#HES KINDA RIGHT ABOUT POETRY THOUGH | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

enhaven · 2 months ago

Text

all night | pjs (m.)

pairing ⇢ jay x reader

genre/au ⇢ fluff, smut, established relationship

wc & rating ⇢ 2k+ | 18+ (minors gtfo)

summary ⇢ all Jongseong wanted was to put you to sleep but you're more than awake to play along with his melodies.

warnings ⇢ cursing • unprotected sex • riding • handjob • fellatio • pet names • praise kink kinda? • aftercare

song ⇢ i love you 3000 - stephanie poetri

a/n: happy national boyfriend day to my main man! i didn't realize that i had an est. rel wip whipped last feb lmao. it's been sitting in my drafts for too long so might as well ^^

the dim lights and the strums of guitar strings are lulling you to sleep.

that's what Jay's been hoping to accomplish anyway after noticing you getting fussy as soon as you arrived earlier. it happens when you’re very tired so he'd love for you to sleep right away after dinner.

now you're plastered on your shared bed, brows scrunching as you try to make yourself comfortable. you look so adorable, just like when you complain about how bright it is every time the lights are on due to your sensitive eyes.

it's a good thing Jay knows just what you need. he turns off some lights but leaves a lamp on so he can still see around the room. walking towards his closet, he grabs his guitar from the inside which you didn't notice. then he sits beside your lying form before placing the body of the guitar on his propped leg.

smiling at your sleepy state, Jay starts tuning the guitar, some random melody already emerging in his mind to play for you. he made it a goal to himself to help you sleep after finding out that it didn't come to you easily.

the sound of your boyfriend plucking the strings was making you sleepy until you looked up at him. the sight made you gasp inwardly, the sleepiness leaving your mind as you watched Jay playing his guitar.

he's always been gorgeous but the silhouette of his face looks so defined from your line of vision. the few loose strands of his hair provided some extra flair with his shadow that you'd love to sketch sometime.

but seriously, how the fuck is he this beautiful even with the lights are low?

"baby can you sing for me?" you ask him softly which brings his attention to you. the request made Jay pause in playing, his face now slightly confused which is so cute.

"sing? but i thought you were sleepy that's why i'm playing"

and this is why you fell in love with him. not because of his physical attributes but of his thoughtfulness and how sweet he is. your heart swells that he's trying to help you sleep this way. you’ve been more than grateful that he became a part in your life.

"i wanna hear your voice" you sluggishly reply, burying yourself further in the comforter while your legs nuzzle the huge pillow between your thighs.

since Jay loves you so much, he accepts your request. he chooses to sing an acoustic version of a song that you often play in the background when cuddling him sometimes.

he thought this was it, that you'll finally fall asleep but you’ve started humming along instead, adding harmonies to the song which he didn't really mind since he loves hearing you sing.

"baby" he paused his singing but not playing so it served as an instrumental to your melodies.

"hmmm?" you feigned ignorance with your eyes closed as your hand started to caress his thigh, syncing it with his strumming.

"what are you tryna do?" he queries though he knows what you're doing. if that small quirk in your lips should tell Jay otherwise. your eyes are back on his face when he nudges you, a wolfish smile forming on your lips as your hand creeps closer to his upper inner thigh.

it's out of nowhere but your man's too fucking fine and you're getting horny just by watching him playing his guitar. you can't be blamed for that though, anyone would be if they were in your place.

"can i actually suck you off?" you asked, looking at him sheepishly with those puppy eyes that he couldn't possibly say no to. even without those, he'd say yes, wanting to give you whatever you want.

"come 'ere" he beckons you with one hand after placing his precious guitar by his side. it's at a safe distance thanks to your boyfriend's spacious bed so you have nothing to worry about but still. it's one of his collections, an expensive one so you don't want your clumsiness to damage it. but even if that were to happen, he wouldn't mind really. he can always get it repaired or buy a new one instead.

carefully crawling closer to Jay's lap, you place an arm on the mattress to support your upper body. he's surprisingly hard when you start palming his clothed length, squeezing it briefly which earned a small groan from him.

"oh you are so cute" you giggle, doing it again to watch his reaction.

"don't tease" he huffs, a small pout on his lips.

you might not be able to see his face clearly this far but you know he's struggling to contain his moans. he's fisting the bedsheet so you pull down the hem of his sweats at once, happy to hear the sigh of relief escaping his lips.

his rigid cock slaps against his clothed tummy and you're salivating to have it in your mouth. pumping his dick for a bit, you eventually lowered your head to wrap your lips around its tip. you're thinking of teasing him like you always do but not tonight, it's you who wants his cock in every way possible.

you feel one of Jay's hands on your head once you take him all in, petting your hair and it prompts you to swallow him deeper until his tip hits the back of your throat.

"fuck i love your mouth" his deep groans are sending shivers through you, moaning around his dick which drives Jay insane. he gathers your hair while you continue to suck him off, bucking his hips up when you hollow your cheeks. he didn't mean to but he can't help it, you're just too good at this.

reaching the back of your nape, he pulls you closer as your hand pumps the rest of him that you couldn't fit in your mouth. the warmth of your mouth is pushing him closer to his orgasm but you release his dick all of a sudden, causing a small whimper that he didn't plan on making.

“shhh” you smile teasingly at Jay and he curses, moaning louder when your tongue starts licking the undersides of his cock down to the base.

although it was you who initially started this, he's the one desperate to fuck you right now. he’s been wanting to cum but he tries to hold it back, preferring to do so inside you.

“can you fuck me baby?” he rasps, his hand patting down your head as he closes his eyes. you look too hot sucking him off that he might burst his nut on your face, not like he didn't before but he's craving for your pussy this time.

“m’kay” another giggle escapes you after hearing Jay's request. you did plan on fucking him and you were excited as soon as he let you suck him but you didn’t think he’d beg first tonight.

lifting yourself up from the bed, you took the rest of your clothes off. nothing much since you were just wearing a loose shirt and matching thin sweats along with your underwear.

“these fucking tits” you hear Jay mumble quietly as he reaches for your bare breasts. one thing he loves secretly is how you’re always braless once you’re home. it's easier for him to play with them with his hands or mouth.

a needy moan escapes you when he pinches your nipples before you scramble to straddle him. he proceeds to rid his shirt as well, pulling off his sweats completely so now you’re both completely naked.

looking at each other fondly and you really couldn't stop your intrusive thoughts from coming out.

“you’re so fine what the hell how did i get so lucky”

you say softly as you start grinding against his slick cock, cupping his face with both your hands and you can feel his skin warming up at your words. he averts his eyes from yours once he sees that pretty smile on your face.

"i'm lucky to have you too baby" he responds before his hands hoist you up, grabbing his cock to align it in your soaking entrance.

“are you blushing? awe-ahh..”

yes, Jay is and he has no idea how you can even see it with this dim lighting and your uneven vision. he knew you were gonna tease him like you always and he usually doesn't mind. it's just that all he can think of right now is your pussy, fucking it a lot until you're all spent.

he hasn’t prepped you with his fingers but you love the stretch each time your pussy takes his cock. at first, he was hesitant since he’s always wanted to make sure you’re always ready before sex but you're determined and eventually, you managed to convince him.

“tight..fuck, i’ll never get used to this ugh” he hisses, spewing more praises at how good you feel around him and you’re leaving kisses around his handsome face in return.

“i think i can move now baby” you reassure him, circling your hips to test the waters.

his hands are on your waist, his grip tightening when you start bouncing on him.

"g-gorgeous.." he whispers. "you're so gorgeous my love" he adds quietly and you clenched around him as a result. watching your boyfriend struggle to hold himself because of you boosts your confidence.

the way he reacts to everything that you do encourages you to do it more, wanting to see how good you make him feel.

"j-jongseong.."

it's taking a toll on your legs but you can feel Jay so deep that it's overpowering it. he can feel it though, your waning energy so he sits up before laying you gently on your back without removing himself from you.

"fuck baby, i'm close" he speeds his thrusts once he feels your legs tighten around his waist.

"close, close, mhmm" you're slurring your words, dazedly looking at Jay that he falters in his pace. you're too pretty like this, sprawled under him while he's making you feel so good. there's nothing in this world that makes him happy aside from this.

it pushes him to reach his peak, filling you up like you always wanted.

"you good babe?" he prods, stroking your warm cheeks with the back of his fingers.

"yea..so good.." you're breathless when you respond but your boyfriend's looking at you lovingly. the subtle thrusts of his hips soothe your walls despite the sensitivity, always have been when you're both riding your high.

his deep chuckle reverberates in sync with your heavy breathing, whining when he pulls out of you. he urges you to stand up so you both can clean up at the bathroom, and comply reluctantly. being the caring person that he is, Jay solely cleans you up first even when you keep fighting him off.

you're clearly sleepy now so he helps you in putting on a fresh set of clothes. the entire time that he briefly left you, he was changing the sheets and put your clothes to the laundry so you'd be ready to sleep as soon as you're done.

lying down, you nuzzle the comforter while waiting for your boyfriend to join you in bed. you're dead tired though but he's still in the washroom so you're gonna close your eyes for a bit.

"i love you" you call out to him, the sleep waving over you but you're trying to stay conscious.

"i love you too baby" he responds as he finishes up, eager to join you since sleep's coming to him as well. however, when he came out of the door, he finds you already sleeping.

jay didn’t mean to fuck you to exhaustion but watching you sleep soundly tugs his heart a little. you finally look peaceful unlike the weariness in your face that you tried to hide earlier. all because of him and he's more than happy to do it again, anything for the person he loves the most.

e/n: it's been ages lmao and i realized i had this last min 💀. summer and september were so busy for me and i tried writing whenever i can. but now it's October and i'll be more busy? (i go out/party almost every day/week when i'm not working) so i'm gonna focus on my Halloween/scary fics since yk i can only post them this month.

401 notes · View notes

jaysgirlx · 10 months ago

Text

Airport Au!Jason gets coffee spilled on him right before he boards his flight back to Gotham and of course, he's the victim of hot coffee spilling all over his crotch. The good news is, Jason didn't suffer any burns and you were quite apologetic to him, nevertheless, he was still pissed at you and those clumsy hands of yours. To make matters worse, the two of you are seated next to each other on a 15-hour flight.

Airport Au!Jason lets you have the inside seat even though you ruined his favorite Wonder Woman t-shirt and kinda fucked up his black jeans. He even puts your suitcase away for you and he has no fucking clue why. Jason knew he didn't help strangers like this, not just be nice and flirty to girls like Dick did. But didn't do things like this for no reason especially not for pretty girls who- wait did he just call you pretty? Oh, he was so fucked.

Airport Au!Jason can't tell if he's mad at you or if he wants you. To him those feelings could be the same, he has no problem with wanting to make out with the girl who spilled coffee on his shirt. He didn't see a problem with wanting to make you his, it was an accident and you apologized a million times so maybe he should just forgive you, especially since you actually tried to clean his crotch. His self-control stopped him from letting you, but now he wishes he had let you.

Airport Au!Jason gets immediately bored after the plane takes off, he hadn't pack much because he likes to travel light. When his gaze falls in your direction, he notices that you are reading and annotating one of his favorite Sylvia Plath books and quickly starts to chat you up. You immediately light up when you find out he loves reading, especially classics and poetry. The two of you quickly got acquainted and introduced yourselves which was quickly followed by an apology. You didn't think boys who were smart and hot truly existed, you thought those were myths but Jason Todd was indeed very real.

Airport Au!Jason lets you nap on his shoulder and even orders your lunch for you so that you'd at least get some food when you woke up. You wake up to the boy thumbing through your annotations. You point out your favorite scenes and quotes and go into detail about what you thought their meanings were, well at least to you. You rambled for what might've been a good hour and fuck, Jason knew just by hearing you talk like this, he wanted to put his lips on yours so bad. Maybe shut you up for a second, not because you rambled but because your lips looked so delicious like he could devour them if he wanted. Maybe it could last more than a second, but that depended on what you'd let him do to you.

Airport Au!Jason can't help but want your attention sooo bad. He's chatting you up, making you laugh and for fucks sake why was your laugh so cute?? Why were so pretty to him? Why did you make him question every part of his being? It was like you were this missing piece he had finally found and he needed that piece. He needed you.

Airport Au!Jason jokingly warns you he's not good for you but that only makes you tilt your head with a big grin. You told him that you didn't want a "good" guy. You wanted someone morally grey, someone who understands that just because you've done bad things doesn't mean you're a bad person. You of course cleared up that you didn't support racists, homophobes, and such but you weren't past dating a criminal or even a vigilante if they matched your vibe. For a moment, Jason felt like you already accepted who he was, that you would still want to know him as the Red Hood. He hoped that maybe that was the truth.

Airport Au!Jason sneaks you into first class, pulling the "Bruce Wayne is my dad" card with the flight attendants, who swoon when Jason brings out the stolen Amex card. He'd give it back to Bruce another day or maybe just sneak it back into his wallet. The reason he gets you in so you can sleep comfortably because he knew there would be free seats (he's done this a bit too many times). You told him you didn't need to, that you liked napping on his shoulder, that he was enough but he said you deserved the luxury treat, not crappy shoulder. And it made you laugh because it was so cheesy, and Jason wished then and there, that he could hear you laugh like that for the rest of his life. Now, did he hate having to pull the "Bruce Wayne" card? Yes. Did he regret it? Hell no. Would he do it again? Yes…

Airport Au!Jason lets you play with his hair and even touch his neck scar while you lay in first class. You graze your finger across it and you feel him tense until he relaxes when your fingers lace with his. He lets you believe the white parts are dyed and tells you the scar was from a kidnapping incident that happened in his teens. You don't question him on it but instead, ask him if he still wants to know once the two of you land in Gotham. He looks at you with a cheesy grin. He says he doesn't have his phone on him but you could write your number on his arm. You knew he was joking but he was just so attractive. He enjoys the feeling of one of your hands combing his locks and the other intertwined with his.

Airport Au!Jason falls asleep with you in first class and when you two finally wake up, you decide to check how much time is left on the flight: 2 hours. A soft whine left your lips, from the thought of having to wait a a little longer to be able to kiss him. You could just tell Jason wasn't a fan of pda and if you did kiss him you'd definitely want it to be private. You told yourself to be patient and you knew you could be just a little longer, just for him. Jason on the other hand was an impatient asshole who ached for you, especially after hearing that goddamn whine. Were you trying to tease him? Because if you were it was definitely working. Jason couldn't wait 2 hours.

Airport Au!Jason brings you into the first bathroom and locks it behind him, even after receiving about of weird looks. He kisses you in with your legs almost instantly hooked around his waist and his arms holding you up against the wall. Your arms are wrapped around his neck bringing him as close as possible, while you clawed at his clothes. You weren't exactly sure where this was going but you wanted that coffee-stained shirt off him. You hooked your fingers on the ends of his shirt whining desperately to feel him. Maybe those clumsy hands of yours were good at something. And when he finally breaks the kiss, he only mutters out these words just for you, "Wanna help me get out the shirt you ruined, sweetheart?"

1K notes · View notes

merakiui · 1 year ago

Text

crow & goat in courtship.

yandere!rollo flamme x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, dub-con, coercion, religious symbolism/imagery, mentions of pregnancy, implied breeding kink, obsession, alcohol/intoxication, slight codependency, non-consensual touching/groping, au in which you attend classes at nbc instead of nrc under rollo's supervision note - the crow is always on call.

i. “but each person is tempted when they are dragged away by their own evil desire and enticed. then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death” (james 1:14-15).

Rollo answers on the third ring.

He always does—claims it’s polite to answer after three chimes just as it’s right to knock thrice before entering a residence. He’s stubborn in his ways, a crow bound by routine, only ever doing things in threes. Habitual to a fault, strictly so. You are similar in that regard; you find solace in the familiarity of predictable patterns. The relief that stems from knowing what will come next—in being prepared for all manner of events even if you haven’t yet reached the first.

