasure to meet you quite the pleasure! Maybe this is fate to fall upon such a gorgeous person such as yourself!  Ha-ha!” “Alastor’s” wings puff up.

Both you and Angel freeze.

Angel speaks up, “What did ya say your name was freak?”

“My name is Alastor! Is this thing working?”  “Alastor” taps his microphone staff.

The microphone seems to speak, “Yes! I heard you loud and clear!”

You release your hand from this so called “Alastor”, “Alastor?”

“Yes, my dear?” He answers looking at you with glee.

“Why…. why do you have wings?”

“Alastor” tilts his head at you and Angel, “Well I’m an angel! Oh, you know me Anthony, I always make sure your requests are always played, I even have my own radio show! Maybe you heard of me from there?!”

“AN ANGEL?!” Both you and Angel yell.

Onlookers nearby are now paying attention to all of you.

“Ah shit!” Angel Dust mutters, his mind seems to be somewhere else.

“W-well, Alastor we should get going!” You remove your coat and place it on “Alastor’s” shoulder to cover his wings. “Please keep this on for right now!” you whisper yell to him.

“Whatever for my dear?” Angel Alastor asks.

“Just…please! For me!?”

Angel Alastor nods, “Alright but where are we going?”

“W-we just need to get some place safer for you!” You pull Angel Alastor along with you on the sidewalk, “Angel! C’mon!!”

Angel Alastor escapes out of your grasp and instead gives you his arm to hold on to while you walk.

You stop to look at him but wrap your hand through his arm and keep going as Angel Dust walks in front of the both of you.

Angel Alastor smiles joyfully as he walks faster to keep up with your steps.

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In the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor sits in his chair in his radio tower as he waits for your return. Now, he wouldn’t say that he is desperate for your attention he just appreciates your presence. Yes, that’s it…. your presence is much more tolerable than the other pathetic sinners in this hopeless hotel.

At any moment now you will walk through the hotel’s doors. How does he know that? Well, let’s just say he has eyes everywhere. No, he’s not obsessed with you, why would you think that?

Alastor teleports his way to the lounge area of the hotel and takes a seat on his chair, waiting patiently for your arrival.

And arrive you do.

“Yo Charlie! You here!?” Yells out Angel Dust.

“Why are you yelling so early today?” Husk says from behind the bar.

Angel walks over to the bar and slams his hands on the table, “You ain’t never gonna believe this!” Husk pours him a drink and Angel chugs it down, “Alastor is an Angel!!”

 Husk looks at him with a deadpan look, “Are you stupid?”

“NO! I’m being serious!”

“Have you had one to many drinks this morning, my friend?” Alastor says as he teleports himself to take a seat near Angel as Husk passes him a drink. “As you can see, I’m still here in all my glory Ha-ha!” Alastor grins.

Angel looks at him up and down, “Nah no way you had wings and everything!! And… you knew my…” He chugs another down, “Y/n! Get in here!”

Hearing your name makes Alastor perk up but his grin almost, almost, fell. W̷̞̫̄ȟ̷̨͇͝o̵͎̖͑͋ ̷̣͔̏t̶̯̯́h̶̥̲̔e̵̤̘͋̉ ̴̬̥̏͒f̵̩͘ṳ̵̠̆̽ć̷̦̕͜k̸̖̻̐̚ ̸̡̜̀ả̴̰͜r̶̨̹̀e̶͈̙̾ ̵͕̃ÿ̴̧̖́̀o̴͇̙̚u̵̘̔͠ ̴͈͚̓ḫ̵̮̓͝o̷̬̙͛̕l̶̡͓͒͘d̶̝̹̐ȉ̸͈͝ṅ̵͍̚g̴̮͎̊͛ ̸͕̚ȍ̶͜n̶̺̱̈́ ̸̰̣̆̉t̴̥̑̐o̷͍͒?̸͔̹͐

“Okay…this is the Hazbin Hotel… “Alastor”,” You lead Angel Alastor to the couch, “Sit here while I…. go get someone to help, okay? Do you want anything so drink?”

“No, but thank you darling! I’ll be fine!” Angel Alastor laughs.

“Who the fuck is that?” Husk spats out.

“See! That’s Alastor, well, Angel Alastor. Its freaky!!”

You walk up to the bar, gently placing your hands on the table, “Where’s Charlie?”

“She’s out with Vaggie, said something about convincing sinners to join the hotel.” Husk cleans some of the glasses but continues to take glances at the supposed “Angel Alastor”.

 You sigh, “Okay…okay” You rub your temples, “Can I have a glass of water please, it’s for him…” Husk hands you the glass of water and you walk away from the group heading towards Angel Alastor, taking a seat next to him.

However, Alastor, the Alastor that sits by the bar… Alastor the Radio Demon… is seething.  Of course, he is a bit curious seeing that this supposed “Angel Alastor” is another version of him, a version of him that has wings, white hair, and a staff eerily similar to his. Why are you sitting next to this fake? That fool is nothing like him.

“Here, have some water… you probably need it from falling from wherever you came from.” You pass him the water and he drinks it.

“Thank you my dear….” Angel Alastor looks around the room, “This is a darling little place you have here chère! But what exactly is this?” He turns to you.

“Oh! This a hotel ran by the Princess of Hell, Charlie, she’ll explain more once she gets here, I wanted to ask… how did you get here?”

Angel Alastor places his drink down on the table, “Well, I woke up as I usually do, then I went to my radio station…I was doing my usual routine, reading my scripts, telling everyone what the day had planned for them, after that was done I let some music play then I just walked around my broadcast room and suddenly this little spiral appeared right in front of me.”

“Spiral?”

“Yes, its was red and black… I gave it a small poke and it grew larger. I will admit, I got a bit curious about it, so I stuck my head in it.”

“You stuck your head in it? What if you got hurt?”

“Well, you know what they say curiosity killed the cat Ha-ha-ha!!” Angel Alastor jokes, “But in this case the cat lived! Oh-ho!” He begins to wipe a fake tear. “Once I stuck my head through the spiral, I saw a city down below and decided to take a look!”

You tilt your head to the side, “You wanted to take a look?”

“Yes!”

“That sounds silly.”

Angel Alastor laughs, “Now my dear I believe I told you my name already, what might yours be?”

“That’s right, I haven’t told you my name, it’s Y/n.”

“My, that’s a beautiful name…” Angel Alastor smiles at you sweetly, reaching for your hand.

Angel Dust walks over to the both of you and leans on the edge of the couch, “Listen…. “Alastor”, you called me “Anthony” … Why?”

Angel Alastor turns slightly towards Angel, “You look like Anthony, a fellow I know from heaven, he always calls in so his song can play, in fact,” Angel Alastor looks to the bar and points at Husk, “I also know someone that looks like that gentlemen as well, though he doesn’t look so…” Husk flips off Angel Alastor, “so off.”

Angel Alastor then turns his attention to… himself?

The Alastor at the bar grins, his smile stretches upwards, “And?” He taps his fingers on his staff, “What about me?” He tilts his head slyly.

Angel Alastor stands up, “Well, I’ll be…” He wipes his monocle with a handkerchief and his wings puff up slightly.

