#(grimaces in 'winter' and 'stress') | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kiame-sama · 6 months ago

Text

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Reader) Monster AU pt 17

(Naga Jamil has a tendency to coil up during classes, usually sitting by windows and anywhere sunny so he can keep his reptile half warm. He is technically warm-blooded, but it does take a large amount of food and magical ability to keep the snake half warm, so he will take the sunlight's assistance whenever available. During the winter, Jamil can often be found curled up in Scarabia in the sun-warmed sands or coiled around heaters for the warmth during classes.)

Warnings: Monsterverse TWST, yandere, multiple yanderes, platonic yanderes, romantic yanderes, violence, stressful meetings, protective behavior, obsessive behavior, cruelty, somewhat brat!reader, slight violence, fem pronouned reader, redemption, backhanded comments, Nemean Lions, Hellcat, Shinigami, Cervitaur, Dragons, Vampire bat, Harpies, Drider, Toad, Rat,

~~~~~~~~

Cheka smiled and happily ate the plentiful food in front of him, sitting side by side with Grim as they feasted. You decided to have an early lunch seeing as you were going to be busy around actual lunch time. It made you happy to see Grim wasn't being aggressive towards Cheka anymore and Ortho was happy to keep the cub entertained.

Naturally, you made a simple sandwich that Silver could easily replicate as the Cervitaur was keen to help you in the kitchen especially due to your leg. Despite how you wanted to walk around and even make something complicated like fried chicken- that new deep fryer Idia made was calling to you- Malleus was keen to keep you off of your leg. It was likely a result of the diligent guarding of the dragon that your leg began to stop hurting, feeling much better than it had since you were stabbed.

All you really needed to do was wait until the actual noon hour rolled around for your fated meeting of the representatives, but you were free until then. As you watched your two young charges eat and play together, a faint cool breeze on the back of your neck had you turning to look at your company. Malleus stood with you, his tail holding you up a little above where you would stand and taking the majority of the weight off your leg. He had insisted on giving Silver a break and seemed content to just hold you.

Rook and Vil were going to be stopping by soon, wanting to choose the outfit you would wear to this deciding of fates. They were actually surprised to hear that the representatives could potentially take you away and were determined to do everything they could to stop that outcome. It seemed like everyone you spoke to about the upcoming event was of a similar mind, even Riddle swore to appear before the group to plead your case.

"You seem so happy with your cubs, (Y/n)."

"Well, Cheka isn't mine to keep, but he is a sweet boy. And of course I'm happy to see him and Grim getting along."

"I am glad. I feel much of the same when I am among my Hoard."

A slight grimace pulled at the Dragon's smile and you frowned in response. Something was clearly bothering him.

"Tsuno?"

"I don't wish to lose any member of my Hoard, yourself included. Twice I have come close to facing that reality, and twice I have been late to defend you. The Ancient One has given me excellent council that I hope to heed, and with Lilia's guidance, I have decided to bestow a blessing upon you."

"What kind of blessing?"

Malleus held up a clawed hand, shadows seeming to be drawn to the space above it and almost seemed to condense into a physical object suspended in space. The item looked like one of the magestones that the other sudents carried around on their weapons, only somewhat different. It was a bright green crystal ball that sat encased in black metal akin to briar thorns, the top of the bauble making a loop that could easily connect to the upgraded tracking collar you now wore.

"This," Malleus started, letting you observe the interesting summoned item, "is something I hold quite dear to me. It is a twin to the magestone I now use. It belonged to my mother, both stones passed into Lilia's care along with my egg before she... It means a lot to Briar Valley. It means a lot to me. Only a Dragon of my lineage can wield the unruly wild magic it contains. I have considered and agonized over ways to keep you safe, now I can do exactly that. So long as you carry it with you, I am only a breath away. Speak my name, my full name, and it will bring me to your aid."

"Tsuno, I... I don't know if I can accept this. If it means so much to you, I would be consumed with guilt should anything happen to it."

"Just as I would be consumed with guilt if anything happened to you. Indulge me, (Y/n), and wear it proudly. You are always under threat and I can't always be there. Let me be your protector and call upon me when you need me. Call me to your side even when your life isn't at risk, I adore our conversations. Allow me protect what matters to me."

This was clearly something vitally important to Malleus, so you didn't fight the Dragon further on the matter. He moved and maneuvered his tail to attach the lovely bauble to your collar, smiling as it gleamed proudly from its spot against your collarbone. It almost felt weightless on your warm skin and you vaguely wondered if it was a result of being a Magestone.

Malleus couldn't help but admire the way it adorned your soft body, drawing his affectionate gaze over your figure. He was being truthful when he said you could call out to him with it, but that was not the only role the gleaming stone played. It was the smaller of a pair of Magestones and the larger partner was always with Malleus at all times. He could now keep his eyes on you even from a distance, the pair of Magestones working as a viewing glass. On top of the added benefit of checking in on you, Malleus could now slowly begin feeding his own magic into it and you.

He took to heart the wise words of his trusted friend and advisor, Lilia, and decided to try and begin the process of extending your life. It would take time and patience on his part, but once it was ready and charged enough with his magic, your life would last as long as his own. Naturally, he wanted your approval before taking such a drastic measure, but he did not wish to live without his most precious treasure. Even Lilia would one day die before the great Dragon, he did not wish the same fate for you.

He recognized that you may see it as too much or may be upset that he acted in selfishness, but Malleus already lost so much to this world. His mother. His father. The Dragon refused to lose you too. Besides, he was certain you would carry the next generation of Draconia and he wanted you to be there to see your young grow and mature. It took almost 30 years for a Fae infant to even begin walking, let alone the slow aging Dragon Fae. If you were to carry his young, Lilia's young, and possibly even Silver or Sebek's young, you would need a long life to support those children with your ever loving and compassionate heart. He refused to let his hatchlings grow up without a mother.

"It looks stunning on you, (Y/n)."

"Are you sure about this, Tsuno? I'm still worried something may happen-"

"Enough. If I was not sure, I would not have gifted it to you. You have already given me so much, allow this Dragon to guard the treasures he values."

"Alright. It isn't like I'm going to be removing this collar anytime soon... Not unless the representatives decide to take me away."

Malleus frowned deeply at this, a sudden low rumble of lightning sounding overhead. You were surprised to hear the lightning as you had not seen a cloud in the sky earlier. It was while you glanced towards a window that Malleus gently used his hand to draw your gaze back to him.

"They will not take you. They will have to fight me for even thinking they could take you away."

"Malleus?"

"Tsuno. I am quite partial to the name you have gifted me regardless of how flippant the act may have been in the moment, I would rather you use it."

"Tsuno," you glanced from his serious expression to the rolling storm that appeared outside, "are you the one who has been summoning the lightning?"

"Yes. It is a bad habit of mine. My emotions easily impact the weather and even directly control it at times. Lightning tends to come about with my anger. Snow often comes forth with my sorrow. My joy usually brings clear skies. I must guard my emotions carefully and control them with a steady mind."

"So the lightning that second night I spent here... The storm that woke me..."

"It was a creation of my emotion. Poachers sought to take you, I refused to let them."

It always surprised you to learn the sheer strength Malleus himself carried as he seemed so gentle with you and Grim. Apparently that gentle disposition did not extend to others outside of his Hoard and it made you vaguely worry about those around you. If Malleus was that powerful, how could anyone stop him if he truly snapped one day? Perhaps that is why Lilia emphasized the calming impact the Hoard had on the Dragon. You were beginning to realize the weight of the duty that had been lain upon your shoulders.

But where did that put Grim? As far as you were concerned Grim was your boy, your child, your cub. If you were part of Malleus' Hoard, did that include Grim as well? Lilia said only Hoard members could enter a nest built by Malleus, and Grim slept in the nest with you and the rest of the Hoard.

"Tsuno, is Grim a member of your Hoard?"

"As your cub, yes. Any you choose to take under your care shall be accepted into my Hoard. I have been more than serious about your standing among the Hoard and how much your happiness matters to me. Grim makes you happy and he has managed to win over the others as well."

"Will you protect him like you protect me?"

"With all the power I have available to me."

~~~~~~~~

You were a little frustrated at the ensemble Vil and Rook insisted on for your meeting with the representatives, feeling like some kind of dress-up doll. Both men had insisted that they be allowed to coordinate your outfit and you gave up trying to fight them on their choices. They took choosing your outfit rather seriously and once they finally agreed on one, you had to let them dress you up in it.

Apparently they weren't the only ones who were keen to keep you in Night Raven. Almost all of the Housewardens and their Vice-Housewardens showed up at your dorm to try and render aid, all except Leona who was oddly absent. Despite how you wanted to ease their concerns and tell them about Papa Hades' willingness to keep the representatives from taking you, you didn't want to disrupt the plan by loudly telling everyone about it. If you were going to be safe in Night Raven College, you had to at least make an attempt to expose the representative that tried to have you killed.

Now it felt almost like you were on a death march, Silver carrying you, Cheka, and Grim to where you were supposed to meet the representatives. You were flanked on either side by Idia, Ortho, and Sebek. Not only did your guarding entourage follow you, but Papa Hades and Malleus walked silently along as well, using a complex mix of invisibility spells and concealment spells to hide their presence. When you asked why they were hiding themselves, Papa Hades said the representative was more likely to act out against you if they didn't know of their presence.

It made sense, so you simply nodded along and let the Shinigami and Dragon do as they wished.

Crowley was holding the meeting in the Hall of Mirrors and your anxiety slowly raised as the Cervitaur walked you to what would be a gathering to decide your fate. If you wanted to have any hope of returning to your home, you would have to stay at Night Raven College. You fell into this monstrous world here, you could escape this world of madness here. All you had to do was root yourself in place and refuse to let the others take you away. Easier said than done.

The doors opened ahead of you as Silver walked you into the room, feeling everyone's eyes landing on you the second you crossed the threshold. It was more than a little unnerving to be the center of such intense attention. That is why you were glad Cheka and Grim were both with you during this. The cub and kit only purred reassuringly as you held onto them much in the way a child would hold to stuffed animals.

"There you are, (Y/n)," Crowley greeted you with a smile despite the fact he knew you were arriving, it was obviously more for the representatives to put a name to their wayward ideas of you being Human, "glad you could join us for this."

"I don't have much of a choice when people demand my time and threaten my peace to satisfy their own curiosity."

Crowley was silent for a moment, privy to the plan that had been put in place but somewhat thrown off by your more than clipped words. He was used to your proclivity to be a bit more goading around him- he did collar you first, after all- but he also knew you were more of a tentatively gentle disposition in most cases. It was odd to him to have you be less than understanding of the situation.

"... Anyway, these are the representatives of Twisted Wonderland. Several have come from the various Kingdoms and Queendoms to confirm you are being treated fairly at Night Raven College. Some are also here to plead their case for why you should be removed from Night Raven College."

You nodded, taking a quick look across the several representatives seated around the large table. There were various types of creatures present and one in particular stood out to you. A man with an orange and golden mane sat proudly at a spot between where you were and the end of the table, his neck, arms, and body adorned with gemstones and golden chains. The resemblance was uncanny.

"Cheka," the little cub looked up at you curiously, "is that Dada?"

He followed your pointing finger to the Lion man who looked caught off guard by you singling him out before his eyes landed on the cub in your arms. There was little to describe how surprised he looked as several representatives began murmuring and talking about the Nemean Lion you held so securely. Cheka was not nearly as thrown off by all of this as the representatives were, a wide and excited smile taking over his features as he began to wiggle in your grasp. His little paws reached out to the older Lion and you were happy to facilitate letting him return to his father.

Though it took more energy and strength than you cared to admit to release the cub, you still placed the young boy on the table and let him scamper away. A vague sadness pulled at your heart as Cheka scrambled past several others to reach his father's arms, purring loudly and cuddling into the surprised man's embrace. Clearly, the lion had not expected such a greeting but took it in stride and held the cub all the same.

"You know," you started, tone somewhat chastising, "Leona may be your brother but he is not- and never will be- a good option for a babysitter. I'm fairly sure you knew that going into this. But, I'm always game to take little Cheka on field trips if you ever need a break from him. He's a sweetheart."

The Lion man seemed somewhat dubious about your offer even as the cub cuddled into his chest and purred at him. If anything, not even Crowley seemed at ease despite how non-threatening the cub actually was. It was this unease that gave a representative- a toad looking man with bugged eyes- the courage to speak.

"No Nemean Lion should ever be allowed near a Human, not even cubs! They slaughtered Humans for food and we all know that Sunset Savana was instrumental in driving the species to extinction-"

"And we all know it happened in the past, long before this current generation of Lions. Are you truly so bogged down by history that you would hold contempt for those who are not directly responsible for the current issue at hand? Or is it simply your own racism against them that makes you speak so confidently about a topic you nor your ancestors were privy to? In fact, I've learned that other species had shown violence in the past to Humans- from Unicorns, to Naga, to Kelpies, even certain Fae- and not only that but disease and greedily hoarding my species as pets played similar roles in the death of Humanity. Can you stay with the utmost confidence that every Human was killed by a Nemean Lion?"

The toad man opened and closed his mouth, unable to respond to your direct accusation with any grace or ability to save face. In some ways, you wondered if you were being too aggressive in your responses, but Papa Hades made your role in this dance very clear. Any representative who pushed their agendas against you should be met with equal or greater pushback from you. Besides, you have been witness to the poor treatment Ruggie and Leona received simply for being born the species they were.

"They- well, they-!"

"Yes or no. Can you say every Human was killed by a Neman Lion?"

"... No."

"My point exactly. Unless you have something truly useful to add to the conversation, maybe it isn't your place to speak at all on the matter."

The man seemed to shrink back into his seet under your gaze, wanting to be anywhere but that room as your ire was clear. His silence was enough reason for you to move on from the conversation, turning to Crowley expectantly to get this 'conference' under way.

"Yes, well, let us continue with assessing her general well-being-"

~•§•~

"-which is why I petition the Human to be put into my care."

It had been at least three hours of listening to the various representatives speak and make their opinions known. Around the midway mark is when you realized it wasn't just representatives, but scientists who were clearly eager to try and test you for more information. You were mostly tolerant of the pressing and curious natures of the scientists, but your tolerance was running low.

Cheka had moved between you and his Dada several times in an effort to keep himself entertained, currently laying in your arms and batting at Silver's uniform. Despite the exciteable cub, no one was willing to reprimand him as it was more than clear you were willing to defend him from them. Even with his interruptions- which were quite welcome given the monotony of the conversations- many had been able to make their opinions and views known without too much infighting.

Few dared to speak openly against one another, especially after you promptly shut down that first toad-man in defense of the Sunset Savana King- Falena Kingscholar- and you were bored to tears. There was only a handful of representatives who had not spoken yet- the representative of Briar Valley being the most prominent- but even those who were more long-winded were losing patience with the man who now spoke.

He was a Rat looking monster that somewhat reminded you of a Gnoll given his twisted pelt stretched over a humanoid skeleton. Since he first started speaking you got a bad feeling from him and the way he seemed to sneer most of his words. You were less than amused with this creature than you figured to be possible and you were bored enough to have a bit of sport at the expense of the clearly proud Rat.

Not only had he been ranting about how 'trustworthy' he was, but he spouted off repeated flashoods. You understood that many in Twisted Wonderland didn't understand Humans and debated what species Humans were, but the Rat spoke down to you like he was doing a favor in 'educating' you with falsehoods and lies. Something you could call intuition told you that this beast was the one who hired the Wolves.

"Tell me again what species you think humans come from?"

"Pigs. Obviously."

"Yeah, well, you're wrong."

"Not possible! I-"

"We're an evolved species of great ape. Not monkey either, we don't have prehensile tails. Ape."

The Rat seemed to try and save face, glancing around at the table before back to you.

"Well, surely a blood sample could prove-"

"Furthermore, this idea of yours that claims Humans frequently consumed their young is just reprehensible. We killed for our young. True, some abandoned them or gave them to others to raise, but to dare suggest such a thing as all Humans eating their children? Absolutely vile."

He choked and tried to speak over you, huffing out the words in indignation. It was clear to you that your pushing and less than approachable behavior was unsettling the supposed 'Human expert' as you called out his falsehoods in front of the other representatives and scientists. Many of the scientists taking notes as you spoke.

"They were theories-"

"And they are wrong. That is not the issue I have right now. My issue is the fact you are trying to argue these things with me- an actual Human- who actually knows about, you guessed it, Humans. A Human who has lived among other Humans for the majority of my life. A literal world of nothing but Humans as the primary sentient species. Do I need to continue?"

The Rat man was glaring at you now and his lip curled upwards to bare his teeth at you. Despite his attempt to look intimidating, you refused to back down or let the Rat-man talk over you. If anything, he looked pathetic instead of frightening. He didn't even seem to notice you reaching up to cover Cheka's ears as he huffed at you.

"You could try to be polite-"

"Polite? When you came in here- the place I call home- and decided you were the expert on my species. Then proceeded to say the most inane bullshit fucking excuse of a theory and dare say I need to be polite when I disagree with your flat nonsense?"

"I have a degree-"

"And I am the 'creature' you claim to study. Not comparable in the slightest. If you're as educated as you claim, you would know that."

The silence that followed was thick and hung oppressively in the air, but you still sat tall and stared the man down. Cheka- whose ears were were covered by your hands- tilted his head curiously at you as he patted at your hands to move so he could hear. You weren't about to let the cub hear your angry cursing or taunting words, keeping your hands in place on his kitten soft rounded Lion ears.

The Rat was not faring well against your words, clearly becoming angry due to how his wormed tail writhed and his fur fluffed. There was a kind of tension in his limbs that made you wonder if he were really about to leap at you. He certainly seemed angry enough to try such a brazen act.

"What's wrong, Mr. 'Overly-Educated'? Lion got your tongue?"

"If only they killed you."

"Excuse you?"

"If only those idiotic hounds killed you. I pay them everything they demand to get rid of you and they had to muck it up! Wasted money and resources-!"

His voice caught in his throat as he seemed to realize the situation he just put himself in. Some of the representatives were shocked and some just seemed angry. All of them were staring at the Rat. When it seemed like he was about to back track on his words, you decided to be more than a little spiteful and threw in a light jab just to add salt to the wound.

"Go on. You were so confident before, did you run out of all that bought power and bullshit, or did you just realize how out of your depth you truly are?"

Only a singular eye-twitch told you what was coming as he threw himself across the table, his main goal being to maim and injure you however possible. He didn't even get close enough for Silver to respond before he was flying back the direction he came. Materializing out of the air was a familiar grayish-blue hand of a more than intimidating entity standing at your back. Even the Rat, who was trying to pull himself to his feet, flinched upon seeing the smoldering fury of the elder Shinigami behind you.

"Want to try that again, or have you realized the extent to which you've fucked up?"

"I'll kill you-!"

It was then another sound met your ears, one that rumbled and grew in intensity as the air around you began to spark with green lightning. Almost all representatives were unsettled by the show of power as Malleus materialized next to Silver, the rage in his eyes clear. Outside the deep sound of rolling thunder boomed across the island as his rage became clear.

The only one who didn't seem bothered by Malleus' appearance was the rather elegant woman that represented Briar Valley. In fact, she looked thoroughly amused by the rage of the younger Dragon. She had first drawn your eye when you had begun to mentally tire of the conversation a few hours ago, looking much like an effeminate Malleus. The only notable difference this woman had to Malleus was her apparent chest and thinner set face. Otherwise the two looked like they could be related.

Malleus told you earlier that day that his mother and father were no longer among the living. This meant that the woman who now smiled at the Dragon was either his grandmother or great grandmother. She certainly didn't look to be that old, but then again, Lilia didn't look old either. She sat alone at the table with no clear guards, but you figured a Dragon didn't need guards.

"Malleus, calm yourself, little hatchling."

"I refuse. He dare threaten my Hoard and even dare to claim violence towards my Hoard. He pays for his transgression with his life."

"That is fair, but also not your place to deliver punishment on this island. We are not in Briar Valley anymore."

"That makes his crime no less serious."

Talking to the woman clearly began to calm Malleus, and the Rat took this lapse of rage as an invitation. Blinded by rage at your earlier taunts, the Rat decided to try and leap at you again. The one who blocked him this time was an unexpected presence you hadn't even heard enter.

Leona stood holding the Rat by the neck, clearly amused in squeezing the fragile windpipe of the squirming creature.

"There you are, Mousey. Figured you had that brat with you, certainly had me running around campus looking for you two. Funny, I didn't think Rats had that much interest in Mice."

"Hi, Leona."

"That's all you're gonna say?"

"... You're an awful babysitter and you weren't invited to this meeting."

"Don't care and you're welcome, Mousey."

The Lion grinned as he threw the Rat back, clearly playing with the rodent man and not overly threatened by him. This sudden interjection was enough to make the other representatives answer the call to action as several rushed forward to detain the Rat that admitted to hiring poachers. It was while this uproar was taking place that several other Housewardens made their presence known, all of them entering the room and taking up posts around you in what was akin to body-blocking the representatives.

"You know," you loudly started, bringing a silent order to the chaos around you as all eyes turned back to you, "for all the talk of if I am safe here, not one person has addressed the full issue at large; am I safe anywhere in Twisted Wonderland? A representative- someone who is standing on guard for their country- had the gall to hire poachers to kill me and attacked me while surrounded by their peers. A room of people who claim to have my best interests in mind were incapable of acting to protect or aid me. Can any of you say you are doing a good job at keeping my safety in mind, or is this all just posturing? So far, the only ones who have truly acted in my best interests are those right here at Night Raven College and their associates. Judging from all of the complaints and issues brought up, it all pales in the light of reality that none of you could come to my defense when I needed it. Where I'm sitting, it seems like I'm already safest right here. Sure, poachers are here, but clearly they are everywhere. I don't think this meeting needs to continue, especially in light of the circumstances."

~•§•~

Despite the events, it still took time to wrap up the meeting and for the representatives to agree with you. Some scientists were still dubious and some wanted just a moment more to study you. It took your agreement to several research sessions in the future, visiting various Kingdoms and Queendoms personally, and Crowley's promise to give consistent wellness updates to get them to concede to your wishes.