But then you also like fun, and the best sort of fun is often had with a disregard for habit. Disorder and spontaneity. Throwing all caution to the wind. Trusting in the arms of the crow who will catch you, the carefree goat, when you fall.

“Good evening,” he mutters into the phone, his voice sounding so close despite the distance between you and him. “It’s rather late. Is there a specific reason you’re calling?”

“Rollo! Hey! Hiii,” you drawl, grinning like a fool. You stagger through the door into the chilly, starless night, your heels slipping on cracked, frozen pavement. “Whoa!” You stumble against the railing with a carefree giggle. “Almost lost my footing!”

There’s a stalling silence on his end. And then, with a deep inhale, he asks evenly, “Have you gone out?”

“Mm. Yeah. Went out to celebrate with some friends.”

“Some friends?”

“Like one or two…or a whole house full of ’em.”

“(Name).”

“What?” When he doesn’t reply, you laugh. Not because it’s humorous or embarrassing, but to merely fill the silent gap. “What? Roro, you’re sho stern. Don’t lecture me!”

“So you’ve been drinking.”

“What?! No!” With an offended scoff, you shake your head even though he’s not here to witness it. “You know NBC’s no-booze rule. I’m not gonna get caught—won’t get caught.”

“You slurred your speech and called me ‘Roro’—both in the same sentence, mind you.”

“So what? Rollo, Roro. Tomato, potato.”

“It’s to-may-to, to-mah-to. And—” he exhales an exhausted breath— “Never mind. That’s besides the point. Why, pray tell, have you called me at midnight?”

“Why’re you up at midnight?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

“Not fair! I asked first!”

“Not quite.” There’s a smile in his voice when he speaks next. “If I were to visit your room right now—knock on the door and wait there—would you let me in?”

“Yeaaah,” you start to say, only to catch yourself halfway in the trap. “No!”

“No?”

“No…thank you. No visitors tonight. S’late and I gotta study for tomorrow��s exam.”

“And a party will somehow aid in that endeavor? (Name), you do realize you’ve spun one too many lies and now you’re woefully entangled.”

“Less poetry and more picking me up.”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about.”

“Rollo, please be nice,” you whine, your lips twisting into a pout. “S’cold and I didn’t bring a jacket and I’m kinda-maybe-sorta a little…”

“A little…?” he encourages, and you can just envision that self-satisfied smirk of his.

“A little-drunk-but-also-not-really-drunk-but-also-totally-drunk,” you hastily admit in a string of syllables. Snowfall swirls around you, and you grasp the bannister to prevent yourself from falling over. “Oh, it’s snowing.”

“I can see perfectly clear from my window. Beautiful, is it not?”

“So stop being an obtuse dick and come get me before I freeze!”

“Should that come to pass, you may just rival the Righteous Judge at the entrance. I’ll be sure to polish you every month.”

“I’m gonna kill you. I’m gonna poison your coffee and watch you drink it, and then we’ll see who’s stiffer than a statue. It’ll be you—in death, y’know!”

“Will you now?”

“If you don’t pick me up, yeah!”

There’s the distinct sound of shuffling. You hear crisp pages turning and then a book closing before the rustling of fabrics invades your keen ears. You picture your responsible friend pacing around his room as he dresses himself for the weather.

“Very well,” he says after a moment, ever the composed gentleman. “Send me the address.”

“You’re the best. Love you lots. Thank you! Thank you!” You press your lips together to mimic obnoxious kissing sounds, which elicits a huff of amusement from him. “It’s not a far walk. Promise.”

“Stay on the phone with me. I’ll be there shortly. And don’t go anywhere.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“You do realize sneaking out is against the rules, yes?”

“Aaand here comes the lecture. Gimme a break. Can’t a girl celebrate her birthday in peace?”

You drag your hand over your mouth and wipe sticky wine residue away. In the process, you smear black lipstick. Dark like night, like a crow’s inky feathers, it leaves your once-flawless appearance in disarray.

“There are much better ways to celebrate. Did I not say I’d take you into town this weekend and we could celebrate then?”

“That’s so far from now.”

“It’s three days away, (Name).”

“Still too far.”

“Don’t expect me to provide cover if you get caught.”

“And you can just leave campus whenever you please?”

“This is different.”

“Yeah?” You giggle into the speaker, warm and fuzzy and endlessly entertained. It’s enough of a distraction to keep winter from seeping into your marrow. “How so?”

“This is official Student Council business.”

“Really?” you ask with an impressed whistle.

“Indeed. On account of my being President, it’s only natural I punish students who conduct themselves poorly. Shall we review your list of infractions and decide on a suitable penalty together?”

“I’d rather we not.”

“Oh, but I insist. Perhaps our discussion and the cold will sober you and teach you a valuable lesson about integrity.”

With an exaggerated sigh, you lower onto the step to await his arrival. The icy stone digs harshly into your rear, which is hardly covered by your too-short dress. It’s definitely not fingertip length or weather-appropriate. You shiver and stuff your hand into the pocket of your cropped sweater. You should take shelter inside, where it’s plenty cozy and inviting, but your inflated pride disagrees. Retreating to the warmth after you’ve already bid farewell would be foolish. At least, that’s what the alcohol in your system is telling you.

So the goat endures the cold, for it knows that that is all that awaits it as the crow closes in.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m an academic criminal. Get on with it, President Flamme.”

“Let’s see. You’ve disobeyed campus curfew, snuck out on a school night, attended a party when your grades could use improvement, neglected your studies, drank carelessly, called the one person who can and will punish you for this and the aforementioned…”

The sound of crunching snow pierces the air then, and you look up in time to see Rollo approaching. He’s dressed in a long woolen overcoat with a scarf twined around his throat and a hat pulled down over his ears. He smirks at you from where he stands on the pavement, cutting the call and sliding his phone into his pocket. Tilting his head at you, he pulls another coat from under his arm and offers it to you.

“And you’re dressed for your death.”

“Okay, that one’s personal.”

Rolling your eyes, you rise on unsteady legs. He meets you at the stairs, climbing two of them to help you into the coat. It’s an embrace more welcoming than that of a lover’s, so soft and comfortable that it immediately rejuvenates your weary skeleton. It smells like Rollo, too—like coffee and weathered pages in an old book. You hum your approval, snuggling into the fluffy fabric. He’s plopping his hat on your head next, tugging it so far down that you almost slip on the slick stoop. Like he always has, ever since he first met you, he catches you.

“Hello to you, too.”

You blink back at him. “Yeah, thanks. I owe you.”

“Let me see your hands.”

He takes them in his, runs his thumbs over the tops, and then procures mittens from his pockets. You watch him slide both over your hands, rubbing them together briefly to generate heat at a faster rate. Your body sways, gaze unfocused. He’s just about to unwind his scarf from his shoulders when you reach out to stop him.

“I’m good. This is enough.”

“You’ll catch your death—”

“And you won’t in just a coat and scarf? At least let me give you your hat back.”

He shakes his head, holding his hand up in objection. “You’ve been out in this weather longer. It’s only fair. But, really, did you have to wait out here? Couldn’t you have gone inside?”

“My pride’s on the line.”

Rollo’s unamused stare cuts through you. “You won’t have much pride left if you’re encased in ice.”

“Then we’d best get moving. Campus awaits!”

You wrap your arm around him, clinging out of instinct. Rollo peers at the proximity, his lips upturned in a covert half-smile, and his arm snakes slowly around your waist in return. You don’t notice this, for you’re too busy dragging your feet through the snow while he acts as a helpful crutch, stable in a way you just aren’t. Not right now, at least.

But then the goat is never stable enough to survive the inevitable—the swift, sacrificial blade that befalls and beheads, leaving gory spatters to run red and visceral in the wake of the end.

You’ve never known, and you never will. How could you when he’s been nothing but cordial? A clean slate. Admirable guidance. A helpful friend. Your only friend.

The crow descends in three knocks. He lets himself in regardless of whether you wish to have him as a guest. He is unwanted and feared, the very foundation of death and destruction, and he has set his beady eyes on you—the goat.

It’s common knowledge that you cannot pray away the crow. He persists, as always, quiet even when his wings beat against his sleek, feathered body like the loudest war drums. And the caw—the dreadful caw! It’s a most disturbing cry, one that pierces through the dark like jarring slivers of light in shadow. Or a butcher’s blade through flesh, sawing through sinew to get to brilliant bone beneath. The hoarse call of Death’s crows—they circle in a murder, swooping down to meet you as harbingers of malevolence.

Rollo has always strived to lead a virtuous existence defined by a rigidly righteous moral compass. In the gloomy pits of misery and hatred, where he festers in a bundle of tar-colored feathers, he does not hope for sunshine. He no longer knows the uplifting ebullience of life’s greatest miracles. Because there is no miracle in death or tragedy. Because there is no happiness to be found in a doomed hand, every card showcasing Death and its many forms. Not for him. Never for him.

But then, amidst the despair and despondency, each all-consuming, a goat fell into his lap.

A divine offering to the crow, who is so far from divinity himself, can only mean one thing. It is neither conciliatory nor a reward.

It is a sacrifice.

But then the City of Flowers adores its goats—reveres them for all that they are. Goats are cherished, not sacrificed. But to drag a nameless, magicless goat from the grounds of its far-off, inconceivable pasture—is that not the cruelest form of sacrifice? To drop this goat into the equitable embrace of the crow—is that not the sweetest gift? Generous yet unfair. Plucked right from the folds of another heaven.

The mortal coil can be callous, which is precisely why the crow is permitted to exist in impartiality. Death does not care for who you were in life and who you will be in the next, and the crow only ever oversees finales. Never beginnings. Much like a deity does not care for what good you can do if you do not first adore them in copious adequacy.

The crow carries with him a most fearsome knell—the chime of judgment, to be delivered right on time like an execution staged for noon.

All throughout life, you can plan for the crow and all that he shall deliver, and still you will never be fully prepared to greet him. He brings misfortune bundled in baskets woven from the bones of sacrifices past. In holy scripture, it is the goat who is punished most often—who is slaughtered at the altar, who is arranged as peace to quell the torrential fury of the deity, who is made to suffer at the hands of those hoping to avoid damnation or godly wrath, who is meant to shoulder the blame when no one else wants to. Favors have been bought with the blood of the goat, its head nestled amidst verdant grasses, pure forevermore even when it is dyed carmine. It appeases and pleases.

So it’s just—religiously so—that the crow takes the goat for himself, strips it bare, and proves to the prying eyes in heaven that the greatest sin is more than lustful temptation.

For the crow—for Rollo—the heaviest sin, a vile, cursed burden from his very first breath—it is existence itself.

And only the blood of a pure goat can wash away such filth—can cleanse what has been rotting within. The goat can make a garden out of the crow—bring life and love to its barren insides regardless of however fleeting its presence may be. It is within this garden—within the softest, fertile soil—where the crow shall sow the most special seeds.

You cross the bridge with Rollo, your laughter filling the cloudy sky as you recall all manner of amusing stories from the past few hours. Drinking games paired with drunken gossip. Delicious wines and snacks. A party with an energy so lively it could rival the city’s annual festivals. Even though he doesn’t seem outwardly pleased to hear any of it, he listens well and occasionally stops to steady you before you can topple over the railing into the water below. Your heels clack against smooth, frosted stone, and the wind whips at your face, each snowflake biting and vicious. Noble Bell’s vast campus waits just beyond the wrought iron gate, standing proud and backdropped by the night.

“You think anyone’s up?” you ask, curling your fingers into his arm as he guides you through.

Rollo eases the gate shut. “They might if they hear you. It would be best to keep quiet.”

You pantomime zipping your lips and discarding a nonexistent key. He quirks a small smile at that and then hurries you along. Nights are always peaceful at Noble Bell. The halls are desolate and quiet, devoid of all signs of student life. Your and Rollo’s shoes click in unison as you walk through the hall and past the courtyard. You gaze at the arched openings, counting each one as they become fainter with the growing distance.

Your breath materializes in front of you when you sigh. “I’m so sleepy. I wanna go to bed for a thousand years.”

“You’ll miss your exam if you do that,” he chides, tutting. “And every other exam that will follow.”

“That’s the point!” Your voice bounces off the walls, returning to you in a reverberating echo. Cringing under Rollo’s disapproving glower, you speak softer. “Oops. Sorry.”

“Just how much have you had to drink? You can hardly walk straight without leaning on me for support.” He narrows his eyes, his lecherous gaze crawling down to your bare legs. “Not that I mind…”

His words don’t reach you, for they’re swallowed in a howling gale as it sweeps across the courtyard. You spy the dormitories then, each one looking more like gingerbread covered in confectioners’ sugar instead of buildings dusted with snow. Your eyelids droop while you cross the distance to reach your designated building, your every movement feeling slower than molten molasses, and by the time you’re actually inside the dorm—Rollo’s shushed you more than once—you’re yearning for the warmth of your bed.

So it’s bewildering when, rather than your own room, you stop at Rollo’s instead.

He opens the door and steps inside with you in tow. You keep your mouth shut, too tipsy to think coherently. After he clicks the lamp on, which leaves the room awash in soft shades of amber, he shrugs his coat off, draping it over a nearby chair. You drag yourself over to his bed and flop down, squeezing your eyes shut to block out both the light and your spinning surroundings. Rollo doesn’t say anything, but you hear him shuffling about his room, crossing to close and lock the door before walking back towards you. The mattress dips under his weight, and you feel nimble fingers working to undo the buttons on your coat.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” you ask, cracking your eyes open just as he’s pulling the coat from your person.

Rollo folds it neatly and sets it aside. “You’re practically melting into my bed already. It would be quite the undertaking to make the walk back to your room at this hour.”

“So considerate,” you tease, grinning up at him. Sleep stretches your expression into something dazed, and you yawn loudly. “Then I’m gonna sleep here. Wake me up before class.”

You almost drift off, but those frigid fingers are moving to tug you out of your sweater next. They crawl across your bare shoulders like a spider on a web.

“You really are something,” he marvels, glancing at your body sprawled beneath him. “To brave the cold in such thin material…”

“Stupid choice. I know.”

“It appears we’re in agreement.”

“Shut up,” you snap back with a weak laugh. “You’re no better, showing up so cozy and then giving everything to me.”

Rollo memorizes the way the form-fitting dress hugs your figure. He inhales a shaky breath and brings his hands back to his sides. Your chest is right here. So close. So frustratingly close.

He can’t indulge. He really shouldn’t. It’s unbecoming to show such unfair favorability when he’s meant to remain impartial. Death should not lust for the beauty of life because it only knows endings—or the beginnings of ghostly eternity. The crow should not allow himself to be swept up in tumultuous temptation.

And the goat is the only friend he’s known—the only one who understands the crow, if only by a few meager slivers. But someday the goat will know.

Rollo swallows his inhibitions, beating his urges away with a stick. He’s not one for rash decisions; he’s meticulous and thoughtful. He would never take such a risk—would never nosedive into a crude confession. He’s plotted it in his diary, but it’s never come to fruition. He restrains himself because he must. Because it’s the polite and proper thing to do when caught up in courtship. Because if he opens his torso and allows you to poke around inside, you’ll find that he is not the friend you’ve known for all these months.

He is a fiend, devilishly so, wearing the hide of a goat to put the real one at ease.

Warring with rationality, he slides away from you and intends to recover at his desk. He’ll scrawl all of the things he wishes to do to you in there and that will be enough. That will help clear his head of the intoxicating fog that settles whenever he’s with you in private. But then he’s reaching to untie the canopy draped over his bed, each corner undone within seconds. The sheer curtains fall in thin layers, confining the both of you to this island in the middle of a barren sea. It’s darker in here, dimly lit by the faint glow of the lamp outside.

You blink up at him, owlish.

“You…” He stops himself, shakes his head, and turns away. Hastily, he fishes his handkerchief from his pocket. With this enclosed propinquity, he can smell your perfume. It’s spiced and flowery—alluring and adorable all at once—and it assaults both his nose and mind. “You should sleep. It’s late.”