Alastor teleports in front of “Angel Alastor” from the shadows on the floor below.

Both Alastor’s tilt their heads, both hum, both grin at each other.

“Your me.” They both say in unison.

Alastor has a red and black color coordination (red being more dominate) while Angel Alastor has a white and blue color coordination (white being more dominate). They’re both similar. The only attribute that separates them both is the golden halo above Angel Alastor’s head along with the large wings on his back.

“So, you’re from heaven?” Alastor circles around this supposed Angel, “You said that there’s others that look like our spider fellow here and the drunk behind the bar…. Are they also angels?”

“They aren’t demons! Ha-ha! But I will say….” Angel Alastor looks down to you as you still sit on the couch, “I’ve never seen anyone that looks like you.” He smiles.

Alastor sneers for a moment but it was quickly replaced by a grin, “Well! Maybe she’s in your hell! Did you think of that?!”

Angel Alastor pushes Alastor with his staff, “I assure you she wouldn’t be there.” He takes a glance at you then looks back at Alastor. “There is no hell.”

Angel Dust spits out his drink, “NO HELL?!”

“You heard correct.” Angel Alastor turns towards the bar, “We have no hell.”

The front doors open and in walks Charlie and Vaggie.

“Uh what’s this talk about no hell?” Charlie says as she looks around the room and freezes as she spots Angel Alastor.

“Who the fuck is that!?” Vaggie yells, arming herself with her spear racing towards Angel Alastor.

However, before Vaggie can make contact with Angel Alastor, you put yourself in between them raising your arms out. “WAIT! WAIT!” you yell out, “He’s okay! He’s not gonna hurt us!”

“Then what the hell is he doing here?! And why the fuck does he look like Alastor!?”

“Vaggie calm down!” Charlie rubs her girlfriend’s shoulders then looks to Angel Alastor. “Who are you?”

“I’m Alastor! Pleasure to meet you! I assume your Charlie the Princess of Hell!” He grins while shaking her hand.

Charlie stays silent for the moment and huffs out a laugh, “I’m sorry… WHAT?”

“We’ve been over this before you got here toots…” Angel stands up right, “This is Angel Alastor and supposedly there’s versions of us in his heaven but get this, there’s no hell!” Angel Dust says as he somehow has a popsicle in his hand and takes a bite, “Crazy right?”

“This is all very weird!” Charlie says as she waves her arms.  She walks around Angel Alastor. “So, you’re an Angel that fell from heaven, but not from our heaven… am I getting this right?”

“I believe so!”

“And there’s no hell?”

“Correct!”

“And there’s people that look like us? There’s an Angel in your heaven that looks like me?”

“Yes! Her name is Charlotte, but she also goes by Charlie. She’s lovely girl, very friendly, happy go lucky,” Angel Alastor looks at Vaggie, “You are also there too, hand in hand with dear Charlie.”

“Now we need you get back to your heaven…… why did you even fall down here?”

“I was curious!” Angel Alastor turns to you, “Might I say… it was worth it.” He grins.

You start to feel flustered and look away.

Alastor stands beside you as you sit on the couch, while your flustered self would usually fill him with glee, especially if he was the reason, this fake was the one who made you turn away.  

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While heaven was a joyful beautiful place, hell was the complete opposite.

Angel Alastor sits on the balcony sipping his coffee, waiting for you to join him. It’s been a couple of days since he’s been here, and you…. he’s never met anyone like you. It’s strange, so far everyone he’s met is someone he knows from his heaven, even Nifity was here although she was a bit more deranged, killing bugs left and right. Nifity had told him he should be a “bad boy” instead of a “good boy” whatever that meant.

“Hey! I’m sorry for being a little late I was helping Charlie print out some flyers.” You say as you take a seat.

“Not to worry my dear!” Angel Alastor smiles as he passes you a cup and plate of sweets near you.

“Thank you.” You take a bite out of the sweet treat, “How are you liking it down here so far? I-I’m sorry that its nothing like your heaven, I’m sure you miss it…”

Angel Alastor places his cup down, “I… I do miss it sometimes, my radio station mostly, but you… you make this hell seem like heaven.” He grins at you.

You quickly take a sip of your drink, and Angel Alastor laughs.

From his tower in his station Alastor watches as you speak to the fake.

Why?

Why aren’t you with him?

You knew him before this fake.

So why????

Alastor’s grin tightens and teleports himself to the both of you.

“Well! Isn’t this…,” Alastor looks between the two of you, “A lovely little moment!” His grin stretches upwards.

“Good morning, Alastor!” You say smiling at the Radio Demon.

“Good morning my dear!” Alastor summons a chair, “I hope you don’t mind that I join you! It’s been such a busy morning, and I would like to spend time with someone who isn’t a nuisance! Ha-ha!”

“I don’t mind, but Angel Al is the one who invited me…. you don’t mind do you Al?”

“Not at all darling!” Angel Alastor smiles (clearing lying through his teeth, but you don’t see that) at you as you take another sip of your drink but glares at Alastor, the so called “Radio Demon” (more like the Radio Fool).

The fool is smiling at him with glee.

“So! My dear, what do you have planned today?” Angel Alastor asks.

“Oh well I-”

“They’re spending the day with me!” Alastor says as he light smacks the table with his mug, “Isn’t that right my darling?” He tilts his head at you with his signature grin.

“Yes... but you never told me what we’ll be doing.”

“I’ll shall gladly tell you right now!” Alastor scoots his chair closer to you, Angel Alastor scrunches up his face but quickly puts on a smile as you take a glance at him.

“We’ll be heading to Cannibal Town! Rosie hasn’t had a chance to chat with you in a while!” Alastor places his hand over yours, “It seems like you’re taking my good friend away from me! Ha-ha!” He says rather dramatically, “After we had our chat, I’m taking you to one of my favorite clubs! Its nothing like the ones that our feminine fellow speaks about, but I won’t say anything more, I’d like it to be a surprise!”

“That sounds wonderful Alastor!” You say excitedly.

Alastor nods his head seeming excited himself.

“Yes… it sounds delightful...” Angel Alastor mumbles as he grits his teeth.

 Alastor glances at the fake next to him with a sly grin.

You look towards Angel Alastor, feeling a bit sad that you have to leave him here. Charlie said that he can’t go due to him being an angel, it’s not safe for him, especially since he looks like Alastor.

“Well, my dear it’s almost time! We should be on our way!” Alastor stands up holding on to your hand beginning to pull you up with him.

“Hey, Al?”

Both Alastor’s look at you. Angel Alastor holds his breath.

“I know you can’t really leave the hotel to do anything so… how about we just have a day for ourselves tomorrow? We can do whatever you want!” You smile brightly at him.

Angel Alastor gives you his own smile, a smile that can certainly light up the heavens, a smile that clearly states that he’s an angel from above.

“I’d like that a lot mon chère…”

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After the little gossip sesh with Rosie, Alastor had surprised you with a little with a Jazz club. It was small but the music, oh the music, was stunning.

“How… how did you find this place Alastor?” You ask looking around, there’s sinners sitting at their tables chatting, eating, everybody here seems at peace here.

