#I'm not fishing for your hand in marriage I just want to dance

[atarathegreat]

BAKUGO NOW

Did you say: fantasy AU Bakugo smutt?

Dragon Prince Bakugo.

Bakugo wasn't opposed to an arranged marriage, per se. His mother and father were done with their exploring, and his mother was done berserking. Bakugo himself still hunted, but his mother and father were done with what they called 'young people activities'.

Besides, a marriage meant a celebration, and a celebration meant that everyone got to go wild. Drinking, sparring, dancing! It would all be so much fun for him and the others. It was like Bakugo could already smell the ale and feel the punches that he would be earning. It excited him to no end. Whoever was going to be his wife, as lucky as she was, would have to manage with him being as rowdy as he pleased. Maybe he would get lucky, too, and she would be a barbarian like him, just as rowdy.

"Bakugo, are you really going to wear that nasty pelt?" His mother, Mistuski, stood in the arch to his chambers, soon to be shared with a stranger, "You wear that dirty thing to go hunting and fishing and you want to wear it for a wedding celebration?"

Bakugo turned and glared at his mother, all while taking heavy steps toward the pile of clothes and pelts in the corner, "You want me to wear these overly fancy rags? Do I look like someone who wears green? I'm likely to be mistaken for a boar or a nightwalker!" He was wrong, of course, as he usually was, but his mother understood his anger. Her son didn't like fancy items or flashy jewelry. But his hunting pelt? Surely he had better sense than that. "Don't you want to make a dazzling first impression on your future wife?" Mitsuki smiled, holding up a nicer, cleaner pelt.

"I don't rightfully care. Our marriage is political at best, and a mothers move to get me married at worst." Bakugo plopped onto his bed.

Mitsuki was shocked. Not that he was wrong, her son was intelligent, but that he had openly said it without knowing what was leaving his lips. Sure, political was the best way to call it, bringing barbarians and the clerics together in, at least, a shaky alliance. But it would also be a lie to say that her and her husband hadn't also planned it so that her son would have a wife sooner, maybe even kids if he felt like being the bare minimum for a husband. Mitsuki sighed and sat next to her son, her awfully thick-headed son, "Can you just do as I ask you? Just this once, let this go smoothly?" She hated to beg her son to be clean, but she knew that there was a soft spot somewhere in him.

"If I do, will you get off my back about it?"

"I might."

To relent and let his mother have her way would bite him in the ass later, but he got up and switched the pelt out, securing a lighter wolf pelt at his hips, "Happy now?"

"Okay! Be ready by midday and don't get covered in blood, this needs to be a good impression for the girl and her family." Mitsuki clapped as she left, feeling triumphant.

Come midday, her victory was null. The poor girl's family had sent her alone. From Ethel to Kazar, the young lady had traveled in the back of a wagon with nothing but a simple dress. No jewels, no colors, not even a smile. Mitsuki watched as the girl stepped from her wagon, simple flat shoes hidden under the long fabric of her skirts. She was supposed to be a noble, but she looked like a little peasant child who begs for money.

"I thought clerics wore robes and traveled together?" Her husband, Masaru, watched the girl with pity, "She looks sad."

Her soft flat shoes were dirty and torn, like the bottom of her dress, and the rest of her was...grey. Her and her aura were dull and grey and defeated. As if she had nothing left.

"So much for that alliance, huh?" Bakugo scoffed, returning inside the castle to avoid the silent creature that would be his bride. She wasn't interesting enough to keep him around for anything, and he wouldn't subject himself to the nap she would give him. His mother, on the other hand, refused to let this be the ending or a fail. Mitsuki smiled and took the girls hands in her own, "Hello, sweetheart. How was your trip?"

"Long, Your Highness." The girl even sounded like a field mouse, how adorable, "Long and silent."

If anyone had paid attention for a fraction of a second, they would have seen that the wagon rode off as soon as her foot touched the ground. Sad. But Mitsuki was happy that the girl was in Kazar now, at least she would grow to have some semblance of a family that would travel with her. Mitsuki nodded, "Call me Mitsuki. What is your name, hun?"