This is for the best. The crow is only meant to look after the goat, remain unaffected even in the face of lustful, fateful sacrifice.

But you’re here. You’re splayed like a spill, perfectly imperfect, and your shoulders are a canvas coveting kisses. He clutches his handkerchief in a white-knuckled fist.

“Mm, okay. Night…”

“Yes… Yes, good night,” he mumbles, lowering his handkerchief. He swallows thickly.

This is for the best.

But even though he thinks this, his arm is stretching out. Closer. Closer. So close, until his hand is hovering just above your chest. He’s so close.

When will he ever have another chance as fortuitous as this?

His hand closes around your breast and he squeezes it experimentally. It’s soft when his fingers dig in gently, depressing with the pressure of his digits. Rollo’s green hues flick to your face. Your eyes are shut, and soft snores slip from your parted lips. He glimpses your chest again and, with the utmost care, slides your dress down to free your breasts. They’re mostly bare, save for the heart-shaped pasties covering your nipples. Rollo heaves a disbelieving sigh.

“Promiscuous,” he mutters, plucking the edge of the first adhesive and peeling it away to reveal the perky nipple beneath. You look so soft, so clean, so pure… What was he even worried about? No one’s had you before. He’s sure of it.

He’s about to remove the other heart when your voice freezes him.

“What…are you doing?”

He holds your gaze. It’s tense for a moment, unspoken accusations brewing between the both of you.

“A massage,” he blurts, but there isn’t a hint of haste in his tone. He suspected this outcome when he chose to traverse the line of right and wrong—and ultimately sided with the former. Because to him it’s right, even if it’s wrong. He knows what will soon follow: disgust and detestation.

Instead, you giggle. It’s sleepy and silly-sounding, but it’s also light and lively.

You catch his hand in yours and drag it back to your chest. “If you wanted to touch, just ask,” you murmur, your words slurring. “Nothin’ wrong with it.”

You’re not just perfect and pure. You’re everything.

Yes, it’s the alcohol blurring your brain and the intimacy of being trapped in a quiet, comfortable space such as this one that allows you to desire him. Would it be the same if you were sober? He can’t quite say, but he doesn’t wish to know. This is enough. This is paradise.

He kneads slow, steady motions into your breast, and you watch from where you’re lying on the bed. His other hand slithers between your legs to search for your clothed clit. Your breath hitches just as his fingers brush it, and he presses in, rubbing with his index. Your arm falls over your face, and your chest rises with every breath.

“How does it feel?” he asks, rolling your nipple between chilly digits.

“Not enough,” you bemoan, curling your fingers into a fist. “S’not enough…”

“How fascinating. I suppose cheap wine truly does turn you into a pute.”

“No… Was definitely expensive. The fancy kind.”

“Was it now?” He circles your clit, predatory and shark-like, his eyes alight with glee. “You say that, but look at the state it’s left you in. Utterly disheveled.”

“That’s because of—” you gasp, your voice rising in pitch— “because of you…”

His heart hammers in his chest, a resounding, pounding melody.

The City of Flowers treasures its goats, and the crow loves his fiercely even though he shouldn’t.

“Did you enjoy drinking yourself foolish and indulging in debauchery?” His fingers dance along your inner thigh, hooking around the hem of your underwear. “Was it a fun celebration?”

You lower your arm to glare halfheartedly at him. “Someone sounds jealous.”

“More so disappointed, mon chou chou,” he coos, sugary, sickeningly sweet. “Someone could have taken advantage of you. Someone could have tainted you with magic.” His lip curls up into a nasty sneer. It lingers for a moment before fading into something calm. He gazes at you, oddly tender. “That didn’t happen, though, yes?”

You shake your head and flinch when he drags your panties down. Dewy strings of your slick come away with it, and you shudder at your newfound nudity. He hums approvingly and drags his finger through the wet patch staining your panties. Driven by libertine compulsion, he stretches viscous strands of your essence between two fingers.

Your eyes find his deceitful greens once more. Silence sparks between the both of you, quickly broken by your exhalation. Rollo kneels before you, taking in the sight of you as your face wavers through the stages of consideration. Upon arriving at your conclusion, you sit up slightly and shuck your dress over your head. And then you’re lying back, shaking your panties from off your ankle, and wrapping your legs around his waist to draw him in closer.

You grin, coquettish. “Why not search for yourself if you’re so worried, Mr. Student Council President?”

There’s no turning back. Not that he ever would. Not when the goat’s given him the signal. The blade doesn’t fall, but he does.

And this is better than dreams and erotica. This is real.

He surges forward to fit his lips against yours. Sloppy and inexperienced, he molds himself to your body. You tug him against you, your hands working to undress him. Clothes and shoes are cast aside between open-mouthed kisses, torn off half-buttoned and ripped away from soles. You breathe him in, gasping into his mouth. Translucent strings of saliva connect your mouths when you part, soon broken when you lean in for a chaste peck.

“You’re okay,” he says, the words practically bleeding onto your own tongue with how close he is. “Still as pure as the day I first met you.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“The best thing.”

His third and fourth fingers prod at the depths of your pussy, pressing inwards. Shallow at first. He watches your face unblinkingly, burning every pleasured contortion into his brain, and slides his thumb along your clit. Your breathing staggers, coming in quick huffs, and you grab at the bedsheets to steady yourself. Rollo works you open on those fingers, curling and scissoring in equal measure. The slick squelches join in the salacious symphony you’re currently producing. Every sigh and groan come together in perfect harmony. You’re a heavenly harp, and he’s plucking your strings like an expert musician.

“Tonight is unforgivable,” he adds, and you blink through blissful tears to view him. “Folly is the worst distraction.”

“Then be stupid with me,” you joke, running your hands over his shoulders. He’s so cold. “Warm yourself with me.”

And he will because he’s always wanted to. He’s desired it. Craved it. Coveted it. Thought of nothing else for days and days, each delusion so cyclical it often felt tangible.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, sliding his other hand up your hip and towards your rib. He traces the path of where it lies beneath layers of flesh before pressing down to feel it. “So beautiful…”

Your hand glides into his, fingers twining like silken thread around a spool. A lopsided smile lifts your lips, and you preen under him. “Yeah? Am I really?”

“I wouldn’t lie about the obvious…” Your walls hug his fingers tighter then, and a shiver electrifies your nerves. He hums again, quite pleased. “Oh, did you like that?”

“I did. Very much.”

Lashes fluttering against your cheekbones, your head thrown back in ecstasy ever-mounting, you render him ensorcelled. Like a prized Renaissance nude, a goat laid to sacrifice in the crow’s nest, you are beatific. Divinely so.

“Allow me to reiterate then.” He hastens his pace, pumping his fingers relentlessly. You tamp down a shameless moan. “You’re exquisitely beddable. A work of art. Enchanting. Une belle femme.”

You’re nearing the edge—very gradually, but not quite—and so it’s devastating when he slips his fingers out, each one thoroughly coated in you. They shimmer in the dim light, reminding you of where they had previously been.

“Put it back in,” you beg with wide, glossy eyes. “C’mon… Please don’t stop now. Was so close. So close and—”

Your complaints are curbed when you follow his hand as it moves to wrap around his half-hard cock. He strokes himself thrice, using your slick as lube, until his cock is curving up against his stomach. You stare at him; he stares right back.

And then you realize he intends to go all the way.

“Wait, Rol…lo… S’not my safe day,” you say, shifting away. Whether impatiently or anxiously, he can’t tell, but he can certainly guess. Your world spins once, a dizzying blur, before it promptly clears. In the very center of your vision, as he’s always been, Rollo remains. “S’not safe…”

He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with levity. “I know.”

He’s kept track, dutiful like always.

You attempt to crawl out from under him, but he stops you. Your stomach churns.

“I’ll pull out in time,” he promises, rubbing soothing circles into your plush hips.

Even with the alcohol still buzzing through your system, you aren’t convinced. “N-No, really, we should stop here…”

“You’ll feel so good. Come now, aren’t we nearly there already?”

Rollo lifts your legs onto his shoulders. You squirm with more determination this time, but his fingers dig into your thighs. With a startled squeak, you sink into the mattress, cowed into submission.

“We… We can’t.”

“Why not?” The smooth, soft head of his cock prods curiously at your pussy.

You chew your lip, admitting in a meek tone, “I… I could get p-pregnant…”

“Pregnant,” he parrots, tasting the word as if it’s a delicacy he has yet to sample. His cock twitches. “Pregnant…”

“So… So that’s why…”

“Do you not want children?”

“I… Well… Now is kinda…”

He presses onwards, sinking in slowly. Your breath hitches; your heart stumbles. The intrusion is not entirely unwanted, for your slick, snug walls cling to his shape, and you almost give in to bodily inclination. But it doesn’t feel right. You’re scared. No matter how naturally your body reacts, you don’t want this.

“Rollo, wait—”

“It would be a wonderful thing—to see you rounded with my children.” Rollo props himself on either side of you, his body pinned to yours in sinful, sweaty connection. He exhales a deep breath, restraining himself as he pushes deeper. Patience is a virtue, after all. Your expression tightens with discomfort, and so he peppers your face with placatory kisses. “To see you grow in and—mmh—out of the most flattering maternity wear. To behold every change that blesses this beautiful body of yours… To see you swell with my love, filthy as it may be. Ah, but pregnancy is just as messy… Nevertheless, it shall be a special bond for us—a sacred vow, if you will. We are connected here—” he punctuates this point by slotting the rest of his length inside, and your legs involuntarily close around him to keep him there— “and soon here when life develops within.”

One hand splays across your stomach to pat it with fondness. You choke on your helpless whimper when he rocks his hips once, experimenting with the movement. It’s awkward, but it reminds you that he’s inside. So close to your womb that in just a few more thrusts he might—

“No… No, please… Rollo, you have to—oh—have to pull out. Please pull out. Don’t wanna get pregnant…”

“Oh, but you would be so beautiful.” He breathes you in, savoring sex and floral fragrance. “If I’m allowed one miracle—just one for all the anguish I’ve endured—let it be this.”

You know not of what anguish he speaks, for he’s never verbalized it, but even so it can’t possibly be so agonizing that it would warrant such invasion.

The vise-like hold your velvety walls have on his cock is deliciously addictive. He groans while he ruts into you, his eyelids fluttering. He could be animalistic and cruel in his movements—ravish you as if the world is faced with annihilation and this is his final hour—but instead he settles for exploratory leisure. His hand fits into yours and he squeezes it gently. A feeble protest builds in your throat and so he swallows it with a hungry kiss, his mouth molding against yours.

Your nails dig into his shoulders when he draws back and slides in again, filling you deeper than before. You breathe between kisses, panting and licking into his mouth in even intervals. He does much the same, anchored to you in a way that is both temporary and yet so permanent.

The world narrows down to this single sliver of space, enclosed in a canopy. And in it, laid bare and fertile, the goat is sacrificed to the crow. Death cannot reach either one here. There is only the promise of new life, thrust upon the goat all at once.

You don’t have the willpower to object, for you’ve already found yourself entrapped, so instead you cry. Tears track down your cheeks; your mascara runs with it. Ruined. So, too, is your pitch-black lipstick, smeared along the edges of your lips and printed onto Rollo’s porcelain skin.

Rollo’s hips stutter to a halt and he holds you against him when he spills thick and hot inside. Nothing is wasted; it’s all emptied deep within. If you’re lucky, it won’t take. But if some mischievous fertility goddess has cursed you, you’ll wake nauseous in the coming weeks.

If you have anything worth praying for, it’s the former.

The both of you are panting in the aftermath, but only one is coming down from his glorious high. You remain unsatisfied, your peak not yet breached. Rollo rolls his hips once more for good measure before easing out. You crumple into the wrinkled sheets, frigid and still as a statue. Carved empty and hollow, yet stuffed with sin.

The crow has come. Though this time the gift of tragedy is something between boon and curse.

— — —

The curtains are drawn to let in sunlight. It filters in through frosted glass, each pane stamped with snow, and it blinds you the moment you try to open your eyes. You twist and turn in bed, feeling heavy with hangover. A splitting ache cracks your head in half, and you groan loudly.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you hiss, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes. “This sucks…”

You force yourself to wake after two more minutes of rolling around. Groaning once more, you sit up in bed. The canopy has been tied back in place, and when you glance sidelong at Rollo’s desk you notice something. A glass of water and a plate are waiting for you, seeming more enticing by the second. You throw the covers off, realize you’re nude seconds later, and promptly snatch them back. They’re wrapped around you like a comforting cloak. You stagger out of bed to check the contents. Two croissants, a single orange, a dollop of strawberry marmalade, and two tablets are arranged on the plate.

Hangover medicine, you realize, lifting one up to scrutinize it.

You peer around the room. It’s empty. And then you see the clock. It’s a little past noon.

“Oh,” you mumble, lowering into the chair. You clutch the blanket closer. “Rollo must be in class.”

Amidst the piercing migraine, which you quickly resolve by throwing your head back to swallow both tablets in a single gulp of water, two things occur to you. You’re in Rollo’s room. Naked. In Rollo’s room. Surely you must have spent the night after you returned from the party. Why are you naked?

But more importantly…

“Shit! My exam!” The excitement doesn’t help your current state, and you slouch in your seat, even more exhausted than before. “I completely missed it… Rollo’s gonna kill me.”

You scrub the sleep from your eyes and reach for a croissant, content with giving up. You don’t want to endure the walk of shame from Rollo’s room to yours. If anyone were to catch you, they’d certainly be left wondering.

As you nibble on the croissant, admiring the way Rollo’s arranged the contents of his room, you spot the edge of something beneath the plate. Perplexed, you push it aside to reveal a note. Penned in Rollo’s effortlessly pretty script, it reads:

I’ll forgive your transgression just this once if you’ll forgive mine. For now, get some rest. I’ve left breakfast here. Stay for however long you’d like.

You scowl at his attempt of ‘breakfast,’ and your stomach rumbles in dissatisfaction.

“Right?” you say to your stomach, clicking your tongue. “If anything, this is hardly a snack.”

But you’re grateful for his efforts. He cares. He always has. From the very first day you found yourself in this world, he cared.

While you peel the orange, pondering foggy recollections of last night, you begin to realize just how sticky you feel. As if someone’s slobbered all over you and left it to dry. The feeling persists between your thighs.

You pause momentarily, overcome with an uncanny sense of panic as you piece the puzzle together. The still-forming picture does not look good.

“Shit…” you whisper, haunted with a fragmented timeline. “What the hell did we do last night?”

You know. The deep, dark part of your brain knows, but you don’t want to confront it. Because Rollo wouldn’t, right? He couldn’t. He’s always done what’s best for you, so he wouldn’t.

Right?

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere rollo flamme #yandere rollo flamm #yandere rollo flamme x reader #yandere rollo flamm x reader #yandere rollo #yandere rollo x reader #n/sfw #tw: dubcon

771 notes · View notes

justasecretflower · 2 months ago

Text

🥀 Meeting Jeff! The killer again after dating him before he was a proxy🤍.

A/N- The long awaited sequel to my. Dating Jeff the killer before he was a proxy. Yes, I am still doing requests, except I’m writing really slow because I’m sick :(.

~fluff.

___________________________________________

- you met him again at a dingy old convenience store while you were out with your friends.

- he didn’t come back from murdering someone, he was just kinda hanging out and getting some junk food and that’s when he saw you, and you saw him.

___________________________________________

One of my friends pushed open the door with an exaggerated heave, laughing with my other three friends. After a long night of bar hopping with my friends f/n suggested that we stock up on gas station junk food then have a movie marathon at their house. Everyone agreed of course, being absolutely wasted and it being a Saturday night.

I walked into the local convenience store. The flickering lights reminded me of a worn down elementary school, the metal shelves top to bottom filled with up with sugary sweet candy to salty and spicy chips. bunch of junk food and a slushy machine was turning and making 3 flavors of slushy. Mindlessly, I walk towards the chips aisle. My shoes lightly tap on the dirty cold floor, crossing my arms to gain warmth in the cool atmosphere while my eyes roll over the options. I hear someone strolling through the aisle with me, instinctively I look over to see..Jeff?