Only a handful of representatives were interested in staying past the meeting, and it was primarily those who already had ties to the students that guarded you. Some scientists hovered around and- with your permission as well as Malleus' permission- took photos of you for reference and further study. None seemed willing to push you too much given the Shinigami and Dragon combo that hovered over your shoulder.

"Thank you, (Y/n), for keeping Cheka safe. He is an adventurous little cub, but he is still my son and I value your willingness to protect him."

"Of course, Falena! And I was serious about keeping an eye on him if you ever need a break. My door is always open to that rascal."

"At least I know better than to leave him with Leona again."

The Lion in question was scowling as Cheka ran circles around him, tugging at his arms and tail. You just smiled in response to the sight before turning back to Falena. He wasn't nearly as outwardly hostile as Leona had been and he was keenly interested in your recounting of the Wolves incident.

"Eh, don't write off Leona too soon. The way I hear it, he spent all day trying to track Cheka down. Despite how grumpy that Lion is- and the fact he will never admit to it- he has a good heart. He cares more than he will ever say, he just isn't the best at showing it."

"Then you see more in him than the rest of Sunset Savana. You seem to also see more in Sunset Savana than the rest of the world. I thank you for that."

"No need to thank. I've seen first hand how others treat your citizens and I don't appreciate it. We can only learn from history so we do not repeat it, no need to guilt descendants for the actions of their ancestors."

"Would it be too forward of me to hope you'll visit Sunset Savana some day?"

"Well, according to the representatives, I'll be visiting a lot of places in the near future. I don't see why Sunset Savana can't be included in those visits."

"Meeting you now and hearing your wisdom, it's hard to believe my ancestors were so willing to harm Humans for nothing more than a meal. Hopefully I can prove to the world that we in Sunset Savana have grown past such violence and barbarism."

"I don't blame you for what has happened, and I am glad it was Leona who saved me from the Wolves. Hopefully this can be an end to the mistreatment of your people."

"I would love nothing more."

As you spoke to the Nemean Lion King amicably, two Dragons watched you from afar. One elder and one younger. With both of them standing next to one another their shared blood was obvious.

"I see you saw it fit to gift her your father's magestone. You are aware those magestones are a pair and how they work, correct?"

Malleus nodded, gazing out at the Human he so greatly adored. Everything about this day had taught him more than ever that he could not bear parting with his most prized Hoard member. It didn't matter to him if he had to work endlessly to defend his soft Human, the world would fall in line for daring to encroach on his Hoard.

"You are certain?"

"More than I can convey."

"Very well. You will do well to take heed of how fragile Humans are, especially to us."

"I won't let you down."

"Lilia still has a few centuries left based on his species, his guidance will be invaluable. You may not wish to heed his words at all times, but you should still hear them all the same. I remember my court of Humans... Such fascinating creatures. Be a good Dragon and guard your Hoard."

"With my life."

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #humans are extinct twst au

428 notes · View notes

loveindefinitely · 1 year ago

Text

༊*·˚ NEW JOBS AND DEATH THREATS — cod x reader

CRAVE YOU — call of duty x reader CHAPTER ONE

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + alejandro vargas + rodolfo 'rudy' parra + könig + keegan p. russ

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, prison au, serial killer au, reverse harem, therapist/patient, medical inaccuracies, graphic violence, depictions of murder, everyone's unhinged, poly tf141, minor ships, threesomes, foursomes, gangbangs, this is not medical advice!!

series masterlist. read on ao3.

Life was hard. That was a fact.

Bills and groceries didn’t pay for themselves. That was also a fact.

Adding these two factors together, the final product will be a high-risk job in one of the highest-risk places on Earth. That’s… not a fact.

And yet, here you are, standing at the visitor entrance of Las Almas Prison, sporting a disgruntled grimace and a new pair of black slacks that you’d splurged on. They, at least, made your ass look good, although that was truly the least of your worries.

No. Your current list of worries looked something like this;

Getting Murdered

Getting Attacked

Vomiting Within The First Five Minutes Of Your New Job?

…Yeah. Something like that.

The early morning sun is blinding where it sits, just off to the side of the giant concrete building that was the main offices and Visitor Centre. The fact that you were standing in front of what was only a small part of the overall prison grounds was… alarming.

You were well aware that this was the largest prison in your country, housing the most lethal and awful of criminals. Some you’d seen either on the news, or heard of in passing conversations.

This was the real deal. And, somehow, you’d managed to find yourself being hired to work here. You. Work with serial killers. The worst of the worst.

With the stress on your bank account, and the endless struggle that was trying to find a stable career in the current job market, you simply had no other choice but to accept the offer. It paid extremely well, had great benefits, and your safety was… fairly considered.

The amount of NDAs, liability clauses and agreements, however?

Not the best at calming your nerves, to say the least.

The biting chill of the winter wind has you wrapping your arms around yourself, leather bag slung over your shoulder as you finally step through the automatic sliding door.

You’re not surprised to find that the chill only deepens inside the concrete walls of the building, with no heaters or air conditioning from what you can see. There is, however, bright white overhead lights that do nothing except aid the throbbing in the side of your head – probably due to the restless sleep you’d had the night before, anticipation and anxiety warring inside of your thoughts.

There’s an office in front of you as you step in, with only a few decades-old couches to your right, in front of a dingy TV that’s turned off. Saving their budget for more important things, you suppose.

The walls are a pale, grimy yellow, with sparse photos hung about, framing newspaper articles that are surely from the last century, and black and white pictures of the prison’s opening.

It’s an unsettling place, that much you’ve already gathered.

You haven’t even actually been inside the prison, you remind yourself, your stomach churning where it now lays at your feet.

Without a second thought, you continue with hurried steps to the front desk, where scratched plastic encases the sole woman inside, sitting behind a monitor. There’s a circle of holes that allow for sound to pass through, but other than that, there’s no way of entering from this room. With a quick study of your surroundings, you see a steel door to the left of where the desk sits, with a small square window covered in iron bars.

…Jesus christ.

“Can I help you?” The woman drawls, sliding her glasses further up her nose. Her voice is nasally, and the words come out in a slow drawl as she looks you up and down, unimpressed.

You give her your best smile, although even you can tell that it’s an uneasy one. “Yes! This is my first day, I think I’m supposed to be meeting Kate Laswell?” You ask, nerves betraying your voice with unsteady breaths.

The woman snaps her gum.

You stand there.

She blows it again.

You continue to stand there.

Her gaze is bored and completely void of any thought, before she nods slowly. “Laswell… I’ll call her.”

Really, you couldn’t be more shocked if you tried. What the fuck was happening? How could one lack so much… professionalism?

“Hi, Kate. Yes, it’s Jenny. I have a new hire who apparently wants to see you…” Her voice remains that unbearably slow, sloth-like delivery, before her eyes unhurriedly meet yours again. “What’s your name…?”

You give it to her, tone only the slightest bit impatient as you roll back on the heels of your feet. You can only hope that your black boots are appropriate; you’d figured that they were safe, closed-toe and still somewhat professional.

Time would tell. Jenny was giving you the impression that they were more than acceptable, because at least they got you to do your job in a timely manner.

Jenny says a few more words to who can only pray is Laswell on the other end of the phone, before she places it back in its holder.

“Laswell will be here any…” She pops her gum once more, and maybe, just maybe, you can understand the urge to murder. “Moment.”

You give her a tight, painful smile. “Thank you, Jenny.”

She doesn’t respond, and you decide to just stand back and wait. You certainly weren’t complaining – any more conversation with her would’ve ended with a severe lack of hair on your head.

A minute passes, before a buzz in the pocket of your slacks has your throat tightening.

Pulling out your phone, your next exhale comes out shaky as you read the text.

Charlie: get milk otw home used it all

No ‘good luck’. No… ounce of care for you, or the absolute stress that comes with a new job, let alone one like this.

When you’d told him about the offer, all he’d said was, “It might make you worth something for a change.” Didn’t even question, not for a minute, the risks that came with a job like this. He simply couldn’t give less of a fuck.

“Doctor?” The sound of a door opening, and the kind, almost motherly tone of the voice has you shoving your phone into your pocket once more as you turn to the source of the sound.

It’s a woman, her hair pulled back into a slick bun, one hand holding what seems to be a clipboard. Her other hand rests in the pocket of a white coat, not unlike one a scientist would be fashioning in a lab. Her smile is warm, the corner of her eyes crinkling as you direct a smile of your own her way.

“Kate Laswell?” You ask, extending your hand for her to shake. Taking her hand out of her pocket, she accepts it gracefully, nodding her head.

“The one and only,” she says, before gesturing to the steel door she’d entered through. “Now, today we’ll get you set up with a keycard, general rules, and I’ll have you meet two of your patients.”

You nod, following her as she swipes a card in a black reader, before the red light buzzes green, and she pulls the door open. Right behind her, you take an unstable deep breath as you take in the greyed, jagged walls, a complete contrast to the painted ones of the entrance room.

“We really are so glad to welcome you to our team,” she continues, her black work shoes clicking against the smooth concrete flooring. She doesn’t turn to you as she speaks, but her voice carries around the echoey hallway. “You’ll make a great addition. A necessary one, also. We’ve needed an innovative, young therapist for a while. Most of our… previous hires have held out-dated beliefs, and a lack of humanity for their clientele.”

That makes your brows furrow in confusion. “That’s… odd,” you murmur, before pausing your steps as Laswell stops, swiping her keycard, before entering another room.

As you step into the newly revealed space, your eyes go wide as you take it in.

It’s a wide, large space, with several floors. Metal staircases sit at either end of the vast space, allowing access to every floor. Guards sit at every level, some walking around the space where you and Laswell stand.

It’s a lot, all at once. You’d never even stepped foot into a prison – not before now.

“Most inmates are at the mess for breakfast,” Laswell supplies, turning to you with a neutral expression. She gestures for you to follow her back out of the space, and you do with hurried steps. “The ones you’ll be dealing with, however… they usually eat by themselves.”

You don’t decide to push that statement, not now, as you continue to follow her down the hallway.

“You won’t be seeing much of the prison,” she admits. “There’s heavily guarded spaces on the top floor for your sessions, both for your protection and for the safety of our staff and other low-risk inmates.”

You nod, humming a sound of affirmation as the two of you start heading up the cleaner steps at the end of the hallway. The staff staircase, you suppose.

“Today, you’ll be meeting two of our more… understanding ambers.”

You raise a brow. “Ambers? What does that mean?”

She turns her head over her shoulder, just enough to shoot you a knowing look. “Ambers are our highest-risk inmates. We house ten of them, and you’ll be dealing with eight as per your contract.”

Your stomach falls. You’d known, of course, that the risks were high when applying for this role. But… this was more than you’d imagined, in a way. Ambers. Huh.

Silence falls over the two of you as you make your way up the never-ending steps, no windows in sight. It’s unnerving, in a creepy, strange way. When you finally reach the top, you try and hide how out of breath you are from that small exertion.

Fucking christ.

Laswell, for her part, looks completely fine in an effortless way. You can’t eve find it in yourself to be envious. The feeling’s closer to admiration.

“Here’s the files on them both. You’ll be seeing Kyle Garrick first,” she hands you the clipboard she’d been carrying, and you accept it with only a slight tremble. She doesn’t comment on it, and you find yourself warming up to her already. “They’ll be restrained, and there is heavy security, so you needn’t worry about that side of things.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” you say earnestly, flipping through the files without reading much of anything, not yet.

She waves you off with a soft chuckle. “None of that. Kate’s more than fine,” she insists, and you give her a bright smile in return. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad – a boss like this was much better than a creepy middle-aged man any day of the week.

You don’t realise you’ve made it to a small room until she stops walking, scanning her keycard and pushing the door open, gesturing you in. “While you have your first two sessions, I’ll sort your keycard and the rest of the processes out. I wish you luck.”

With that, the door shuts behind you, and you’re alone in a small room.

It matches the rest of the hallways you’ve seen – grey concrete walls, grey concrete floors. The only furniture, however, is one metal table drilled into the floor in the centre, one chair on either side.

…It’s depressing. Not at all like you’d prefer, not for a fucking therapy session, but then again, you hadn’t met your clients yet.

Ambers. High-risk.

With a deep breath, you take a seat at the chair closest to you, finally reading through the top file on the clipboard.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick.

You skim over the height, weight, sex – immediately reading the comments made and his sentence.

Mass murderer. Motivated attacks.

Your eyes go wide, almost comically so, as you bite at your lip, folding one leg over the other as you continue to read.

Of course, you’d prepared, been made aware that you’d be dealing with murderers. But having it in black and white, right in front of you, is a whole other thing entirely.

Apparently, they were motivated attacks. Targets being large CEOs, specifically those with reported claims of misuse of power, and those against green laws. Anti-environment types.

The motive is… you’re aware killing is bad. You hadn’t spent years studying for a degree in Psychology to think otherwise. But it wasn’t as simple as some made it out to be. You’d done papers suggesting that certain motives implied healthier patterns, healthier outlets.

If you had to choose between him killing pregnant women, and CEOs with broken moral compasses?

It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out your answer.

You’re about to flip the page when there’s a knock on the door on the other side of the room, before it opens.

There’s two guards that walk in, before a man in an olive green jumpsuit follows, hands cuffed tightly together in front of him, head down. Another guard from behind shoves him in, too rough for your liking. You sit up straighter, eyes assessing as you take in the man in the jumpsuit.

He’s forced into the chair opposite you, before one of the guards grabs his cuffed wrists and chains them to a rig in the middle of the table. You’re grateful for the precautions, but there’s a part of you that feels guilty watching the manhandling of the seemingly calm man.

“Half an hour,” the most brutish guard of them all grits out, beer belly spilling out over his belted jeans. He jostles the chain attaching his wrists to the table unnecessarily, and your eyes narrow.

He goes to leave, along with another guard, but one stands to stay in position inside, beside the door.

Your brows furrow, and you speak up before you can stop yourself. “Sorry, sir, but my sessions will need confidentiality, as for the best results. I’m sure that I’ll be safe with his restraints.”

The guard stares you down, seemingly mulling your words over, before shrugging and leaving the room, door shutting behind him.

…Huh. Alright.

You find your posture relaxing, just slightly, which is odd, considering you’re now only a metre or two away from a convicted murderer.

His gaze is trained to the table, left foot tapping incessantly against the concrete floor.

“It’s nice to meet you, Gaz,” you say with a soft tone and a gentle smile. You figure that his nickname is the best bet, not wanting to stir up any possible traumas with his given name during your first session with the man. “I’ll be your new psychiatric evaluator.”

His eyes flick up, meeting yours, and he nods slowly, as if awaiting a punchline.

“Is it okay for me to call you Gaz?” You ask, tilting your head to the side and flipping to an empty page to take notes on. You’d need to grab a notebook from home, you decide.

He relaxes, only the smallest of movements, and he nods. “Gaz, yeah.”

Your smile widens at the small victory. Any step towards progress was a huge one, in your eyes. You’d be facing a lot of them in the coming days.

“Do you have any advice for this place?” You push, trying to form a bond of trust with the dark-haired man. “I’m gonna be honest, you’re my first patient, and I’ve only met Laswell and… Jenny?”

His mouth quirks at that, a dimple showing to the left of his mouth as he looks back up at you. “Jenny’s a character, ain’t she?”

You laugh, a genuine one, and nod. “She certainly is. You’ve met her?”

He shrugs, shoulders relaxing slightly. “Few times, yeah. She drives me up the fuckin’ wall.” His accent is only minimally apparent, but his voice is of a somewhat humorous tone.

Small victories.

“Well,” he exhales, settling into his chair a bit as he seems to ponder. “Do ya know who else you’re assigned to?”

You’d been sure to thoroughly go over your contract, and you were allowed to disclose your other patients between your others. They’d find out within the day, anyways, so there was no point in being discreet.

“It’s only you and a… John Price? Today. I’m sure I’ll find out the other six over the next few days,” you say, appreciating that he’s starting conversations. It’s more than you’d allowed yourself to hope for.

Gaz’s eyes light up, and even if you hadn’t been incessant in watching him, it’d be an obvious shift in emotions. “Price?”

You nod, quickly making a note on your clipboard, before folding your hands in your lap as you gesture for him to continue with a quick inclination of your head.

“He’s the best. Man’s a legend,” he enthuses. “Love ‘im.”

There’s… a hidden truth to that statement, that you make a mental note to unpack during a later session. Your smile is a natural one as you say, “He’s an amber, correct? Laswell told me I’d been assigned eight out of ten ambers… you’re one of them, right?”

Gaz seems to fold into himself, and you kick yourself for going back to square one. He answers, however.

“...Yeah. Only Ghost ‘nd Valeria are aggressive, though. We’re just… misunderstood,” he murmurs, and in the back of your brain, you find yourself believing his words.

“Thank you,” you smile, and he responds with a sharp one of his own. Maybe you’d covered more ground than you’d expected. “I think it’d been mentioned that I was only assigned men, due to the nature of the job, or something like that.”

Seeming to mull over your words, he starts to slowly nod. “Sounds ‘bout right. As long as you don’t get Graves, you’ll be alright. The others are… fuckin’ weird, but they’re good men. Mostly.”

That’s a lot of information at once, and quite frankly, it takes a moment for you to process.

“‘Good men’. What do you think it takes to be a good man?” You ask, curiosity laced into your tone. Getting to ask such questions of a convicted murderer, it’s a thrilling, exhilarating task.

His eyes don’t shift as he replies. “Good men do the acts others are too scared to do. They see the evil in the world, and rid of it with their own bare hands. You can be an ethical murderer, Doc.”

Those words, they’re – they’re authentic, and conviction aches in their structure.

You swallow around a dry mouth.

“You think you’re a good man?” You ask.

His smile would be seen as warm to any who weren’t aware of his acts, but to you – it’s chilling. Haunting in a way you’ve never experienced.

It remains as he answers.

“I think that I’m a man who people wish they had the bravery to be.”

a/n. okay so im really nervous about posting this, cause ITS EIGHT FUKCING LOVE INTERESTS and also im a humanities girl not a science one!! sociology all the way not psych!! so forgive me for all the inaccuracies and legality issues please. im just a girl. hopefully u guys will like this one? i mean, obsessed serial killers cod is smth i need so here we are. all comments and feedback mean so muchhh ty ily mwah mwah mwah

taglist comment/msg to be added. [nothing to see here.]

2K notes · View notes

bananayuyu · 21 days ago

Text

Tell Me No {2}

Pairing: professor!Yunho x f reader

Genre: smut, dark academia vibes

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: Your relationship with Professor Jeong is blooming, but finals are coming and have you stressed beyond belief. Will you be able to survive them, when all you want to do is spend time with your gorgeous professor?

Warnings: smut, MDNI, oral (f receiving), fingering, squirting, praise

A/n: I've got part 3 planned out already, lmk if you wanna be tagged!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Masterlist | Read it on ao3

"How's my favorite student doing?"

Professor Jeong's whisper is so soft you can barely hear it, his face not lifting from the stack of papers on his desk. The classroom is quiet, but not silent, and the blanket of soft chatter is hiding your interaction just enough that you decide to respond.

"Fine, I guess," you whisper back, his head raising in concern. His face is serious as he looks deep into your eyes, trying to read why you've just said that.

"After class," is all he says in return, and you know from the nervous shifting of his eyes that it's time to walk away, time to slink back to your desk.

You were nervous, terribly, horribly nervous for finals, that was why your head was spinning and you were barely getting sleep. It was make or break time, the last two weeks of the semester when every bit of work you'd put in would either pay off, or disintegrate in your hands.

You wished you found school easy, but you just never did. As much as you loved to write you found the structure of classes and exams hard to cope with, even though you knew how important it was for your future career.

If you were ever going to make it as a writer, you'd need connections and letters of recommendation and people on your side. You'd never tasted an ounce of support from your family, when it came to these dreams. Being here had helped you understand how important these University relationships were, that your professors or peers might be people many years down the line who helped you succeed. You'd received more positive feedback in the last few weeks that ever in your life; even your annoying classmate liked your work enough to tell you.

"That last story prof read was yours, wasn't it?" Marcus asks as class ends, the room filled with warmth from the wood stove in the corner, winter now upon you.

"How could you tell?" you ask, rolling your eyes as you turn back to face him.

"You always include a cat in your stories, no matter how irrelevant, it's pretty fucking obvious."

"Okay, sorry for doing that, I guess," you sigh, eyes hitting the ceiling again.

"I'm not tryna be an asshole, seriously, it was good. And prof obviously loved it too, he was smiling the whole time he read."

A jolt of happiness shoots through you at the mention of Professor Jeong's admiration, and it takes every bit of your will to avoid smiling.

"Well, thanks then," you respond, shooting Marcus a quick, tight smile.

"Wow, see, the ice is breaking, you aren't being such a bitch to me anymore," he laughs, grabbing his bag and zipping it closed. "You finally warming up to me?"

"No, absolutely fucking not," you grimace, staring back at his waggling eyebrows.

"Forget I said that, then," he laughs, standing and walking out of the room, your eyes snaking over the empty desks around and the small line of students at the front of the room, asking for extensions or extra credit work to make up their grades before the end of the semester.

"I asked you to rewrite this paper three weeks ago," you hear Professor Jeong telling the boy in front of him, filing the short stories from the day into his bag.

"I know sir, I'm very sorry, I was just too busy with my other classes-"

"I know this is upsetting to hear, but I can't give you more of an extension than I already have. This is a small school, we do not operate with the goal of passing as many students as we can. Other students in this very class have made up work I've requested, within the time I requested it. It simply wouldn't be fair to them to let you get away with this." His eyes raise to meet yours for a moment, before moving down to the boy again. "Listen, you got good grades on your first two papers, and if you do well on the final, you will pass. Just focus on the final, and you will be fine."