“During my first years in hell, I got a bit homesick….I missed the wonders of true music, I missed…..”  A waiter waves you both to a table and Alastor leads you with a hand on your waist and pulls your chair out for you. The waiter takes your order, and you begin to listen to the music. There’s a sinner singing on stage, her tune sounds so dreamily, the members of her band fall into sync with her.

The waiter brings you both the food you ordered, and you begin to eat the meal. The conversations between you both were rather sweet.

“You know my dear…” Alastor puts down the fork, his meal was a venison wrapped in bacon, (it was rather delicious). “I…. I know I might not always say this to you, but….”

You place your utensils down giving Alastor your full attention.

“I apprec-”

“ALRIGHT LADIES AND GENTS!!!” A man on stage speaks (yells) into the mic, “Its that time again where you grab that special person and move oh so slowly to song of our loving sweetheart!” The singer on stage nods and takes hold of the mic and sings her sweet tune much more calmly.

You take a glance at the sinners slow dancing, smiling softy at each other.

Alastor notices this and stands in front of you, holding his hand out to you, “Care for a dance my dear?” he asks tilting his head.

You stay silent for a number of seconds before nodding your head and putting your hand in his. Alastor pulls you up and brings you to the dance floor.

Placing your head on his shoulder, Alastor sways the both of you. Since you’ve known Alastor, he’s always been a force of nature. He’s unpredictable. He’s… he’s a manipulator, you know that. Everyone around you knows that, yet you feel as if there is a change in his demeanor, at least around you. He still acts the same around the other hotel guests, but to you he’s been rather kind (or whatever he deems kind).

As he sways you from left to right you hear Alastor hum along to the song, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

You remove your head from Alastor’s shoulder and look into his eyes with a smile, “I very much am… thank you for taking me here…”  Alastor removes his hands that holds yours and wraps his arms around his waist and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I appreciate you… I hope you know that…” Alastor mutters quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, my dear…”

Alastor spins you around and bends you down slightly he then pulls you back up close to his face. He smiles rather softly.

You pull yourself from him, making just enough space for the two of you. You are aware that Alastor is not fond of closeness, or rather him being touched, you don’t want to make him uncomfortable.

Alastor’s smile drops for a second but is quickly brought right back up and the dancing continues like before.

Your mind begins to wander…. How is Angel Alastor doing? You don’t know why you care for that Angel… maybe it’s the way he looks at you or the way he actually wants to be near you, speak to you. Your mind feels at ease whenever your near him, you feel yourself smiling.

“Happy now, are you?” Alastor asks his palm cupping your cheek.

“Yes, I am…” You try not to lean into his hand.

Alastor rubs a claw on you cheek, “Something on your mind?”

You want to answer him, but you don’t want to ruin the mood that was created. Alastor and Angel Alastor seem to have tension with each other, you don’t know why (They’re the same person, just… different).

“….honestly, I’m a bit worried about Angel Alastor,” You whisper the latter, “He just fell on top of me, and I kind of feel bad about it….”

Alastor stops dancing, his grip on you tightening.

“He says he doesn’t mind being here, but I know deep down he wants to go back home….” You say looking a bit sadden.

Fake. You are speaking about that fake when you are clearly with real deal.

“I… I just… Oh, I don’t know….”

That fake is taking up too much, far too much space in your mind. Ever since that fake showed up you’ve been spending too much time with it. Why?!

“Why…”

“Huh?”

“Do you care for that fake?” His grin begins to stretch.

“Fake?”

Alastor looks away for a moment then turns back to you, “We should return to the hotel! Can’t leave that little fake by itself, right! Ha-ha!!”

“Ala-”

“No, no darling that fake needs to be coddled right now!” He walks out of the club with you following behind him.

“Alastor!”

 Alastor looks at you, shakes his head, “I… I apologize for acting out of sorts…” He raises a palm to his head, running his claws through his hair.

“Alastor, you mean a lot to me….. if you’re talking about “Angel Al”, he’s… he’s just another person. Your still my good friend and nothing’s ever gonna change that.” You smile at him.

Alastor smiles back and huffs out a laugh, “Oh, darling!” He cups your cheek once more, “You are just too sweet Ha-ha!” He gives you his arm to hold, you take it, feeling a bit flustered.

You both begin the trek back to the hotel when you turn to face Alastor once more.

“Alastor?”

“Yes?”

“I care for you.”

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Angle Alastor has had the time of life (afterlife?), you have truly been the light to his darkness. Sure, when he was in heaven there were plenty of people that kept him company. People that made him laugh, people that made him smile but you… he doesn’t understand this feeling he has when he’s with you. Why does your smile make his day brighter? Why does your laugh bring him joy? Why does he feel his heart thumping whenever you are near? Do you share this feeling? This feeling of happiness you feel it too…. right?

“What’s your favorite meal Al?” You ask Angel Alastor, you both decided to cook in the kitchen for your day together.

“Hmm… at the moment I would have to say any meal that includes venison! It could be stew, roasted, steak, it’s all delicious!” He says as the imagines the meals in his mind, “Although jambalaya never fails to make me smile!”

“I’ve only recently started eating venison… Alastor has certainly made an impact on my dinner time!” You smile at the memory of Alastor first giving you the taste of his venison stew (he almost gave you the meal raw, but you immediately declined).

“Yes…yes… hell’s version of me...”

You take a glance at him as you set the plates on the table, “Al?”

“Hmm?” He looks up from the cutting board.

“Do you get along with your other version?”

Angel Alastor scrunches his face a bit then goes back to cutting the venison, “I can’t say that I do…”

“Can I ask why?”

Angel Alastor puts the cut venison into a pan on the stove, making it sizzle, “We may be the same person, but we are…. how should I put this…...we are not exactly alike.”

“How so?”

“That demon…. we just don’t mix well together…” He shakes his head.

“That’s okay!”

“It’s…. okay?”

“Yeah! It’s okay that you aren’t alike, no one is meant to be the same person even if its another version of you!” You place the knives and forks down near the plates. “What about everyone else?”

“They’re all alright…. I understand they aren’t my friends from my heaven, Charlie is practically the only one that is still similar, but this is simply another… another world.”  The venison is finally cooked, and he takes it to the plates on the table setting two for you down and one for him on the plates. He takes the asparagus he had on the stove and wraps it around the venison, putting mashed potatoes on the side. He still has a smile on his face as he pulls your chair out for you and then sits in his respected seat.

“I am glad that you’re here…. I don’t think that I would have lasted too long out here if it wasn’t for you or dropping on you! Ha!”

“It’s no problem at all! Really! I like spending time with you!” You smile at him as you take a bite out of your asparagus. “You’re a good cook Al!”

“I know I am, Ha-ha!”

Once you both finished your meal Angel Alastor walks you back to your room (his room is near yours since he feels more comfortable around you).

“Thank you for everything Al, really…” You say rocking yourself back and forth on your feet.

“The honors all mine….” Angel Alastor grabs your right hand and bends down slightly to kiss it, then pulls himself back up and looks into your eyes, still holding your hand.

“Y/n….thank you for everything….the days you spend with me are nothing but hours of joy.” He cups your cheek.

You feel yourself leaning slightly into his touch for a moment, then you look into his eyes.

He smiles softly at you and moves closer towards you.

You hold your breath.