He was looking at me, his head turned and his eyes glittered in such a peculiar way that I had to make sure I was seeing things right. His cheeks were cut, making him have a permanent smile, his black hair now shoulder length and tousled, dirty black converse, and a white hoodie stained with some slightly dried up blood stains. He looks so different, so..not him? Like after he went away he lost all sanity, fell into the depths of a black hole to never return, never find himself again. Nonetheless his eyes were still the same the same ocean blue, the ocean that I fell into and happily let myself drown in, the eyes that looked at me, one day, with a deep affection, with love and care, the eyes that would scan over mine, and without any words create poetry in my soul. My heart squeezed and started thumping hard and fast, like out of instinct to try and reach out for him. Reach out for his touch, his voice, his arms. I couldn’t even get a word out before f/n stuck their head into the chips aisle and asked if I was done in a chipper voice.

I just take a bag of hot fries, eyes still trained on Jeff, and walk away from him, sensing his eyes still burned into my back. Like he was having a hard time taking his gaze away from me out of pure subconscious instinct. I may be reading into it too much.

But it seemed like we both wanted to say something to each other.

___________________________________________

- Jeff would follow you to your friends house that night.

- it took him awhile to muster up the words bubbling in his throat, stalking you and just..standing in front of you all the time.

- eventually he rasped out your name in the most desperate, lost, love-filled tone that made you literally almost fall down to your knees.

- his tone was more so of desperation because of the void left in his heart after he became a killer and you had left his life. He had needed you back, to fill it.

- he tells you what he does now, killing, in a casual manner. But inside? He’s freaking out that you’ll leave him again.

- he can’t let anyone know he’s freaking out though…

- comes through your window to your room all the time?

- dates are just the park at night like when you were kids. Alone in the slide together just talking about random stuff.

- that or you’re having a movie night.

- he doesn’t give physical affection that much. But he likes receiving it.

- he’ll just wait for you to be in the right position for him to lay down his head so you can play with his hair

- calls it “stupid” (he loves it)

- bullies you /srs

- doesn’t introduce you to the other creeps not for your safety but because he’s jealous.

- randomly likes going into the forest just to aggressively push you up to a tree, grip your hair like there’s no tomorrow and kiss you hard.

- then walks away😟

- whenever you say “I love you” he says “you better”

- I don’t think he’s ever actually said “I love you” as an adult to you.

- if you do ever end up visiting the mansion in his room, he’ll push you off him if someone walks in his room.

- scarily overprotective

- he’s such a meanie too.

- he’s overprotective, unstable, and mean.

- if you’re arguing, he’ll punch a wall near you just to scare you.

- I’m sorry I romanticize him a lot you guys need this..

- when he’s gone for missions he doesn’t call or text.

- but when he gets back he’s super clingy even though he denies it.

- yes, he’s toxic. But he’s also just a really really mentally broken man that needs some love here and there.

- he’ll never give you a white picket fence dream. He’ll give you like..random 7-11 runs at 1:30 am, and chug a monster while discussing random stuff

- he doesn’t call you pet names. If he does it’s baby and that’s when he’s being super soft or sarcastic.

- definitely gave you a necklace with his blood in it…

Hope you liked it!!

Working on a bunch of drafts rn✍️

Tags

#creepypasta x you #creepypasta fluff #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta jeff the killer #jeff the killer x you #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer x y/n #jeff the killer headcanons #creepypasta headcanon #i love you #justasecretflower

166 notes · View notes

anakinstwinklebunny · 2 months ago

Note

if you’re not taking requests totally ignore this. but i was hoping if u could write a short drabble or whatever about the reader being like a bio/chem major and anakin being like a literature major (kinda get those vibes from his role in shattered glass as stephen glass) and their cute differences :D. i lowkey need it as motivation for the ap’s im taking 😔. if thats out of your comfort zone or if you don’t want to write that i understand!! i love your work 💗

Author's note: I do take requests!!! It's my first drabble EVER..and I hope it's good.. really 😭 YOU GO LOVE, YOU CAN DO IT, I BELIEVE IN YOU <3

pairing: literature major!anakin x biochem major!reader

The library was a sanctuary of silence, but the hushed murmur of pages turning and the occasional tapping of keyboards seemed to fade whenever Anakin and you shared a glance. You were huddled over your chemistry notes - the structure of complex molecules sprawling across your laptop screen, while Anakin lounged across from you, lost in the pages of a leather-bound volume of classic literature, just as he loved.

His long fingers traced the spine of his book as if it were a cherished secret. The dim light cast shadows across his chiseled features, highlighting the intense focus in his eyes. You couldn’t help but let your gaze linger on him, captivated by the contrast between his world of words and your realm of scientific formulas.

“Need any help with those compounds?” he asked, finally, as if knowing how many times your gaze fell on his face. His voice was low and smooth, carrying the hint of a smile you knew well. His eyes flickered up from the book, catching yours with a mischievous glint.

You rolled your eyes playfully, though you couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “I doubt your poetic musings will be much help with my chemical bonds,” you replied, though the teasing tone in your voice was softened by the affection you felt towards the young man

He leaned in closer, his voice a seductive murmur. “Ah, but you’d be surprised. The beauty of language can often explain the complexities of science.. Imagine, if you will, a molecule as a character in a novel, its bonds and interactions like a plotline that weaves through the narrative.”

You laughed, a soft, melodic sound that made Anakin’s heart race. His gaze dropped to your soft-looking lips for a moment before returning to your eyes, the heat between you palpable. Humanists, who would have known they can be so romantic in their speech? “You and your metaphors,” you teased, your fingers brushing against his hand as you reached for a textbook. "But you know what intrigues me" you made a small pause "how does a literature major end up as my personal distraction?” you teased, lightly flirting with your own boyfriend

Anakin’s fingers traced lightly over the edge of your open notebook, a barely perceptible touch that sent a shiver up your spine when his ocean blue eyes tried to read your writing “I guess I’m just trying to add a little poetry to your periodic table.”

You tilted your head, pretending to think it over. “Poetry and science? That’s like mixing oil and water.”

“Ah,” he grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief, “but even oil and water have chemistry. You just need the right catalyst.”

You laughed softly, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his charm. The truth was, you never really could “You think you’re the catalyst?”

He leaned in closer, his lips inches from your own, voice a low murmur. “I think I could make you react.”

You felt the blush bloom on your cheeks, your heart skipping a beat at his words. "Careful, you might just cause an exothermic reaction."

Anakin's smile widened, his thumb grazing your jaw as he whispered, “Then let's see how much heat we can handle."

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @erosmutt @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

154 notes · View notes

hannamoon143 · 2 days ago

Text

Don‘t drown in your own mind

bang chan x Writer! Fem reader

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort

Warnings: anxiety, description of anxiety/panic attack, crying, self doubt, insecurities, mention of depression, mentions of slight bad eating habits, slight cursing

Masterlist

You were laying in your bed, staring at the ceiling. It was like this for days now. Or maybe weeks? Time felt so irrelevant. Everday you were going to work, coming home, laying down, then you stared blankly at your wall for a few hours until you fell asleep. This, these days were horrible. You couldn‘t name the feeling, but a lonelines mixed with emptiness was just taking in your whole mind and heart. Nothing really happened that made you feel like this. It was just a never ending circle. When you got up for work you weren‘t thinking mostly. Almost automatically you got up, dressed, and ate a small breakfast. Your job was okay.It wasn‘t exactly what you wanted, but for the first it was a not too hard job, and the payment was good too. You always wanted to be an author, as long as you can remember. So you‘ll probably stay at this job a little longer, and someday make writing your mainjob, as an author. That was the plan at least. But right now, everything was harder. When you were coming home, you were always so tired that you didn‘t have the energy to do anything else anymore. That was probably also why your apartment looked like a mess. But you weren‘t able to stop it. You just didn‘t know how to stand up, clean everything, maybe go out, do something after work. All of this felt so far away.

Writing had been always an escape for you though. Poetry and literature was something you could describe your feelings with, like you could never in direct words. But these days your mind was blank. When you read others poetry and works, it somehow didn‘t reach you. And when you tried writing something yourself, again, this horrible emptiness in your mind. And when you couldn‘t even do the one thing that always brought you relief and comfort, what did you have left?

Somedays, you wanted to cry. You were waking up with not only the familiar exhausting emptiness, but also a heavy feeling in your chest. On these days everything seemed even a bit harder than on the other days. When people at work yelled at you, they were a tick louder on these days. People accidentally bumping into you, hurt a bit more. You weren‘t able to concentrate on work, just trying not to cry or yell at someone, the only light being the end of the day, when you could go home. But when you finally were going through your apartment door, the weary tireness came over you again. It was a horrible feeling. Not being able to do anything, not even being able to cry, when it‘s everything you had wanted to do the whole day. But you were still awake for hours. You had always wondered how people with depression were able to stand up, and do what they were supposed to do every single day. This was probably kinda what it felt like.

Oh but there was one thing you hadn‘t thought about. How dared you to think chan wouldn‘t notice? Chan is a protector. He always tries to protect everyone around him, be it from mean people, things, or their own minds. Oh and you? You were his ultimate softspot. He would give the moon to you if you asked him to. So of course he noticed when it got that time again. He noticed by the way you would zone out and sometimes not reply to his calls, and when you did, you mumbled a few responeses and just hang up all of a sudden,saying you‘d go to sleep.By the way you would need a bit longer to text back. And how you tried to smile when you were meeting up, but it never reached your tired eyes. And you didn’t write as much anymore. Sometimes before, you would randomly come into his studio at night, and just sit next to him, and while he was working on some tracks, you would write a few lines, be it about him, about your fellings or maybe a story you wanted to write down. He could tell by all the little things, your eyes, your voice, your body language.

He knew.

And what he learned about you was, that you weren‘t one to just talk about it, or reach out for help. Even if you wanted to, you couldn‘t. You simply didn‘t know how to talk about everything sometimes. Simple words seemed to not fit for the feeling. That was why he knew how important your random quotings were, or when you‘d show him your latest writings. And the worst thing was you always thought you were a bother. Of course chan had told you a million times that you weren‘t. He tried to reassure you ine very way possible. And somewhere you knew that he would never lie to you. But for some reason your brain didn‘t want to accept that. You often got brushed off as being lazy, not useful, and some kind of burden in your past. How could you be able to not think that when so many other people did? But the weird thing was, he knew. Chan always knew.

At some early point in your relationship you discovered that you shared a habit that was a bit uncommon. Often when your own words weren‘t enough, you expressed your feelings in quotes or song lyrics. It was a simple thing do do but to chan and you it meant so much. When you didn‘t know each other for that long, he discovered your love for writing and literature, so at some point he also started to really like it. And it was you who got more engulfed into music because of him. You were like puzzle tiles, matching and showing each other new ways and things.

But lately you even stopped doing that. Not randomly sending him lyrics, or poems anymore, you just wanted to share, or that made you think of him, or that you liked because they fit your situations. That was when he knew that it was really getting like that again. And never ever, was he going to let you hurt, and feel like that all alone. Not when he also knew about earlier phases in your life. So he planned how to get you out of the house, to make you do something that you‘d also really enjoy. He thought about what to say to you, and how to approach you at all. But all these thoughts just disappeared when he got a noification on his phone. He opened it. There was no context, and no hello, just this:

„Maybe it‘s time to say goodbye, cause i‘m getting pretty fucking tired“

Chan didn‘t even have to think. You showed him this song (Tired-beabadoobee) once, and said it was one of your favorites. He stated that it made him feel depressed, but you just giggled at that.

But at this lyrics, chan didn‘t think twice before he took his coat and car keys.

This day had just been horrible. Already when waking up, you felt a bit heavier than usual. Every task was a bit harder, and the thought of food made you nauseous. At work someone that you considered a friend had started telling people things about you, and then they also yelled at you for „Being a unproductive worker, and you are draggig everyone here down with your depressing ass attituted. It would be better if you weren‘t here.“ That had hit you hard. U didn‘t really care what other people said usually, but this stung. In the past weeks it was hard to even get up, but you tried so hard to do everything you were supposed to. Maybe you didn‘t talk as much with your co-workers then, but only because you couldn‘t have taken it… And then this small last sentence. „It would be better if you weren‘t here.“ You had heard this sentence so often in your life. Your „friends“ in school. Your parents. Your family. Teachers, colleagues, fans of chan. You had heard it too often. At some point you started to believe them. That was until chan came. He got you out of that dark hole, and he made you realize that all these people were wrong. But now you weren‘t so sure anymore.

To this day, you were always afraid of hearing chan say these words. You knew he never would say such things to anyone, but the thought was always somewhere in the back of your mind.

Now you were here again. The words of your co worker echoed in you mind. What if chan also hated your „Depressing attitude“? What if you were too much for him? You would understand that he didn‘t want to be with someone like you. You were always kind of messed up. So who said all those people in your life weren‘t right? Maybe everyone‘s life would be better if you weren‘t here…

You started blasting music through your airpods. It was the only thing somehow keeping you stable. Then the song played. Tired. A song you had listened to when you were at your lowest, it somehow being able to comfort and pain you at the same time. You didn‘t know what you were thinking, probably you just weren‘t thinking at all, but you sent chan a message. Absimently you typed in the songtext you knew without even hearing it. Then you let your phone fall.

Suddenly it seemed like those weeks of tiredness, emptiness and numbness were like washed away. A deep sob wracked your body. At the same time it felt relieving, but it was also pained. And then another one. And then tears started falling and your sobs mixed with the sound of your vent playlist. The words first quietly replayed in your mind „It would be better if you weren‘t here…“ But then, it changed. Your thoughts got louder and you didn‘t know what to do. Everything was too much right now, too overwhelming. The world was cruel, and so were people. But who said all cruel things were wrong? You fell down to your knees, wrapping your arms around your upper body. Your chest felt tight, and your breath was only coming out in choked sobs, while warm tears kept trailing down your cheeks. It was a stark contrast to the coldness in your mind. The airpods were still in your ears. You didn‘t hear the front door opening, and chan kicking off his shoes.

The first thing he heard were loud, pained sobs. They were shattering his heart. He quickly took off shoes and coat and rushed into the livingroom, where you were kneeling down, your upper body bent forwards, and while you were clutching to your own body, choking sobs were filling the air. He ran over to you, sitting on the floor next to you. He took your airpods out immediately and just wrapped his arms around you, starting to mumble comforting words into your hair. He knew the only thing that could calm your anxiety and panic right now, was physical touch, and someone telling you that it was okay, just giving you the comfort you really needed. So he tried not to cry himself, as he rocked you in his arms, slowly releasing your own arms from your trembling body, until you were entirely leaning onto him, sobbing. He mumbled quiet reassureances, and laid your hand on his chest, reminding you to breathe. You were trying your best to follow his breaths, his entire presence already bringing you big comfort. After a while, you were only lightly crying in his arms anymore, but he was relieved, that the anxiety attack and the panic was gone now. You finally managed to get something out. „It would be easier if i wasn‘t here. For you, and everyone else.“

Chan was shocked at that. Did you really think that? That you were even thinking such a thing, made him so sad. You were one of the most loving, hard working people he knew, and he wanted to beat up everyone who would ever made you think something like this. „Oh dear…“ he wrapped his arms a bit tighter around you, placing his chin on your head while stroking your back gently. „Whoever told you that is wrong. A life without you would be way harder to be honest. Who would send me memes of myself? Who would comfort me when i am frustrated because i can‘t finish a track? Who would be there to love and care for me? And i can tell you for sure, your real friends and family think the same. And no matter who, if anybody makes you think otherwise, they are wronger than wrong. I love you sooo much, and i know life can be tough, but i for sure know one thing. Life would be hard and boring without you. Please darling, don‘t ever try to leave me okay? If you feel like this again, overwhelmed, tired, like you don‘t belong here, then come to me. Tell me how you feel, let‘s write something together, also if your works will be hundred times better than mine, or let me just cuddle and comfort you, but don‘t suffer alone please. Call me across the ocean before you drown in your own mind. I‘d swim ever meter to come to you.“

He placed a kiss on your forehead. You were slightly crying again, but this time different than before. He was talking so genuine, and nothing he was saying sounded like a lie or just empty words to please someone. He meant every single thing he said. You looked at him, and a small smile stealed it‘s way on your lips. And that was the most beautiful thing chan ever saw. He wanted to keep it in his heart forever. He smiled back and pulled you against his warm chest again. Maybe from now on, the empty days, that just randomly came, wouldn‘t be as empty and exhausting anymore. Because chan would catch you when you‘d fall, listen to you, even when you didn‘t exactly know how to express yourself. He would be there, no matter what. And he would make sure you‘d never feel like your existence was a burden for anyone ever again.