"Y/n." She responded well enough, albeit timidly. Masaru suspected that Y/n was raised in one of the many families that viewed the woman as caretakers and mothers. A devastating fate when women were as strong as the men if given the chance to build muscle. There was no doubt that Bakugo would be upset by this girl not being strong or loud. "Where is your family?" He was curious, who was this girl and why was she alone?

"They sent me alone. Said that the alliance meant little to them so long as I was out of their sight." Y/n spoke without confidence, but as if she believed every word she said, "They wanted to thank you for taking this burden off their hands."

That struck Masaru in a visceral way. Her own family saw her as a burden? How awful. She was anything but, and she was cute, clearly had nice genes for a cleric.

"I wish to apologize. I... I know little. I cannot read or write; I hardly understand my own ways. I'm useless and lack the ability to bring anyone joy." It was so awful to hear the things she said about herself. Y/n was pretty, Mitsuki could already see the beautiful grandchildren she would gain from this girl and her son. Good genes and good genes bred better genes, in her mind. "But I am willing to learn, if there is anyone with the patience to deal with my stupidity. I can clean, but I've never been praised for the work." She was so upfront about what she thought was things they would turn her away for.

And this behavior persisted into the celebrations. Y/n isolating herself in the corners, in the shadows, avoiding the others who wished to get to know her and welcome her to the clan and village. It was upsetting.

Bakugo found her after a hefty search (a search of ten minutes where he wasn't actually looking but happened to glance at her a few times before finally approaching). "What's wrong? Do you not realize how grateful you should be for this?" Bakugo came on strong, he was aware of that, but who hid during their own wedding celebrations? She seemed to be brushing it all aside and acting as if this was what she deserved. "Apologies. I'm not supposed to interact with anyone." Y/n was a mumbling mess, never speaking louder than she thought she needed to. It pissed Bakugo off to no end. "Whatever. If you don't want to be down here, then go to bed. You'll bring the mood down." He returned to the sparring corner of the big room, joining in with the fights.

Y/n, with a lot of difficulty, managed to find the bedchambers where she would be sleeping. It was Bakugo's room, of course, she knew that, but now she would also occupy the space. It was a messy space, a man's space. How was she supposed to feel at home in this strange place, with strange people, and an even stranger lifestyle? She was used to the women being small, quiet, never drawing attention to themselves. The women here in Kazar, they didn't seem to care about the consequences of having the attention. Aside from that, the women were muscley and brawn. They even knew how to read.

She crawled into the windowsill and looked up at the stars. For a brief moment she foolishly thought about whether her family was missing her. It was a dumb thought, one she wiped away quickly.

Meanwhile, Bakugo was sparring and drinking, thoughts of his new bond gone as he drowned his liver in ale and whatever foods had been made. His concerns were with winning the matches he was in. Zero thoughts of the girl up in his window. When he did finally stumble his way up to his chambers, Y/n was there immediately. Her gentle hands held cold cloths to his alcohol warmed cheeks. "What the hell are you doing to me, woman?" Bakugo grabbed her wrists to keep her hands on his face. The way she stared at him, wide eyes that reminded him of a frightened doe staring at a hunter as she waited for him to make a move.

"You're too damn quiet." Bakugo moved his face closer to hers, wanting to see what type of reaction he could pull out of her. Y/n seemed like a stoic girl and Bakugo wanted to see her lose her temper, to see her make any face except that doe eyed stare. So, he kept moving closer, until his lips touched hers and he'd never felt something so soft. He would blame the ale later.

Her body was rigid, yet loose, as Bakugo held her cheeks to keep her from moving away from him. Her tongue tasted of fruits, wild berries and water from a stream. It was addicting for the man, even if he was just some drunken barbarian at the moment.

Something about her softness was drawing him in. The way she moved how he wanted her to and the careful way she touched him, like he was as fragile as she was. It was different, in a good way.

"You have a choice in this." He mumbled, unable to make himself pull his lips away from hers, "Just because I am your husband does not mean you have to do everything I wish."