But….

You move backwards holding your cheeks with your hands, you give an airy laugh.

“I’m sor-”

“Nothing to do be sorry for my dear!” He lets out a laugh.

You nod your head, still laughing slightly, you tilt your head down but then look up Angel Alastor, he’s still smiling at you.

You grab the knob to your door, open it and walk in, “Al?”

“Yes, cher?”

“Lets… have another day together, yeah?” You look at him feeling a little nervous, “Next time I’ll choose what we do, okay?”

“Of course, anything you choose will done with my heart’s content.” He smiles at you with his hands behind his back.

You nod your head and close the door.

Angel Alastor lets out a sigh and walks to your closed door and places his hand on it tracing it. He begins to walk away when a shadow starts to bubble up from the floor beneath him. The shadow forms upwards and takes the shape of the Radio Demon.

“Well, well…. I’ve been watching you….” Alastor walks around the fake.

Angel Alastor still with his hands behind back stays perfectly still, and his wings puff up, “So you have…”

“Do you think you have a chance?” Alastor’s radio voice comes out full force, he takes a small glance at your door and decided to teleport the fake and himself to his radio tower.

Angel Alastor is consumed by the darkness and is then brought red studio.

“So, this is your dainty little…,” He looks around the area and scrunches his face, “station.”

 “Enough with the chit chat…..”

Angel Alastor tilts his head, “What exactly do you want?” he says with a grin.

“I want you to stop what your doing…” Alastor eyes begin to turn into dials.

“What exactly am I doing hmmm?” Angel Alastor’s grin tightens.

“I want you to stay away from them….”

“If I don’t?” He teases.

“I’ll-” Alastor’s antlers start to grow.

“You won’t.” Angel Alastor wings rise.

“What makes you think I won’t?”

Angel Alastor walks around the station, fiddling with the buttons, “They care for me…. you care for them… if something were to happen to me, the blame would be put on you…and then they’ll be sad…. you don’t want that, right?” He faces Alastor with his everlasting grin.

Alastor huffs, “You don’t know who you’re messing with…”

“Oh, but I do…. after all I am you.”

“You’re a fake.”

“Ah, ah, ah…. I am you, just from another world, or did you forget?”

“You’re nothing compared to me….”

Angel Alastor laughs.

“Your no Angel, are you?” Alastor grins.

“I am! Just not when it come to something I want… and I want them…”

Alastor laughs, “What a joke!”

“You laugh, but you want the same thing.”

“Maybe I do, but you…. I don’t want you here...” Alastor sneers.

“And I want you gone. You see…. we are similar in same ways….”

“Let me repeat my question ...… do you think you have a chance?”

Angel Alastor puffs his wings out, “Of course I do!”

“You don’t, I know more about them then you ever would in a single lifetime.”

“Is that so?”

“It is so!”

Angel Alastor walks to the door of the station, “We’ll see who they’ll choose…but let me tell you one thing….you won’t win..” Angel Alastor laughs and shuts the door with a slam.

Alastor stares and the door then he suddenly laughs. And laughs, and laughs.

Then he walks towards the windows of his stations and stares out with a sinister grin,

“Let the games begin.”

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Sorry for not posting for a couple of days! I was going to post 3 stories yesterday, but I didn't :P Anyways, more to come!

WordCount: 5573

destinyisastar 2024

[calolily]

A little Xmas gift for @ayvaines with a delightful little short written by Cweepa under the cut.

As the Fasten Seatbelt sign blinks off, Astarion rubs his temples and gets to his feet. Holidays. He hates working through them.

“Look alive,” someone tells him. One of his colleagues, he reckons, but he doesn’t recognise them. This is, after all, a route he doesn’t get rostered into often. He’s only here at a special request. And it’s not too bad. On one hand, it’s a pretty short flight. On the other, it’s long enough to warrant a meal service.

As children and adults alike begin rushing towards the washroom, Astarion side-steps them elegantly and makes his way towards the galley. There, another attendant is already preparing the meal trolley. They hand it off to him with an apologetic look. He’s the unfortunate sod that drew the short straw today. But truthfully, it’s not all that bad. He rolls the cart down the aisle, repeating the same thing over and over;

“Boar or trout?” Most people pick trout. Astarion can’t fathom why, but perhaps that’s because he doesn’t really care for fish. Then again, he doesn’t really care for this particular job. He’s only here because, well –

“Excuse me.” Astarion turns to an elf on the left. She smiles at him. “Is the trout option meat-free?” He closes his eyes. Opens them, a strained smile on his face.

“No, but if you require a vegetarian option, we do have Blackbark soup.” It’s a dietary request that he’s certain this passenger had not stated prior, but it’s fine. That’s why they have spares.

She nods. “I’ll take that.” And that should be end of it, except when he’s circling back, she snaps her fingers at him. As though he’s a bloody hound. He inhales deeply.

“Yes, ma’am?” “This tastes like meat.” “I assure you, there is no meat in there. It’s made with tree bark.” She’s insistent. “It tastes like a beef stew.” To his annoyance, she’s lifting up the tray and shoving it at him. Soup slops precariously over the edge. He ducks away on instinct.

“Ma’am, please put the tray table down.” She pushes it at him again.

“I don’t think so.” Astarion allows his eyes to dart to the ceiling as he mutters a silent prayer. Forcing a smile onto his face, he leans in close.

“If this is not your liking, I’m sure we can find something else for you to eat.” His gaze flickers down to the metal tray. The implication behind his words is clear.

She settles back in her seat, nose scrunched. But at least she goes back to eating her stew. Sighing, Astarion returns to the galley, where he spends a few peaceful moments cleaning the trolley. That is, until someone begins jabbing at the call button.

The sight that greets him has him contemplating jumping off the plane and into the ocean below. A dragonborn stares at him challengingly.

“Ma’am,” he says, eye twitching imperceptibly.“Please take your feet off the headrest.”

She sniffs at him. “I don’t think I will.” He’s losing his patience, alongside his brain function, because he’s half-holding his breath to stop himself from smelling anything he doesn’t wish to.

“Ma’am, this is not only unsanitary, but you’re disrupting the experience of your fellow passengers. That’s someone else’s headrest you’re using as a footstep.” All gets in return is an audible gasp.

“Are you questioning my personal hygiene?” Astarion stares at her blankly. He can’t help himself.

“It’s a foot.” That should be self-explanatory. Thankfully, he’s saved by the senior attendant in his ear. She tells him to begin collecting the trays. Oh, joy.

The hours tick by in a blur of tantrums – both from babies and adults alike. He catches countless passengers attempting to have a covert cigarette in the bathroom, right beneath the giant NO SMOKING sign.

Someone attempts to hit him with a tray. Ten more try to hit on him. A scandalised mother gets into an altercation with an enraged passenger when her child refuses to stop screaming.

All of Astarion’s limited sympathy flies out the window when he finds out that said child is a bloody teenager. An actual orcish child tries to toss a cup at him. Two seats down, a middle-aged tiefling catches said cup and tries to tuck it into their duffel. Astarion doesn’t care. If they want a souvenir from this blasted flight so badly, they can take it.