World was cruel, yes. But chan was a rock in a big ocean, to hold onto whenever you felt like you were drowning.

Taglist: @0omillo0 @lina-linny @onementally-unstabel-kid @darqlys

74 notes · View notes

just-jordie-things · 2 years ago

Note

hii! if you’re still taking drabble reqs i’m in need of secret relationship w/yuta, megumi and toge (but you can add whoever you want honestly ~ )

yes omg now that my tbah series project is wrapped up i can finally get back into drabbles for y'all !! _

OKKOTSU YUUTA

ok you weren't trying to keep your relationship secret at first, things just got out of hand and then there was never a good time to bring it up.

when you and yuuta first confessed your feelings for each other in small whispers during a night you'd stayed up late because sleep was hard when you were a jujutsu sorcerer- you'd been ecstatic. nervous stammering and shy hands brushing against one another turned to bright grins and small kisses. you'd both been so relieved that your feelings were returned and your friendship hadn't been totaled by a premature confession.

and while you were certain those feelings weren't going anywhere, you both prioritized the group dynamic over anything else. your friends would surely be supportive of such an advancement in your relationship, still, you and yuuta agreed to give it a month or two to before breaking the news. just to be sure.

six months had passed. oops.

but it wasn't on purpose! no! you were all so busy, if there wasn't a mission there was constant schoolwork to catch up on, and then there was the whole sukuna's vessel thing, and it seemed that there was just no such thing as 'the right time' so it kinda got put on the back burner, and, well, it's how you found yourself in this situation.

it had been a rare occasion where yours and yuuta's schedules had aligned. he'd just gotten back from a mission and you weren't set to go on one for another week. a week was a blessing in this line of work, so you treated it like a vacation. (even though there was still schoolwork and training, any free time you had you devoted to yuuta)

like right now. you'd invited yourself into his dorm and lounged on his bed contentedly on your phone while he was reading a book. you didn't even speak much to one another. you were just happy to be tucked under his arm and leaning against the same pillow together.

you'd probably been cuddled up together for the last fifteen minutes, occasionally sharing a kiss, or a meme you'd found, when you finally asked him what he'd been reading.

blushing, yuuta lowered the book so you could peer onto the pages. a smile stretches over your lips as your eyes skim the poetry before looking back at him.

"poetry, hm?" you tease with that soft, cruel tone you use that makes him melt for you all over again. "as if you couldn't get anymore romantic, yuu"

he scoffs at the statement, shaking his head rapidly.

"just wanted to try something different-" he tries to defend himself, but you cut him off before he could finish his pitiful attempt.

"read to me"

"really?"

you nod furiously, even turning off your phone and dropping it to your lap so you could give him your full attention. yuuta's still blushing from his neck to his ears, but he couldn't possibly refuse.

he flips a few pages back, mumbling something about finding just the right one, before he clears his throat and softly reads the words aloud to you.

your head falls to his shoulder, your chest warm, your heart full, and you prod yuuta into reading more as you melt into his warmth and comfort.

it had been such a sweet, intimate moment. your happiness from spending time together turned to pure bliss as the poetry fell from his lips so naturally it was as though he'd written the words himself.

saying it had been ruined by the door crashing open wouldn't be right, because nothing could truly take away your current ecstasy, but it had been a shock.

"MUSTARD LEAF?"

you both yelped in surprise at toge's sudden forced energy, too in shock to realize the compromising position you shared on yuuta's bed.

whatever reason toge had shown up for was never really brought up, because as soon as he caught two of his best friends cuddling with a book of poetry held between them, he'd known exactly what he'd stumbled in on, and he was sending out texts to the rest of your friends in an instant, muttering out onigiri ingredients in shock.

it took a lot of convincing to your friends that you hadn't intended to hide your relationship from them. even now, months later, you don't think they believe you.

but they are happy for you :) ___

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

megumi really had to work up the courage to tell you how he felt. in fact, he'd almost talked himself out of it. he'd spent long enough deciphering the feelings himself. he wasn't familiar with the way his heartbeat sped up when you were close to him, or how his ears felt hot when you'd compliment him, or choose him first as a partner.

(honestly, it probably took him, like, months to realize he had a crush on you. gojo probably had to help him a little, against his will)

so imagine how long it took for him to finally do something about. yeesh. go easy on this boy.

when he does pull you away somewhere private and mumble out so many words they're slurring together but they're all so lovely and soft that you figure out exactly what he's saying, or trying to say anyways.

"anywaysijustwantedtotellyou," his words pick up in pace when he comes to his conclusion, the reality of his confession making his embarrassment grow. "youdon'thavetosayanything"

you grab his hand and squeeze it gently, conveying your appreciation through action, because your first words are a bit confusing.

"we probably shouldn't tell anyone," you say in a hushed voice. "at least for a while, i think our friends will be kind of annoying about it, they're kind of annoying like that,"

you're only teasing, judging by the fond smile on your lips, but megumi can't really make out what you're saying. his brows furrow, and his eyes are flickering rapidly between yours, silently asking for further context.

"well, think about it," you prompt, "do you really want yuuji teasing us about going out?"

"going out?" megumi repeats the words softly, almost in disbelief.

"what, did you want to confess and then never do anything about it?" you snort, your nose crinkling as you smile up at him.

megumi thinks his heart is swelling too much. he might need to have shoko check him out. this couldn't be normal. or safe.

"like- like dating? like on a date? together?"

you're giggling, and your hand squeezes his again. he's the cutest thing and he has no idea, you think to yourself. this isn't a new thought.

"yeah, like dating. like on a date. together," you repeat his words, just to tease him a little bit.

"okay," megumi says, and he finally smiles, no, grins, at the idea. he didn't exactly have high expectations when he confessed to you, or any expectations at all. this was definitely best case scenario. "we definitely can't tell anyone," he agrees as soon as he thinks about it for longer than a second.

he couldn't imagine the torture nobara and yuuji would put him through.

or worse.

gojo.

"maybe ever" he adds with wide, panicked eyes.

you laugh again, before standing on the tips of your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. like magic, you watch pink spread over the area instantaneously.

(needless to say gojo knows about the shift in your relationship pretty much right away. he does you both the favor of keeping it to himself... for a week) ___

INUMAKI TOGE

it had been pretty easy to keep your relationship with toge a secret. your friendship had always been a rather close one, so seeing physical affection between you two wasn't out of the norm. hugs, light touches, maybe a little cuddling, nothing really changed outwardly to your classmates.

and it had just been easier to keep the relationship private. neither of you wanted things to change. you didn't want to be treated any differently. had you made your relationship public, you probably wouldn't be partnered up as often for missions, and honestly, you and toge were a killer duo on the field.

(you also didn't want panda teasing you anymore than he already did, so that was also a good enough reason to keep it private)

so you two shared your kisses and whispers of meaningless whispers of nothing behind closed doors. pretty much your entire first year. toge's limited speech was actually helpful. it's not like he had to worry about slipping up too much.

it wasn't until a few weeks into your second year that anyone called you out.

of course as soon as itadori yuuji was introduced to the second years, he'd noticed right away. how, you weren't sure. you'd just been standing beside toge- you weren't even touching! but yuuji had caught the way your eyes had met a couple times, sharing silent words, so when introductions were over he'd outright asked.

"you guys are together, right?"

inumaki's eyes went wide, and behind his collar his jaw even dropped. you froze completely, your expression and body unmoving, while all eyes turned to you.

in hindsight, the lack of response from you and toge is probably what made things worse. had you calmly laughed it off and said you were close friends, you definitely could have gotten the heat off of you.

but you were so shocked that yuuji had asked you so blatantly! or that he'd even noticed at all!

maki, panda, and megumi all stood there with their shocked expressions, the longer you remained silent, the more they began to realize that yuuji had called you out in a matter of minutes after meeting you, when they'd all known you for years!

"salmon"

toge is the first to speak, with an affirmative nod to yuuji's question. you're still in a state of shock, even more so now that he's admitted to it.

yuuji, the precious kind of guy he is, just smiles and nods back, thinking you seemed like a cool couple, and was pretty oblivious to the reactions of everyone else.

"what!?" maki screeches when she finally finds her voice.

"for how long?" megumi's question follows.

"does yuuta know?" panda already has his phone in hand, rapidly texting their classmate that was overseas currently.

(with the time change, you don't get yuuta's reaction until hours later, and it's no different than the others)

[yuuta] : i can't believe you guys didn't tell me !! :o [yuuta] : i better get details !! >:( [yuuta] : obviously I always knew [yuuta] : but it's the principle of the thing!!!!!

even after your secret is out in the open, nothing changes much. you and toge are just as affectionate as ever, and your friends kick themselves for not realizing sooner. ___

y'all know i can't add gojo bc there's just no effing way he'd ever keep your relationship a secret. he'd definitely group text shoko and nanami the second you make your relationship official there's a romantic shift in your dynamic.

#megumi x reader #yuuta x reader #toge x reader #inumaki toge x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #megumi brainrot #yuuta brainrot #toge brainrot #inumaki toge #okkotsu yuuta #fushiguro megumi #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

1K notes · View notes

timotey · 5 days ago

Text

Fangs of Fortune

I haven't cried this much since... well, I don't think I've ever cried this much watching anything. The only thing that came even close was The Spirealm when the team members kept dying inside the doors. But even there wasn't this much death and tragedy. Ouch.

One thing that truly stood out for me about this drama was how, well, intimate it felt. It had incredible cinematography, music, costumes, CGI, acting, it looked really expensive and yet it was... intimate. There were very few characters compared to other fantasy cdramas. And it constantly focused on one small group of people. Instead of going big with huge battles and big armies, it went small and low-key, so we got to know the characters and the characters got to know each other. They actually talked, sight unseen! It was pretty much one long team-building exercise. With most of the team dead at the end, true.

Also, considering the longevity of the main three - Zhao Yuanzhou, Wen Xiao and Zhuo Yichen - the, ugh, "classification" of the love they had for each other didn't matter. Because when you have a hundred or more years together, you really won't be boinking day in day out after a while, so it's about the companionship first and foremost, that stands above all. And like Zhuo Yichen said, there are different kinds of love and not one is better than the others. So the familial love between Wen Xiao & Zhuo Yichen, the romantic love between Wen Xiao & Zhao Yuanzhou, and the soulmate bond between Zhuo Yichen & Zhao Yuanzhou are all equal in their importance.

And if I understand it correctly, the sliver of soul in the droplet of Zhao Yuanzhou's blood on the "contract" means that he will now have to cultivate for years and years to come - Li Lun was meant to cultivate for a hundred years to get his human form back - before coming back to them. So they will have to keep his soul safe until then.

Also, the fact that his soul went looking for Zhuo Yichen? Chef's. Kiss! Just like the fact that he kept staring at Zhuo Yichen as he was dying, even though he was lying in Wen Xiao's arms. He wanted Zhuo Yichen to be the last thing he saw - and he was the first thing Zhao Yuanzhou went looking for when his soul became sentient enough. That's just... wow. It kinda reminds me of the parabatai bond in Shadowhunters which surpassed everything, even romantic love and death.

10/10 for me. I don't usually give a 10 - IIRC, I only gave a 10 to two cdramas, Ancient Love Poetry (also one that I bawled through) and The Spirealm - but this one hit just right!

#fangs of fortune #moje recenze #mé #cdrama

66 notes · View notes

my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 3 months ago

Text

One For The Road [1]

Cecil Dennis x AFAB!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals• masterlist • ao3• want to be tagged? • request info • ko-fi •

Series Masterlist

Summary: Cecil forgets he invited you over.

A/N: The biggest thank you to @thexsanctuaryx for beta reading this and fixing some of my British-isms <3 I owe you my life!

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, mentions of weed, weed use, fleshlights, Cecil talking about 'Catcher In The Rye', fingering, Cecil coming in his pants, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 3404

You Sit and Talk to Me on the Floor

You lean back against the sofa, getting comfortable as your high pleasantly buzzes in the back of your head.

You’d been pretty pissed when you’d got here and Harry was nowhere to be found. (You, him and Cecil and Harry’s new girlfriend Mary-Ann, who you hadn’t met yet, had plans to hang out and watch a film. Or at least that’s what Cecil had told you.) He’d grinned when he’d opened the door, “What are you doing here?”

Turns out he’d been high (unsurprising) when he’d messaged and asked you. And had promptly forgotten all about it without letting Harry or Mary-Ann know.

And now Harry was ‘working’. Or something. Cecil wasn’t exactly clear.

Ever since he’d been dumped by his girlfriend Cecil had been staying with his cousin to ‘get back on his feet’, or more correctly, ‘make a mess, panic, tidy the house in a crazy rush to a standard that would put a professional kitchen to shame and then repeat’.

He’d apologised for a good fifteen minutes when he realised his mistake, and had offered you a brownie as he ushered you inside.

“Is there weed in this?”

He stared at you like you’d grown an extra head. “It’s a brownie.”

“You know pot isn’t a standard ingredient, right?”

He’d pulled a face that made you laugh. “What’s the point in that?”

Cecil sits on the floor, leaning against the sofa and lolling his head back as he talks to you, “I’m really glad you came actually, sorry again,” he smiles shyly, “I was kinda lonely.”

“You can hire people for that.” You tease and he snorts.

“No, that’s not what I mean. Besides,” he shrugs, “I’m broke.”

You giggle, finding it far funnier than you normally would.

He grins and takes a swig of his beer before another hit from his bong.

“How many brownies did you have?” You ask, interested, you’d only had one.

“Two… and a half.”

“And you’re smoking too?”

“Yeah? I mean,” he puffs up his chest proudly, “I got a high tolerance.”

“If there were an olympics in getting high you’d probably get a gold.”

“I definitely would get a gold, I bet they used to have that, weed consuming, in the olympics I mean. They used to have poetry and people competing naked and everything, and then it got ruined.”

“With clothes or lack of poems?” You smile.

“Both.” He nods confidently. “Though maybe some clothes is a good idea…” He ponders for a moment, “I bet if you run and you got no pants on your dick just,” he flops his hand around like crazy and you giggle, “I mean, that would hurt. And boobs!”

“Boobs?” You wheeze out.

“Yeah, I bet some boobs would hurt too, you need those high impact bras and all that.”

“How do you know about that?” You run your hand through his hair absentmindedly, he always did have such soft, rich curls.

“I’m a guy of knowledge, you know. I know many things.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Like what then?”

He leans a little into your touch, smiling as you stroke his hair. “Erm, I know that this,” he taps the part of the sofa he’s leaning against, “is called a sofa skirt.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.” He grins at you when you poke out your tongue. “I know the sky’s blue because of Rayleigh scattering-”

“What’s Rayleigh scattering?”

“Why the sky is blue.”

“Cecil…” You roll your eyes playfully and he giggles.

“Okay, okay, it’s to do with light particles and how they,” he waves his hand to the side making a buzzing noise, “move about when they’re in a wavelength.”

“How do you know that?”

He shrugs, “I dunno. Just do. Something stuck once I guess.”