And she still didn't reject him or his advances. It was almost like she leaned into them, put more pressure in her gentle touches and soft caresses. The pelt around his hips hit the wall before the floor as he tossed it, not really giving a damn about where it went as long as it was off of him. "You're cute, I'll give you that." Bakugo mumbled as he walked her backwards towards the bed, bunching the skirts of her dress in his hands, "I wonder if the rest of you is as soft as your hands..."

"I'm not worth your physical affections." Y/n fell back easily onto the bed, never pushing Bakugo away. A loud laugh exploded in his chest at her words, "You're worth it if I find you worth it. You clearly aren't smart enough to gauge that."

Soft was an understatement. Plush and soft, Bakugo couldn't keep himself from squeezing every inch of her skin. "Soft as a hawk sprite chick. You ever felt one of them?" Bakugo nuzzled against her collar bone, "I'll catch one on my next hunting trip so you can."

This girl, this woman that Bakugo has been married to, what type of life had she led? Why was she so subservient to him? She didn't even fight him as he undressed her. He was a stranger to her, and she just... let him do as he pleased. Would she even make noise if he didn't ask her to?

Bakugo bit at her neck, smiling to himself at the involuntary gasp that he had pulled from her. He had caused a sound, though it was soft, to leave her without asking. "You're softer than the women here, you know that? It's nice, but I want you to talk more. Fuck, scream at anything if you want." Bakugo shuffled his pants down his legs and laughed at the way she avoided eye contact. It was apparent that she would be someone he'd have to have a small amount of control over, but that was the fun with some of these things. Bakugo leaned over her and grabbed her chin, "I want to see these pretty eyes on me."

Without a second of warning or even courtesy of being careful, Bakugo snatched her to the edge of the bed and snuggled his cock deep within her hold. She was soft, and it felt like she was trying to pull him deeper. "There you go, just keep squeezing." Bakugo pulled back a little to look at the connection he had forged, "Stretched fuckin' wide, you know that?"

She was cute when she whimpered, her unscathed hands gripping at Bakugo's rougher skin was nearly driving him absolutely crazy. This stranger, this quiet woman that Bakugo was so, so sure he would hate, had managed to make herself the center of Bakugo's, albeit drunken, world. There was nothing to stop him from leaving his teeth marks across her skin, and she looked a lot better with his markings. He had to think for a moment about how wonderful it would be to see her running to him after a hunting trip, how excited she would be to see him return was something he was hoping to see one day.

The pleasure was getting him too lost in his mind, making him think that maybe being married wasn't so bad, that maybe it wasn't just a political marriage. He didn't even see that he was hurting her, but she didn't sound like she was in pain. Blood started to stain the pelt blanket below her, causing a slight bit of concern. "Are you okay?" He didn't stop, she was too comfortable, but he also wouldn't make the mistake of thinking her body was as tough as a barbarian womans. "Stings a little, but it's okay~" Every word sounded like it was laced with euphoria. Maybe she had never felt such a thing, never had sex. Perhaps her body was as strong as a barbarian womans, she just hadn't ever used it.

"Hold on to me if you need to, I'll take care of you." Bakugo mumbled, putting more of his teeth marks across her neck.

[idcbabyialreadylostmymind]

I'm on my hands and knees BEGGING for some Tsu'tey Smut. I've looked over so many tags and there is NOTHING 🥲 I love this funky man so much it HURTS

I am yours

Pairing- Tsu'tey x reader

Summary- Upon Jake Sully and Neytiri mating Tsu'tey can finally be with the woman he loves

A/N- This is placed after the war and Tsu'tey doesn't die bc I said so.

Sevin evenge- pretty girl

Tsu'tey watches you as you preform a traditional Na'vi marriage dance that congratulates the newly wed Jake and Neytiri, he watches as you swirl your hips, twisting your arms along with all the other women.

He feels a tap on his arm turning his head to Jake Sully. "Hm." Tsu'tey hums. "You like her." Jake asks motioning to you. Tsu'tey's ears perk up at Jake's assumption, had he been that obvious. Jake pulled from the other males silence he was correct. "You should ask her out." Jake says before taking a bite out of a price of fruit.