The boy shuffles off in frustration, and several students behind follow him too, not bothering to try to convince your professor of giving them second chances. Was it too harsh? You couldn't tell how you felt about it, because a part of you felt so flattered by what he'd said. You were the student who redid work on time, and had worked your ass off since to maintain high grades in all your classes. If you'd neglected work like your classmate had, you'd understand your professor not giving you another chance. You didn't know what the boy's life was like, whether there were legitimate reasons for his inability to rewrite the paper; so much panic, so much worry over a person you didn't know was a clear indication of just how stressed you were.

You could care all day about the plight of everyone around you. But until you secured your independence and stability, you really needed to focus on yourself.

You waited patiently for the last student to exit the room, before gathering your things. You and your handsome professor had tried to not be obvious, to not spend time lingering around each other when other students or faculty were present. But there was something about always being the last to leave class that you liked; even on days when you didn't follow him home, you still got to have at least one private conversation, and even if he hadn't touched you, the few moments alone would leave you tingling with warmth all over.

He hadn't let things escalate any further, in the weeks since. You still made out when you visited his house, still felt his hardness through the thick cotton of his pants, let him touch you and tease you and drive you completely insane. But never had he seemed to want to push it further, and though you should have been laser focused on school, you couldn't help thinking about it. Did he not want you like you wanted him? Was he caught in feeling wrong for liking you the way he did?

Together you exit the building in complete silence, the air still but frigid. You had worn your favorite black leg warmers today, paired with your thickest tights, a white thermal turtle neck, and your warmest navy blue sweater. You even had long socks on, the white contrasting against your dark blue Mary Janes, but you still shivered as you stepped outside. You should have brought your winter coat today, but there was nothing you could do about it now. Usually on clear days like today, the sun warmed the winter air by early afternoon, enough that you wouldn't need so many layers.

You walk fast to help warm yourself, moving through the routine you knew well by now. You wait by the platform as Professor Jeong buys your tickets, and he slips one carefully in your hand as he walks past, only glancing at you a moment before moving to stand ten feet away. Your body aches to follow him and be next to him always, but you know as well as he does that you really shouldn't get caught. As sweet and wholesome as this whole thing felt to you, it wasn't something other people needed to know about. You were sure most wouldn't understand, and those who did might only tease you about it endlessly.

It takes several minutes for the train to arrive, running late due to the freezing weather. Though it'd barely snowed in the morning, enough water froze over on parts of the track to require some last minute maintenance. You both rush to the door with every other waiting passenger, pushing your way close to the front to not miss out on a seat. On days like today no one was walking home, and the trains got uncomfortably full.

You push in behind him, handing your ticket off quickly, and stumble into the seat to his right, pretending like you'd accidentally ended up there and were just thankful to be sitting. People crowd the isle, a pair of legs mere inches from your own. You were thankful they belonged to a girl, one who leaned down and whispered 'sorry!' when a bump in the track knocked her sideways and into you slightly. Most of the students lived just one stop down, and in a few minutes the car is much less chaotic; you finally chance a glance in his direction, taking in his profile, the soft plane of his cheeks and perfect curve of his nose.

His head turns, and suddenly you snap your head away, feeling almost shy. He widens his thighs, leaning forward and sitting more comfortably, but the movement has caused your legs to touch and your whole body burns at the feeling, the opposite of relaxing. You want to mount him, climb into his lap and kiss and ride him until all your problems are forgotten. But you're in public, still several students and other professors littered through the train car, and you have to keep your composure.

Finally, you arrive at his stop. Forthsmith station is as barren as it always is, and as soon as the train is gone his hand is on your back, the two of you making quick work of the small walk to his house. Even he feels cold in his thick wool suit, the late November weather not usually this cold, the two of you clinging to each other for any warmth you can find.

As soon as you're greeted with the warmth of his cozy home, you sigh in relief. He lights the fire under his mantle, and as the wood starts crackling you walk to him, wrapping your arms around his back and squeezing hard. He chuckles, tugging on your arms to release, before turning around and pulling you in, sighing at the perfect feeling of your head tucked in his chest and arms around his back. In a moment you're raising your head to kiss him, and it's warm and sweet and so gentle, making your frigid body melt into him. You hold onto his neck, pulling him in. It's so easy to get lost in each other the moment you're alone, when you have to pretend in all other contexts to barely even notice each other. Soon your kiss is paired with heavy breaths and tongues, and the heat between your thighs is growing fast, your body begging you to find something to grind against.

You pull him to the edge of the couch and push him down on it, climbing onto his lap and straddling him. His cock is obviously hard, and immediately you're grinding against it and kissing him, his hands coming up to grip onto your ass and guide your movements. You've barely spoken a word to each other, because this is all you really wanted to do; to be back in each other's arms after so many days apart, your schedules not allowing for a moment like this in too long.

"How's my pretty girl feeling?" he asks, breaking the kiss and pulling his hands to the sides of your face.

"I'm fine," you whine, frustrated he's not matching your movements anymore. "I'm horny," you whisper.

"I know, angel, I can tell, but you looked upset earlier, I want to know if you're feeling alright."

"I just want you to touch me so I can forget about it all," you sigh, pouting at him.

"That's not how adults deal with their problems, angel," he responds. You roll your eyes, but finally give up your humping, slumping into his chest again. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I'm just very stressed for finals," you say.

"Which final are you most stressed about?" he asks, running a hand down your back.

"Yours," you say, snuggling into him more.

"Mine? Why mine?"

"Cause it's two parts, two separate days, that's really intimidating."

He sighs, taking in a deep breath. "I'm not going to lie to you and say it's easy, but I know you can do it." You just grumble beneath him, not responding with anything coherent. "What always helps me when I'm nervous about something is to do a trial run. I did that with my thesis defense, I performed it to my roommates probably three times in the week leading up to it. It helped a lot."

You nod your head against him, wondering just how hard the rest of your academic career would be, if you'd ever be able to get to the point of defending a doctorate thesis.

"I know what we should do. I will have you do a mock exam tonight, I'll time you and everything, and then you'll get to see that it really isn't so bad."

"What?" you asked, head shooting up. "I don't want to do that, I'm tired..." you whine, looking pathetically frustrated.

"I'll reward you after, how does that sound?" he asks, squeezing your thigh in his hand.

"But the exam is like four hours total," you sigh, pouting.

"We'll just do one section tonight, you get to choose. Which one are you most nervous about?" he asks.

"The- the short story," you stutter. "I think the essay portion will be fine, I've written so many five-paragraph essays in my life. Writing a whole short story by hand in two hours sounds awful though."

"Awful? Like I'm trying to torture you?" he mocks, smirking.

"Shut up," you grumble, turning your head away and making him laugh.

"Okay, short story it is. I'll get you some paper and a pencil and we'll do it in my office, so it feels more like you're at school," he says. "And I promise the reward will be worth it darling, I promise to make you feel so good." His voice is low and sensual as the sentence leaves his lips, and your body shudders with need, your chest flushing. He gives you a quick chaste kiss on the cheek before standing you up, moving to his office to set out the materials you'd need, and pulling out his desk chair for you. In minutes you're sitting at his desk and he's starting his timer, leaving the room to start preparing dinner while you panic internally about what the hell to write about.

It was so hard to come up with something on the spot, no prompt to help you. But like always, the feelings you were having translated right onto the page, and before you knew it a creepy and mysterious story was pouring out of you, atmospheric and unnerving, matching the anxiety you were still feeling about the next two weeks of your life. An hour in he'd brought you a cup of soup, and gingerly you sipped at it without spilling on your pages, careful to dip your roll in the broth and avoid sending crumbs flying in all directions.

"You done?" he asks when he enters again, the timer on his phone beeping. You'd made it the two hours, time flying remarkably fast. Your hand was starting to cramp, but you felt proud of yourself. You'd actually managed to do it, and he was right; you were no longer so fearful of his coming exam.

You nodded at him with a genuine smile, turning your papers around to show him your completed work.

"See, I knew you could do it," he says, leaning down across his desk to place a kiss on your cheek. "Now read it for me, from start to finish."

"Oh, sir, I- I don't know-" You cut yourself off with a sigh, looking away from him.

"I want to hear it," he says, voice low and buttery in that way you love, your insides rolling.

"But it's not very good," you pout, looking back to him.

"I'm sure that's not true," he says, sitting himself on the edge of his desk and crossing his legs. "Come on, read it."

"Okay," you say shakily, letting out a trapped breath.

"'You know what you must do, child,' my mother says. She's staring down the letter I've received, the letter from Lucifer himself, calling upon me. Red ink stains the page, the characters boxy and sharp. 'Come now, or he dies.' And I know exactly who he's referring to. Dahlia is slinking around the side of the room, his rose gold fur shining in the moonlight. My mother tries to resist him, but she's never been able. Who would have ever guessed that a demon lived inside this beautiful cat, cursed for a thousand years to be stuck in this strange form, never knowing who or what will come along next in his life?"

It starts flowing out of you the moment you get over the hurdle of simply starting, and then Professor Jeong's eyes are fixed on you and sparkling with awe, spurring you on further, making your heart sing.

"It was a long trek to the station. The Midnight Train stopped only once in our town, across the river from my family's old stone cottage. As I crossed the bridge the water twinkled, a soft breeze blowing through the tall grass in the valley. It was peaceful and quiet, soft moonlight illuminating the path ahead. Not a soul was out, just the haze of smoke from chimneys. I breathed hard as I neared the station. My body was not up to this sort of journey, but I'd known from the moment I started my letter that I'd be coming here. There was no where else for girls like me to go."

It was easy to speak, easy to feel proud of your work when he looked so pleased. You read through the horrors of the Midnight Train, tried your best to make your voice spooky and haunted, but all it did was make a chuckle escape from deep within him, his beautiful high cheekbones on display. You take in a sharp breath to calm your own laughter, steadying yourself for the last page of your story.

"Through the back door of the dining car, a final room appears to me, and from the shadowy darkness a skeleton comes, creaking in its movements. 'Ms. Delphine, a pleasure,' he says as he bows, his middle ribs clicking together. 'I always appreciate a visit from one of the chosen protectors.' I stare down at my precious companion in my arms, his face soft and tranquil, as if he hadn't noticed the horrors around us. 'It is a true curse, and a true calling,' I nodded, staring into his empty eye sockets. It was clear I had much to learn. The damned see life differently. Of course they do, I thought. How could I have been so short sighted to think otherwise?

The skeleton moves aside, holding a hand out towards the back of the room. With careful steps I glide forward, finally making out the shape of a door. When I open it, the sky is bright and birds are singing, flowers dotting a lush field. In the distance I spot the Unchosen Castle. It is strikingly shiny and bright. I hold a hand up to shade my eyes. 'We'll be seeing you,' the skeleton says. I turn back to him, the room brighter now. Rotting flesh is hanging off his left knee cap. A bullet hole is obvious in the side of his skull.

But as strange as it is, I don't feel panic. When I look down, Dahlia is asleep in my arms. I was called upon, but expected to leave. My old life out of reach, my new life a set of honors. But I had no desire to step out into that field. I close the door instead and breathe in the muskiness. The darkness greets me. For the first time in my life, I feel completely at home."

"Wonderful, just wonderful," Professor Jeong says, shaking his head and clasping his hands together. "Promise me you will write horror books when you're older."

"I want to," you smile, blinking as you look up at him.

"It's a wonderful style, almost a cozy horror, if that makes sense."

You turn your eyes down, overcome with the way he's so perfectly described what you were going for. To know it had translated off the page sent your head spinning. Could you really do this, become a successful author? It was him above anyone else, who was making you believe in that future.

"Come on, let's go back to the living room," he says as he grabs your empty bowl, pushing in his desk chair once you stand out of it.

As soon as you're back in the coziness of the fire-lit room, your hands are on him and his are on you, grabbing for every bit of each other.

"My little genius," he sighs, kissing you soft and tenderly, arms wrapping tightly around you. "You did so good for me, doing exactly what I asked. And you wrote so well."

"I wanna be good for you, that's all I want to do," you sigh, opening your mouth further, relishing in feeling his tongue against yours, the soft warmth tantalizing and true.

"Let me taste you then," he says, and you suddenly can't breathe, jitters snaking their way up through your legs and landing straight in your core. "That sound good?" he chuckles, your shocked face so utterly adorable, and you murmur a soft 'mhm' before kissing him again.

He lets you deepen it, pulling your faces together and relishing in the taste of each other's mouths. Your body is tight against him, on your tiptoes to reach as high as you can, but still he is bent over slightly to meet you, holding onto your low back as you arch into his touch. Your hips press against his, and you can feel how hard he is already; you swear he's yearning to fuck you as much as you're yearning for it too, but he's taking his time, waiting patiently, and something about that is making your brain melt even more.

You'd never been treated so respectfully in your life. It was such a confusing feeling, because you knew he shouldn't be wanting you like this at all. But if anyone was a fly on the wall and could see how he acted, you were sure no one would think negatively of him at all.

Slowly he breaks the kiss, planting a final peck on your nose before leaning down and undoing the strap on each of your shoes, helping you carefully step out of them. Then he pulls off your leg warmers, setting them in a pile beside your shoes. The anticipation of what's coming off next sends shivers through you, and when he looks up he catches sight of the lust in your eyes, his eyes shiny in the yellow light. He takes his time with your tights, pulling gently at the waist to move them over your hips, and his hands feel electric against your bare ass, making your mouth water. As he pulls them down your thighs he relishes the moment, planting soft kisses in your plushness and moving closer and closer to the small nest at your center, making you squirm.

"You smell amazing, angel," he says, his pupils blown at he looks up at you, his eyes darker now than you'd ever seen them. He looks good like this, his cheeks slightly flushed, hair faintly disheveled. You wonder what he'd look like after a good ravishing, how perfect he'd be with swollen lips and completely messy hair. You reach down to mess it up further, the dark black locks soft and lusciously thick in your hand. Soon he's pulled your tights completely down, and you hold onto his shoulders to balance as you step each foot out in quick succession.

"Come here," he says, leading you to the couch and sitting you down as he'd been earlier. When he leans in you grab onto his suit jacket again, pulling him closer and deeper, loving the feeling of the soft, thick wool in your hands. Since winter started he'd been wearing gorgeous suits every day, and you'd be lying if you said it wasn't so incredibly distracting during class.

"You like my suit?" he asks, chuckling as he makes his way to your neck and places gentle kisses from your jaw to your shoulder, making you shudder in pleasure.

"Yes," you sigh in response, tipping your head back.

"Does it turn you on?" he jokes further.

"Yeah, it does," you chuckle, lifting your head back up to nip at his ear in retaliation. He just laughs and pulls back, before diving into your plush lips again and devouring you. He's been thinking about this for days, and it's making his head fuzzy that you're half naked in front of him, spread wide on his couch.

Finally he moves down to your thighs, leaving gentle nips and licking along the length of them, making you wetter as your cunt tingles in need. It's agonizing waiting for him to get there, but when he does, when he licks a slow stripe up the entire length of your slit and moans at the taste, it's more than worth it. Your back is already arching, knees pushing themselves even wider so he has all the room he needs. He does it again, before focusing his attention on your clit, licking slow half circles around it, the warmth of his tongue too perfect to comprehend.

He spends his time working you up, holding onto your thighs and whispering praises, 'god you taste so fucking good,' or 'good girl, open up for me.' Your cunt is flushed and pink and wet for him, and finally he brings his right hand to meet his mouth, slipping to finger slowly into you and making you almost scream.

The deepness of the feeling is instantly delicious. You reach your hands out to grip onto his hair, groaning in pleasure as he starts sucking harder, pumping his fingers in and out of you slowly, but with force. He's curling them up in that perfect way, hitting the exact spot that drives you crazy, and the pleasure builds fast, your cunt feeling fiery-hot and utterly amazing. It's taking your breath away, how smooth he is, how each movement seems perfectly controlled and perfectly tailored to you. He looks up once, catching your eye, and you almost fall over the edge in an instant from the sight of him between your legs, his pink cheeks stained with your wetness. You throw your head back, moaning loudly, and he picks up his speed slightly, feeling the walls of cunt starting to shake, knowing what's about to come.

Suddenly your pleasure is growing higher than you expect, but even as it reaches amazing heights, it keeps building, keeps growing. You're almost screaming at the feeling, so intense you're unable to comprehend it at all, and then suddenly you feel it, your legs shaking, your cunt squeezing down on him, and the extreme wetness spilling out of you. You look down to see his face covered in your squirt, a look of pure satisfaction on his face as he milks you through all of it, your high-pitched moans the most beautiful melody. Your orgasm lasts longer than any you've ever had, and by the end you're dumbfounded, slumping back into his couch and breathing uncontrollably, blinking in your confusion.

"That was so hot, fuck," he groans when he finally pulls away from you, moving back up to wipe a hand over your cheek and take a look at your eyes. "You feeling okay?"

"Yes, I definitely am," you chuckle, a small tear escaping from your right eye, and you wipe it away quickly. "That was fucking crazy."

"Have you ever squirted before?" he asks.

"No, I didn't know I could," you answer, smiling shyly.

"Fuck," he sighs, ego doing somersaults at knowing he was the one to help you discover that ability. He chuckles before sitting himself down next to you, wrapping you up in his arms and cradling you, planting soft kisses on your forehead as you come down.

Twenty minutes later you're a yawning mess, your body completely wracked from how hard you came. It was also growing late, the street outside dark and gloomy, the fire crackling in the corner was giving you much needed warmth that was only adding to your sleepiness.

"I don't think I can make it home," you tell him, looking up with upward turned eyebrows, hoping he'll let you stay.

"No staying here until finals are done," he says, shaking his head, and you pout and shove your head in his chest, frustrated. "I want you to stay here with me too, darling, but I can't be the reason you don't make it to your classes tomorrow."

You sigh in knowing he's right, that it's probably not a good idea to stay when you have such important days ahead. It takes all your remaining energy to stand up, redressing in the warmth of his living room, and sliding on your shoes. He brings your bag for you, carrying it as he walks you back to the station, before sending you off with a quick kiss on the cheek.

The train is nearly empty so late, and the air feels colder when you step off, without him by your side. But all you can think about is his mouth and fingers and tongue, and that night you sleep like a baby, completely and totally content.

next part ->

Taglist: @iamalily @atzri @marii1087 @dilfkimhjj @yunyuniverse

Thank you all for the feedback and support <3333333333

#ateez x reader #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #yunho smut #ateez yunho #yunho x reader #jeong yunho #ateez #jeong yunho x reader #yunho x y/n #yunho x you #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #jeong yunho smut

243 notes · View notes

catbolt · 5 months ago

Text

— Merry Christmas, Dr. Zayne

[SOUNDTRACK] Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence - Ryuichi Sakamoto || ▶︎

[TAGS] zayne x mc, fluff

[WC] 1.3k

songfic 4/?

Snow crystallizes on tree branches outside in the light of the falling winter sun, each ray refracting through the icicles that frame the window and splitting into thin beams that run like streams onto the wooden floor inside. She sighs, staring out the window, mug of cocoa clenched between cold hands.

She anticipates him coming home late again. "You know, emergency room visits spike during the holiday season," Zayne had told her with a smile in the morning as he prepared to leave.

"You're not even an ER doctor," she grumbled, arms crossed. He'd laughed softly. "When people need help, I help, my dear. It's non-negotiable."

Times like this she begrudges his unrelentingly chivalrous spirit and sense of justice, although it's usually one of the qualities she likes the most about him. She waits on the couch, feeling more than a little restless. She had hoped to spend at least some part of Christmas Day with him, but as the hours ticked by on the clock, the chances of that grew slimmer and slimmer.

She doesn't text Zayne, not wanting to bother him, knowing he's likely stressed at work. She gets up from the couch with a sigh, deciding to at least busy herself with some cleaning. Her presents for him sit below the tree, untouched.

The sun sinks lower, quickly, and she grimaces, its descent through the clouds a constant reminder of the fact that the hours in this special day is running out, and so far she's spent it nearly all alone. She tidies up the dinner table, mindlessly searching through the cabinets for what to make for dinner. If Zayne won't be joining her to chastise her for her poor diet, a box (or two) of mac n cheese should do the trick to soothe her feelings.

She sighs, bending down in the pantry to grab the boxes in question, when suddenly she hears a click of the door unlocking. She shoots up in surprise, promptly banging her head into the top of the pantry cabinet. "Fuck!" she cries out, eyes screwed up in pain as she massages the back of her head.

"Hm. That wasn't the reaction I was expecting to me coming home like this."

Zayne's soft, chuckling voice filters in from the foyer, getting louder with each word. When she opens her eyes, still rubbing at the back of her head, she sees him standing in the kitchen entryway, a lush bouquet of white roses and jasmine tucked under his arm. She splutters a little, watching as he presents it to her, a small smile on his face.

"What's this about?" she says softly, taking the bouquet from him, a gentle pink flush rising on her cheeks.

"What, I can't give my girlfriend flowers?" He steps closer, closing the space between them. He's still in his white coat and scrubs underneath, and she can see the slight tiredness in his eyes. "Besides, they're an apology."

"For what?" she mutters, setting the bouquet down on the dining room table.

"For not being able to spend more of Christmas with you," he murmurs, capturing one of her hands in his, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. "I know you weren't happy that I had to work. I'm sorry. It wasn't ideal."

She feels a mild pang of guilt. He hadn't seemed bothered by her pouting and whining about it all of Christmas Eve, brushing it off at every turn with his signature even-keeled demeanor. But she'd misjudged him, it seems, as she searches his gaze, seeing his brow furrow slightly. "I really am sorry," he says quietly. "We couldn't open presents in the morning because I had to go to work."

"Oh..." she shakes her head. "Don't... worry about that."

"I do worry," he says softly, lowering her hand from his lips, but keeping his hold on it, thumb skating soothingly over the back of her hand. "I know it's important to you."

"It's not a big deal," she says hastily. "You didn't have to come today if--" "I wanted to come back," he says, voice carrying a bit of a harder edge now, an authoritative quality signaling it's not up for debate. "I wanted to see you. And to give you my gift."