He’s barely made his way up the aisle when someone else grabs his sleeve. He’s about to snap at them for touching him, when the woman in question raises a finger to her lips and gestures for him to lean in close.

“I think that couple over there is …” Her voice trails off. Astarion follows her pointed finger and fights the urge to groan out loud. He makes his way across the aisle.

“Sir, ma’am,” he begins. They both look up with varying levels of guilt. “I do hope you know that joining the mile-high club really isn’t as impressive an achievement as the movies make it out to be.” He pauses and narrows his eyes. “Not that you’d be inaugurated there anytime soon. I’ve seen more enthusiasm in wildlife documentaries.” Ignoring their sputtered excuses, Astarion stomps away.

The relief he feels is immense.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Astarion ducks into the galley for a moment. It’s thankfully empty. He runs trembling hands along his hair, trying to smooth it back into place for disembarkation.

“Astarion.”

He looks up, a polite service-smile already straining the too-dry skin of his face. A moment of peace amidst this madhouse is immeasurably precious. He’s this close to cracking, his temples radiating with a growing pain that is becoming increasingly hard to ignore.

His shoulders slump visibly as a familiar face appears in his field of vision: solid arms outstretched, faint circles beneath his eyes, but his bearded jaw curved upwards in an unmistakable grin. The tension from the flight leaves him immediately.

And for the first time that day, Astarion smiles back.

Holidays.

He hates working through them, but really, it’s not all that bad when your husband is the one flying the plane

[loverslantern]

Mirror- Dean Winchester x f! reader oneshot

Description: Reader doesn’t feel pretty so Dean tries to show her what he sees in the way he knows best: praise.

Warnings: It’s hot and heavy in here, inherently sexual but nothing happens, manhandling?, praise

Word count: 2k

Note: This is not only my first time writing something like this but also my first time writing something not related to The Hunter and The Witch series so please leave feedback!

  I catch my reflection on the screen of my laptop and groan. My face looks weird today. It’s just one of those days where I just couldn’t feel…pretty or nice or any other adjective. It shouldn’t matter now when I’m alone in my motel room and researching for the next hunt. There’s no one to impress in the desolate room other than the four beige walls and a creaky bed. 

  It shouldn’t matter. To be fair it shouldn’t matter in general when beauty is an objective concept, and yet it does. I do not know the psychology behind it, maybe it’s a biological thing as animals would choose the mate that’s more appealing or strong to have offspring that can survive. I shake my head, ridding myself of the thought. This would just spiral into a psychological analysis that would only make me think of it further rather than ignore it. 

  It’s an obsessive thing, isn’t it?

  Either way, I don’t like the way I look today. I couldn’t get my hair to look just right this morning and I tried so many up-do’s that my arms got sore. It still didn’t look right, so I left it down. 

  And my face just looks wrong. Maybe my eyes are too big or too small in proportion to the rest of my face. Or, maybe my jawline is too soft, perhaps I’m not rough enough. Perhaps I’m too rough. Somehow, every possible thing feels true. 

  I groan again, leaning my head back against the headboard of the bed, and squeeze my eyes shut as if it will get rid of it all. I’m meant to be focused on research. It was supposed to help. But stupid screens and their stupid reflections.

  The jingle of keys forces my eyes open, my eyes landing on my door as it clicks open. “Hey, sweetheart,” Dean greets, casually inviting himself in. 

  “Hi,” I breathe. I suppose the consequence of giving someone a spare key is that they will use said key. But, I’m not that bad of a thing considering it’s Dean who’s walking in. “I’m gonna head to a bar, you in?”

  “Eh,” I answer. “You go ahead. ‘Not feeling it tonight.”

  He eyes me for a moment, squinting just slightly. “Not even as an excuse to dress up and listen to music?” he pushes. “‘My treat.” Of course, his treat meant a fake card or money he got from hustling. But, god the way he smiles and holds his hands up as he tries to convince me is cuter than it should be. “Sorry, Dean,” I say despite the sight, “Just not feeling it.”

  His shoulders and smile drop, “Come on I’ll buy you as much (favorite drink) as you want.”

  “You can go without me you know?” I point out as he saunters over to the bed and plops himself down. “We both know you’re gonna be leaving with some random girl anyway.” 

  He rolls his eyes as he leans back on his elbows, his black shirt flexing against his muscles. He knows I’m right. “I thought Sam was the nerd,” he comments, ignoring what I said by lifting my laptop off my lap and discarding it in the empty space next to him. “Why don’t you wanna go out? ‘You feeling okay?” he asks and for a moment as his eyes scan my face, I can see the concern pass through them. 

  “Oh, I’m fine,” I insist, trying to be as convincing as possible. Yet, he sees right through me, giving me a pointed look. He’s hard to lie to. I break, shaking my head, “Fine. I just…I don’t feel pretty today so I don’t really wanna go out.”

  His eyebrows raise, his lips parting a bit as if that’s the last thing he expected me to say. “You?”

  My eyebrows furrow, head tilting in confusion, “….Yeah….” Who else?

  He studies my face again and I worry he’ll see what I’m seeing. He’ll see I’m not pretty. His features soften regardless. “Come with me,” he announces, gesturing a hand to follow as he gets up from the bed. I don’t listen, giving him a confused and cautious look. “Come on,” he insists, his voice firm. 

  I hold back my sigh as I stand from the bed. I almost didn’t want to know what he had in store. But, he doesn’t leave me with much choice but to turn back as he takes hold of my hand. His hand is big and warm as it envelopes mine, butterflies erupting in my gut at the simple touch.

  He leads me into the bathroom, his hand leaving mine to travel up my arms and to my shoulders, positioning me in front of the mirror. My hips press against the sink, his hands on my upper arms and his body close behind mine. He nearly looms over me with his tall stature, his head and eyes tilted a little down as he uses the mirror to meet my eyes. “Don’t look at me. Look at yourself,” he directs. But my eyes linger on him, on his pretty green eyes, sharp sculptured jaw, and his straight nose. His fingers tap against the skin of my upper arm, “Come on,” he encourages, his voice a little gravely. 

  I give in. He makes it so easy to give in. I pull my eyes from him and land on myself. A frown pulls on my lips as my eyes jump around my features, even my frown looks wrong. He squeezes my arms, gaining my attention back in the same second my gut lurches. “Uh-uh,” he hums. “Eyes back on you, baby.”

  Jesus. 

  Again, I force my eyes away and I can feel his burning gaze on me. “What do you see?” he asks. I scuff and roll my eyes, “Dean, I’m not—“

  His hands rub up and down my upper arms. “Just—what do you see?”

  I bite on my bottom lip. I look unamused. That’s what I’m seeing. I sigh, trying to humor him. “Myself,” I answer plainly.

  He tuts, “Not what I meant, sweetheart. What do you see that you don’t like?”

  Everything. That seems like an appropriate answer. But I can’t just say that and I don’t. I hardly want to share what I feel when it’s hard to put words to it. “How about this?” he says, his head dipping down to occupy the space by my neck, putting himself closer to my level than far above me. “I like your smile,” he admits, his voice so soft it’s like a rough whisper. “I like when you smile at me…” he squeezes my arms, “like I’m damn important.”

  “You ar—“

  “Uh-uh,” he hums again. “This is about you, baby.” 