"She does not like me she would want a healer or something else, she thinks I'm to rough she is gentle like flower." Tsu'tey says as he picks a white flower from the ground beneath him. "She is not as gentle as you think brother, I saw her gut a fish faster than any male out here and then some." Jake said Tsu'tey smiles as he pictures you doing that.

Pulling him fr his thoughts was Neytiri talking to Jake, "Ma Jake let us dance." She says lending her hands out pulling him up. "Oh Ney- I can't dance." He goes to say before she pulls him closer to her, "It is the way dance." She says before twirling around.

He turns his head away from the couple and back to you. Only you weren't there. He turns his head around and to his surprise you were next to him.

He quickly stands up and looks into your eyes, "Oh Y/N I thought that you would be dancing with the other women." He says licking his suddenly dry lips, "Ah yes I was and then I saw you and I did not want my friend to be alone." You reply to him. He nods his head, friend.

It was a long minute of silence between you two, "Would you like to walk it is quite loud in here." You say breaking the silence. "Of course." He says beginning to walk with you into the forest path.

No words were exchanged for a while as you walk before you stop mid way. Alerting Tsu'tey he stops a few feet a head of you. "Do I not appeal to you Tsu'tey." You blurt out making him confused. "What are you talking about of cours-" He goes to say before getting cut off.

"Well then why do you not except my obvious affection," you begin to say ignoring his shocked expression, "I mean I give you flowers, I ignore every suitor in front of you, do I just have to just say it I love you Tsu'tey do you not love m-" cut of by his lips on yours before you could finish.

Pulling from the abrupt kiss, "Of course I love you, I always have." He says looking into your eyes with his piercing emerald eyes. It was a minute of nothing a comforting nothing but still.

And it was a matter of second before you pushed him against a bolder, his knees buckled a little so you can reach is lips, and captured his lips as he did yours a few minutes prior. This action change with you was foreign to him, but he liked it.

He hands traveled from your sides to your neck holding it, opening your mouth slightly gave him time to slip is younger into your mouth playing with your tongue a little. You pulled for air and looked at him once more.

"You have no idea how long I have wanted you to say those words." You say lovingly and with that he stood up straight picking you up by the thighs placing you gently on a stack of flat rocks. "I've wanted to say it for so long." He replies to your words from earlier.

And then a strange sensation started to form between your legs, and you wanted more, of the feeling and him. He held the side of your face caressing it and kissing you much more gently than the other two.

And if by demand you scooted your hips closer to his, he pulls away leaving you with just enough to not be. "Do not start something you can't finish sevin evenge." He says softly.

Your hand sneaks between you two and going slowly under his loincloth pumping him up and down with your hand, he groans from the sudden friction on himself.

He grabbed your wrist and kissed it, "You asked for this." He said before you could speak his hand found it's way between your legs and between your soaked folds. Rubbing your clit between his fingers at a ruthless pace. He circled around the bundle of nerves a way you didn't even know was possible. His cold long fingers rubbing your clit slid into you slowly, stretching you for him. He did this repeatedly making you closer to an orgasm.

And just before you came he pulled from you, you look up at him tears forming in your eyes. "Oh do not cry my love." He cooed removing his loincloth revealing his cock that made your mouth water.

He smirked at your reaction he stepped closer once again and removed your loincloth in one swift motion leaving you bear.

He started to lift you up slightly you helping him picking up your hips, he grabbed your hip and slowly pumped himself inside of you, stretching you more than you thought you could be.

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out as soon as he slides all the way in. He then slide out again before thrusting back in making you yelp. Doing this over and over again. Trying to silence your moans with your hand.

At the pace he was going it wouldn't take long before you would cum. All that could be heard on the path was muffled moans and the sound of yours and his slapping as he fucks you over and over again.

With every thrust he was hitting your cervix. And with everything thrust his grip on you would tighten sure to leave marks in the morning. "Tsu- I'm gonna I'm gonna-" not being able to finish your sentence due to all of the pleasure on your body.