She sighs a little, still feeling guilty. "The flowers are beautiful, Z. But you didn't have to rush back--"

His brow furrows. "That's not the gift," he says gently.

He guides her over to the couch, gesturing for her to sit down. "Just a moment," he says softly, walking off to retrieve his bag, which he begins to rummage through.

The sun has set quickly, the room now enveloped in darkness, the only light source now being the Christmas tree. The soft white lights send pinpricks of light dancing across the room. She hears a match flick, and turns around to see Zayne lighting a candle behind her, setting it down on the coffee table. A small smirk plays at her lips. "Getting romantic, are we?" He lights another candle, placing it nearby. "No," he says matter-of-factly. "Just a moment. You'll see."

She almost rolls his eyes at his inability to go with the joke, the grin lingering on her lips. He sits down on the couch opposite her, and then produces an unassuming box, flat and rectangular, tied with a dark gray ribbon. It fits in both of his hands, and he hands it over to her. "Your gift."

She looks down, fingers working through the ribbon and gently untying it. She hesitates for a moment, and then opens the box.

Inside lies a stunning, thin silver necklace, adorned with what looks like hundreds of soft blue gemstones that twinkle alluringly as soon as the candlelight hits them. Each gemstone is tear shaped, like a shimmering droplet of rain.

"Zayne..." her breath catches in her throat.

"Do you like it?" he says softly, with a hint of hesitation in her voice anyone but her would miss. She nods, and he lets out a soft hum of relief, gently lifting the necklace from the box and moving closer to fasten it around her neck.

"I lit the candles because I wanted to see how it looked in their light," he mutters softly, his breath ghosting over her ear as he attaches the necklace around her. He pulls away, his eyes watching how the glittering stones seem to dance and shift in the light.

"Beautiful," he says, voice a little hoarser than usual. She swallows softly, the space between them nearly pulsing, reverberating with unsaid words. She knows Zayne isn't much of a talker, but she's learned to be attuned to his face and body enough that she can read his emotions like a book, a consequence of the past year they've spent dating. She sees him fidget slightly, the pulse thrum slightly faster in his neck, the way his eyes flick between the jewelry and her eyes, as if watching to see how the candlelight dances there too.

"Thank you," she says, her voice thick with emotion as she takes one of his hands in her own. It's cold, as his hands always are, and she scoots a little closer to him on the couch. "It is beautiful."

He clears his throat. "I was talking about you," he says.

It's like the world falls blissfully quiet-- even the weight of all the things that they can't find the words to say say feels lighter suddenly. The feeling of his hand in hers, slowly warming between her palms, grounds her in this moment.

The tree glows softly, the lights flickering like thousands of little fireflies, casting a golden glow across the room. Under the mask of the dim light, it's like the exhaustion is erased somehow from Zayne's features, and all she can see is the warmth in his deep, forest green stare, desperately trying to push forth. She squeezes his hand. "Merry Christmas," she says softly.

"Merry Christmas," he replies, in a whisper, squeezing back.

155 notes · View notes

thollandneedy · 4 months ago

Note

Hey Bella! Hru?

First of all… the Tom Holland Masked fic you wrote

ABSURDLY AMAZING

Second, could you write a oneshot where Peter discovers that y/n has a praise kink? Thank u🩷

Good girl- Peter Parker

A/n: Literally screaming cause my favorite Peter is soft!dom Peter and UGHHHHHH YES! JUST YES! Thank you for the request btw babes 🤍 (Definitely doing a pt 2 if you guys want too)

Warnings: Make-out and suggestive content

Don’t forget to share, like, comment and leave your ideas here

Bellah’s Masterlist 🪻

“Peter?” Y/n called out to her boyfriend, who was lying on the bed.

The brunette sits up when he hears his girlfriend's voice, smiles and gets up to hug her. The girl runs into the hero's arms, who greets her with a kiss on the forehead and then a kiss on the lips.

“How did you get in?” Peter asks, placing both hands on Y/n's cheeks, looking into the shining eyes of his girlfriend, who is wearing a dark blue sweatshirt.

“May gave me a copy of the key.” Y/n explains. “I have something to show you.” The girl takes out a piece of paper from her shoulder bag with the name of her college printed on it.

Peter took the paper, moving away from her so that he could read the entire document, which soon turned into a piece of joy. Parker smiled at Y/n, hugging her once more and saying:

“I knew you'd make it, love. You're good at everything you do.” Y/n's cheeks flushed, causing the girl's feet to slowly pull away from the embrace.

��It's no big deal, Pete. It was a difficult test, and I had your help.” Y/n points with the paper in her hands, putting it in her cream-colored bag once again and then leaving it on the study table next to Peter's bedroom door.

“Stop being modest, Y/n.” Peter grimaces. “You've earned it, and asking for help is never a sign of weakness.”

“Good” The girl looks down at her own feet. “Then Santa will have to give me a present in advance for my grade.” Y/n comments, remembering that Christmas was only a few days away.

“He sure will.” Parker approaches with slow steps, putting his hand on his girlfriend's waist and pulling her close to his body. “You've been a good girl”

At that moment, the world stopped. Y/n's breathing stopped, and her eyes froze in an expression of surprise. Peter tilted his head to one side, smiling at Y/n as he saw her reaction to the affectionate nickname he had given her. It was no surprise to Peter that his girlfriend liked to be complimented, because of the words of affirmation she always liked to hear, but he didn't know that such compliments could leave her speechless. The hero gently kissed the side of his girlfriend's mouth, who only responded by kissing him back. Her hands were on the collar of Peter's shirt, which had become a fulcrum for her weight. The boy allowed his tongue to slide over her lips, making the kiss wetter.

The brunette could hear Y/n's heart beating harder, holding back his instincts to just throw her on the bed and take off his winter clothes. The girl moans against the older man's kiss, who responds with a smile.

“Did you like that?” Peter asks, pulling away from the kiss, but quickly returning at the urging of his girlfriend, who messes up his brunette curls. “Did you like that I called you a good girl?”

Y/n grunted in response, as if her legs were made of jelly and her vagina became wetter with every word he spoke. Peter laughed, taking her weight in his arms and guiding her on his lap to his bed, where the sheets were already messy. Y/n couldn't quite put her finger on why she liked it, but she just knew that she liked it and wanted more. Perhaps it was the constant need for approval in everything she pursued, or the stress of the last exam grades being released.

“Keep talking.” Y/n asks.

“Talking what? Tell me what you want, princess.” Peter trailed his kisses down Y/n's neck.

His voice sounded like velvet, and his open questions still, yes, sounded like orders coming from him.

“How good I am.” Y/n says without shame at exposing her desires."How good I make you feel. How good a girl I am, how much I…” The girl's speech is cut off by a hot kiss

Peter removes his gray blouse in a hurry, throwing it on the side of the bed in an attempt to feel his body closer to Y/n's. The girl looks at him with her eyes wide. The girl looks at him with her eyes asking for touch, validation, love and care. Peter uses his index finger to trace the curves marked by the slim shirt his girlfriend was wearing under her sweatshirt. Peter lowered his eyes to the legs covered by the jeans, and again turned his gaze to his girlfriend's mouth, which, without saying it, was begging to be kissed.

“Do you want to be my good girl, love?” Peter asks with an imposing air,

“I-I do.” Y/n agrees, almost impeded by the longing for the touch.

Peter moves a lock of hair away from the girl's eyes, putting his weight against hers, allowing her to feel how hard he was. In an instant, their hips met, and all Peter could think of was the image of his girlfriend completely submissive to him.

“Then take off your clothes and kneel for me, darling”

#tom holland #tom holland x fem #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker smut #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker #mcu!peter x reader #mcu!peter parker x reader #mcu!peter parker #peter parker x y/n #tom holland x reader #peter parker blurb

135 notes · View notes

irisintheafterglow · 1 year ago

Text

way hay, and up she rises! (opla!zoro x you)

summary: zoro leads the crew to an informant from his bounty-hunting days; they don't know his history with the pretty singer in the bar.

wc: 2.6k

cw/tags: swearing, implied fem!reader (wearing a skirt and makeup) but they/them pronouns used, basically singer/bodyguard trope, strangers to lovers, brief guy being an asshole (and protective zoro!), simp zoro, i love zoro, can you tell how much i love this man

note: do i imagine lucy gray baird when i think about reader singing in a bar? maybe a little bit. do i wish i could sing like rachel zegler as lucy gray baird? abso-fucking-lutely. i've been listening to a lot of random sea shanties lately so this is where that came from. hope you enjoy!

likes, reblogs, and replies are much appreciated!

“You’re sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Of all the times for you to doubt me, cook,” he says, catching the door with the toe of his boot and kicking it open, “I can say for certain, I have this under control.” His feet step through the doorway and he’s bombarded with jolly laughter, drunken singing, and a dancing fiddle. The patrons cheer with flasks and goblets in their hands, liquor splashing onto their neighbors when they slam their cups onto wooden tables. It’s warm like a hearth, not a hell, and the unkempt atmosphere wraps around him like a familiar blanket. Within seconds, he’s not a pirate anymore; he’s back to being a hunter.

And there, swinging the edge of your skirt with a tambourine in hand, was you. The lantern light catches in your eyes in a way that makes them glow, enchanting him like a spell. You’re just as breathtaking as the last time he saw you, singing clearer than the stars shining on a winter night. When you speak, it’s like invisible ropes extend from your lithe fingers, grabbing each man by the ears and pulling them in to listen further. He’s no different, finding himself drifting toward your stage when a sudden hand tugs him away.

“Hey, we’re going this way. Luffy found a table in the back,” Nami informs him over the controlled chaos of the bar. Her voice quiets as he follows her to a secluded corner, but her teasing was not lost to him.

“Pretty interesting place you’ve led us to.”

“That’s one way to put it,” he replies blandly, still slightly awestruck from seeing you again.

“Got a crush on the singer?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he deadpans, sliding into the booth next to his beaming captain. He gladly accepts the bottle Usopp offers him, taking a swig without so much of a flinch when it burns down his throat and goes straight to his head.

“What were you guys talking about?” Luffy pipes up and he doesn’t hide his grimace in time. “Did Nami say something to bother you, Zoro?”

“Doesn’t she always?” An uneasy feeling settles in the pit of the swordsman’s stomach, one he could only explain by not having eyes on you. He was used to being here alone, where he could admire you without distraction. He knew he wasn’t ready for the crew’s interrogation about his history with you. “I just need something to drink.”

“You’re already holding a bottle, if you’ve forgotten already,” Sanji reminds him. “Don’t make us drag your sorry ass out of another bar.” If looks could kill, Zoro couldn’t fathom the number of coffins the stupid cook would need.

“Alright, alright,” Luffy interjects. “Zoro’s just been…stressed. We all deal with stress in our own ways.”

“There are healthier ways to deal with stress than alcoholism,” Nami points out. “For instance, talking it out works wonders.”

“While I appreciate the concern, we’re here for information, not therapy,” Zoro states tersely, taking another gulp from his bottle. “We came a little early, so we’ll have to wait until the band is done with their set before we move in on the target.” His eyes drift back into your general direction, hoping there weren’t any guys giving you trouble.

“Why can’t we just move in now? There’s enough chaos in the bar to be a distraction,” Luffy asks.

“Sanji and I could start a fight,” Usopp offers in response, holding up the cook’s wrist like he was ready for the first punch. “That worked last time.” Zoro shakes his head.

“Too risky. The informant won’t say anything if we interrupt the music, especially if it’s a bar fight,” he replies, a fond look blinking across his face. “They’re a little…difficult, sometimes.” The pieces click together in Nami’s brain before he can stop her and the realization dawns on her in no time.

“Your contact is the singer.” He shrugs one shoulder, not looking any of his crew in the eye and instead watching the growing crowd around your stage. “The singer you have a crush on?” Zoro’s head snaps back to reality and becomes all too aware of the heat growing on his cheeks.

“I don’t have a crush on them,” he mumbles half-heartedly.

“Aw, Zoro is in love!” Usopp sighs. “I always knew he had a heart.”

“It’s not love. It’s just admiration, if anything,” he counters, but it’s no use. His crewmates were already on a roll.

“I thought you said you had this under control,” Sanji recalls with a taunting smirk.

“I do have this under control.”

“Your red complexion says otherwise,” the cook replies and Zoro’s frown deepens. It wasn’t part of his plan for the rest of his friends to find out about his relationship with you. In fact, accompanying him to the bar was not part of the plan in the first place. “Look, I’m happy for you. Honestly, I am. If you could do it, then I surely will find someone even better.”

“That’s enough,” Nami cuts in before Zoro can unsheath a sword. He nods in curt gratitude, but she doesn’t let him off the hook. “However, as payback for not telling us about your little sweetheart, you’re gonna explain how you know them until their set is done.”

“Says who?”

“Says us,” Usopp answers, holding up Sanji’s fist again and miming the cook punching him in the face. “Or, we’re gonna cause a scene and make them come to us first.”

“You guys are impossible,” Zoro mutters under his breath. With a deep exhale, he establishes a single rule. “You don’t tell anyone about what I’m about to tell you, understand?” The crew nods. “Good, because if someone finds out about them, I’m gonna shave your heads while you sleep.”

As with most people Zoro interacted with, you met him because of a fight.

“I didn’t need your help,” you had told him that night, resting your boot on a ribcage for leverage and yanking your sword from the dead assailant’s chest. “So, you can leave now.”

“I thought you said you had this under control,” he remarks, cleaning the blood from his blade and inserting it back into its sheath.

“I do have this under control,” you reiterate with a glare. “It was just an off night.”

“Pretty impressive for an off night, though your swordsmanship could improve.” His hand gestures vaguely at the half-dozen attackers lying at your feet, amateurs whose strength depended on their numbers. Numbers, which he'd helped you cut down when you didn’t show up at the meeting spot you’d agreed upon.

“I can’t tell if you’re trying to insult me or compliment me,” you scoff.

“Doesn’t matter, as long as you keep talking,” he replies without missing a beat, following you through the backdoor of the bar and down a dusty hallway into what he presumed was a makeshift dressing room. “You could make a good career out of bounty hunting if you wanted to.” Closing the door behind him, he settles into a nearby chair and watches you tidy up trinkets on the vanity.

“I don’t remember letting you come in here, much less telling you to have a seat.” Your guarded nature only intrigues Zoro more, but he’s more than willing to leave if you truly didn’t want him present. Something in his gut told him, though, that you secretly enjoyed the company. “And, no. I’m not interested in the violence of your world, only the information part.”

“The information part you didn’t show up for,” he recalls with a scowl. You hum in fake sympathy at his displeasure.

“And my sincerest apologies for getting attacked while on route to our meeting place,” you bite, shaking your head when he rolls his eyes. “Look, we’re here now, so just ask your questions and get out.” Zoro does ask his questions and you give him the answers he needs, but the lingering feeling of disappointment when he bids you farewell stays with him even after he collects the head you helped him find. So, with the reward money sitting heavy in his pocket, he returns to your run-down little bar the following week.

Without the pressure of fulfilling a hunt weighing on his chest, he catches himself enjoying your performance a little too much. It was mesmerizing, the way you danced across the stage and blew kisses to drunken audience members. Zoro even found himself smiling when he was able to catch your eye.

“I take it the hunt went well,” you say in greeting when he appears in the doorway of your dressing room. It’s after your band’s last set and you’re visibly more relaxed than the previous time he saw you. Instead of barging into your space, he simply leans a muscled shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed and observing you remove your makeup.

“It did. Your little tip about the maid worked wonders.”

“She’ll always turn a blind eye if it means a little extra money.”

“She also knew the place better than the maps I was reading,” he adds. “I wouldn’t think to talk to her if it weren’t for you.” You dismiss his compliment with a wave of your hand.

“The Lady of the House’s true right-hand is not her husband, but the one that cleans up after him,” you muse with a satisfied smile. He’s still standing in the doorway, you notice from the corner of your eye. “You can come in if you promise to explain why you’re back again.”

“Consider the promise made, then,” he replies, shutting the door and taking a seat the same way he did the week prior. “I wanted to apologize for getting off on the wrong foot.”

“The Demon of the East Blue apologizing to me? What a world we live in,” you quip and he chuckles. “For the record, I wasn’t mad at you. Well, not entirely.”

“What do you mean?”

“Yeah, I was mad at you for interrupting the set to ask your questions, but I can’t blame you too much. It’s your first time here, after all.” He listens to your explanation intently, like there was no other voice he’d rather be hearing. “But for future reference, interrupting me while I’m singing will make other clients I serve a little jumpy.”

“They think you’re conspiring against them?”

“Exactly. I try to keep the same after-the-show policy with everyone, so if I give priority to one person, they’ll question my reliability.” He nods, your irritation suddenly making much more sense.

“And when they question your reliability, they attack you outside the bar,” he concludes.

“Mhmm, which was why I was late for our meeting. For that, I am sorry.” Your voice is softer than the candlelight illuminating the small room and he finds himself being drawn into you again, like a magnet. An idea pops into his mind, one that was sure to cost him a few hunts, but he’s sure you’re worth it.

“Ever think about hiring stage security?”

“For a dirty-ass bar like this? Definitely not,” you laugh. “Maybe if I were playing for the general of the Marines, but here? That’s funny.” You thought that would be the end of your conversations with Zoro, but decided not to question his intentions when he showed up the following night. You spied him sitting in the same dark corner with a glass in his hand, watching you like you were the only being that mattered in his world. As the songs pass, your eyes find him on instinct and you’re rewarded with a rare grin that makes your stomach float. No sooner did you start your last set of the night, though, did a new client come storming into the bar.

He was a Marine defector, one that was trying to make it onto some pirate’s ship before the government found him. In the second drawer of your dressing room vanity, you had a list of ships and ports that would guarantee him a smooth disappearance into the sea. He desperately needed the list and, being a new client, was clueless about your after-show policy.

“Alright, give me the list. Let’s go,” he hissed once he reached the front of the stage, his words barely audible over the sound of your band. You attempt to smile and play him off as another drunk, but your amiable expression disappears when he tries to grab the edge of your skirt. “I’m not fucking messing around. Give me the fucking list.” As expected, your regular clients started to shift uncomfortably in their seats, looking at you and the greenie suspiciously. In their minds, you were giving special privileges to a new guy. “Stop being a bitch and give me the list.” The man reaches out to grab your skirt again when a strong hand shoves him away from you.

“Get lost. They’re in the middle of performing.” You steal one glance at the swordsman in front of you, the one resting his hands menacingly on the hilts of his swords. His broad shoulders become a wall in front of you, impossible to pass without risking instant decapitation. The new client scurries away and you release a shaky breath, sending Zoro a grateful look when he’s back at his seat. Please stay, you mouth wordlessly. I’m not going anywhere, he mouths back.

He stays with you during your official meeting with the ex-Marine, arms crossed and stationed in the corner of your dressing room like a guard dog. When the meeting is over and Zoro’s all but thrown the man out of the building, he walks you home and waits until he hears your door lock before leaving. He’s back the next night, and the next, and the next, and all the nights afterward for nearly a year. You start to ask him about his past, his hunts, and his dreams. Little by little, you both start to take down your defenses and trust each other with vulnerability. He’s late, sometimes, when he gets caught in a hunt; but, you always end up finding him waiting for you in your dressing room.

After he kisses you for the first time, you start inviting him in once he’s walked you home, impatiently locking your door before pulling him to your room. It’s little things that make you fall in love with him: waking up to find him hogging all of your blankets, resting on his bare chest and relishing in the feeling of his skin against yours, running a hand through his hair until he wakes up with a sleepy smile. He falls freely, hopelessly, and completely in love with you, too.

He knows nothing has changed when you rush into his arms as soon as you see him in your dressing room.

“Hey, songbird,” he mumbles while his arms lock around your waist. “I burn from missing you.”

“I’ve missed you more.” Your voice sounds muffled against his shoulder as your arms wind tightly around his neck. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, pulling you as closely to him as humanly possible. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Zoro felt at ease. “I thought I saw you walk in, but you didn’t go to your usual spot.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I have some…friends with me,” he says slowly, nudging the door open to reveal his crewmates eavesdropping from the hallway. You smirk knowingly, running the pad of your thumb over his cheekbone. “Alright, alright. Just say it–”

“I didn’t know you could make friends,” you tease and he prevents you from saying anything else by pressing his lips against yours. “Wanna introduce me to them?”