You nod, “Pretty impressive skill.”

“Nah,” he shakes his head, “I don’t control what sticks, I’ve literally read every single math book I ever could on how to do algebra when I was in high school and nothing.” He pauses and then smiles, “I can quote Catcher in the Rye to you though.”

“What?” You shift a little, leaning closer. “Like the whole thing?”

“Mostly,” he shrugs again but he puffs his chest out, obviously pleased at your interest. “But I guess I could just be making it up if you don’t know it word for word and don’t have a copy in front of you.”

“I trust you.” You say kindly and he beams.

“Well, okay, look, first paragraph, because it’s easy,” he swallows and clears his throat.

“If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.” He puts on a voice as he speaks, at first it’s jokey as he tries to poke a little fun at himself, but as he continues it relaxes, becomes more like he’s inhabiting the voice of the character.

“That’s very, very cool.” You grin and he smiles shyly, looking down at his hands before taking another hit. “Yeah, well, doesn’t help much.”

“You like Catcher in the Rye?”

He nods. “Got an A+ on that report.” He grins, “I always thought it was sad, you know? The story I mean. Just a kid trying to be an adult because that’s what society implies, when really he just wants to be… you know… enjoy his childhood.” He nods a little. “I like that his little sister is more mature than him, that he has this innocence to him. That even though the story is about a loss of that, in the end, I dunno, I don’t think it fully happened.”

You incline your head, staying quiet so he’ll continue.

“I mean, I think he’s still innocent. Still playing at being an adult. Like everyone is.” He shrugs, shaking his head. “But whatever.”

You give his shoulder a light shove, “But whatever? Cec,” you lean forward, your hand still in his hair, “that’s so good, like insightful.” You say sincerely.

He gives you a bashful smile, his eyelashes fluttering a little as you compliment him. “Yeah, you know, thanks.” There’s the smallest flush to his cheeks. “You’re so smart and everything so that means a lot.”

“Cec,” you say softly, shaking your head, “you gotta think better of yourself.”

He nods halfheartedly.

“Really, you got to, you…” You pause, trailing off as something catches the light and inadvertently, your eye. It’s shoved to the side, on the floor between the right hand side of the sofa and the wall.

Cecil looks around to where you’re staring, mildly interested for a moment before his eyes widen. “Oh, shit, sorry!” He goes to push it further under the couch and out of sight but doesn’t reach far enough and ends up falling onto his side and flailing about.

“Is that what I think it is?” You giggle, unable to stop yourself.

“Erm…” He looks up at you, trying his best to give you a winning smile from the floor. “That depends on what you think it is?” His voice is hopeful.

“A flesh light?”

He groans and puts his hand dramatically over his face.

You laugh harder.

“Ugh.”

“It is?” You ask excitedly, unsure why this is amusing you quite so much.

“Mhmmm.”

“Yours?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my goooooood,” you lean down and ruffle his hair until he has to take his hand off his face to bat you away and starts laughing, “Cecil getting it on in the living rooooooom.”

“No!” He lies.

“Ohhhhh, is that what you were doing before I got here?” The glee in your voice is palpable. “Is that why it took you so long to answer the door?”

“Stop.” He tries to pout but keeps laughing. “I hadn’t got that far yet.”

“Yet?”

“You came over! That’s more important than jacking off.”

You snort loudly. “I’m honoured.”

He pulls a playful face and lightly smacks your calf.

“I wouldn’t have stopped having a wank just because you came over.” You joke and Cecil bursts into hysterics.

He manages to calm down long enough to spit out his next words, “I wouldn’t ask you to stop.”

“What?”

“If you wanted to get down and whatever, that’s fine, I’d just hang in the kitchen.”

It’s your turn to have a laughing fit. “Oh, you’re so slimy.” You tease, adjusting your skirt as you move.

“No, no,” he sits up, still giggling, his cheeks flush. “I wouldn’t watch or listen, I’m not being a perv.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Hey! I don’t need to spy on people, I can, you know.”

“What?” You grin.

“See it on the TV whenever.”

You start laughing again. You had been expecting a bit of macho, ‘I can pick up willing partners whenever I want to’, not ‘I’ll watch some porn’.

“Yeah?” You prod him in the arm playfully.

“Yeah.” He nods, “that’s what I was doing before you came over.”

“Oh, good to know.” You chuckle. Part of you knows it’s the weed that’s making you a little less guarded than you usually were, but you can’t help yourself. “What were you watching then?”

“Well, I hadn’t decided yet.” He shrugs, but he’s grinning, obviously quite happy to talk with you about this. “I was having a look.”

“On what?”

“PornHub,” he shuffles towards the TV on his knees and grabs the remote and then his phone. “I cast it, see,” the screen mirrors his phone as he scrolls through. “I was just browsing.”

“You say that so casually.” You goad him playfully.

“Yeah, well, I mean why not? Most people look at porn.”

You nod.

“Don’t you?” He asks, quite innocently as he cocks his head to the side.

Heat rushes under your skin. “Well, erm, yeah, I mean.”

He grins, but not in a gloating way, more pleased that you’re both sharing something.

“What, erm,” you squirm a little, feeling foolish and trying to push the focus back to him. “What do you normally watch?”

“Like porn wise?”

“Mmhmmm.”

He grins, “lots actually, my tastes are very varied.” He says like he’s talking about wine. “Sometimes two girls, sometimes a guy and a girl, sometimes two guys, sometimes a group. Sometimes just someone by themselves.” He shrugs and looks up at you, when he sees you’re still listening he swallows and continues, “I got a favourite.”

You nod, your mouth dry.

“It’s two girls, erm, it’s not even like, that,” he waves his hands, “it’s just, it’s quieter, I guess? They sound more… natural. Like it’s not being put on for show, and they got like, these suits. It’s not like latex or anything, not that there’s a problem with that, it’s sort of like body suits, skin tight, but hands are free, and boobs, and,” he motions to his crotch, “down there, and… they sort of… like just…” his face reddens a little more. “They, rub together in like missionary and come and… and it just sounds so nice. They look like they’re really enjoying it.”

He looks up at you again and fidgets, his eyes dark.

The nervous expression, the flush to his cheeks shouldn’t be endearing, shouldn’t make you feel a twist of heat in your stomach.

“I could… show you?” He says quietly, like he’s trying to tiptoe around something else.

You find yourself nodding once, saying, “Okay.” before you even realise it.

He finds it quickly on his phone and sits down next to you on the sofa, a hands width away.

You stare at the TV while looking at him from the corner of your eye.

“This reminds me of high school.” He says quietly, biting his lips together. “A group of us used to, when porn was harder to get hold of, used to like, watch it together and smoke.”

You nod, a quick reply simply not coming.

The video starts, the two women posing for the camera before they make their way to the bed.

“I used to worry,” he continues, “because sometimes weed makes me really horny.” He shrugs, flinching inwardly at why he said that.

“I get that.” You swallow.

One woman climbs on top of the other.

“You do?” He asks.

“Yeah,” why are you speaking, why can’t you just shut up? “The horny thing.”

“From smoking or watching porn?” He asks innocently.

“Both, I guess.”

He hums, nodding. “Me too.”

You both continue to watch for a moment in an odd silence, the air is thick with an oppressive weight. You want to look at him again, want to see his soft eyes and plump lips.

Cecil shifts a little, fidgeting once before he pushes the heel of his hand against his leg and… wait… not his leg.

His erection is straining against his jeans.

You can’t help but look, going over the shape and outline and- You freeze. He’s looking right at you.

“Sorry.” He gives you a sheepish smile as if he was the one that had been caught perving. “Guess it’s a bit more obvious on me.” He jokes, but the tips of his ears still flush.

“No, yeah, I mean…” you stumble over your words, trying to fill the gaps as the moans from the TV grow louder and… they did sound like they were having fun. “I mean,” you swallow and start again, “I, if I had a dick, you’d see it,” you motion your hand upright.

“Yeah?”

You nod.

“Not just saying that to make me feel better?” He asks, gently nudging you in the shoulder.

“No… I would.”

He gives you a sweet look, but it’s still disbelieving.

“Cecil, I’m not lying.”

“I don’t know…”

“Why would I lie?”

“You’re too nice all the time, it’s not lying it’s ‘sparing my feelings’.” He motions with his hands.

“Well, I’m not,” you fold your arms. “I’m being truthful.”

“Okay.”

“Cecil.”

“I said okay,” he teases. “I’m agreeing with you.”

“But you don’t believe me.”

He nods. “That’s true.”

You huff air through your nose, exasperated. “I’m not lying.”

“Sure.”

“There’s no point to me lying.” Your voice raises a little at the end, which only makes it sound more like you are lying.

“Okay.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

He laughs, “just because you’re a dirty and bad liar, doesn’t mean-”

You don’t know why you do it, but you grab a hold of his hand and press it forcefully between your legs. “See?” Your voice sounds sure of itself, like a gloat. But your mind is just only catching up with your actions. And the sensation of Cecil’s warm, thick fingers against your core.

You’re wearing a skirt, the only thing separating your skin from his is the thin material of your panties which are undoubtedly damp.

“Oh,” he breathes, his cock twitches. “Yeah, you’re…”

You freeze, still holding his hand against you. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

His fingers brush a little against the cotton. The action takes you by surprise and much to your dismay a weak gasp leaves your lips.

He glances up to your face as you keep your eyes closed, screwing them shut to avoid his gaze. But seemingly he finds what he was looking for.

He moves his fingers again, a little firmer this time, tracing a soft circle against your clit and you shudder.

There’s a pause, a fraction of a second as he waits for you to stop him, to tell him no.

You don’t.

So he does it again, and again, and again until you’re squirming. Your breath is coming out fast as your hips shallowly move in time with his fingers.

He inches closer to you, pressing his chest against your shoulder and resting his forehead on your temple.

Cecil moans softly in your ear as you whine, your lip between your bottom teeth as you watch the two women fuck on screen without really seeing.

He slowly presses on the damp patch, rubs along your core before he slips your underwear to the side and touches you lightly.

You jolt, gasping, turning your head to press your forehead to his.

He groans as he traces his forefinger along your slit, marvelling at the slick that coats the tip of his finger before he lightly pinches your clit.

“Cecil,” you breathe.

“It’s okay,” he mutters, kissing your cheek and then your lips gently, “it’s okay, it’s just a friend helping another one out. Just helping…” He drapes his free arm around your shoulders, his fingers mirroring the pattern of his other hand on your arm.

He kisses you again, soft and sweet as he lightly teases you with the tip of his tongue.

The second you part your lips he inhales deeply, angling his hand and pushing two fingers deep inside while flicking your clit with his thumb.

You gasp, your moans music to his ears as he kisses you wantonly as he curls and strokes your walls.

“Oh, god, you’re really wet,” he bites his lip, grunting as he presses closer, curls deeper until you’re bucking and practically sobbing. “Really tight, mmm, feel so nice inside.” He mumbles, not really registering what he’s saying as he pants in your ear. “Thank you for letting me, oh,” he shivers as you whine, grabbing hold of any part of him you can reach and clinging on, silently begging him to continue.

“Is that good? Is that where it’s nice?” He swallows, stroking the same spongy spot again and groaning when your thighs quiver.

You nod rapidly and he coos, “oh good, good, mmm,” he kisses your neck, breathing deeply to fill his lungs with your scent. “God, so nice and warm, bet you got the cutest little pussy? Fuck.” He groans, moving so he can rub his crotch against your thigh, “you’ll let me look sometime? I would love to see it, bet it’s so sweet.”

Your eyes roll back, your muscles tensing as he keeps moving, keeps pulling you closer to that edge. Your moans are overshadowing the sounds of the TV, the squelch of his fingers fucking you relentlessly bouncing around the room.

You can hardly think, hardly form words, your mind obsessed with the reaction that all consuming pleasure that is so, so near.

“Bet it’s the prettiest pussy I’ll ever see,” he groans, the friction of his jeans burning deliciously against his cock as he rubs himself over your thigh, making him lightheaded. Being near you is making him lightheaded. The fact that you’ve let him touch you, and be in you is dizzying and those sounds you’re making are enough to make him come on the spot. Right now, so close. Just a tiny little more friction and-

You clench around his fingers, crying out as your orgasm is pulled expertly from you. Cecil whines, keeps moving his thick fingers in that blinding pattern and pressure, as he follows you instantly. Your blissed out expression driving him clean over the edge.

You shiver, your thighs shaking as you come, as the pleasure seems to stretch onwards and as Cecil moans softly in your ear.

You both breathe, Cecil’s fingers still inside you as you stroke a hand through his hair. A wet patch starts to bleed into his boxers, but he doesn’t care. Not when you’re so close and he feels so happy.

He opens his mouth to speak and-

There’s a key in the lock, and the front door opens. You both jump, moving away from each other to the opposite ends of the sofa as Harry comes back.

You feel oddly empty without his touch, without his fingers buried inside.

Harry pokes his head around before he comes into the room, he looks at the bong and beer and porn still playing on the TV. “You guys started the party without me?” He kids.

You laugh, not entirely convincing.

“Cecil, man, what’re you doing showing off your porn playlist huh?” Harry jokes and Cecil shrugs.

He’s using his forearm to cover any signs of his softening erection and wet patch, while he dangles his other hand off the arm of the sofa, out of Harry’s sight. Where his cousin can’t see how he rubs his slick covered fingers together.

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

@romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho

@steven-grants-world @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie

@silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom

@alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @soft-girl-musings @spxctorsslxt

@novarosewood @pygmi-cygni

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

#cecil dennis #revenge for jolly #cecil dennis x reader #x reader #cecil dennis x you #x you #cecil dennis x afab reader #afab reader #cecil dennis x female reader #x female reader #cecil dennis x f!reader #x f!reader #cecil dennis x fem!reader #x fem!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

105 notes · View notes

wolvesandshine · 9 months ago

Text

Regulus Arcturus Black.

Sirius’s younger brother.

James knew all about him of course, even though he hadn’t spoken to him at all.

But he knew. The first time he met Sirius, Regulus was all he talked about. How he had a sweet tooth, how he liked reading french poetry, how he was good and kind and talked to house elves - the list went on.

As the year went on, James heard less and less about Regulus, and being eleven years old at the time, he wasn’t paying enough attention.

Then next year rolled around. James had spent the whole of summer alternating between dreading and anticipating meeting Regulus.

He needn’t have worried though. Sirius had shown up with a dark face and alone, and from then Regulus Black was strictly off topic.

Then Regulus Black had placed in Slytherin, and well, so much for the sweet and kind boy sirius had always talked about.

So James had never interacted with Regulus. He never had any reason to - until now.

He had seen Regulus leaving dinner early and seizing his chance, he mumbled a good bye to his friends before rushing after him.

The minute he got Regulus alone, James drew out his wand, stepping closer, letting the familiar anger wash over him. “Why if it isn’t the famous baby black.”

The boy in front of him then stiffened, looking indifferent. It boiled James’s blood. How could he stand there looking so unbothered? As if he didn’t have a part in sending Sirius bloody and halfway to death to his home.

“What? Unable to speak without darling Walburga with you?” That got a reaction out of Regulus. He started, jaw clenching and made a move as of to hex him or punch him - but then he stopped. Face going blank, before he turned around and started walking away.

That just wouldn’t do. James couldn’t hurt Walburga or Orion Black, but Regulus? Sirius wasn’t his brother anymore.

James reached forward to grab Regulus’s hand before shoving him up against the wall, wand at his face.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you for what you did to Sirius.” James spoke lowkey, voice shaking with barely restrained anger.

Regulus just stared at him blankly, only serving to anger James more. “What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?”

Just then, James heard noise behind him, the sound of the rest of the students leaving the great hall. But James wasn’t about to let the coward leave - consequences be damned.

Before he could do anything though Regulus shoved him, causing James to fall promptly on his arse, winded. He hadn’t expected Regulus to have that kinda strength - but then again he always defied expectations.