  One of his hands drifts upwards, the muscles in his forearm flexing. The sight is nearly intoxicating as I watch it move in the mirror, resting at the base of my neck as he stands to his height again. His thumb brushes back and forth against my collarbone, his eyes downturned to his movements. “Keep watching yourself,” he reminds me. I hadn’t realized I was watching him but could you blame me?

  He presses me back against him, his body solid and warm. I wonder if he can feel the increase in my heart rate. “And your skin…always so smooth. Hardly any scars.” He presses down on the base of my neck, encouraging my head to lean back against his chest. My breath hitches.

  “Shows how careful you are, yeah?” I can almost feel his warm breath as clearly as I can feel my heart beating against my ribs. “You a careful girl?” His gaze is burning as it travels down me. “Yeah…” he drawls, eyes traveling back up. “You are.” His thumb taps once against my collarbone, reminding me to keep my eyes on myself which seems like an impossible feat now. “There you go,” he praises, his voice low. 

My skin feels warm. My everything feels warm as if I am a furnace with the sole purpose of burning and he stokes the fire, poking at it, adding wood to keep it going. 

“Those eyes,” he mumbles, and I can feel the rumble in his chest as the words protrude from his lips. “‘Damn pretty eyes. Then you give me that look…fuck.”

  My eyes flick to his, something burning deep within my gut. He doesn’t scorn me for looking away from myself. “Yeah…” he whispers, eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “That look right there. Eyes all big, your lips parted just a little.” His hand drifts up from my neck, gracing my jaw. His thumb presses on my bottom lip. “So pretty…” he mumbles. “‘Don’t know what you aren’t seeing. Can you look at yourself again baby?” 

  I do as told and my knees feel wobbly with the heat that pools within. It’s the sight of him rather than me. The sight of him practically playing with me. “Want you to know how pretty you are,” he mumbles. “How good you are. God, you’re so good.”

  His thumb is a little wet as it slips from my lip onto my chin and my neck. His lidded eyes watch the slight mess he makes, his breath a little shallower. He hums, his chest rumbling with it. “Do you know what I think?” he asks.

  “What?” I answer the single word sounding like a sigh. My eyes drop to my lips in the mirror, my bottom lip coated in a thin layer of my own saliva like a coat of lip gloss. My breasts press against my tank top, seemingly wanting to spill over with each shallow breath. The soft swells of skin peeking from the neckline. His hands drop to my hips, pushing me forward until they’re pressing into the sink with a force that knocks me forward a little, a gasp escaping my lips. I grip the sides of the sink to catch myself. His fingers press into my hips as he holds me firmly. His body looms over me as his eyes take in my bent-over form. Those stunning green eyes that usually resemble the greenery of a forest when the sun is shining through the canopy of leaves just right, now a darkened green like the parts of the forest the sun can’t reach. 

  His hands massage my hips roughly, pushing them forward before drawing them back. His eyes are downturned to the movement, his mouth parted a little in the same manner mine is. My breath is quicker, and my heart is pounding in my chest like it’s trying to escape the space behind my ribs. “What’d I say about keeping your eyes on yourself?” He says roughly despite his own distraction. I swallow roughly, forcing my eyes back on myself for the umpteenth time.   

  He continues his actions, eyes burning into my hips and my ass like nothing else matters. “I think…” he starts, circling back to answer the question he asked me before, one I forgot about. “I think it should be sinful,” the word is like a purr coming from his lips, “to look this good. To be so fucking pretty.” It should be ironic coming from him but why would he go through all this trouble, all this guiding, pushing, pressing to convince me of something he didn’t believe in? And I can see it. I can see it, through the fog of a bad day, exactly what he’s seeing, or at least part of it. 

  “Are you seeing it?” he asks in a low voice as if he saw the change in my eyes. “Yeah,” I breathe, nodding, “Yes, I see it.”

  “Good,” he answers firmly, and yet I can hear the cocky smile that no doubt threatens his lips. Then, his hand circles around the back of my neck, tangling into my hair. He squeezes just once before he’s guiding me up, straightening me out ‘till I’m standing straight again. I spin in his hold, his large hands immediately going to my hips to keep me pressed into the sink. His eyes meet mine, something written in his irises that I can’t decipher. Then, they drop to my lips and then to my chest, that cocky smile finally making its appearance as his eyes drag back up to my lips. “Where’d you learn that?” I ask.

  His smile widens as he answers, “You don’t wanna know.”

[lady-pug]

The Ballad of Green Snakes and Honey Badgers

Chapter I - Wherever We Go, A Hundred Eyes Follow

Summary: Aemond seeks you out so you can go on your first study "date" together, but you have yet to speak to Oscar about what happened the previous night and the agreement you made. But as things go better than expected, you might just end up attracting more attention than you'd prefer

Pairing: Slytherin!Aemond Targaryen x Hufflepuff!Tully!Reader

Word count: 3,4k

Warnings: none

Notes: Oof, okay here we are, finally! I wanted to get this done sooner but got caught up in a lot of stuff and ended up writing quite slowly, BUT I did manage to get it out before the year ended so that is that.

I’m quite excited for this story, and have quite a bunch of ideas for where I’m going with this. The only thing I think is worth adding in terms of additional context for this chapter is that I decided to keep the fact that the Targaryens are dragonlords and can ride dragons. But because of that I cannot add any dragons to the Tournament Tasks, as it would be seen as unfair and possibly count as an advantage to Aemond.

Anyway, as always, if you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I’ll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it, happy holidays, and I’ll see you all next year! Enjoy!

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You were fucked. There was no sugarcoating it. You were absolutely fucked.

After Aemond had left the library, leaving you behind to pick your jaw off the floor, you headed straight to the Hufflepuff common room. You were determined to tell Oscar everything that had happened down to a T, but you took one look at him, staring at you with that sweet and hopeful gaze and immediately chickened out, opting to quickly retreat to the girls dorm where he couldn’t reach you.

And now as you headed for breakfast you knew you should have told him. You had agreed to breakfast with Aemond, which meant he would come find you and Oscar would find out you had agreed to Aemond’s stupid plan when you had promised him you wouldn’t. Perhaps it would be easier to search for Aemond directly at the Slytherin table, that way you could stave off the inevitable conversation you would need to have with your brother. 

But he was nowhere to be found. Not at the Slytherin table, nor those of the other houses. Not even near the professor’s table where he would sometimes walk up to in order to strike up conversation with one professor or another (what they talked about was beyond you, no matter how curious it made you). He was absolutely nowhere to be seen, throwing a wrench in your plans to intercept him before he could find you.

Resigned, you walked slowly to the Gryffindor table where Davos and your brothers were already seated. Considering that both Cregan and Alysanne were also seated at their house’s table, quite a few seats down from the three boys, you suspected Kermit and Davos had chosen to seat there for your sake, to simultaneously keep the couple out of your sight and avoid a situation like the night before but also not to force you to stay within close proximity of them. You were thankful really, while Cregan was not the first thing on your mind at the moment it still stung to see them being happy together.

“Hey!” Kermit greeted you, his mouth full of sausage “How are you on this fine morning?”