“Give me a second, baby,” he murmurs against your skin. “I need you to myself for a bit.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#zoro x you #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #opla x you #opla x reader #opla x y/n

433 notes · View notes

adoregojo · 1 year ago

Text

he doesn't realise how lonely he is.

the birds nagging on the early morning was freaking annoying and made him wanted to block the window ten times more. he hated how his breakfast tasted, he added to much salt and now he keeps grimacing at every bite. the usual black stray cat on his doorstep keeps greeting him every morning, and all he could find to reply to it meowing was a frown. sunny days were nothing but a pain, the bright light hitting his face as if it was forcing him to like it. how vexing.

the difference shape of flowers peeking out from the next door store brings him nothing of a sense of joy, if anything he wanted to stay away from it due to it attracting the bugs. his coworkers never talk to him, not like he wants to talk to him. he never looked them in the eyes anyway.

he can clearly hear them, their whispers -that were too loud for him to hear- about him being likely an old grumpy grandpa in disguise, they even made bets on if he would smile one day. it didn't hurt him, he couldn't gave a good fuck for it, he just wanted this day to end so he could go home and never have to see anyone.

he doesn't take his shoes off when he's in the apartment, it was too much of a hassle and he doesn't get any visitors anyway. there's barely any food in his fridge, mostly leftovers. he just eats to survive another day. watching pointless tv shows that never truly entertained him, in fact he found them boring but as long as they kept him busy he didn't care.

winter was too cold, summer was too hot, autumn was stressful, and spring gets him a sick problems all the time.

he truly doesn't know where to enjoy anything in life.

well, until he met you.

all of a sudden, the birds melody doesn't sound so bad, so he opens the window for some fresh air. he stared to put afford in making breakfast, not his usual too slaty eggs it is now a fluffy pancakes with your guidance as you embraced him from behind. they weren't perfect, but the pleased noises you make after every bite made him proud. of course he doesn't forget to feed your cat, the same black cat that he claimed it was nothing but a bad luck.

he didn't realise of how much of a neighbours he had till he started coping how you greeted them, it was nice when they started sending you guys food. especially when you liked them and sometimes they'll send his favourite.

sunny days were welcomed now. especially when the bright light would hit on your skin causing a reflection that's making you a walking glowing star. maybe he liked the sun a bit now.

he made progress on talking back to him coworkers, instead of the silent treatment he actually looked at them knowledge them. he actually started looking at them when they speak to him because you told him it was rude not to. soon he was invited to lunch with them where he would show off his bento box you made for him, he was glad the whispers disappeared. he didn't get how much it bothered him till now.

the owner of the flower shop who was an old lady was now a common person he had to see every week, she remarked he was her most loyal client. he received a tones of advice and recommended flowers as well pinching his cheek as a farewell message. needless to say he always tried coming home -he stopped calling it an apartment- to you without an empty hand, having your favourite pair of flowers was a must now. as well taking off his shoes and putting it directly next to yours, this was it right place.

rethinking it now, winter may be still cold but at least he got the scarf you got for him warped up to his neck, if he buried his nose in the soft fur he could smell your cologne -a reason why it was his favourite one- summer was perfect for you two picnic dates, and every time he could kneel down and thank the sun for making you so blazing and sparkly.

autumn was where you would count the crunchy golden leaves, you sometimes warped yourself around it as if it was snow. it was his favourite memory since it made his heart beating fast. and in the end you were his spring, where his love would bloom for you again and again.

restaurants weren't a waste of money and time now. he has a prefers show and it was the one that made you laugh until the tears formed in your eyes, he honestly doesn't find them as funny but it makes you smile so he didn't care.

life stopped being meaningless afterwards, and he could finally say that he enjoyed living as long as it was beside you.

nagi, rin, sae, toji, choso, ushijima, kenma, diluc. kei, sakusa. you favs!

835 notes · View notes

memethebum · 3 months ago

Text

Got a new oneshot out just in time for Valentine’s Day :D

This one is just your typical post-canon romantic tension kinda fic lol

————————————————————————-

It was no secret to Maka that the majority of people around her would actively question her relationship with Soul.

It didn’t come as any surprise to her either, as she was sure that the way she’d hastily crawl into Soul’s lap to take a quick power-nap during lunch or how he’d hunch downwards to rest his forehead against hers in the hallway when she was stressed over whatever life was throwing at her seemed to be pointing towards their relationship being a bit more than simply best friends.

However, the young woman didn’t properly question the implications of their actions until one placid winter night when she had been trying to reach for a plastic container situated on the top shelf of their kitchen drawer and had inadvertently bumped her head against the scratchy wooden cabinet in the midst of her struggle.

The noise seemed to be loud enough for Soul to hear it from their living room, causing him to walk into the kitchen while Maka assured him everything was alright as she was scratching one of her palms against her reddened skin.

It was then that Soul had gingerly pushed a few strands of her misshapen bangs to the side and planted a chaste kiss onto her forehead.

“Just ask me or Blair to help ya’ next time,” the Deathscythe had then chuckled before walking out the kitchen and plopping himself back onto their couch, leaving Maka to wonder if her head was the only part of her face that was red now.

———————————————————————

Maka really wasn’t sure why she’d been so shocked about the actions that’d transpired in the kitchen that day.

After all, it wasn’t the first time Soul had given her an entirely platonic kiss.

It seemed as if he found a reason to kiss her everyday.

He’d plant a kiss onto her knuckles before slipping his gloves onto her lissom fingers when the weather would be unbearably cold, he’d give her a kiss on the cheek while muttering a light thank you for cooking dinner, he’d nuzzle his face into her hair before planting a kiss just above her forehead while they were both pressed together on the couch for an impromptu movie night.

It was then that Maka realized how she seemed to be actively looking forward to his kisses everyday, much to her dismay.

“It’s a good time as ever to break out of the friend zone in my opinion,” Tsubaki exclaimed while deftly braiding a few strands of Maka’s hair and gazing down at Stein’s current lecture detailing how easily human intestines dissolved in acid.

“What if…he doesn’t feel the same way about me though?” Maka sighed before scrunching her nose as their professor reached under his desk and pulled out a jar with a poor cadaver’s entrails bobbing around the center of a clear liquid substance.

She then took a moment to look back at Soul, who whispered something to Black*Star while she watched his scarlet pupils shift from Stein’s lecture towards her gaze.

What if spilling my guts just ruins everything the young woman thought as she tried not to think too hard about how her heartbeat accelerated the moment Soul’s face melted into a smile that seemed to only be reserved for her.

———————————————————————

“You’re not too cold, right?” Soul questioned from his side of the bed before Maka shook her head and pulled the covers closer towards her chest.

“No, I’m fine Soul,” Maka giggled as she gazed towards the small window behind Soul and grimaced at the harsh blizzard winds that batted against the small log cabin they were staying in for their mission that particular week.

“Alright, g’night then~” Soul hummed before letting out a yawn and turning his back towards her.

Maka whispered her own goodnight as she allowed her eyes to close shut.

She’d slept in the same bed as him for a plethora of missions throughout the years, but it almost always seemed to make her feel a bit skittish.

I can’t tell whether his kisses or us being in the same bed makes me more nervous Maka mentally noted before her mind ground to a halt.

She then hastily recounted each of the actions she and Soul had taken in preparation of their mission, leading her to fixate on a singular detail.

Soul hadn’t kissed her at all that day.

What if he realized I didn’t want them to be platonic? Wh-what if he hates me for it? Maka questioned while the more rational side of her mind chided on how Soul always seemed to be a bit dazed after being in his weapon form all day, regardless of how many years had passed since they’d been partnered together and completed making him a Deathscythe.

She couldn’t help but stare at his lean back against the darkness settling around the room, which seemed to close in her pessimistic thoughts even further.

Death, he probably does hate me but doesn’t want it to get in the way of our mission. I’ve gone and destroyed a perfectly good partnership by letting myself get caught up in these feelings and-

“Maka…” a voice suddenly called through the young woman’s thoughts, probing her to slowly blink and realize Soul had turned around to face her.

“Hmmm,” Maka instinctively managed to murmur before feeling her cold palms become enveloped by a soothing warmth that she immediately registered as Soul’s hands.

“Your side of the connection is goin’ a lil’ crazy…” Soul then mumbled out, eliciting the young woman to let out a low chuckle at the thought of how her mind and soul seemed to be reeling due to her partner.

“I…it’s nothing,” Maka whispered before feeling Soul’s fingers gently squeeze against the cold flesh of her knuckles.

“It’s gotta be somethin’. You don’t need to tell me, but you’ve gotta get enough rest before the mission or-“ Soul monologued as Maka felt her heart clench even further.

Why does he have to be so infatuating … the young woman thought before peering down at their linked fingers and steeling her resolve.

“You didn’t kiss me at all today,” Maka mumbled, only to look up a moment afterwards and notice Soul’s dumbfounded expression.

“You usually kiss me a few times a day over…something. We spent the entire day together and you didn’t kiss me once, so I’m guessing you started to notice how I was taking them the wrong way,” Maka monologued as Soul untangled one of his hands from her own, earning him a defeated whimper from her lips before she felt his fingers push a few strands of her unruly bangs away from her face .

“How do y’know you were the one thinkin’ of them the wrong way?” Soul mumbled before Maka pulled back her other hand as she felt her throat begin to tighten at his words.

“I can tell when you’re uncomfortable. You don’t need to tease me about-“

“Tha-that’s not what I meant!” Soul immediately added before Maka felt one of his hands slap against her own, probing her heartbeat to wash over her ears while she attempted to catch up with his words.

“Does that mean…this whole time-“

“I-I feel uncomfortable now because I never gave the kisses any thought. In my head, it just felt natural, so I kept doin’ it and fuck I’m such an idiot for dancin’ around my feelings instead of asking you if it was ok-“

“Soul…” Maka tittered once noticing how Soul’s eyes widened as she pressed her forehead against his.

“Close your eyes…” the young woman then whispered before feeling Soul’s eyebrows silently raise at her request, only for them to ease back down as the Deathscythe shut his eyes with an easy smile.

Maka took his reaction as a sign to slowly inch her lips closer towards his own until she felt Soul’s hand latch onto the back of her neck once her lips glided against the taste of warm cinnamon and her fingers danced along the scruff of his chiseled jaw.

“Does that put your mind at ease?” Maka then giggled once they finally eased away from one another before feeling her partner wrap his hands around the small of her back and plant a small peck to her forehead in confirmation.

#soul eater #soul x maka #maka x soul #tsubaki nakatsukasa #soul eater fic #ao3 fic #meme attempts to write

48 notes · View notes

rmytears · 3 months ago

Text

TIME AND TIMING. calex one-shot

SUMMARY: A routine morning at the precinct takes a turn when Alex confesses an unexpected new interest—astrology. Casey humors her at first, but when Alex asks for her birth time, the conversation suddenly feels a little more personal than she expected.

The hum of activity in Manhattan's 16th Precinct squad room was more than just noise—it was a living, breathing entity. Like any creature of habit, it had its own distinct rhythms: the staccato percussion of computer keys clicking in irregular bursts, the bass line of shuffling papers, the occasional crescendo of a detective's voice rising above the din to request a file or share a breakthrough. Phones chirped their digital songs at random intervals, creating a chaotic harmony that somehow made perfect sense to those who worked there.

The Special Victims Unit occupied this space like a family might inhabit an old house, each member knowing instinctively which floorboard creaked, which drawer stuck, which corner offered the best refuge during difficult moments. They had worn paths into the industrial carpet between their desks, created their own territories marked not by walls but by coffee mugs, family photos, and the occasional stress ball.

It was early December, and winter had settled over New York like a wool blanket—heavy, slightly scratchy, but ultimately necessary. The precinct's ancient heating system fought valiantly against the cold, producing a persistent mechanical wheeze that had become as familiar as a roommate's breathing.

Assistant District Attorney Alexandra Cabot stood by the coffee machine, a relic from what appeared to be the late Paleolithic era, watching steam rise from her cup in lazy spirals. The machine's location—tucked into a corner between a filing cabinet and a bulletin board plastered with wanted posters and departmental memos—had become an unofficial sanctuary, a place where conversations could happen away from the intensity of active investigations.

Alex's appearance, as always, was meticulously curated. Her navy blazer, tailored to perfection, suggested authority without demanding it. Pearl earrings caught the fluorescent light, tiny moons orbiting the sharp planes of her face. Her blonde hair was swept back in a style that looked effortless but likely took considerable time to achieve. Everything about her projected competence, control, and an almost architectural precision.

Which made what she was about to say all the more surprising.

Casey Novak approached the coffee station with the determined stride of someone who had learned to move quickly through life, lest it move too quickly past her. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail, and her suit, while professional, spoke more of functionality than fashion. She carried a legal pad covered in her characteristic scrawl, evidence of a mind that worked faster than most people could keep up with.

"Please tell me there's still coffee," Casey said, already reaching for a cup. "I've got three motions to file before noon, and Judge Petrovsky is not in a generous mood today."

Alex's lips curved into a smile that held more warmth than most people got to see. "There's coffee," she confirmed, "though I make no promises about its quality or legal standing as a beverage."

Casey poured herself a cup, the dark liquid steaming like a witch's cauldron. "At this point, I'd drink motor oil if it had caffeine in it." She took a sip and grimaced. "This might actually be motor oil."

"I've been thinking about taking up astrology," Alex said suddenly, her voice carrying the slightly hesitant tone of someone testing unfamiliar waters.

Casey's head snapped up so quickly she nearly spilled her coffee. She studied Alex's face for signs of a joke, finding none. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Astrology," Alex repeated, more confidently now. "The study of celestial bodies and their influence on human affairs."

"I know what astrology is," Casey said, amusement creeping into her voice. "I'm just trying to picture you plotting star charts between cross-examinations."

Alex's expression remained serene, but there was a glimmer of something playful in her eyes. "There's a lot about me you don't know, Novak."

The use of her last name—so formal, yet somehow intimate in Alex's mouth—made Casey's stomach do an unexpected flip. She covered it with a smirk. "Clearly. Next you'll tell me you're reading tarot cards in your office."

"Don't be ridiculous," Alex said, taking a deliberate sip of her coffee. "Tarot cards would be completely unprofessional." She paused, then added with perfect timing, "I keep those at home."

Casey laughed, a genuine sound that drew brief glances from nearby detectives before they returned to their work. "Alright, Madam Alexandra, what's my sign then?"

Alex's gaze became analytical, reminding Casey of the way she looked at witnesses on the stand—searching for truth beneath the surface. "Well, I know your birthday's coming up, but for a proper reading, I'd need to know exactly when you were born."

"The time?" Casey raised an eyebrow. "That matters?"

"It's crucial," Alex said with mock solemnity. "It determines your rising sign, your house placements..." She waved a hand vaguely. "Very technical stuff."

Casey found herself leaning against the counter, mirroring Alex's posture without realizing it. "Okay, I'll bite. December 12th, 4:57 PM."

Something flickered across Alex's face—satisfaction, perhaps, or triumph—but it was gone before Casey could properly identify it. "Interesting," was all she said.

Before Casey could press further, Detective Olivia Benson's approach cast a shadow over their corner. She moved with the measured grace of someone who had seen too much but refused to let it show, her dark eyes holding the weight of countless cases. The file in her hand might as well have been made of lead for all the gravity it carried.

"Sorry to break up the coffee klatch," Olivia said, though her slight smile suggested she wasn't entirely sorry, "but we need both of you on this one."

The moment dissolved like sugar in hot coffee, sweet but ultimately unsustainable. They were professionals first, always, and the work that brought them together was the same work that kept them apart.

Weeks blurred into months, marked by the steady progression of cases through the system. Winter softened into spring, then hardened into summer's unforgiving heat. The squad room's ancient air conditioning unit joined its heating counterpart in a duet of mechanical protest. Through it all, Casey found her thoughts occasionally drifting back to that conversation by the coffee machine, like a tongue probing a loose tooth—not exactly painful, but impossible to ignore.

She didn't mention it again, and neither did Alex. They worked together with their usual efficiency, trading legal strategies and case laws across conference tables, passing each other in courthouse corridors with professional nods. But sometimes, Casey would catch Alex watching her with that same analytical gaze from the coffee machine, as if she were still plotting some celestial chart only she could see.

When December 12th arrived, the squad room had been transformed. Someone (probably Fin, though he'd never admit it) had strung up a "Happy Birthday" banner that had seen better days. The conference table groaned under the weight of snacks, and a cake decorated in surprisingly artistic fashion proclaimed "Happy Birthday Casey" in bold blue letters.

"Alright, everybody gather 'round," Cragen announced, his usual gruff demeanor softened by the occasion. "Let's do this before we catch a case.

The squad assembled with the organized chaos of a family at a holiday dinner. Fin presented his gift first, a vintage law book Casey had once mentioned wanting. Munch followed with a conspiracy theory book ("Know your enemy," he said with a wink). Olivia's gift was practical—a sleek leather briefcase to replace Casey's worn one. Even Cragen contributed, offering a bottle of aged scotch with a gruff "For after hours only."

Throughout it all, Casey was acutely aware of Alex's presence at the edges of the group. She participated in the celebration with her usual grace, but offered no gift, no special acknowledgment of their previous conversation. Casey told herself it didn't matter, that she was being ridiculous for even remembering such a minor exchange.

The party dispersed as quickly as it had formed, the demands of justice never taking a holiday. Casey retreated to her office, diving into work to distract herself from a disappointment she couldn't quite justify.

The wall clock ticked toward late afternoon, its sound suddenly prominent in the quiet office. 4:56 PM.

A knock at the door made her heart skip, though she couldn't say why.

"Come in," she called, proud of how steady her voice remained.

The door opened with a soft click, and there stood Alex Cabot, holding a small package wrapped in silver paper that caught the light like stars.

Casey's eyes darted to the clock just as it changed: 4:57 PM.

"You remembered," Casey said softly, the words escaping before she could stop them.

Alex's smile was gentle but knowing as she stepped into the office, closing the door behind her. The sound seemed to seal them in their own private universe, separate from the chaos of the precinct beyond. "Of course I did. I told you timing was crucial."

She approached Casey's desk with measured steps, her heels clicking against the floor in a rhythm that seemed to match Casey's suddenly accelerated heartbeat. The package she carried looked small in her hands, but it commanded attention like evidence in a courtroom.

"I hope you don't mind that I waited," Alex said, placing the gift on Casey's desk with careful precision. "It seemed important to get the timing right."

Casey stared at the package, afraid to reach for it, afraid not to. "I thought you'd forgotten about all that astrology talk."

"I never forget anything, Casey." The use of her first name, so rare from Alex's lips, felt intimate in the confined space of the office. "Especially not conversations that matter."

With fingers that trembled slightly—though she'd never admit it—Casey reached for the package. The paper was cool and smooth under her touch, like running her hands through water. She unwrapped it slowly, savoring the moment, until she revealed a small jewelry box.

Inside, nestled on black velvet, lay a silver bracelet. Its surface caught the late afternoon light streaming through her office window, making the engraved word dance: Patience.

Casey traced the letters with her fingertip, feeling the slight indentations against her skin. "Why this word?" she asked, though something in her chest suggested she already knew the answer.

Alex moved closer, close enough that Casey could smell her perfume—something expensive and subtle, like secrets wrapped in silk. "Because some things are worth waiting for," she said softly. "Some connections need time to align properly."

Their eyes met, and in that moment, Casey understood that they weren't talking about astrology anymore. Perhaps they never had been.

"Here," Alex said, reaching for the bracelet. "Let me help you with that."

Her fingers were warm as they brushed against Casey's wrist, sending little sparks of electricity dancing up her arm. The bracelet clasped with a soft click that seemed to echo in the quiet office.

Neither woman moved to break contact.

"It's beautiful," Casey whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their breathing.

"It suits you," Alex replied, her thumb tracing a small circle on Casey's pulse point.

The moment stretched between them like taffy, sweet and fragile and full of possibility. Casey found herself leaning forward slightly, drawn by some force as inexorable as gravity—

A sharp knock shattered the moment.

Olivia's voice carried through the door. "Hey, we're heading to Forlini's for birthday drinks. You coming?"

Casey cleared her throat, trying to remember how to form words. "Yeah, be right there."

Alex stepped back, but her eyes never left Casey's face. The professional mask slipped back into place, but now Casey could see the cracks in it, the places where something warmer showed through.

"Shall we?" Alex asked, gesturing toward the door.

Casey nodded, but as they moved to leave, she caught Alex's hand. "Thank you," she said. "Not just for the bracelet, but for... timing."

Alex's fingers squeezed hers briefly. "Some things are written in the stars, Casey. We just have to be patient enough to read them."

At Forlini's, surrounded by their colleagues and friends, Casey found her attention constantly drawn to Alex like a compass finding north. The bracelet felt warm against her skin, a constant reminder of possibility.

Olivia, ever observant, nudged her gently. "Nice bracelet."

"Thanks," Casey said, unconsciously touching it. "It was a... special gift."

Olivia's knowing smile suggested she understood more than Casey had said. "You know, some people speak louder through gestures than words."

Across the bar, Alex was laughing at something Fin had said, the sound carrying over the ambient noise. As if sensing Casey's attention, she looked up, their eyes meeting across the crowded space.

Time seemed to slow, the noise fading to a distant hum. The word engraved on Casey's wrist seemed to pulse with meaning: Patience.

She smiled, and Alex smiled back, and Casey thought that maybe, just maybe, some things really were written in the stars.

All they had to do was wait for the right moment to read them.

#calex #alex cabot #law and order svu #casey novak #wlw #alexandra cabot

46 notes · View notes

spiritedstars · 7 months ago

Text

Spirit Meets the Bones XXXIII

Genre: Angst/Romance/Drama Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse. Author’s Note: Thank you for reading <3 I hope you enjoy this next chapter and where the story is going :)

thank you @elidelochans for always being my beta <3

tagging: @climb-the-mountian / @zenkindoflove / @animezinglife / @rosewood-cafe / @vanserrass / @positivewitch / @clockwork-ashes / @carnythian / @secret-third-thing / @runningwiththeoceans / @that-golden-lyre / @thedarkinmansfield / @readychilledwine / @goldenmagnolias / @mali22 / @readthelastpaage / @maidr-00 / @electromagnetic-waves / @eastofatlanta / @moobell55 / @bibliophiliaxvignette / @devilsfoodcake22 / @weesablackbeak / @ladywhilemia / @alohaangels / @feysandfeels / @corcracrow / @dawneternal / @gracie-rosee / @mage-neve / @illyrianvalkyrie / @saint-stella / @rainbowsnowflake / @queenoftheworld1998 / @wolvesnravens

Find it all here.

When two days passed, Eris gathered with his brothers and mother in her garden. For this conversation, Iris stood by his side. He had carefully shielded their scents and if his brothers noticed, they didn’t comment.

He may trust them but as he shared a glance with his wife, Eris couldn’t help but want to keep this…gift to himself a little longer. If they made it through this, Eris would let himself reflect on how the Mother had a strange sense of humor; to give him Iris with the possibility of losing her.

Then again, the Mother knew this would be a hard fight. Sending his mate only gave him more reason to insist on making it out.

“You don’t think it’s too dangerous to be gathered like this in one place?” Lady Enya asked in the silence, her hands wringing in her lap.

“I glamored us as we arrived,” Eris assured her. “No one saw us coming in.”

But his mother was more nervous than usual, which added to his stress. Eris could tell she was tired and it made him want to choke his father more viciously than usual; that fucker knew his wife hated his guts and yet he kept his paws all over her.

Forcing the thought from his mind, his expression tight, he addressed his mother with a nod. “Are you prepared?” he asked. “Do you have everything you need?”