Within seconds, Regulus had stolen James’s wand and held both at his throat. “Is this the kind of rash decisions you’re planning on making in the war?” He jabs the wand into his neck. “What is Sirius going to do then?”

James, admittedly, feels a bit lost right now, confused in the direction the conversation is going. Regulus glances up at the increasing sounds before he turns startlingly grey eyes on James - so different yet so similar to Sirius’s. “The Potter name carries weight.Without it, Sirius wouldn’t have made it this far.”

With that he leaves James alone, dropping his wand before he walks off, smoothing out his robes, face blank again.

James stared at the retreating form. He’s starting to think there’s more to Regulus than he had thought.

181 notes · View notes

themeraldee · 1 month ago

Note

The ask with homelander with an s/o that make things got me thinking, how about other types of art too?

Like homelander with an s/o that usually draw but it's mostly doodles and like have a very specific way of drawing a chibi version of him in the back corners on the notebooks? So it's usually silly but every now and then homelander get a full painted or rendered piece of him? (This got me thinking in the titanic scene like homelander in the couch like :paint me ***strike model pose*** and then getting impatient because a full piece takes more time than the usual 5-10 minutes of the lil doodles)

Or with an s/o that writes poetry so write letters and love poems for him?

I love your blog:3

Thank you 🥹🥹🩷 I'm so glad you like it here!!

I love this! Anything that involves Homelander getting handmade gifts is gold! With his entire world revolving around corporate merchandising and how much revenue he can bring, money loses its meaning very quickly. And while any gift you'd buy (with your money or his) would bring a smile to his face, loving that you saw it and thought of him; the notion that you spent time crafting this gift that noone else has would just rock his world!

I imagine that handmade gifts are in general very rare for him because I'm sure most of the fan mail gets dealt with by Vought and if his fans make something for him he either doesn't see it or it's generic enough for him not to care about it.

But I love the 'so obsessed with each other even though they're together' kinda theme where his SO still writes him sweet notes and letters that absolutely melt his heart. This goes back to sewing notes into his costume only for him to see I mentioned in a pervious ask.

He'd keep all the letters in a box, rereading them anytime his SO would be out of town, like that sap he is.

I love the idea of his SO having like a collection of Homelander doodles. That'd be super cute.

Also you know he's being such a whiny baby just constantly going.

"How much longer is this going to take?"

"You done yet? Can I see??"

just for his SO to go like.

"Be patient, I'm trying to get familiar with your anatomy, I want it to look right."

"Oh I know one way to get familiar with my anatomy alright." There he goes insufferably wiggling his eyebrows.

His SO just throws a piece of charcoal at him.

#sorry for the late response!!! I've not been keeping up with my asks #I swear I say this on every post these days oops #homelander x reader #asks!

63 notes · View notes

lovelyjj · 8 months ago

Note

Heyyy, I’ve come to ask for your words again, can we do a JJ finding out you write poetry about him?? I write poetry and was wonderin, thanks in advance!!!

💜 anon

Poetry

jj maybank x reader

wc: 937

a/n: one of the poems I found on pinterest creds to the original here is the link

It was no secret that you and JJ were close. The two of you were the perfect pair. You were always together. What started off as a friendship quickly turned into a romantic relationship.

You and JJ practically lived together. You had a couple drawers in his room at John Bs. You were always over there spending time with JJ. You liked your little routine. You went to work at a coffee shop a couple mornings a week.

Then you went to the château to meet up with JJ. You would do everything together. You’d go on rides on his dirt bike, swimming in the marsh, going out on the boat, drinking in the hot tub, the list was endless.

This particular evening you were in the hot tub with the pogues. You were drinking and laughing and enjoying each others company. It was times like these you found yourself grateful for having such great friends.

JJ pulled you onto his lap and wrapped his arms around your waist. He rested his chin on your shoulder. He wasn’t really listening to the conversation at all. He was distracted with your body pressed against his.

“So how are things with you and Pope,” you asked Kiara who was right next to you.

“It’s good it’s just kinda weird since we’ve been friends for so long and now that we’re together it’s like how do we do this. But i like him a lot,” Kiara whispered.

“That’s good,” you responded.

“You and JJ seem as great as ever.” Kiara commented.

You nestled into JJ’s touch, “Yeah we are.”

“I’m happy for you” Kiara replied.

You talked with your friends while enjoying the warm water. When you were finished in the hot tub you went inside the château.

—————

The next morning you left the château early to go to work. JJ was bummed because he loved waking up with you. Eventually a couple hours later JJ woke up.

JJ decided to get up and get ready for the day. He was looking for a certain shirt that you happen to wear to bed and go home in. He was looking everywhere. He even looked in your drawers.

He sorted through your clothes in the drawer. He lifted up your clothes and that’s when he found a notebook. Now JJ wasn’t one to go through and look at your private things but he wondered what a notebook hidden under clothes would have in it.

JJ opened it to the first page and what he saw shocked him. It was a poem.

he is like sunshine

filling me up with joy

he is my sunshine boy

Then he flipped to the next page, another poem.

I think i found the love of my life

i think i might one day be his wife

when he kisses me I feel alive

when he holds me is when I think we thrive

He flipped the the next page after that.

blonde locks blue eyes

tan skin pink lips

he looks like a dream

Another page.

I’ve tasted your lips,

your skin

and never realized

I was deprived.

Your kiss, your touch

that awakens my soul,

making me want more.

I didn’t know

I would crave you so much.

I never realized

I was even homesick,

until

I found you.

The notebook was filled with poetry about him. He was filled with warmth. He couldn’t believe you wrote love poems about him. JJ thought that was one of the nicest and sweetest thing anybody has ever done for him.

JJ thought you were a skilled writer. Your poetry was perfect. He almost cried he was so moved by your beautiful writing. JJ made a mental note to bring this up to you when he sees you next.

——————

A few days later you were on your way to the château. You missed JJ even though it’s only been a few days. The plan was to just hang out and watch movies nothing special.

John B was in the kitchen when you walked in.

“Hey John B,” you greeted.

“Hey Y/N, JJ is in his room,” he stated.

“Thanks,” you smiled.

You made your way to JJ’s room excited to see the man of your dreams. You knocked on his door and he said to come in.

“Hi Jayj,” you exclaimed.

“Hi sweetheart,” JJ got up from his bed and gave you a hug.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and when you pulled away from the hug you gave him a kiss on the mouth.

“Mhhmmm, missed you mama,” JJ hummed after the kiss.

“I missed you too,” you replied.

“I wanted to ask you something,” JJ requested.

“Yeah sure shoot.”

“Um I found this journal, and and it’s filled with poems. I just i never knew you were a poet.” JJ explained.

“You were never supposed to see those,” your hand hit your head.

“I’m glad I did, I can’t believe you wrote those things about me.”

“Well you’re my muse my inspiration, you’re the air that I breathe,” you expressed.

“Oh my love, I love you so much. I hope you know that. I’m flattered. You should be a writer.”

“I love you too. And hey maybe I will but I’m shy and scared to put my work out there.”

“You never know.”

“You’re right who knows,” you threw your hands up.

Then you launched yourself at JJ and tackled him to the bed and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“You make writing poetry so easy because every time I look in your eyes I see a world of possibilities.”

187 notes · View notes

minhosimthings · 10 months ago

Text

A La Folie ft. Jay

Synopsis: Wounds came and went. All in the circle of life am I right? The greatest warrior among all the kings, Park Jay. For him, seeing blood was like seeing the sky. It was a daily routine which he could not escape. Yes sometimes he had grave injuries, which he wouldn't stop to take care of, with him being a workaholic. But sometimes healers do more than heal physical wounds, and for Jay, you did exactly that.

Pairings: King!Jay × healer!fem!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, no smut (yet hehe), mentions of blood, violence, domestic abuse, mentions of cheating, mistresses (don't read it if you can't handle it), mentions of food, Jay has a REALLY tragic past sorry bout that, reader is an orphan, also this is really dramatic IM SORRY I CANT NOT WRITE DRAMA, open ending oohh

A/N: EYYY MR JAY PARK WOOHOO Ngl I was so excited to write this but the exams and all made this kinda difficult to write so if anyone has been waiting for this I'm sorry for the extremely long wait. Also yes this wil be in three parts yay. @yunabi436 this is for you baby 😽

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

The French Quotes Series Masterlist

"And from Aphrodite's rotten lovesick blood did the white flowers turn into a darker shade of red, eternally forming the flower of love."

Aphrodite and the hunter Adonis' tale had been one of boars, blood, lust and love.

For the young king of the iron-kingdom of Vadronia (rightly given its moniker), the only thing he cared about in all of those four things were the boars and the blood.

Jay Park's kingdom wasn't the strongest in all of Paradoxica just in a penny's wish and a flick of a tail feather. It was quote unquote 'molten from iron itself' as all its rulers were.

From all of his brothers, Jay was probably the one who took his duties as a warrior seriously.

Well, a bit too seriously, according to the said brothers.

"Jay would you please stop running so fast?" Sunghoon panted, putting his hands on his knees and breathing heavily as beads of sweat dripped from his hair and skin.

The mud track was always the hardest one to trench upon, and with Jay on your trail? It was hell. Atleast that's what Jake and Sunghoon described it as.

"Are you going to be saying that when you're running from enemy horses?" Jay turned back and glared at Sunghoon, the light autumn breeze giving him peace as it whipped his hair around.

"For God's sake Jay, no one is going to invade us now." Heeseung walked into the scene, with much less sweatier clothes and an arrow clutched in his hand, indicating he had come back from his target practice, "Give the poor guys a break."

"Yes please give us a break I'll go down on my knees." Jake was close to collapsing on the floor, his hand desperately clutching onto the nearby flag pole for support.

"You'd go down on your knees for your best friend." Jay scoffed, throwing his head back to shake the sweat out of his hair follicles, because as glorious as they were, the stray strands still annoyed him, "And you." He turned towards Heeseung, who, even though was much taller than Jay, now looked like a dwarf in front of Jay's broad figure, "How many times do I have to remind you to come for practice?"

"It's not my fault." Heeseung jut out his bottom lip, he always loved acting cute in front of Jay even if he was older, "Little princess back at home has been spying on me. And not gonna lie, I am extremely aroused."

"Why did I even ask?" Jay rolled his eyes and stretched out his arms, the bright burning sun reflecting in his eyes like the moonshine he loved so much, which he drank by the fireplace as he penned down poetry he could show to no one.

"So Jayyyy" Sunghoon dragged his words out, "Felt any sparks lately?"

"Ask that question again and you'll be running twenty laps round this track." Jay promptly replied, cleaning his face with the lavender-smelling towel the nearby servant handed to him. He always loved the lavender scented things, it reminded him of the springs with his mother, oh how she would tease him with tiny flowers in his hair, and the clink of her ruby created dagger in her belt. The dagger lay soulless now, sitting in a secretive place in Jay's room, as he stared at it and remembered that moment again and again. His bastard father, no matter how many times Jay had cursed him, he still couldn't get it out of his mind.

His mother, his compassionate, kind mother, didn't deserve to bleed out from his father's turn of blade.

And no matter how many potions he took, the smell of the blood filled ballroom still lingered in his nose at night, when he would jolt awake in cold sweat, wanting to cling onto his mother, but then he'd remember that he wasn't eight anymore, she was gone.

"Jay you're my brother and I really respect you a lot." Heeseung started, sitting Jay down on the oak bench, while Jake and Sunghoon quietly sneaked out, running for their lives back to their horses, "But you've got to find someone to love in your life, you've got to get over your fear."

"Weren't you the one who was complaining about love to Jake and I a few days ago?" Jay raised a magnificently trimmed brow, to which Heeseung chuckled.

"Yep but then I fell into that rabbit hole and I seem to like it, a bit too much perhaps." Heeseung stared into the distance, instantly losing his dramatic moment as the setting sun hit his pupils.

"Yeah, someday when I'm older maybe." Jay fiddled with his fingers, he never could keep them still, "But for now, I wanted to ask if you'd want to come with me on a hunt tomorrow?"

"A hunt?" Heeseung quizzed, lifting himself with much difficulty off of the bench, bow in hand, "You haven't invited me to a hunt in ages."

"Necessity is the mother of invention." Jay got up as well, scented towel still in hand, "And in this case it's that wild boar our men have been hunting since last month, been terrorizing the border between Tarnow and Vadronia now. I'm surprised you haven't noticed yet."

"Consider me blinded by love." Heeseung threw a flirtatious wink at Jay, who visibly gagged, "I'll be there."

"I'll be waiting."

"No no no, Jay, we, under no circumstances, apply essence of Hibiscus to a water snake's venom." A lady with greying hair sighed, bending over a wooden cup, while a sturdy, black haired man gulped heavily and stared nervously at the herbs in his hand.

Jay was never very successful in his healing classes, and under the strict gaze of his teacher, old Mrs.Chun, he was far away from catching the train of success.

"I don't get it." Jay frowned like a child, setting the hibiscus flower down on the table filled with healing equipments of all kind, "Wasn't the essence of Hibiscus supposed to combat this snake's venom?"

The old lady sighed again and rolled her eyes, snatching the hibiscus from the table and setting it into a basket full of the bright red flowers. With her other hand, she picked up a wicker work basket of lavender and lifted it up to Jay.

"Lavender. I said lavender remember?" She smiled up at Jay like an encouraging teacher, "Lavender for the wounds which make a man turn purple, and hibiscus for the blood drops."

Jay mumbled the rule under his mouth before pressing the lavender petals to the venom splanched across the bown om front of him. The purplish colour immediately turned a healing shade of dark yellow, satisfying Jay and letting out a sigh of relief from the old lady.

"Just some more practice and patience and you'll be a good healer in no time." Mrs. Chun patted Jay's arm sympathetically.

"But why do I even need to be a healer?" Jay asked curiously, putting the box of potions up on the shelf where they belonged, "I'm already a warrior."

"Every great warrior needs to know how to tend to his own wounds." The old lady smiled, looking curiously at a green flask, "I made a vow to your mother to never let you fail in this subject."

Jay smiled fondly at the thought of his mother spending her hours in the infirmary along with Mrs. Chun. Mrs. Chun herself was like his mother figure, providing him the hugs his 14 year old self needed so bad years ago.

"And remember Jay!" Mrs. Chun called out just as Jay was about to leave the room, "I won't be here for the entirety of next month."

"But then who's going to look after the infirmary?" Jay turned back and raised a quizzical brow at Mrs.Chun, who smiled gently.

"My apprentice will." She promptly replied, "She's a nice girl, I told her all about your predicament of failing at healing." Jay let out a chuckle at Mrs.Chun's joke, "She'll take your classes alright?"

"Don't miss me too much Mrs.Chun!" Jay laughed, "I'm your favourite remember?"

Mrs.Chun laughed heartily to herself. Oh that boy, she thought, still a bit at heart even if he was a man to the world.

Only a bit of love perhaps, can truly lead him to show this side of him to the world.

Jay sighed heavily as he plopped down on his armchair, the most comfortable one by the fire.

Love, he scoffed, what a stupid, dangerous thing.

He believed his father to love his mother, he believed his mother to love his father even as he went out every night to quote unquote 'find himself'. Mistresses were awful buisness, and no Queen had ever objected her king having one. But of course, his mother had to object, she had to be different. She had to storm in to her husband and his lover and confront them. And his father, fire-filled man he was, had to strike a blade through her belly, making her bleed out in 14 year old Jay's arms.

And of course, Jay, blinded by his rage, had to strike his father back, skilled as his father was, Jay was more fleet footed, and in the blink of an eye, his father and his father's new toy were lying in cold blood on the floor, as Jay sobbed, clutching his mother's body, dead as a fish out of the ocean.

And his brothers had noticed, they had always noticed how Jay was never the same from that day. From the happy boy who loved to write stories and poetry and who hated to even step foot in the training yard, Jay became the mercenary king, ready with his sword clutched in hand, and his poems long forgotten to silence and withering darkness.