You knew he was trying to divert your attention from some people, and while it wasn’t entirely working, you were grateful for his attempt, for him. For all of them.

“Eh,” you shrugged trying to appear nonchalant while taking a seat across from him and Kermit “could be better.”

Oscar waited until you were comfortable next to him and had already filled up your plate before leaning ever closer to you.

“So, how was it?” he spoke, his voice low.

“How was what?”

Oscar scoffed, a deadpan stare thrown your way.

“You know, the whole thing with Targaryen?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, fear gripping at it as you pondered your answer. Oscar was going to be so disappointed when he found out. God, you didn’t want to lose the respect of one of the few people who you had left. You sighed, deciding it was better to tell him now than let him figure it out on his own later.

“Uhm, actually-” you started, but it seemed the universe had other plans.

“Lads,” Aemond’s voice cut you off, your name rolling smoothly off his tongue before pointing to the spot on the bench next to you “is this seat taken?”

He didn’t even wait for an answer, already sliding in next to you way closer than necessary as the boys stared at him flabbergasted, their jaws dropping. Oscar was the only one who got over his surprise quickly, his eyes narrowing in your direction in a way you could practically see the cogs turning in his mind.

“Targaryen.” Kermit greeted coldly “You seem a bit lost, the snakes’ table is over there.” 

“Tully,” Aemond answered in kind, although his tone carried less venom in comparison “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

“And what could you possibly want here?” Davos chimed in.

Through their whole exchange you couldn’t properly focus, the feeling of Aemond sitting way too close to you pulling your attention away from the conversation at hand. His leg was flush with yours on the bench, the entire length of his thigh pressed against yours and his shoulder bumping into your own pulling your whole focus towards him.

“We are heading to Professor Orwyle’s class then we are going to study together.” your attention was pulled back into focus as Aemond said your name.

“You two? Study together?” Oscar was still more skeptical than Kermit and Davos.

“Yes,” the Slytheirn boy shrugged, nonchalantly, and for a moment you feared he was going to reveal your whole ruse but he surprised you even further “I promised to help her with her History of Magic studies and, in turn, she’ll help me brainstorm ideas for the first task of the Tournament.” 

Oscar seemed unconvinced but let it slide in favor of eating his breakfast in peace, but one glare from him in your direction let you know that you had a lot of explaining to do later on. Your twin and your cousin seemed to get distracted by the mention of the Triwizard Tournament, starting to animatedly argue about past editions (or, in Kermit’s case, sulk, as he had applied for the Tournament and eventually lost the role of Hogwarts’ champion to Aemond, something he was still somewhat resentful about).

You tried going back to your breakfast, hell bent on not attracting any more attention back to yourself and your current incredibly awkward situation, but that quickly went out the window when Aemond leaned even closer to you, his breath fanning your ear.

“It seems Stark and his new girl are staring.” he whispered, and you could tell from his voice alone that his lips were turned up in a smirk.

And true to his word, both Cregan and Alysanne were staring at your little group, more specifically you and Aemond. Alysanne seemed a little weirded out by the whole exchange, but ultimately shrugged, going back to her cuppa. Cregan on the other hand looked positively bothered by the sight, his eyes narrowing even further as Aemond cheekily bumped his shoulder against yours, as if he had simply whispered a funny joke to you.

As much as you loathed to admit, and even though it went completely against what you had told Aemond last night, a bittersweet satisfaction started growing in your chest at the reaction you elicited from your ex-boyfriend. While you didn’t wish to make him jealous, you truly wanted nothing to do with the guy anymore, you didn’t mind shoving in his face that you had already moved on from him, that his actions didn’t bother you at all (even though in reality they did). 

“I would say our little… plan is already working, don’t you agree?” Aemond continued whispering, his warm breath tickling your ear.

You hummed in agreement, finishing the rest of your breakfast in silence. You’d occasionally see Oscar glancing at you quizzically from the corner of your eye but he didn’t say anything else. You felt awful hiding things from him, but what could you do? Come clean to your brothers and cousin and just hope the rest of the Gryffindor table simply didn’t hear a thing? No, the less people knew your little stunt with Aemond was a ruse the better. You’d tell him later that night.

After you were both done eating, Aemond pulled you up and out of the Great Hall, regardless if your brother Kermit, who was usually your partner for Potions class, wasn’t finished yet.   

“I’m sure he can partner up with Bracken for today’s class, can’t you Tully?” he asked, knowing full well your brother truly disliked Aeron on behalf of Davos.

You felt eyes on you all the way down to the dungeons; people from every house were staring at the two of you, the way Aemond’s palm rested on you just shy of the small of your back, pushing, no, guiding you forward. If this was an indicative of a pattern that would remain present the rest of your time together, you just knew it was going to be a long day.

It was, indeed, a long day. 

During Professor Orwyle’s class the hairs on the back of your neck refused to go back to their usual position, a prickling sensation on the back of your mind telling you everyone was staring at you. And it wasn’t just your self-consciousness making things up in your head: more than once you caught another student glancing your way, quickly averting their gaze once they realized they’d been caught. The only one who was brave enough to keep on staring even after being noticed was Maris Baratheon, and by the glint in her eye you simply knew it couldn’t mean anything good. 

You couldn’t shake the uneasiness that being in the spotlight brought you. And Aemond? He didn’t seem to give a flying fuck.

“Stop fidgeting,” he said, completely unbothered as he led you through the hallways towards the library. The walk had been made even longer than usual for he had to take a detour to grab something from the Slytherin common room, giving other students ample opportunity to continue their scrutiny.

“Everyone is looking at us.” you spoke, voice lowered to try not to attract more attention to yourself.

“No, they aren’t.” he said, walking between rows of bookshelves and collecting an assortment of different books.

“Yes, they are!” you said in an exasperated whisper, trying to keep your voice down in order to not attract any attention from Professor Strong, the librarian (though rumor has it his true ambition was taking over the Defense Against the Dark Arts class over his brother).

“Then just don’t mind them.” he shrugged, turning around towards you and placing the ever growing pile of books on your arms with a sigh “Look, let them stare. The more people see us together, the more believable it becomes. Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

No, that’s what you wanted! you thought, but given your feelings towards Cregan’s reaction this morning you knew he was right.

“Now stop worrying and go find us a table, I’ll be there in a second.” he was off before you could question him further, leaving you to carry the books to the nearest table.

Aemond returned quickly enough, carrying yet another book with him. This one though was unlike any you had ever seen before, its hardcover weathered, either from old age or from excessive use you couldn’t tell.

“What is that?” you nodded towards his hands.

He placed the tome on the table as he sat down in front of you, staring at you quizzically.

“A book?” 

“I’m not stupid, dragonbrain, I know it’s a book!” you snapped at him, offended “I just meant which book.”

He hummed, amused at your snippiness, and pushed the book towards you.

‘Secrets Of The Dark Arts And How To Spot Them, by Archmaester Gyldayn.’ the cover read, and something dawned on you.

“This is from the Restricted Section.” you stated, to which he hummed in agreement, not bothering with a verbal response “How did you even get this?”

Aemond stared at you then, really stared at you, his one good eye settling on your face with such an intensity you had to look away. Something in the way he looked at you intimidated you now, whereas in the past, before, you felt safe under his gaze. Seen.