"Cum for me my love cum." He says and that was the tip of the iceberg for you, an overwhelming sense of bliss overtook you. Legs shaking vision going blank, only word on your tongue Tsu'tey.

With a few more thrust into your aching overstimulated pussy he came fucking his high out a little. He pulled out a little of his cum leaking from you.

Helping you put your loincloth back on along with his he helped you of of the rocks and back to the party. "You are mine now?" You asked considering what you just done. "I am yours forever." He replied.

[writingbyshiloh]

I Love as Madly as I Hate

CW: JW universe (blood, reader kills and gets stabbed), ANGST!, Reader wears a dress, verbal fighting, dead marrage, Vincent being a dick and no beta (and Grammarly gave up halfway through), One sentence in French which means “leave us alone”, implied smut

AN: I hope this is angst, I don't really read angst myself. I overthought the tense this is in so much that words don't make sense anymore. FUN FACT! The title is from Les Fleurs du Mal which I want to have made an appearance in the other Marquis fic but I thought the title was fitting.

The bounty amount is in the sweet spot. High enough that it’s worth the effort, but not too high that half the world would also be trying to bag them with you. The only problem was with who set the bounty. That would be your ex, of six months. Well technically he's still considered your husband, and you were still legally married.  

That was your fault, bringing up the idea of a divorce, and waiting for him to sign. Wanting to get one last dig in while still married, you act surprised, reminding him he can’t get a second marriage, second changes are for men who failed the first time, remember? He took the papers from your hand, never for you to see again. Sometimes you think he burned them. 

The hit was for a mob member - Lukas Matthews, young and new to the underworld, not sure how things worked. He stole from one of his bosses, an acquaintance of Vincent. The younger mob man was distracted by all things flashy, expensive, and pretty. 

You didn’t have any trouble donning a sparkly dress, paying admittance to some dive club to stalk the man. As long as you push down the feeling that you were really just doing this to get a glimpse of Vincent, it was okay. Great even. Maybe if you were a normal person you could just call him. 

You watch the target for a while, sipping on soda from the bar so you could blend in. The man was still with his friends, and you figured it would be easier to take him when he was alone, probably outside, away from the other members of his group or innocent partygoers. 

—. 

Lukas ultimately lost, but he fought nasty. Maybe you were still rusty. The rest of your night now consisted of trying to patch up yourself or trying to find a black market doctor to fix you, depending on how bad your shoulder gets.

You were littered with scrapes, small cuts and sore muscles, but your shoulder got the worst of the battle. Lukas managed to cut quite deep with a broken beer bottle. Once it heals it will be a reminder of all the things you do to try and convince yourself that you’re over your husband. 

Pain flared every time you moved your shoulder, the wound being an inch or two below your collarbone left you trying to keep half your body still. You settle on taking Lukas’s hand, with the mob tattoo. You and Vincent know members of that mob would rather die than cut off their symbol. 

With the body shoved against a trash can, you place a few garbage bags to cover the mess. The hardest part of the evening was still to come. With your good hand, you fish out your phone from your bag. 

—

You assume he is attending some ballet dance or performance. You felt a bitter twist of jealousy. Was he there with someone? Has he moved on that fast? You think mind racing. When you texted the Accountants that you completed the bounty, you received a call from Chidi. 

“I hear you collected the bounty. Do you have proof of death?” he questioned. 

“I do. I have the hand with the tattoos, but the body’s here I can get something else” you rambled down the line, suddenly much more nervous than before. 

“Please hold.” 

The line was quiet, you watched people come and go from the club, secluded from the side street you were in. Backtracking into the club, hand in your bag you returned your coat check ticket. At least the jacket will cover up the bleeding, you can get the bounty and go home. 

“Hello?” Chidis's voice returned. 

“Yeah, I'm here.” 

“Tell me your address, the Marquis de Gramont will be sending a car.” 

—

The Marquis de Gramont looked amazing. He tried to always look his best in his suits, complete with an incredibly complicated knot, chains, and his signature pin. You still have your pin, hidden in a shoe box in your closet. Tonight was no exception to his looks. 