Lady Enya nodded, her hands clenching in her gown. “Yes,” she answered, clearing her throat. “I don’t wish to take anything with me but the clothes on my back. I have nothing of value that I shared with him.”

The words made him grimace. He knew his mother hadn’t meant her words to be about her sons but it didn’t stop the sting of knowing how she had held herself back. It didn’t hurt any less that she had endured all this because of them. For them.

The brothers shared a frown.

“I’ve checked with every one of my sources and nothing seems to be amiss,” Emil said, his arms crossed. “My soldiers are ready.”

Izak, seated next to their mother, nodded. “The same with mine. Everything is going according to plan.”

“What about Lucien?” Finn asked.

“I’ve been in touch. Everything is fine on his end.” Eris confirmed. “Winter and Dawn have given us passage to winnow from the court lines.”

“No questions asked?” Iris inquired carefully.

“Lucien has enough connections that no one bats an eye when he mentions he’s passing through with people,” he explained. “Especially when Helion and Rhys are welcoming. There’s no reason to object when there won’t be lingering.”

“Does Rhys know?” Lady Enya asked quietly.

A muscle flexed in Eris’s jaw. “Rhys has always known this day would come but he doesn’t ask questions. He knows it’s near.”

Finn shifted on his feet. “We’ve checked and triple-checked everything. Things are going according to plan and yet…why does it feel like something isn’t right?”

“Because we’re a bunch of paranoid motherfuckers.” Izak said then glanced at his mother. “Apologies, mother.”

The corner of Iris’s lips twitched as her mother-in-law rolled her eyes at her son and she couldn’t help but let her gaze shift between the brothers and their mother, feeling slightly out of place. This was her first time meeting Emil and Izak personally and other than an awkward greeting, they kept their distance; the tension lining Eris’s back and the way he watched his brothers with every breath they took near her had Iris do the same. Given what Eris had shared with her about each of them, Iris couldn’t help but have a soft spot for the brothers who were all trying to find the light with love as they battled their own demons. It didn’t change how close Eris had her stand and if anything, his brothers understood his possessiveness too well, even if they didn’t know to what extent.

The last two nights seemed to escalate his levels of stress and Iris had watched him have to expel his anger, nearly setting their whole suite aflame to get himself through the day. He’d leave her early and return late, checking in with her periodically throughout the day and whenever he did, they would end up releasing his stress in a much more intimate way. Iris had found that whenever his body was draped over hers, was the only time he actually relaxed.

Even in his sleep, her husband struggled and she found herself awake more often, watching him as he shuddered through every breath.

Iris kept her eyes on Eris as he ran his tongue over his teeth, sharing a look with Emil. “We did find one idiot who was ready to sell out,” he said carefully. “He was hoping to get in with the High Lord and rise through the rankings.”

“And what happened to him?” Finn asked, his tone casual.

“By the time Eris and I got to him, our sentries had let him know exactly how they felt about ruining our chances,” Emil said, the corner of his mouth lifting. “We aren’t the only ones desperate for change.”

“I would’ve cut out his tongue.” Izak huffed.

“Emil did,” Eris said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Then we hung him in the center of the training ring with a knife lodged in his throat.”

“That seems unnecessary.” Lady Enya muttered mildly.

But Finn nodded at them. “Nice.”

“You have a very odd definition of nice.” Iris said with a raised brow and Finn’s answering grin was a little too sinister.

“I would’ve carved out his internal organs to hang him by and then pinned his body to the wall with knives so he could bleed to death, slowly and painfully. What they did was nice.” he said and Iris couldn’t help her grimace.

“Please –” their mother started and glanced at Eris who sighed.

“Let’s focus,” he waved a hand. “We have another week before this hell is over. Keep straightening things out. If you hear even a whisper of something, you let me know immediately.” Eris glanced back at his mother. “We wait for the signal that Helene, Theo, and Cosette are fine. We dance. We mingle. Once Father gives his bore of a speech like every year, Emil will be walking you to where you will meet Mikel and then to where you will meet Iris and Oren. From there, you two will pretend to walk towards your gardens until you cross the gates. Serphan will winnow you to Lucien and then report back to me. Helion will also be waiting.”

Lady Enya swallowed, a hand rubbing her throat. “And they – Lucien knows what to do in case something goes wrong?”

Eris nodded then gave them all a pointed look. “Rumor has it that our youngest brother was invited and he may be making an appearance,” he said. “Should he need to use it, he knows the code. Each of our sentries has a uniform color. Lucien knows my insignia and who he can ask if needed.”

A silence fell on the group and Iris’s gaze couldn’t help but flicker between them all. She couldn’t imagine how long they’d been waiting for this and how these last few days were causing more agony than anything else.

Lady Enya broke the silence first, rubbing a shaky hand to her forehead. “I’m – I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry to be causing all this.”

A collective noise of disapproval rang from the brothers and she looked at them with a watery smile.

“But I am. I always will be,” she added, her grip tightening in the folds of her dress. “If I could stay and help avoid all this, I would but I — I can’t anymore.”

“Mother.” Finn chasted her gently and his expression tightened when Izak wrapped his burly arm around their mother’s delicate frame and kissed the top of her head.

“Don’t apologize,” Izak said. “We can’t keep living this way regardless.”

“Enough is enough,” Emil added solemnly. “We are more than what he’s forced us to be.”

Eris met his mother’s gaze. “You are a phoenix ready to rise from the ashes, remember?” he asked quietly. “Don’t look back now.”

Lady Enya glanced at each of her sons and then took a shaky breath. “You are all the light of my life. I am proud of each of you and know you will always be more than he could ever dream. Better than he could ever dare to be.” she said softly. “I love you.”

And Iris had to look away from them as each of the brothers, including her husband, flushed lightly at their mother’s words. But she could feel their content, felt how it filled them with joy and Iris felt an ache in her chest. She hadn’t met her own mother but Lady Enya had easily and so quickly filled that role. This wasn’t her moment and yet Iris felt so honored to be a part of it.

Clearing his throat, Izak gruffly mumbled, “We love you too.”

Lady Enya chuckled and patted Izak’s cheek. “I know, my beautiful boy,” she said, then sighed quietly, straightening. “Do not underestimate him. He will not respond well and I know he has something up his sleeve.”

“The bridal party waiting for us isn’t for nothing,” Emil mused. “He’s invited every influential family in the court and somehow, they all have eligible daughters.”

“We dance and we mingle,” Eris repeated his instructions firmly. “Lying is a form of art we’ve excelled at for years. It won’t kill you to dance with a potential bride to keep up the ruse.”

“Yeah, but Helene might kill me.” Izak mumbled and Finn snorted as Iris’s lips twitched.

“Considering Father might kill you first should you not dance, you’ll have to risk it,” Eris said dryly. “He’s surrounding himself with people like him for a reason. He believes in the strength of numbers and has purposely kept some of the guest list names from mother.”

“I think it’s a mighty coincidence that this particular ball is the one he’s having potential brides from powerful families attend,” Emil said. “If the High Lord is promising your daughter a prince, you’d be more than happy to side with a tyrant than against him.”

“It might not be to the extent that families have turned,” Finn said. “But it doesn’t help us if he has some of them present.”

Izak shook his head. “Those families have always been in his pocket, they keep each other comfortable. We knew this.”

“Those families are full of nothing but lofty words.” Lady Enya added. “Nothing in the preparations should change but I still don’t think you should trust them.”

Finn glanced at Eris. “Once we’re done with Father, we get to clean out the garbage, right?”

“Whoever does not bend to the new ruling will be taken out immediately,” Eris said, his expression tightening. “We know who these people are. They have one chance to make the right choice or they won’t live to make another one.” He glanced at each of his brothers. “This is the only shot we have to disinfect this court and make it into something worth living in. This is bigger than just us.”

“You should anticipate your father being there.” Lady Enya said to Iris. “He was one of the people the High Lord insisted on adding to the guest list and I don’t see Aron declining the invitation.”

Iris grimaced, her fists clenching at her sides. “I have no doubt he’ll be there,” she said then glanced at Eris. “Even if he knows he’s not wanted.”

“Especially if he knows he’s not wanted,” Eris muttered. “He knows what awaits him should he step one toe out of line.” And he forced himself to roll his shoulders back, pushing back the surge of anger thumping in his chest at the mention of his father-in-law. He glanced at Izak instead and waved a hand for a letter to appear then flicked it to his brother. “Lucien let me know this morning that Helene and her mother have been settling in nicely. She sent you a letter.”

Izak caught it and held it tightly, nodding at Eris. “Thank you.”

Eris nodded back and then glanced at Emil. “Cosette?”

“She’s ready to leave.” his brother answered tightly.

“Adler?”

“He knows his orders.”

Eris nodded again and ran a hand through his hair. “We have to be on guard for anything.”

“I know.”

Eris shifted as he stared at his family, feeling the blood pumping beneath his skin. “If –”

“Eris.” Emil’s calm tone cut through his. “We’ve done every single thing we could. The only thing we can do is set it in motion and make it through.”

Taking a breath through his nose, Eris let his head fall back, his eyes on the open air above them. “I won’t pretend I’m not filled with dread and it’s been getting harder to tighten the leash on my powers,” he mumbled then fixed his gaze back on his brothers. “I set fire to one of the stables yesterday because Father made a snippy comment.”

“What a pity he wasn’t standing in it,” Finn said, his lips twitching and Eris snorted.

“Pity, indeed.”

Iris’s gaze locked on Eris and his tightened shoulders and she couldn’t help stepping closer to him, her hand sliding to his back as she leaned into him. He glanced at her with a thin smile then cleared his throat, addressing them all.

“He’s going to make this a hard fight. We fight as dirty as he does.” Eris said firmly. “Whatever it takes.”

It fell silent as his brothers nodded. His mother’s eyes welled up again, and Eris had to look away from her so it didn’t pain him. He glanced at Iris instead, and even though her smile was a small sad one, it managed to loosen a breath from his chest. Whatever it took, he would crawl his way out of this and back to her.

“Well,” Finn began and Eris let out a long-suffering sigh echoed by Emil and Izak. “He can’t kill all of us, right? One of us has to survive him to continue the Vanserra line.”

“Finn.” Eris warned as their mother made a noise of distress.

“What? I’m only reassuring you once again, that if the task comes to me, I would be happy to marry all your lovely ladies and take care of them should you all bite the dust at the ball,” Finn said graciously.

“Don’t you have a certain someone in your life?” Iris asked, holding back a laugh and Finn waved a hand good-naturedly.

“He’s very reasonable, you’ll love him,” he reassured Iris as he wiggled his brows at her. “You won’t mind having sister wives, right? As the wife of my oldest brother, you would be my first wedded, of course.”

Before Eris could do more than snarl rather viciously at his brother’s teasing, Iris held a hand to her husband’s chest and raised a brow at Finn. “It’s sweet you think you can handle one wife, much less three,” she said then turned back to Eris. “If you bite the dust as your brother says, I promise I won’t marry him.” She patted his chest gently. “But, you’ll be perfectly safe so there’s nothing to worry about. You don’t need to punch him.”

Eris scowled then narrowed his eyes at Finn’s smug smile. “I still want to punch him.”

“We can save it for another day. When all this is over.” Iris couldn’t help but glance at the rest of them. “When we’re all safe. You can punch each other all you want then.”

“Your wife is an optimist,” Emil noted, tilting his head at her curiously. “What a fate to be married to a Vanserra.”

Iris’s lips twitched then made a show of stepping back to run her gaze down Eris’s body and back up. Eris’s brow lifted as she made a noise of approval. “Well, he is pretty so it balances out all the struggle,” she said and Eris rolled his eyes as she turned back to shrug at his brothers. “It isn’t much, but it’s honest work.”

Izak’s head tipped back with a laugh as Finn hooted and Emil couldn’t help his chuckle.

And Eris wanted to devour her when she gave him a cheeky smile that made him roll his eyes again. “Hysterical,” he deadpanned, the tips of his ears heating at his mother’s small smile.

“I told you she was funny,” Finn said to his brothers.

“My wife’s jokes and Finn’s enthusiasm to marry females who won’t want him aside –” Eris began, warning Finn with a look when his brother opened his mouth. “We’ve lingered enough, I think. Should anything else come up, be quick and be discreet.”

The brothers let themselves slowly disperse with Emil vanishing first then Finn. Izak delayed for a moment and approached Iris with a thin smile. Eris’s brow quirked up as his brother ran a hand over his beard, his expression curiously cautious. “I just wanted to say…I think you and Helene would get along well,” he said and glanced at Eris before meeting Iris’s gaze. “It’s not easy being married to a Vanserra but…I think you two could be friends. If – if you wanted.”

Iris’s smile was warm. “Based on what Eris mentioned to me, I think so too. I look forward to meeting her when I can.” she said then added quietly, “Congratulations on the pregnancy.”

Izak flushed, pleased as he nodded. “Thank you. I’ll see you again at the ball.”

As Izak departed and only his mother remained, Eris gave her a moment as she took in her gardens, her expression tight. He knew this place had always been a sanctuary for her and though she’d be leaving it behind for a better place, he knew it wouldn’t be easy.

“Mother.”

Lady Enya turned towards him. “Yes?”

“If needed…will you be ready to use your magic?” he asked carefully and his mother took a breath, nodding.

“Yes. Whatever I can do, I will support your every step,” she said, her expression shifting into grim determination. “Whatever it takes, Eris.”

He nodded at his mother then shared a glance with his wife and Iris’s smile was tight as Eris promised, “Whatever it takes.”

Eris blinked and as the ball crept closer, he barely slept. He went about his daily routine, spent time with his wife, and plotted through the night. He tried to be more relaxed, tried to stay focused but as everything slowly came together, he couldn’t help but anticipate that something would go wrong. He’d readjusted his plan with Oren, Mikel, and Seprhan twice already; he was driving his friends crazy.

The feeling intensified when it was finally the night before the ball and his Father summoned him to the throne room. Eris had hesitated for only a moment in front of the door, the memory of the last time he was summoned here lingering in the back of his mind. But he forced himself forward and allowed himself a glance around the room as he walked towards where his father stood, taking in the splendor of decor as he went. His mother always outdid herself with the way she planned for these events. He knew how this particular event was one of significance and didn’t miss the little signs around the room. The abundance of gold. The wisps of fire magic. The miniature phoenix art scattered around the room. His lips couldn’t help but twitch.

Eris paused a healthy distance from the High Lord who stood with his back to him, facing the throne. As his Father deliberately took his time to acknowledge him, Eris ran his tongue over his teeth and made himself take a deep breath, schooling his expression into that careful calm he desperately needed around his least favorite person.

After a few moments of silence, Eris clenched his fists behind his back and cleared his throat. “You called, Father.”

Beron glanced over his shoulder and then made a noise of disapproval as he turned to face his son. The two watched each other in silence and though Eris was used to his father’s mind games, something about this summoning felt…sinister.

Beron gestured for Eris to come closer and immediately, his shoulders couldn’t help tensing further.

But Eris moved and stopped at the place Beron had pointed to, right in front of him. “Do you know why I called you here, son?”

“I really hope it’s because you missed me,” Eris said with a thin smile. “Otherwise my feelings will be hurt.”

Beron snorted. “Funny,” he said and shifted his head slightly as he watched Eris. “I wonder if you get your humor from your wife. I hear she’s very funny.”

A beat of silence passed and Eris felt his heart nearly leap out of his chest. “Pray tell, who has been passing along her jokes?”

His father’s answering smile made Eris’s fists tighten. “The wind carries all kinds of whispers, son. I didn’t realize it was a secret.”

The moment stretched between them and Eris tried to keep the beating of his heart calm as his father watched him. What did that even mean? Who was talking?

The High Lord’s mouth curled and Eris tried to tamper down his agitation as his father added, “Then again, everything about your wife would be a secret if it was up to you.”

Eris’s expression flattened. “Are we really doing this again, Father?” he said and tried to keep his tone even. “I thought we were past this.”

“Of course, of course,” Beron said casually. “Though how sensitive you are about her is still concerning, I suppose we have other things to worry about with our big event tomorrow.”

Tension lined Eris’s spine as he watched his father watch him, every sentence loaded with words left unsaid, and Eris’s mind scrambled to catch it all. “Indeed,” he said carefully. “What can I assist you with, Father?”

“Always so eager to assist, son,” Beron said. “Sometimes I forget just how much.”

Eris’s gaze narrowed slightly in confusion. He didn’t want to believe his father was bored and wasting his time like this. Eris could barely keep awake these days; with this last night, he wanted to be alone with his wife. His mate. He wanted that fucken time with her.

Yet here he was, squandering that time with this.

“Is there anything about the event tomorrow you’d like me to do? I do believe everything has been taken care of.”

“I didn’t call you here for that.” Beron said and Eris lifted a brow.

“If not that, to what do I owe the pleasure of being here?”

The words seemed to cause a slight shift in his father and Eris noted exactly when his expression went from amused disdain to anger.

“You overstep and I tire of it.”

Eris blinked. “Oh?”

“You are my eldest son. I acknowledge that a certain load of responsibility has been expected of you and even added to your shoulders. You have always done your duty as required and yet…” Beron pursed his lips, his gaze narrowing. “The past few months, you have overstepped so very often.”

Eris forced his expression into polite indifference. “Is there something I did in particular that bothered you deeply enough to summon me?” he asked and his father’s eyes narrowed. “I would like to ensure I apologize profusely for my errors.”

“You and that fucken mouth of yours.” Beron snarled and backhanded Eris so quickly he barely took a breath, his face snapping to the side and Eris nearly swore at the sheer force that went into his father’s hand.

Oh, the High Lord was pissed to be this triggered by his tone.

Eris ran his tongue over his teeth, slowly facing his father again and he knew there was nothing to be done about the anger that coursed through his body – anger he knew the High Lord felt despite the bland expression Eris managed to push through on his face. “That seemed rather unnecessary.” he managed to say lightly, even though his fisted hands were shaking violently behind his back. “Was it something I said, High Lord?”

And this time when his father lifted his hand in warning, Eris leaned back, his expression flattening again. “I can handle words, Father. You don’t need to put your hands on me to tell me when I’ve supposedly wronged you.”

His father’s mouth curled in anger and the High Lord stepped into Eris’s personal space even further. “Back away from me again and a flogging pole will be the least of your worries.”

A strained silence pulsed in the air between them and Eris knew he was venturing into dangerous territory when he couldn’t hold in his humorless laugh and his father’s eyes narrowed.

“And get blood all over the floor? That wouldn’t be the kind of welcome you’d want to give our guests.”

Beron yanked Eris by the front of his tunic. “Keep speaking in that sarcastic tone and your body hanging by the gates will be what welcomes the guests instead.”

Eris felt his fire nearly burst out of him, his anger shooting up his spine but he held that leash on his magic and held it tight because he wouldn’t blow up here. Given the kind of pressure he’d been under the last three weeks, it would be so fucken easy to unleash everything and be done.

But no. Not now. Not when they were so fucken close. Not when they could wipe the slate clean in front of the whole court and step into a new age with history on their side.

Nevertheless, Eris couldn’t stop the steam from pouring out of him and he certainly couldn’t stop his glare when his Father’s cold smirk appeared.

“I don’t know if that would match the theme Mother’s going for this year.” Eris said tightly as he tried to reign in his anger even as Beron’s answering chuckle was laced with cruelty.

“You keep speaking to me that way and your mother will have more things to worry about than her tacky theme.” Beron spat then shoved Eris back. “Fix your face and apologize.”

A muscle flexed in Eris’s jaw as father and son stared down one another. They had barely started talking and his father was already goading him just to lay hands on him. Had the High Lord sensed anything amiss? What was it that seemed to be putting his father in such a foul mood?

Eris’s hands remained behind his back, flexing his fingers then fisting them again as he forced himself to bow his head and as calmly as he could choke out said, “Apologies, High Lord.”

Beron’s head cocked to the side. “An apology should come with a full bow, boy. Do not disrespect me.”

Eris’s expression blanked immediately and he forced his body not to react negatively, not to tense further. His well of power would not be blown away on this. This was nothing. He’d tolerated more.

So forcing himself once more, Eris bowed fully to his father and said as dull as possible, “Apologies, High Lord.”

His father said nothing for a moment and Eris took the opportunity to glare at the sparkling floors they stood on. When another minute ticked by in silence, he couldn’t help but lift his head to find his father smirking at him. And that was never good.

Especially when he opened his mouth and said, “Your wife says my High Lord. You should say it the way she does.”

Eris’s body straightened before he could stop himself, his vision going red and the only thing that managed to hold him back from ripping his father’s throat out was the laugh that slipped out of the High Lord’s mouth, mocking him.

“You’re so easy to rile these days.” Beron taunted. “Which goes to show you how bad of an influence that wife of yours is.” Giving Eris a sly look, his father continued, “Maybe you should pick out a new bride tomorrow.”

Eris didn’t bother fighting back his eye roll, despite how much his clenched fists were shaking. “This conversation is getting tedious, Father,” he said curtly. “May I please know what it is you wish to discuss with me?”

The High Lord’s expression filled with contempt as he stared down his son, the silence between them was heavy with trepidation.

“Tedious, you say.”

“Yes. We both know there are about a thousand other things we could be doing instead of this little dance between us.”

Beron made a disinterested noise. “I had no plans other than to fuck your mother this evening. Though her lack of enthusiasm doesn’t make it as enjoyable as it could be, it is better than nothing.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Eris snapped and nothing could stop his fists from catching flame. “Show some respect when you speak about her.”

And Eris knew his father’s fist would fly out. He let it. He let the taste of blood fill his mouth as he staggered back a step from the blow. His father seemed to be spiraling. He had lashed out at stupid things before but this? To this extent? Eris felt the pit of his stomach give out. Could it be that something had slipped through the cracks?