“I asked Mister Strong to open the Restricted Section for me.” he said casually, breaking his intense stare to flip over the pages of one of the other books he had selected.

“And he did? Just like that?”

His lips curled in the tiniest of smirks, but something about it felt… wrong. Bitter almost.

“The perks of dating his much younger step-sister I guess.” 

Ah. 

That made sense. You always suspected Alys Rivers was related to Professors Harwin and Larys Strong, but could never make the connection. 

“Okay,” he stopped flipping the book, seemingly having found the page he was looking for. You weren’t going to probe any further, but if you had any intentions to, this was his way of signaling the previous conversation was over “We’ll start from the beginning.”

Glancing at the open book he turned towards you, you caught a glimpse of a familiar painting, three white-haired siblings atop their dragons with their wands raised.

“The Conquest?” you questioned, pulling the book from his hands “That’s First Year material.” 

“I know, but it’ll be easier to catch up on the more recent content if you have a stronger base.” he explained, and although all he was saying made sense, it still vexed you somewhat.

“But I already know all of this!” you whined, immediately regretting it, for it made you feel childish. Once upon a time you had been sure he wouldn’t judge you for such a thing, but now? You barely knew him anymore.

“I know for a fact you doze off in almost all of Professor Mello’s classes.” he replied, smugly. 

Something weird, a feeling you couldn’t quite place, stirred in your chest at the thought of him noticing you in class, but you quickly brushed it off.

“I didn’t pick this up from Mello’s class.” you countered, and his face fell for a moment.

Your summers leading up to your First Year were more often than not spent in the Targaryen’s household. At the time you were quite close with two of the white-haired siblings, Aegon considering himself too old for your childish antics and Daeron too young to join in yet. At the time you’d even go as far as to call Aemond your best friend, before Helaena inevitably took the title after… everything. Back then, he’d spend his days showing you paintings and illustrations of his ancestors, of Aegon I and his sister-wifes arriving from Old Valyria and founding Westeros as it was known today. Although the Targaryen family lost a lot of their former glory (even though they remained quite influential still), it was clear Aemond was proud of his roots, a glint in his eye whenever he mentioned most people from his bloodline.

He grew silent, as he couldn’t deny what you were saying. You wondered if you were wrong to bring this up, for you felt incredibly unprepared to open this specific can of worms right now, but it seemed the feeling was mutual, as he grabbed the book from your hands and propped it up on the table, the pages facing him so you wouldn’t peek.

“Alright then. If you say you already know all of this,” he smirked once more, and you started rethinking your choices leading up to this moment “how about a pop quiz?”

It wasn’t as bad as you were expecting. You managed to get through the whole of The Conquest without fumbling, all the way to when Aegon defeated the dark wizard Harren the Black in his castle, Harrenhal (which some believe was demolished, and Hogwarts was built on top of its ruins). After that point, though, the details started getting a little confusing, your mind jumbling dates and locations into an incomprehensible mess inside your head. Aemond then promised to help you study from then on out, little by little, three times a week.

“We have till the end of the year to turn you into a History of Magic expert,” he had said.

“Till Christmas, you mean.” you pointed out, remembering your previous agreement, to which he shrugged, humming a ‘whatever you say’ under his breath.

You started collecting your things, but paused when he didn’t follow suit, only picking up another book from the pile. Herbology.

“That’s certainly… an interesting selection.” you commented, only now noticing the different subjects all the books covered.

“I have some research to do.” he said, not taking his eyes off the page.

Something he had said earlier came to the front of your mind.

“She’ll help me brainstorm ideas for the first task of the tournament.” 

“Is it about the first task?” you questioned, genuinely curious.

He hummed in agreement.

“Do you have any idea what it will be about?”

He shook his head with a sigh, finally looking up at you.

“I do have a hunch, but it’s fickle. A hypothesis really.”

“Do you need any help ‘brainstorming ideas’?” you quoted him.

He chuckled, amused. 

“Next time perhaps. You did well today, you deserve your rest.” your cheeks felt warm under the praise, and you had to look away from him for a moment “But I will be taking you up on that offer. If I remember correctly, you used to be quite good at solving puzzles.”

It was strange, really, how much he still knew about you even after so long without speaking to one another. You’d have to get used to it again.

After saying your goodbyes you headed back to the Hufflepuff common room, a light feeling in your chest. The ‘study date’ had gone well, not at all as bad as you had predicted it would be, unashamed stares from other students aside. But then a cold, bitter guilt replaced that nice feeling, damping your mood slightly.

You had to tell Oscar. He deserved to know.

Feeling determined, then, you entered the common room, resolute in looking for your brother. But, (un)fortunately, you didn’t have to look very far, for you found him sitting in one of the couches facing the entrance of the common room, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face.

“How was your study date with Aemond Targareyn?” he questioned, his voice hard.

Panicking, you gripped his upper arm, not minding his yelps of pain as you pulled him to a distant corner, away from the other students.

“It wasn’t a date.” you hissed.

“No?” his voice held a hint of sarcasm “Because Kermit said you two were awfully close in class-” 

“It wasn’t a real study date.” you interrupted him, keeping your voice down and mentioning for him to do the same.

“How so?” he still seemed mad, but at least now he was whispering as well “You just pretended to study?”

“No, the studying part was real.” you averted your eyes from him, scratching the back of your neck in embarrassment “It was the date part that was fake.”

“Again, how so?”

Time to come clean.

“Yesterday Aemond asked me to…” it sounded stupid now that you said it outloud “pretend we’re going out together. And it will culminate in me being his date to the Yule Ball.”

“What?!” he squeaked, and you shushed him, worried about people overhearing your conversation “So he wants you to be his pretend girlfriend?” 

“Something like that, yeah.”

“And you agreed?!” 

“I panicked, alright?!” you already felt stupid enough about your decisions without him scolding you like a child.

“What does he even get out of this?” he asked, exasperated “And what about Alys Rivers?”

“His admirers backing off, I think. And apparently they broke up over summer.” his jaw dropped “I know, surprised me too.”

His face softened a fraction, finally getting over the shock.

“And what’s in it for you?” his tone dripped concern, and you felt your heart clenching with love for your younger brother.

“I-I’m not sure, exactly. To show Cregan I’m no longer hung up on him? To prove to people I’m not pathetic?”

“You are not pathetic.”

“Sometimes feels like I am.” you shrinked into yourself a bit “You know how much it hurt.”

Oh, he knew. He was the one who found you after you had read Cregan’s letter, curled into a ball on your bed, clutching the roll of parchment to your chest as tears steadily ran down your cheeks. 

“I know.” he placed a gentle hand on your arm “But do you think this is a good idea? This is Aemond Targaryen we’re talking about.”

You smiled at his worried face, ruffling his hair.

“I can look after myself, you know.” you grinned at the grimace that covered his face as he tried to fix the mess that you had made of his locks “It wasn’t all that bad today. And besides, it’s only until Christmas.”

He still seemed hesitant, but slowly nodded.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful with him.”

Your grin softened, pulling him in for a comforting hug.

“I promise.”

He squeezed you back and you knew everything would turn out okay in the end. You just had to endure it until Christmas. 

Right?

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