His suit was reflecting the lights in his mansion. You knew from the glitter, this was a suit he would were at a cultural outing. Bitter jealousy bites at your insides. Was he there with someone? Did he move on that fast? Is it a mistress? You think. The jealousy dies when you still see his wedding ring on his left hand. Your wedding ring feels heavier on your right. 

You both look at each other, his gaze lingering on your exposed legs, no doubt covered in blood. You felt exposed standing in the center of the large room. 

Vincent was the one to break the silence first “Did I buy you that dress?”

“No. I’ve had it for a while” 

He nods, stepping closer. 

“Proof?” 

You frown thinking he was asking about the dress, before remembering the severed hand. 

“It's here. Tattoos and all.” you struggle to get the appendage out of your bag without moving your bad shoulder. At least you had the sense to wrap the hand in a plastic bag. 

“Come to my office. We can talk in there” 

You do not want to “talk in his office”. The last time, you went to “talk in his office” about a bounty it ended up with you naked on his desk, the cold chain from his suit vest and his ring pressed against you. 

“I should go. You can just wire me the money or something” You reject. 

You can tell you surprised him before his face shifts back to a more neutral expression. 

“I have a nasty scratch so…” you trail off, hoping he leaves the issue. 

His gaze almost softens. The separation was less than a year ago, you guess that he still cares for you. He still keeps tabs on you, your neighbour works for him you’re almost certain of it. 

“Where?”

You gesture with your chin to your shoulder. 

The pressure from his stare makes you break down and shrug off your jacket, the inside sticky with blood. 

Already he is in front of you, pressing a cloth against your wound. 

“You need to see the doctor, mon amour.” 

You hate yourself for leaning into his touch, but at least he has good contacts for an underground doctor. It won’t be that hard to get in and out right?

—

The doctor arrived fast, not wanting to piss off the Marquis. You knew him from your early days of dating, long before your marriage, when Vincent insisted you quit. You wonder if the doctor remembers you. If he does, he doesn’t show it. 

You just didn’t think Vincent was going to join you. He watches the doctor tend to your shoulder first, sewing neat rows of stitches to hold your flesh in place. You stare at your jacket on a spare chair, no doubt forever stained in blood. The good doctor already gave a warning about closing your eyes, so you keep your gaze on the jacket, your nails on your good hand leaving imprints on the chair arm from the tension between you and Vincent. 

The doctor moves on to more minor wounds, mostly cleaning them, and patching them up if needed. Ignoring your soft hiss when the cleaner he is using hurts more than you expected.

Vincent is watching the doctor, scowling when you flinch in pain. 

The instant the doctor pushed the tray with his tools and bloody tissues away, Vincent speaks for the first time since the three of you sat down.

“Laissez-nous seuls” 

The doctor protests, wanting to give you instructions on caring for his work, making sure you don’t rip anything open. 

Vincent glares at the doctor, who places down some gause for you to take home and leaves without another word, closing the door behind him. 

The Marquis drops to his knees for a better look at your injury. One hand cups the back of your shoulder blade to keep you still, as he inspects you. You’re sure you smell disgusting, the smell of the bar soaked into your dress and your hair. The doctor cleaned up most of the blood, but Vincent never really cared about literally getting his hands bloody if the time was right. He would just wipe them on a cloth and toss it aside for one of his housekeepers to pick up. 

You turn your whole face away, as much as your shoulder will let you, sure he can feel how hot your face is across the distance. The feel of his eyes is heavy, and almost magnetic, pulling you to look at him. His other hand is on the armrest of your chair. 

“Don’t,” you said softly, trying to preserve any of the dignity that you had left. 

“Don’t what, mon amour” he whispered, still looking at your shoulder. 

“This.” You were mostly saying this to yourself, knowing that you only had seconds to get out of his personal space before you give in. You’re tired and hurt and he's right there, acting how he did when you first fell in love with him. 

You tilt your head back almost automatically to give him more access to your throat. He moved slowly, pressing kisses against your jaw like it would be the last time, before working his way to your mouth and kissing you properly. 