But it wasn't to say that Jay was a ruthless ruler, he chose not to take that path, especially not after half the kingdom starved under the rule of his father. It wouldn't have been a lie to say he was the kindest one in all of Paradoxica, except he didn't really show it in the way he spoke or acted, but by the way he controlled the administration and whatnot of the kingdom. This kept his busy, seldom leaving time for any other activities, much to the disappointment of his brothers, especially Heeseung, who had always been the closest to him, who had known what he was truly like, deep inside.

Clutching his eagle feather quill, one of his most dearest ones, Jay dipped the tip into his ink pot, letting the excess ink dry off before pressing it to his leather bound diary.

When he wrote the feelings he couldn't ever say out loud onto the softwood paper, Jay felt a sort of contentment, he had always been a clandestine philophile, so to write his proses on the idea of love, death and misery, was to create a beautiful choreography on his mindset.

Alas, if there was only someone he could show them to, someone who would understand what Jay meant in the lines, even with his messy loopy calligraphy, that would have been a dream truly come true.

But how could a man who wrote poems to challenge the angels of love themselves, ever find love?

But I am a mere narrator, what would I know?

And sometimes, just sometimes, Cupid lurked in the ballrooms of dancing princes and in the dark inkpots of oxymoronic kings.

"I have no idea what's happening, but I'm happy to be here." Sunghoon's beautiful Clydesdale horse pranced around on the grass, as energetic and as similar a persona as her owner.

"Would you tell her to calm down?" Heeseung's own chestnut's hooves guided him towards Sunghoon, "She needs the energy for the hunt." Heeseung easily managed to calm the mare down by scratching behind her eyes, to which Sunghoon drooped since he had been enjoying the prancing around a bit too much.

"Why are we going on a hunt again?" Jake adjusted his saddle, making sure he was buckled in properly to his Fox Trotter horse, "Aren't we above killing animals now?"

"Your best friend tell you that?" The clip clopping of Jay's magnificent Dutch Warmblood sent all of the soldiers to silence, "And if the animal is a wild boar, no we aren't above that."

"Whatever you say, oh great King." Sunghoon snickered, as he did a sort of bow on his horse, making everyone laugh.

"Oh shut up." Jay rolled his eyes, clutching onto his horse's hair, and leaning into his usual stance, "Come on now, don't want to keep a beauty waiting do we?" And with the mighty neigh of his horse, he rode off into the forest, followed by Heeseung, Jake and Sunghoon, who followed with dramatic sighs.

"Sometimes I wonder if he just wants to live in an adventure book and say cringey lines all the time." Sunghoon jested, making the others laugh.

"Where on earth is Sunoo?" Jay shouted out, completely ignoring the statement made about him, as the rest of the three managed to catch up to his horse's pace.

"Probably tending to his vineyard." The wind whipped Jake's hair around, "God knows if he'd ever accept coming to a hunt with us."

"Maybe a grape hunt-"

"Shh!"

Jay's action of stopping his horse, and shushing everyone startled the others, and as the clopping of hooves quietened down, they understood why Jay had stopped so abruptly.

The rustling of the nearby begonia bushes, combined with the noises of an animal which sounded extremely similar to a wild boar, alerted them, as they drew out their swords, daggers and metal tipped arrows, all from treasure chest of Vadronia's amazing metalwork, aiming them at the begonia bushes, as Jay held up his closed fist to give the command.

"Come on out." Jay whispered to no one in particular but himself, as the begonia bushes began shaking more rapidly and the sounds of an animal's footsteps came nearer.

"Hey maybe we should-" Heeseung bagan quietly to Jay, but was interrupted by the ripping of the begonias into shreds.

And there it was, what Jay had been waiting for.

A big wild boar in its full magnificence.

Ivory tusks in full gleam, swathes of brown fur all over its damaged skin, with wounds from previous hints. A ture display of its strength, Jay thought, it wanted to intimidate them, as if to say 'see how many people haven't defeated me yet, why do you think you stand a chance?'.

"Steady now, Lady." Jay patted his horse, which was ever so graciously named Lady, although the mare's personality in battle was far away from a lady's. Jay always preferred mares to horses, he though they were more faster and agile, while horses used their brute strength. And he had a hatred from brute strength. It was what got her killed after all.....

"Jake look out!" Heeseung cried out, snapping Jay out of his daze of staring into the boar's eyes. Of all the animals of the world, he hated this one the most, he hated the way his father loved to hunt them, and how he'd come home from hunts everyday drenched in blood with a boar skull im his hands, from which his mother would recoil from, what with her hatred of the smell of iron.

Hatred, that's all that was there in Jay's life. And that's all there will be.

"Jay, we have to get back come on!" Sunghoon cried, his horse already galloping away. The boar was far too big for them to contain. "Jay?" Heeseung peered back, "Jay no!"

But the sturdy built man's ears heeded no warning as he stepped along to the boar, his sword clutched tightly in hand, the carving of his name in the metal shining bright, as if to warn the spirit of the forest that he has arrived.

"Hyung what's happe-" Jake and Sunghoon's horses had turned back to see why the eldest wasn't coming, only to see Jay stabbing at the boar, while Heeseung tried to get Lady, who was close to prancing away into the depths of the forest.

"Help me would ya!" Heeseung cried, flinging his rope around Lady's magnificent neck, to which Sunghoon and Jake came quick and flung their own ropes, "One of you help Jay!"

"I'll go!" Sunghoon's horse galloped towards Jay, but to his shock, he saw that the boar was already lying, its movements still, and Jay standing drenched in blood.

It was dead.

Jay's sword was decorated with ribbons of maroon.

"Jay what the..." Sunghoon began, but he could find no words. The boar had been big, two times the size and strength of any ordinary man, and now it was kneeling at Jay's command, kneeling dead and cold as a fish.

"It's dead." Jay growled, his breathing too heavy, and his hand clutching a particularly dark spot on his stomach, as Heeseung and Jake came to the scene, having calmed Lady down, "The tusk...."

"The tusk? What about the- Jay!" Heeseung cried, before jumping off his horse and quickly moving towards Jay's graceful falling figure.

The last thing Jay felt was the feeling of wet grass underneath his head, Heeseung's hand over his wrist, and the familiar scent of feminine lavender pressing over him before everything went dark as he had always wished for it to be.

Jay never cared much about his injuries. No matter how big or small they were, no matter if it was a paper cut to the thumb or an arrow head to the shoulder, he would simply say "Injuries happen, it's a part of life" and move on. Which proved to be a source of annoyance for his brothers, especially Jake, who had an eye for healing.

But Jay was a firm believer in the notion that twenty four hours a day simply wasn't enough. He wanted more, he craved for more, more time, more work. Although he wouldn't admit it, everyone was in unison with the fact that he was Paradoxica's biggest workaholic.

And when it came back to the topic of injuries, Jay would still keep working, whether or not he was stuck in bed, because Heeseung had forced him to stay there.

Heeseung remembered Jay's younger days. How Jay would whine and do nothing if he got even the tiniest splinter in his finger. How he would beg for a day off from studies if he merely stubbed his tie against the kitchen ladder while sneaking out to steal pastries. But the horrible incident had changed every aspect of Jay, and now, he wouldn't stop working if every limb in his body was broken.

"All for the good of the people" he reasoned.

Usually Mrs.Chun had taken care of him, scolded him too many times about taking rests whenever he'd come back from battles or fights with blood flowing out his nose. But even then he didn't care. So the vision of waking up to Mrs.Chun's berry scent was a norm for him whenever he'd get injured.

But now, the room wasn't berry scented, and nor was Mrs. Chun sitting in the corner, waiting for him to wake up.

A girl?

A girl, wearing Mrs.Chun's apron, had her head rested against his table, her eyes fluttered close.

Were his eyes tricking him or did Mrs.Chun suddenly become thirty years younger?

Feeling something heavy on his waist, Jay tried to lift his head from his pillow, letting out a guttural groan as he did. God what was hurting him so much? He could feel something hurting at his stomach.

"Your Majesty, lie back down." He heard someone say, and as he opened his eyes, he saw the girl bending over him, forcing him to lie back down on the bed.

Jay stared at her for a few moments, trying to remember who she is before the candle went off in his mind.

The apprentice.

You were Mrs.Chun's apprentice.

"Are you Mrs.Chun's apprentice?" Jay groaned, feeling his head throb and his fingers were aching too.

You nodded promptly, before pushing Jay gently back onto the bed as he tried to get back.

"I'm sorry to inform you, Your Majesty, but you aren't getting up for another two weeks. You were stabbed by a wild boar's tusk." You stated firmly, shocking Jay at how casually you had addressed him, "His Highness Heeseung told me to handcuff you to the bed if you even try to move."

"Handcuff me?" Jay chuckled, moving his body slightly to lessen the pressure on his legs, "Where are you even going to get-"

Jay's sentence was cut off abruptly as your hands pulled out a pair of heavy metal from a secret pocket in the olive green dress you were wearing, and held it in front of Jay, effectively silencing him.

"I'm sorry if that was rude, but you are my patient, Your Majesty.." Your mouth let out a chuckle, sending a weird sensation into Jay's stomach, which he had never felt before, "So, I will do anything and everything in order to make you rest."

"So what may I address you by, My lady?" Jay quizzed you, his head now no longer throbbing for some reason. He studied your features for a while, he thought your eyes were pretty, decorated by a thin lining of kohl. Your figure was pretty too, wrapped in the striking colour of the dress you were in, combined with the beautifully familiar way you wore your hair.

"Definetly not by 'My lady'." You chuckled, picking up your dress, and sinking into a curtsy, "Y/N, you may call me Y/N, Your Majesty."

"Pretty name." Jay complemented, watching you stand up straight from your curtsy and smile impishly at him.

"You've got to take your medicine now." You reached into your apron's pocket and pulled a big vial, which was filled with a bubbling, golden liquid, "Now, according to Mrs.Chun, tricks by pretty people often work on you."

"Pretty people?" Jay scoffed childishly, thinking about whether or not he thought Heeseung was pretty, as you measured out the liquid into a cup, "Mrs.Chun needs to have a check for up there. And do you really think you're pretty?"

You strode towards him with the cup in your hand, and smiled widely. "Well, pardon me Your Majesty, but from the way you were staring at me five minutes ago, yes. I do think I'm pretty."

"Don't get your ego up." Jay warned, taking the cup from you, letting his mind linger for a few minutes on how your delicate fingers brushed his scarred ones softly, "Your parents mus'nt have taught you manners did they?"

"Well, firstly, I don't have parents." You smiled, "And secondly I need to check your bandages, they seem to be bleeding again."

So that was what the pain radiating from his stomach was, Jay thought, as he looked down to see his bandages streaked a darker shade of red. He quickly gulped down the golden liquid in the cup, a visibly disgusted expression forming on his face at how bitter it was, and looked up at you, with widened eyes.

"So...?" He said, expectantly, seeing you fumble with some clean cloth, another vial of what looked like cream, and a safety pin.

"Tell me where it hurts when I change them alright?" You said gently, making his lay down on the bed again, "and uh..."

"What?" Jay questioned, seeing your eyes linger at his wound or more specifically, his ab muscles, "Oh you can touch them it's fine."

"Oh. Oh yeah alright." You said, feeling your face heat up slightly. Bandaging him when he was still unconscious was easier than this, when he was awake. God his stare was so attractive to you, even now, as you gently touched his bandages, replacing them with cleaner cloth, you tried hard not to brush your fingers against his abs.

"Enjoying the view?" Jay asked, a cockish sneer to his voice. "There's a view to enjoy Your Majesty?" You fired back, although you most certainly were enjoying staring at him.

"You're an interesting one." Jay said, trying to make small talk as you lightly pressed against the smaller wounds with the cream, "Y/N wasn't it?"

"Yep." You said with a pop of your lips, finishing wrapping his wounds with a slight tap to check if they were secure, "And please do stay in bed and don't work. If you need anything, I'm right outside. His highness Heeseung has told me to rest in the chambers opposite yours."

The chambers opposite to his, his parents' chambers. God did Jay hate that room, all big and filled with skulls from hunts.

"If you want to you can go home, I can manage on myself." Jay said, his eyes set on yours. Why was it so hard to maintain eye contact with you?

"I know how that idea works." You smiled again, bringing that weird sensation back into Jay's stomach, "I'll go and then you'll order someone to bring you your work, so His Highness Heeseung specifically asked me not to leave. I guess you're stuck with me Your Majesty." You curtsied to finish off the impression.

"Jay." He spoke again, to your confusion, which made him stifle a chuckle, "Please, call me Jay."

"Jay." You smiled to yourself, "Well, ring that bell if you need anything."

As you left the room, quietly shutting the door behind you, Jay had the sudden urge to kick his feet in the air. The room was filled with lavender scent, your lavender scent to be specific, and it gave Jay a sense of calm, which in turn reduced the pain radiating from his stab wound.

Well this would be an interesting two weeks.

"Your Majesty what on Earth are you doing?"

Jay froze in his position at hearing a stern voice. Your stern voice, to be precise.

"Resting?" He said, trying to hide his cheeky smile, as he slowly backed away from his table. Rolling your eyes, you quickly got him back to the bed, worried that his bandages will open back again. But the only thing Jay was worried about was that his work wasn't getting completed.

"How about this?" You asked, as you finally managed to wrestle him back to the bed, "I'll do the work for you, if you agree to rest. It's in that diary right?"

"I can't let you do that." Jay grumbled, reaching for your arm, as you hurried to get to the diary on his table. The cold touch of his hand on your warmer skin made you flinch heavily, which in turn made Jay pull his hand away.

"I'm sorry." Jay quickly apologised, as you rubbed your arm, "I- That's my private diary, I don't really allow people to see it."

"Oh, my apologies then." You curtsied, still rubbing your arm, feeling extremely cold for some reason, even if the warm daylight was coming into the room through the window, "Your Majesty-"

"Jay." He corrected, shooting you the tiniest fragment of a smile.

"Jay." You said again, this time feeling more at ease, "You've got to rest, I'm begging you. Those bandages won't magically heal you until you rest. If there's anything I can do to get you to rest, I'll do it."

Jay's ears weren't actually listening to anything. His mind was too distracted again, by your scent. God damn his strong sense of smell, but you smelled like memories he wanted to forget.

"Tell me what perfume you use and then I won't work." Jay looked up at you with a cheeky smile. He didn't know why, but he felt comfortable to show you his smile, which he didn't often feel with the ladies in their paraffin socks.

"I- that's a peculiar question." You said, not knowing what to feel aboutthe actual King asking you about your perfume.

"I swear on my own grave that I will rest if the great healer Y/N tells me her perfume." Jay recited, keeping his hand on his chest for dramatic effect.

"It's the lavender one we get in the town square from Marcella's." You raised your chin up high, "Now would you rest?"

"Hmmm let me think." Jay dramatically sighed, "No."

"Your Majesty, I will beg." You breathed desperately, "I will seriously-"

"Your collarbone." Jay interrupted, his attention diverting from your eyes to your shoulder, "There's something on your collarbone."

Jay took note of the way your eyes flickered quickly and worriedly to your collarbone, and how you rushed to pull the sleeve of your dress up to cover it, clearing your throat afterwards to clear the awkward air.

"Are you-"

"Your Majesty, I admire the way you hold so much strivance for your work but you really must rest if you wish to keep working for the rest of your life."

The atmosphere of the room had a drastic change, Jay could feel it, as you quickly curtsied, said a quick "excuse me" and hurried off towards the exit.

That wasn't a stain or a birth mark on your shoulder Jay knew it, as he leant back comfortably, and decided to follow your advice for a while.

He'd seen dark marks like that on someone he once knew and loved.

And something in him asked him not to rest (unless it was pretending for you) until he figured out where that bruise the size of a man's hand, came from.

Part 2 coming soon....

Tags: @amazzwon @heeseungshim @kvmariii @mwahvvis @hottiewifeyyyy @sacrificeatmeup @perfectnighttt @yawnzzhoon @yunabi436

272 notes · View notes