“I will speak about my wife as I see fit. You do not get to insert yourself between us.” Beron spat and Eris wiped a hand at his mouth with a huff of disbelief. His father’s expression of disdain remained as he took a step closer to his son. “This is your problem. You are always inserting yourself in places you don’t need to be. You do it with your mother. You do it with your brothers. You did it in a meeting the other day with our council while I was in the room.” The High Lord glared and Eris had to fight with all the willpower he had to calm his shaking hands – to smother his flames. “You know why I called you here? To discuss how you intervened between me and your brothers the other day. An intervention I did not welcome.” His father’s gaze raked over his face. “I’ve tolerated your overstepping in the past because you followed orders – you get things done. However, I will not tolerate your overstepping tomorrow, especially in front of the many important guests that will be present. You will remember your place and watch how you behave.”

The High Lord’s voice was nothing but a lethal threat as he said, “The next time you get between me and your brothers so carelessly like that, you will take the brunt of their discipline.”

Eris tried to keep his expression from shifting at the promise filled with violence. This whole conversation was bringing all the stress he had been carrying and crashing it down on his head. It seemed that indeed, his command of his brothers had finally seemed to bother his father enough that he was finally saying something about it. What convenient fucken timing.

Beron’s expression morphed into one of cruel amusement. “Your hair is only just starting to grow out. It’s too early for another new look, don’t you agree?”

And the warning was clear – a reminder of what the High Lord would be happy to do again in this very room.

Eris pursed his lips, his heart thundering in his chest at his father’s gaze filled with violence as clear as the tone he used. He nearly choked as his magic surged up again, desperately wanting to answer it but instead, Eris forced himself to breathe slowly, the leash on his magic held tight as he said carefully, “I merely wished to help, Father. I didn’t realize it would bother this much.”

“I do not require your help to make your brothers fall in line. You should be falling in line with them.” the High Lord snapped. “Your help has become an insult.”

Eris’s jaw worked and again, he forced himself to bow his head graciously even though he wanted to do anything but – his father had already laid his hands on him twice; he couldn’t afford to keep giving him reasons to lash out. So Eris only said, “Duly noted.”

Silence stretched between them and Eris waited, knowing a threat was coming up. His father liked to play games and loved to waste his time. Minutes ticked away and Eris couldn’t help the flare of his nostrils when his father’s mouth curled up.

“Eris.”

“Father.”

“Tomorrow is a very big day,” Beron said slowly and took a step closer to him. “I’d hate for things to go wrong should any of you decide to do something foolish.”

A chill skittered down his spine but Eris’s expression remained politely bored. The comment didn’t have to mean anything. His father didn’t know anything. The High Lord was only lashing out because Eris hadn’t said the right things to him, because he wasn’t being as careful as he could be. He would blame it on the stress and would not let himself believe anything else.

“Other than drinking excessively,” he said as nonchalantly as possible, “I don’t foresee any trouble.”

Beron hummed, watching Eris in a way that always made his skin crawl. “Your father-in-law will be in attendance. I expect you and your wife to behave accordingly.”

Annoyance flashed on Eris’s face before he could stop it. “I am aware. He’ll do well to steer clear of us completely, Father. That is my only request to you.”

“And if I refused?”

Eris forced his expression to blank pleasantness again, noting the movement of his father’s hands. “Then I cannot promise there won’t be trouble should his path cross ours.”

“Is that a threat, son?”

“Never, Father,” he said with a small smile. “I am merely setting expectations.”

Beron’s eyes narrowed and it was a deadly type of silence between them, the type of silence that Eris knew, had his father not needed him to be presentable tomorrow, Eris’s face would’ve met his fire rather than his fist. “You were my favorite son.” his father said quietly. “I do not like who you’ve become.”

Eris could only slowly shrug his shoulders. “I’m sorry to be of constant disappointment, Father,” he replied and wished he could tell his father exactly how sorry he was – how much being the so-called favorite had cost him.

Beron scowled and grabbed Eris’s face with a hand, tugging him closer. “Do not think I haven’t noticed how abysmal your attitude has been lately but I will warn you one last time,” his father said quietly, enough violence in his tone that Eris knew not to move. “Should you do anything that isn’t a direct order from me – anything that isn’t what I expect of you, I will make you pay in ways that’ll be worse than your nightmares.” Beron shoved him back and Eris couldn’t help his expression darkening at his father’s glare. “All this family has ever been is disappointing. Let’s hope you and your useless brothers don’t make matters worse for yourselves tomorrow.”

The High Lord shoved past Eris but paused half a step away and Eris turned his head without a word, only raising a brow at the loaded silence between them.

But then his father’s nostrils flared and Eris felt his blood run cold. He didn’t dare breathe and mentally checked his shields, knowing he had reinforced it around his scent before he came anywhere near his father, and yet…what exactly was the High Lord sensing?

His father merely gave him a once over then spat, “I’ll see you and your wife tomorrow. I hope you remember to make good choices.”

And the High Lord’s goodbye felt like a promise full of death. Eris waited a few moments in tense silence, his blood thumping in his ears and when he was sure he was indeed alone, he closed his eyes to let out a deep shaky breath, feeling steam rise from his hands. His anxiety had returned in full force at his father’s departure. His father couldn’t have sensed anything, could he? Eris had glamoured his scent well; no one could note his mating bond, especially without Iris near him. If his father had scented his wife on him, that wouldn’t be unusual but Eris was too careful even for that.

He ran a shaky hand through his hair and let himself linger for another moment, eyes flickering around the room, letting himself see it as it was for the last time. With a sigh, he turned on his heels and left the throne room.

He needed to warn his brothers.

–

Iris watched as Eris finally stepped into their suite and slammed the door behind him. He had taken longer than she had anticipated and the anxiety that had been squeezing around her chest immediately loosened when she saw that he was whole and unharmed. Her heart had stopped when Eris had told her about the High Lord’s meeting and the only reason Iris had survived waiting was because she distracted herself on the piano.

Everything was supposed to be set. Everything was in place and yet, the tension that seeped into the room with him made her nervous. She hated that what could be their final night together was filled with such emotions.

She rose from her place on the piano and walked over to him then stopped in her tracks, noting the slight bruise on his cheek, the cut on his lip. “What happened.”

Her voice was more hushed than intended but if not for that, Iris knew she would start to panic. She moved closer until she stood before him and let her healing senses reach out, not wanting to touch him just yet – not until she was sure he wanted her touch at this moment. But she sensed nothing amiss aside from the evidence on his face and had to swallow when she met his blank stare. “What was this about?” she asked softly.

Eris had to calmly count to ten and let out a long breath before he could speak, “I seemed to have gotten under the High Lord’s skin when I supposedly overstepped and intervened between him and my brothers the other day.” he explained and Iris watched with a grimace as his fists tightened at his sides. “He wanted to remind me of my place and to watch my tone because apparently, my sarcasm doesn’t translate well.”

“So he finally noticed and said something about it?”

“Funny how he’s always benefited from me doing all his work for him and now has the nerve to get annoyed by it,” Eris grumbled then shook his head. “He wanted to warn us – me to behave tomorrow.”

Iris felt her heart stutter in her chest. “Warn how?”

“He wanted to make sure I didn’t intervene in my brother’s whore parade so they could pick wives.”

Iris brows furrowed. “Given that they’re all in committed relationships, I don’t think it’s going to go the way he wants.”

“Hopefully, by the end of the night tomorrow, he’ll be dead and we won’t have to worry about him at all,” Eris spat and rolled his head back, breathing deeply and Iris felt his frustration seep off him.

She frowned and stopped in front of him, assessing his expression then reached out a hand to gently touch him. She waited a heartbeat, giving him the chance to push her hand away if he wanted to but Eris couldn’t seem to help but shudder at the touch, and after a moment’s hesitation, he turned his face to kiss her hand softly. “You’re almost there. Tomorrow, you all will be free of him. You’ve prepared as best as you can.” she said softly, letting her magic wipe away his hurt.

“I know and yet, I don’t feel prepared at all,” he said quietly and Iris had never seen his eyes so tired. “I feel like it’s going to all go to hell and I’m going to drag you all down with me.”

Iris cupped his face and forced him to meet her gaze. “Everyone is ready to go down swinging with you, Eris. This is not on your shoulders alone,” she said. “Please…unburden yourself.”

He shook his head slowly and pulled her hands from his face to hold in his own. “My head isn’t wired to do that,” he said. “I’m thinking about all of the things that could go wrong.”

“But what about all the things that could go right?” Iris asked, squeezing his hands.

Eris’s chuckle was weak. “How I ended up with an optimistic wife really is a comical event. You truly did marry into the wrong family.”

The corner of Iris’s mouth lifted. “Fate does work in mysterious ways.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, then took a step back, his expression shifting. “Do you have all your items prepared for tomorrow? Aside from the bag we sent ahead to Lucien and Elain’s.”

She tried not to let her face fall and nodded. “I have a small satchel and daggers to hide beneath my dress.”

“You know where you’ll be meeting Oren?”

“Yes.”

“And the drop-off location where you’ll winnow to reach Lucien?”

“Yes, Eris,” she said wearily. “We went over all this in the morning.”

“And we shall review it again tomorrow. I cannot take any risks when it comes to you.” he said and Iris gave him a knowing look.

“I know,” she said quietly. “Do you want to try and get some sleep? It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

Eris shook his head, his fists clenching at his sides. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep. I’m too tense. Too nervous.” he said and licked his lips, glancing at her in a way that made her pause.

She waited a heartbeat then asked, “...Is there something else?”

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, his expression tight but with a sigh, Eris explained quietly, “When he was walking away from me, he paused a step away and…seemed to sense something in the air next to me.”

Iris froze in his arms. “And you think that means…he knows something?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “Why else would he do that? You mentioned in the stables he seemed to sense something around you. What if he sensed something from me? What if he knows?”

“Eris –”

“Iris, I can’t – how can I —” he growled and his grip on her tightened. “If he knows and pulls some shit tomorrow that would harm you in any way I —”

“Eris.” Her tone was firm enough that it made him pause, his expression stricken in a way that made her chest ache for him. “It doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

“How can you –”

“And what if he does? What does it matter?” Iris asked. “Tomorrow, things will change regardless. What does it matter if he finds out about our bond now?”

Eris’s expression fell and his whisper was hoarse, “Because this is the one thing – you are the one thing that is all mine. I don’t want his mark on it.”

Iris felt her heart crack, the same way it always did when she thought of the way he’d lived his life constantly on edge, constantly thinking and planning and scheming. She didn’t want this particular night together to be this way. He needed some peace and Iris needed him just as badly as he needed peace.

“It doesn’t matter what or if he does anything,” she said quietly but not weakly. “I am yours and you are mine and whatever tomorrow brings, we will face it. He doesn’t get to win.”

Eris struggled not to tremble at her determined gaze. That he had someone to worry about was one thing but to have someone — her — worry about him like this? He could truly never bring her peace and yet – she looked at him like this. Like she lov— loved him.

As he loved her.

“What do you need?” Iris found herself whispering, reaching out a hand to gently touch his face again and a thrill always did go through her at how many times she could make him shudder with her touches. Iris waited, watching as he worked his jaw, swallowing before his eyes met hers. Without saying anything, she could feel his every emotion and concern. The thread at her ribcage was a path to his every thought and she gently tugged at it as for once, her husband let his emotions flicker across his face. The panic, the worry, the desperation, and Iris would do anything to bring him ease.

After an eternity, his response was a broken rasp, “You. I only need you.”

Iris softened and stepped closer, Eris's arm immediately wrapping around her waist to pull her into him. “You have me,” she said softly and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I am here, with you. I am yours.”

He licked his lips, his chest rising and falling rapidly, without saying a word, the look they shared conveyed exactly what he needed – wanted, and always craved. He needed her in every way. He needed to only see her tonight. To only feel her.

Her eyes didn’t waver from his as she slowly slid a hand down his chest. She knew exactly what he needed to be able to get through this night and Iris wanted nothing more than for them to feed into their feelings. Her hand continued down, past the waistband of his trousers until her hand wrapped around his impressive length and Eris hissed as she squeezed him, slowly pumping. His arm tightened around her, tension lining every inch of him even as their mouths were a breath apart.

“Tell me what you need,” she whispered but Eris couldn’t do anything but watch the blush across her cheeks, trying not to have his eyes roll back as she tightened her grip. His breath stuttered as she leaned in closer to him, pumping him leisurely as she spoke, “Do you want me on my knees? Should I take you in my mouth?” Eris groaned and closed his eyes, leaning into her slightly when Iris quickened her pace and then slowed down. “Tell me what I can do to make you feel good.”

“I want you everywhere.” he rasped and opened his eyes, his gaze filled with a desperate kind of heat that Iris felt seep into her bones. “Anything you want. Everything you’re willing to give me. I want this night to be just about you and me. For nothing else to matter.”

“Then nothing else has to matter right now,” she said softly. “It’s always just you and me.”

Eris licked his lips, his request for permission written all over his face, and every desperate thought and emotion he had spilled into his next word, “Please.”

All it took was a nod from his wife and any restraint Eris had snapped. His kiss was as desperate as he felt, chasing her lips and Iris whimpered into his mouth, her hands digging into his back, quickly backing her into the table of their dining room.

“I — I can’t be gentle right now.” He said urgently in between his kisses, his hands moving as quickly as hers, both trying to undress the other. “If you don’t want that — please tell me now I don’t want to —“

But she held up her hand and Eris froze immediately, breathing heavily with her barricaded between his arms. Tonight, there would be nothing gentle about their coupling. With how high stakes everything would be tomorrow, all Iris wanted – needed was him. “I don’t want gentle," Iris said quietly. "I want whatever you'll give me.”

The demand in her tone had a noise he never thought he could make slip from his throat and Eris surged forward to claim her lips once more, searing himself into her.

His hands couldn’t move fast enough; he shoved her dress down her body, undergarments with it and Eris only got a second to admire her body before getting distracted by Iris’s own hands practically ripping off his clothing and in an instant, he helped her send them flying. He turned her around, pushing her body down and Iris hissed at the sensation of the cold table to her heated naked body. She couldn’t help but lean forward even further, presenting herself to him, and couldn’t stop the mewl that slipped from her lips when he smacked her ass.

She looked over her shoulder and found Eris’s eyes on her, spreading her legs and Iris couldn’t stop the arch of her hips, biting her lip with a soft moan when his fingers slipped into her already wet folds.

“This is going to be hard and fast. I promise to be nice to you later but now…now I need to fuck you, wife.” He said and the low tenor of his voice made her hips arch back further, her breaths in time with his fingers teasing her entrance. “You understand?”

“Then you better fuck me hard, mate.” she said and Eris’s breath shuddered as she whispered, “I’m all yours.”

“Brace yourself,” was all he said before Eris thrust into her without preamble, and Iris let out a ragged moan, clutching onto the table as he had her. Eris fisted a hand in her hair and fucked her at a vicious pace and she could do nothing but bend over further for him, whimpering helplessly.

Her body took him and his brutal pace, Iris groaning as Eris grunted into her ear and Iris felt her impending release slowly start to build. The sensation of his tight grip on her hair, his other hand firmly on her back to keep her down was fueling a lust like never before in her.

It made her realize that she desperately liked it when he unleashed himself on her. That in fact, she loved that he was fucking her like this, especially as he thrust into her so hard again, he hit a spot she hadn’t thought existed until him.

Looking over her shoulder, her breath quickened at the sight of the fire blazing in his eyes as he claimed her.

“Husband.” She gasped and Eris’s eyes snapped up to her, the hand on her back sliding to her ass and squeezing.

“Wife.”

“Harder.” She demanded and Eris’s eyes glazed over, the words driving him into a frenzy. He growled so deeply, goosebumps erupted all over her and the hand fisted in her hair pulled her head back so he could claim her lips, bruising her with a kiss.

“Gladly, mate.” he purred.

She shuddered and tried to meet his pace but Eris had unleashed himself completely and her husband was gone. Pushing her down fully on the table, the grip on her hips was deliciously painful as he thrust wildly.

There was no hope for her to catch up and Iris happily let him claim her, her release creeping closer – knowing how much they needed this with all that tomorrow would bring. The sound of his heavy breathing, the sound of their bodies meeting, and finally when he smacked her ass hard enough she knew there would be a mark, Iris shattered with a delicate cry.

Eris grunted and didn’t give her a moment to shudder through her climax as he pulled out, his length hard and wet with her release. He turned her over so fast and before she could realize what was happening, her husband had her flat on her back on the table.

Yanking her to the edge, he spread her legs for him and slapped her cunt, rubbing the slickness of her release in her folds. “I didn’t ask you to come.” He purred, his tone just a little mean and Iris arched her back off the table with a throaty groan as he slapped her sex again. “You like it when I slap your cunt, wife? Your cunt that belongs to me?”

But Iris was having a hard time getting her mouth to form words and could only breathe heavily, nodding.

“I want to hear your answer, little gazelle.” he growled and slapped her cunt again, the sting a little harder and Iris cried out.

“Yes.” Iris wouldn’t bring herself to be embarrassed at the whimper that left her lips when he did it once more with a savage grin.

“That’s my good girl.”

Iris’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as his hips snapped into hers and held, the sensation so overwhelmingly good she could already feel another release building.

The blaze in his eyes become more prominent, predatory as he pulled back only to pound into her again, his thrusts frantic and the pace merciless, watching her take his cock; a choked sob slipping from Iris’s lips when he pushed her legs further apart and held down, the angle deepening his reach. Her hand slid to her clit and his smirk was wild as he watched her play with herself, her pace trying to match his.

“You take me so fucken good, wife. I need to fuck you in front of a mirror so you can see the way my cock fills you up. So you can see how your swollen cunt drips with need for me.” His voice was guttural and Iris bit her lips, the words only igniting more fire in her – more want. “You like it like this? You like it when I lose control? When I fuck you like an animal?”

“Yes.” She breathed and Eris clenched his jaw, his thrusts now desperate.

“My hand — your throat.” his words were barely understood as another choked whimper slipped from Iris and she begged,

“Please.”

Her plea had Eris’s hand slide to her throat and Iris’s mouth fell open at the sensation of his grip tightening slightly.

“You like that?” He ground out, snapping his hips into her hard enough, it caused her to shift back onto the table slightly.

But Iris could only gasp as he pulled her back to the edge of the table with a growl, his grip on her throat heightening all her other senses, her free hand clenching the hand on her throat desperately.

“I’m —“

“I’ll have you dripping all over this table momentarily, wife.” He snarled. “Patience.”

And Iris let him lose himself inside her as she lost herself in him. The feeling of being at his mercy like this would’ve had her breaking out in hives once upon a time but now she trusted him so thoroughly that giving him this type of control — control he needed – was so freeing. She was free falling and the sound of his rough grunts as he fucked her senseless sent her right over the edge once more with a tight moan.

“I said pati — fuck.” He growled and his thrusts became even more erratic as she clenched her walls around him, her body bowing off the table with a silent scream, her release coursing through her.

“Eris.” She whined and the sound of his name whispered from her lips undid him.

Eris cursed, pumping hard as he spilled himself inside her and Iris watched him through hooded eyes, relishing the way his eyes closed, the hand not on her throat gripping her thigh tight enough she knew it would bruise. He leaned over her, resting his head in the crook of her neck, his breathing unsteady as his thrusts slowed and Iris could only moan softly when he pressed himself in her and held again, his cock still pulsing inside her. Her thumb caressed the hand still wrapped around her throat and Iris licked her lips, pleasure still coursing through her.

When he finally opened his eyes and pulled back slightly, the sight of her underneath him, splayed beautifully, almost had him come again; he couldn’t bring himself to pull out of her, and judging by the way her walls still tightened around his shaft, Eris was sure she didn’t mind. He loved being inside her, loved it when she warmed his cock.

The fingers around her throat stroked her neck gently before he let go and peppered it with soft kisses that earned him a breathless sigh from his wife’s lips and he couldn’t help his small smile when he pulled back to meet her gaze.

And Eris felt his whole being crumble when she smiled softly at him and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning in and kissing her with such tenderness that Iris felt her heart break a little. This was the way it was between them – a little rough balanced in with a little soft; she was the only one who made him realize how much he needed that softness.

She pulled him closer with a hand on the back of his neck, the other on his chest, and wrapped her legs around his waist, the movement pushing him deeper inside her, and Iris had to bite her lip to swallow the wanton sound she knew would come out of her mouth. But she wanted to wrap her very being around him and keep him close to her heart, where he would be safe and whole and hers. She wanted him forever like this, in her arms as he kissed her and touched her and looked at her like she was the only one who mattered.

Their kiss deepened and when he shifted slightly, she wasn’t sure who made the breathless noise between them as she tightened around his cock again.

He shifted slightly, brushing a hair out of her face. “You’re trying to torture me, aren’t you?” he gasped and Iris giggled.

“I’m only giving you what you wanted.”

His gaze was smoldering and Iris felt her whole body heat as they shared a breath but Eris forced himself to pause, his eyes roaming her face. “Are you okay?” He asked quietly and Iris felt his nervousness start to creep up. “Did I —“

“You didn’t hurt me.” She said immediately and leaned up to leave a quick kiss on his neck, running a hand down his chest. “I liked it. I liked it a lot. In fact –” Iris slid her hands up his toned arms then down his back slowly until they settled on his backside and she squeezed, digging her nails into his flesh. Her cheeks flushed as he groaned, rocking into her. “I think you and I are far from finished.”

Eris’s eyes flashed with desire as her words ignited a fire within him; she always knew what he needed without saying a word. His wife. His friend. His mate.

She was his and he was hers and Eris – who had never even dreamed of this, would hold on to this glowing thread between them like the lifeline it was.

“You’re right,” he said and his voice was a sensuous caress as he leaned closer. “I am far from done with you, little gazelle.”

Little else was said as the two moved, and there was nothing soft about this claiming, nothing gentle about the need and desperation in their touches. Everything would change tomorrow and Eris couldn’t stop himself from letting himself be all wrapped up in her. For having this night of forgetting.

And Eris promised himself he would do whatever it takes for their tomorrow to have a tomorrow. Whatever it takes to bring them peace. Regardless of how many pieces he had to break himself to do it.

#eris vanserra #eris x oc #eris vanserra fanfic #acotar fanfiction #gfics #smtb chapters #hope to hear your thoughts in the tags/comments :)#to all my silent readers I love you and cherish you and I hope to hear from you!!#if you don’t want to be tagged anymore please let me know #no hard feelings :)#very long day otherwise this would've been posted earlier.#also debating whether to continue only posting it on ao3 because I’m a little burnt out from this tumblr rn #so if you haven’t subscribed to the story there I highly recommend!#had to repost lol

60 notes · View notes

rurikredwolf · 4 months ago

Text

Broken Jade art. Context below:

“I have considered that.” Moon grimaced. Her stance was calmer, but the fire of anger still churned in her eyes. “But it does not change what he did. He never considers anyone else. Sandrunner was vulnerable, and now he’s more so now. Even if I did - and I won’t - forgive him for the enchantment, he still crippled my son. He nearly took him away from me.” Her claws dug into the ground. “I don’t know how I didn’t break then.”

A deep breath escaped her.

“Sandrunner’s all I have left, Winter.” She flicked a few rocks into the river with her tail, her rage simmering into sorrow. “Yes, I have you and the Winglet is being repaired, but I can’t just… walk away if I lose him. Quite literally a piece of myself will die, and that is the part tethering me here.” A pause. “You… don’t seem surprised about this.”

Winter’s grimace had intensified the more she talked, but as she said, he did not react with surprise. “You’ve said it before.”

“When?”

“After the Night Palace. You stood over where Sandrunner nearly died and confessed that to me.” Winter remained stoic as he spoke. It was the only way to keep himself grounded. “You were half awake, stressed, and probably very drunk. It makes sense if you don't remember.”

“Ah,” Moon said, a hint of shame crossing her face. “I’m sorry. You don’t need to hear that.”

“I do.” Winter spoke with forceful affirmation. “I care about you, Moon. I… do not express that verbally very often, but I do. I know I’m not the best at emotional support as well, but this is… something I want to know about.” Winter took a step closer. “You aren’t a burden. Not to me or anyone else.”

“I know. It doesn’t make it any easier to say.” Moon’s tail tapped the ground, talons drumming on a rock. “I guess that’s why you’re not so verbal, huh?” She added with faint humor.

Winter nodded slowly. That only got her to laugh quietly. “What?”

“You didn’t do that on purpose?”

It took a moment for him to realize what she meant. “No.”

“Oh Winter, what am I ever going to do with or without you?” Moon’s shoulders slumped as she shook her head. “Y’know, it’s funny. Twenty years ago, our places were reversed. You had so much anger and were lashing out and I tried to help you. How the tables turn.”

“I had reasons to be angry then. You do now.” Winter sat next to her as she turned her attention to the river again, lost in thought. “I just don’t want you to lose yourself like I almost did.”

“I still want to kill him. I still will likely do so.” Moon spoke in a much more defeated, sad voice. “But maybe you’re right. I just don’t know.”

“I think it’s okay not to know. I learned that the hard way.”

Moon leaned against him, sagging slightly. Winter went rigid at the motion and did not know what to do. He should have anticipated this. But, again, positive affection and physical touch were still things he hadn’t quite gotten used to.

He could almost see the reflection of himself twenty years ago shrieking to do something about this action.

Broken Jade, Chapter 40.

#dragon #wingsoffire #3d #blender #wof #wings of fire #winter wof #moonwatcher #winterwatcher

30 notes · View notes

gorouinheat · 1 year ago

Text

If you want it, then drug it!

( Scaramouche x m!reader ) Minors, fem DNI

- all characters are 18+

cw: non-con to consent at the end?? , use of drugs (aphrodisiacs n’ other stuff), powerbottom!scara, trans scara, scratches, sloppy sex, confession at the end

You're walking towards your best friend Scaramouche's house, feeling the winter chill biting at your cheeks. You're all wrapped up in a cozy coat, gloves, and a scarf, and you're psyched to hang out with Scaramouche since he offered to help you study for your finals. You've been stressing out since your grades have sucked lately, and you're worried about having to retake courses next semester. Thankfully, Scaramouche is a total brainiac who's acing all his classes, so you're hopeful that he can help you turn things around. As you approach his house, you rub your hands together, hoping that it's warm and inviting inside. You could use some blankets and a hot cup of tea right now.

You give the door a firm knock and stand there waiting for him to answer. It seems to be taking him longer than usual, so you start to wonder if he's in the bathroom or if he's just being difficult and making you wait in the cold. You let out an exasperated sigh and knock once more. Finally, he answers the door.

“What took so long? I’m freezing out here, you moron.” You say with your teeth catering from the cold.

Scaramouche stands in the doorway and greets you with a snarky attitude, "Not my fault you don't know how to properly dress for the cold." You roll your eyes and step into the warm embrace of his house, feeling the heat immediately soothe your cold skin. You let out a sigh of relief and a smile spreads across your face as you take off your jacket and shoes. Scaramouche shuts the door behind you and his face contorts into a grimace as he notices you just plopping your jacket carelessly on the floor.

“Hey, remember the coat rack by the door? It's there for a reason," he says with the same attitude in his voice as he picks up your coat and hangs it up. You glance around the cozy living room, admiring the festive Christmas decorations his mom has put up for the holidays. Suddenly, your eyes are drawn to the enchanting mini Christmas village on the side table, and you can't help but feel a little bit of holiday cheer bubbling up inside you.

"6 o'clock is when my mom usually comes home. So, I think it's important we get started on studying now.” Scara says with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. You glance over at him while still admiring the miniature houses and nod in agreement.

As you are standing in the hallway with Scaramouche, he turns to you and tells you that it's time to study. "That means stop looking around like an idiot and go up to my room," he says, snapping his fingers in your face. You feel slightly taken aback but decide to ignore his rudeness and follow him upstairs.

You both enter his room, and Scaramouche heads towards his bookshelf to fetch his study materials. You plop down on his bed, letting out a sigh of relief after walking up the stairs. However, Scaramouche doesn't seem to appreciate your relaxed attitude. "Sit up," he barks at you, smacking your head. You let out a yelp of pain and rub the spot where he hit you.

Feeling annoyed, you sit up straight as he places the books on your lap. You can't help but wonder why he is being so harsh with you. Nonetheless, you try to focus on the task at hand and begin studying with him.

"If you fail this exam, you're spending your Christmas break alone," Scara threatens. You groan and open the books to the study guide pages for the exam. "For you, I won't," you say dryly. Scaramouche's face heats up as he scoffs and sits beside you on the bed.

He helps you study for a bit, leaning up against you as he points at a question that you need help with. His breath tickles you as he talks, of course, he did all of this on purpose but he knew you were too oblivious to that. He did this daily actually, showing obvious signs he likes you but you shrug it off every time. it's really starting to make him upset

You've been studying for the past 30 minutes, trying your best to focus on the dense material in front of you. Just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, Scaramouche's voice breaks the silence, "Want anything to drink?" You look up, surprised by his sudden offer. "Uhh..sure," you reply, grateful for the interruption. Scaramouche nods and disappears downstairs to prepare your drinks. Meanwhile, you take a deep breath and try to get back into the zone. But your mind is still struggling to process everything, and you can feel the frustration building up inside you. Suddenly, Scaramouche appears again, carrying a tray with two cups of tea. The warm and soothing aroma fills the room, making you feel calmer.

As you reach out to take the cup, you notice a certain glint in Scaramouche's eyes. He hands you the hot cup, and you can instantly smell the aroma of cinnamon tea. "Mmm, it smells so good," you say, feeling content. Scaramouche stands there, grinning, as you take a sip. "Did I make it alright?" he asks innocently. You smile and reply, "You always make the best tea, Scara." You take another sip, and another, while Scaramouche watches you intently. His heart races with anticipation, knowing that he's finally going to get what he wants. His mind wanders for a moment as you finish the tea, and he can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction.

As you place the cup of tea on the nightstand, he snaps out of his thoughts and lets out a deep sigh. You feel the warmth spreading through your belly, soothing your nerves. Suddenly, Scara's cheeky grin returns, and he suggests taking a break from the books for a moment. He sits on the edge of the bed, crossing his legs, inviting you to join him. How could you resist such an offer?

As you hum and ponder for a moment, Scaramouche looks at you expectantly. "What will it be?" he asks, his metallic voice ringing in your ears. You open your mouth to speak, but suddenly feel a wave of dizziness wash over you, causing your sentence to cut short. "You okay, Y/N?" Scaramouche's hand rests on your leg, concern etched into his features.

As you slowly open your eyes, you feel a slight dizziness, but you try to shake it off and try to sit up. Suddenly, you feel Scaramouche's hand on your thigh, and a jolt of electricity runs through your body. You can't help but feel a rush of excitement as you look into his eyes, wondering what he's thinking.

As you rise to your feet, you feel a shiver run down your spine. You gently move Scaramouche’s hand away and take a step forward, feeling a bit unsteady. "I think I need to use the bathroom," you say, your words a bit uncertain. But before you can take another step, your legs give out and you collapse onto the bed once again.

"Take a break and lie down for a moment, Y/N," Scaramouche whispers as he gently props you up on the pillows. He then leans in close to your ear and says, “Let me take care of you.”

You utter a confused "Oh..yeah, okay", trying to make sense of what's going on. You close your eyes in an attempt to steady yourself as the room begins to spin around you. Suddenly, the heat becomes too much to bear, making you long for the freezing cold outside. You start to feel uneasy, fidgeting on the bed and frantically clawing at your jeans. As you struggle to keep your thoughts in check, your mind wanders to something completely unexpected - Scaramouche. You can't help but notice how appetizing he looks right now, but then you quickly remind yourself that he is your best friend. What is happening to you?

You find yourself struggling to stay conscious as you gasp out Scara's name. The heat is too intense, and your head is spinning. Scaramouche looks at you, feigning concern, but you can sense the malevolence behind his facade. Suddenly, you feel his hands, cold as ice, pressing against your chest. It sends shivers down your spine and you try to push him away, but your strength is failing. Scaramouche gradually started to unbutton your shirt.

As you shake your head no, you feel your face getting hot with anger. Scaramouche notices your reaction and quickly moves closer cupping your cheek to calm you down. "Hey, hey, it's just me and you. You can trust me, can't you?" he says in a sad tone, trying to manipulate you.

As you gaze at him, your heart races and you can feel your chest heaving up and down. Despite the nerves, you nod in agreement. Scaramouche is your closest friend; the one who's always been there for you. You know in your heart that he would never do anything to hurt you. Right?

As Scaramouche's warm smile reaches your face, his gentle caress on your cheek sends shivers down your spine. You feel an overwhelming sense of comfort and safety around him. As his hand moves down to your neck, you can't help but feel a tingle of excitement mixed with the comfort. Despite the side effects of the drink you had earlier, the dizziness and confusion continue to linger, but being with Scaramouche makes you forget all your worries.

That was before he made it down to your chest finishing off the rest of the buttons and slipped off your shirt. Scaramouche bites his lip when he sees your chest, running his cold hand against your pecs and down to your belly. A whine slips from your lips as he moves down to remove your pants next. You squeeze your eyes shut when you feel your pants get pulled down to your knees.

Scaramouche sighs as he finally gets what he waited so long for. He reaches for your growing bulge and starts rubbing you through your boxers, “Mm you feel kinda big..” He grins.

Sparks of pleasure course through your body now that the effects of whatever he had put in your drink took their hold. You whine loudly, not expecting this sudden touch. Beginning to feel the sudden need to submit to Scaramouche. All you wanted was for him to have his way with you, you’d just sit there and take it. The swirling pool of desire grows stronger as you jerk your hips up against his hand.

A gasp leaves your lips as you make contact with his hand again. “Scara?.. what are you do-fuck that feels good.” You shudder and moan out as he rubs your clothed tip. Scaramouche grins sinisterly, “yeah? Feels good?” His voice was so smooth and rich, like honey dripping over your senses, that you couldn't help but crave more. As you took in a deep breath, the room seemed to become hazy and distant. You strained to hear what he was saying, but his words were lost in the fog of lust and desire.

Abruptly Scaramouche manages to pull down your boxers, making your cock slap against your stomach. Your hard shaft is swollen with need, already leaking from the burning desire to take Scaramouche. As your eyes fill up with tears and your head starts throbbing, you gaze down at him, feeling a mix of emotions. “Scara..” you mutter, his name seems to be the only thing you can say right now. “Shhh don’t fight it,” he says grabbing your throbbing length, “I’ve wanted this for so long..” he whines as he licks a straight line up your base with His damp tongue.

You bawl your fist against the sheets tightly, nails digging into the palm of your hand. Scara lets out a breathy laugh at your reaction, “cock sensitive?” he says mouthing against your cock, his hot breath making your cock jerk in his hand. You nod dumbly- the drugs making your mind hazy, you don’t care what he does at this point..not that you could muster up the words to say anything right now anyway, only whimpers and whines leaving your lips.

Hastily, Scaramouche flattens his tongue against your mushroom head tip before he gradually sinks his mouth on your cock. You abruptly let out a choked sob from the sudden wave of overwhelming pleasure, making your thighs shudder wildly. As Scaramouche goes further down your length, trying his best not to gag - your cock stretches his throat so good making his eyes roll back in pleasure. You buck your hips up into his mouth out of need, causing your tip to jab the back of Scara’s throat. He gags and jerks his head back up from your length, coughing up saliva that lands on your cock. He inhales shakily as he catches his breath with his eyes squeezed shut. When he gathers his composer again he chuckles, looking back at you with glossy eyes. “My mouth feels that good?” his tone is teasing and he slowly strokes the base of your cock, smearing his saliva all over it.

The sound of squelching comes from the movement where Scara rubs your cock softly. Out of his pleasure, he ruts himself against his mattress as he strokes your length sloppily. Even the slightest gliding of his fingers was making you go crazy. You moan loudly each time his hand reaches your overly sensitive tip. “You moan like a fucking girl.” he snarkily says before leaning his head down and sucking up the pre-cum that flowed out from your cock.

He moans when he feels the salty taste of your pre-cum spread across his tongue, savoring the taste before popping off your cock. He gasps, catching his breath before moving back to his original place. His mouth engulfs your cock, taking in whatever he can down his small throat. His tongue swirls around your sensitive head. The feeling of his lips sliding up and down, combined with the stroking hands of where he couldn’t reach, sends waves of intense pleasure throughout your body.

Your hips shudder as you try to force your cock deeper into his mouth. His hands grip your hips tightly, keeping you still as he continues to take more of you down his throat, gagging before he comes back up and suckles on your cock head.

With a satisfied smirk, Scaramouche pulls away from you, leaving your cock still hard and glistening with his saliva. “I didn’t expect you to taste so good” he purrs, his throat a bit sore. As you lay there, breathlessly and aroused, Scaramouche slowly slides up your body, his lips pressing light kisses along your throat and jawline. You feel him gradually remove his shorts and panties, leaving him only in his black tank top.

You wait impatiently for Scaramouche to position himself on top of you. You can't help but feel frustrated that you can't even speak properly. The pills are still taking effect and you're starting to feel numb all over, making it hard to do anything but whine and wiggle your hips in anticipation.

Scaramouche seeing your anticipation, laughs and looks at you with a sly grin before he positions himself over your throbbing cock, guiding it towards his exposed entrance. “Wanted this for so long..” he whines, his voice suddenly going soft.

“Wouldn’t mind if we went in raw right?” he says softly, not even giving you enough time to respond before he sinks down onto your cock. The moment Scaramouche’s hot, slick cunt engulfs your cock, it feels like the most natural thing in the world, like you were made for only him. His lips wrap around your base, massaging you with his velvet walls. You choked out a loud moan and toss your head back, your mind filled with nothing but the urge to cum.

Scaramouche whines, his face now decorated with a cute blush and teary eyes. Not being able to handle the pleasure, you move your hands up to push Scara off.

Shaking his head rapidly, he whines out “He-hey! No, no please” in a high pitch tone, your cock filling him just right. He swears he feels you in his stomach. He pins your hands down, gasping “Just, ngh- just let me have this.”

He groans softly, his head rolling back as he adjusts to the fullness of your cock. His body shudders, hips rocking back and forth. Your small whimpers and whines encouraging him.

He lets go of your hands and rubs your hips, making you whine and turn your head to the side. His walls being too much for your sensitive cock, you felt like you were going to bust any moment. You let out a shaky sigh as you try to calm down from the overwhelming feeling of his constant squeezing.

Scara’s shaky hands move up to your shoulders and grip them tight, nails digging into your skin - before lifting his hips and plopping back down on your cock. You toss your head back as Scaramouche lets out a high-pitched moan, “fuck! You’re so big…” he whines. Nails breaking your skin as he moves up and down on your cock, nearly knocking the air out of you with each movement. Your head rolled against the pillow as you let out uncontrollable moans, your mind fuzzy with lust.

You didn’t even notice you were drooling til Scaramouche leans down, licks it up from your lips, and kisses you. It was sloppy but loving, you kiss back and slip your tongue into his mouth. The sounds of the sloppy makeout mix in with the constant plap of Scaramouche’s hips hitting yours, filling the room. He moans into your mouth and squeezes his eyes shut as he feels your tip brush against the deepest part of him.

You feel his body tense up before he pulls away, stuttering, “G-god damnit..” A thin strand of saliva still connects your lips as his eyes roll back, and he drops his head onto your shoulder. You feel the sweat from his forehead as he roughly grinds down on your cock, taking one of your hands close to his clit. You feel your tingling fingers against the hot sensitive flesh of his clit, making your fingers do a circle movement on the small nub.

Scaramouche shudders, forcing your fingers to rub faster. “Ah, fuck! …” he tries to catch his breath, his heart racing. “B-Buck into me, m’ so so close” he whines. His hands move to grip your wrist tighter. You were fading in and out of consciousness when you grit your teeth and thrust up into his sopping-wet hole, making another loud plap.

Scaramouche’s tongue rolls out of his mouth, drooling all over your shoulder as you buck into him fast and hitting his spot dead on. He squeals and grips onto you tight, “Fuck- FUCK, Y/N!” He shouts your name as his thighs shudder and give out. “Mmmmph!” He groans, his body tensing at each thrust. He tries his best to hold back his orgasm, wanting nothing more but to cum with you.

You huff, shakily moving your hands on Scara’s hip and gripping them tight enough to bruise. He winces in pain but it's soon lost when you lift his hips and fuck him back down onto your length, making him mewl in pleasure. “A-are you close?” He says in the crook of your neck, his voice trembling. As he feels you nodding against his head, he tightens his grip on you, eagerly grinding against you after each thrust.

His body trembles as he holds back the impending orgasm, his cunt throbbing in anticipation. “Fuck…I can't hold it- please cum..” He gasps, his voice strained.

You hear your heartbeat in your ears as your balls clenched and the swirling in your stomach snaps. You bite hard on Scara’s shoulder as you grunt and shoot your thick load into Scaramouche. He grits his teeth at the bite but feeling your load enter him sends him over the edge. His hips jerk forward as he loses control. His orgasm crashes over him, his back arching as he throws his head back.

“Sh-shit!” He shudders as you feel his walls clenching tight around your cock, milking every last drop of worth from it. You let out a shaky breath, plopping your head back onto the pillow. Your hips twitch from the aftermath of your orgasm, feeling it slowly leak out of Scara’s hole. He lets out a soft moan as he lifts his hips and your cock slips out, his body still trembling from the aftermath of his intense orgasm. His eyes are closed and he doesn’t move for a few moments, keeping you inside. He feels your cum run down his thigh, leaving them sticky.

His eyes open slowly, taking in the sight of you. Your cheeks stained with tears but you had a blissful look on your face.

Scaramouche's mind is plagued with guilt as he dwells on all the things he has done to you, all because of lust. He can't help but feel remorseful for the pain and hurt he has caused you. The weight of his guilt is heavy.

I'm sorry," he mutters, his voice hoarse from his previous actions, but you know he means it. You lick your dry lips and take a breath as Scaramouche continues, defending his actions, "This was the only way I could get you to finally see me. You were always going after people who didn't care about you, always going after people who didn't love you," he rambles. "I love you, Y/N," he says, his voice filled with pain, "I didn't mean to hurt you in the process. It's fine if you never want to talk to me ever again after this.”

You look up at him, trying your best to take in all his words but everything is moving so fast for you. You hear the true guilt in his voice and for a second you feel bad. Probably wasn't the best plan to drug you and then straddle your lap but, the power of possessiveness grows strong over time - it makes you do crazy things. Your heart warms up at his soft words, his confession being a bit cute with sweaty, messy hair and a red face. You smirk, your personality coming back. “I thought it was kinda hot,” you say with a smug look. Scaramouche looks back up at you wide-eyed, soon turning into a glare.

As you hold him in your lap, he looks at you with a red face and mumbles, "Oh shut up and answer me." Without saying a word, you lean in and plant a soft kiss on his lips. "Does that answer your question?" you whisper. He shakes his head and demands, "I wanna hear you say it." You can feel your heartbeat quicken as you consider how to respond.

You gently whisper, "I love you, Scara," and as the words leave your lips, you notice a flicker of emotion in his eyes. His heart flutters in his chest, and he tries to look away to hide the tears that are welling up in his eyes. You can hear his breathing quicken as he takes a moment to compose himself, overwhelmed by the depth of your affection.

As you finish speaking, you can't help but add a bit of sarcasm to your tone. "How's that, or do you want me to say it again?" you say, with a smirk on your face. Scaramouche pinches you hard in embarrassment, causing you to wince and shout out. "Shut it already…that was enough," he says, looking up at you. You can sense the tension and guilt in the room disappearing as your words sink in.

You feel a sudden, intense pain in your head that throbs and pounds with each pulse. The pain is likely a side effect from the numerous pills you took earlier, you groan and rub your head. “What the hell did you exactly give me?” Scaramouche shrugs, his snarky at this returning “I'm not saying, I might have to use it on you again.” You scoff playfully at his words.

“You fucking brat..”

an: day 23 of no pussy, i hated this fic actually 🤓🤓

#trans scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x male reader #power bottom #genshin x reader #genshin x you #scaramouche

199 notes · View notes