—

It’s like a bomb waiting to go off, not only having sex with him but also having to navigate yourself out of his bed without one of you making a gripe at the other. 

Well, not technically his bed. This was yours, in a guest room you made your own while being married, now empty. You moved your stuff out during the separation. Sometimes you regret not taking the bedclothes with you, but now you’re thankful you can feel them, cool and soft against your skin. 

You had no choice but to stay lying on your back, trying to keep your injury still. He was next to you in the same fashion. 

“You are still wearing your ring.” He speaks quietly. As if to prove his point, he toys with your wedding band. 

“I helped design it, of course, I’m going to show it off,” you reply not being able to look him in the eye. 

He kissed the back of your hand.  

“I believe I designed it, you just suggested the stones.” 

Hand flexed to fully show off the stones, you had to agree. 

The stones were suggested by you, on a date to le Musée de Minéralogie. It was just the two of you, and you had been taken with the rubies. Vincent walked alongside you, filling you in on information you might not have known. It was an off-handed comment from you, how red is a colour for both blood and love, very fitting in your line of work. 

“You have good taste,” he says while you think had instead. 

His hand skimmed your bare side, nimble fingers finding a small bump that was not there before your flight with Lukas. 

You flinched at the dull pain, not surprised if he “accidentally” poked it. 

“You should let me take care of you, mon amour.” 

That was it. The same words that started and ended your marriage. Being taken care of by Vincent made you feel like a doll, sitting on a shelf, never allowed to do anything. 

“Vincent,” You spoke with caution, the pain slowly seeping back into your body.

He held your chin gently, commanding your gaze to look at him. You softened looking at him. 

“It is true. Do you think I like seeing you like this?” he asks. 

“I don’t know what you like” you retort, steeling yourself for the argument to come. 

“I like you.” 

“Oh, you do? Is that why you made me quit bounty work?” you snap. 

“I asked you to stop because you're not very good at it and I did not want a dead fiancé.” 

Ouch. 

“If you were a better fighter, you would take higher bounties.” 

You don’t look at him as you leave the bed. You know he's sneering at you. 

But you’re not going to shrink away even though you’re naked. You know you have to get dressed in front of him but you can put on a brave face.

 “Thanks for this lovely reminder of why our marriage failed.” You spit out. You know the failed comment will piss him off. 

You leave without a second look, cheap shoes squeaking against the floor. 

—

You felt the lock slide open under the key, your apartment slightly cold and quiet. You still smelled like his cologne, only now the smell reminds you of the recent bitter memories. You discard your bag as you make your way to your bed in your apartment. Away from Vincent. 

As you take off your dress for the second time you feel your phone buzz. 

[Unknown number: Wire Transfer Sent. Deposit for Lukas is confirmed.]

Seeing him mixed with the rush of adrenaline after the fighting was too much, especially with the separation so fresh. Maybe he was right. Maybe you should go after higher bounties, especially not those set by him. 

Taglist: @heartrot666, @soraya-daydreams

[pavlovianfuckery]

i made another muppet joke and it's getting out of hand

MASTERLIST

Every time his hands were doing things I was going bug-eyed like a sight-hound spotting a hare, just ready to shoot off into the stratosphere leaving a puff of smoke behind like in a cartoon. So this fic was pretty much inevitable. It's the usual 'I'm welcome and you're sorry'-song and dance, I'm afraid. I swear that if he wasn't running around unchecked with his rolled-up shirtsleeves and stupid little bracelets we would not be having this problem. Actually, we probably would, but we'd maybe have it a little bit less.

4.1k of fisting and and fucking under the cut (with a sprinkle of angst for flavour)

You're not pining. Just because he left you hanging and hasn't called or texted in over a week does not mean that you're doing something as stupid as pining, you repeat to yourself. Maybe offering him a key to your place had been a mistake. But it's not like you had been asking for his hand in marriage like some blushing maiden. All you'd done was tell him as he was leaving that there was an extra key on the hook by the door if he wanted it. Sure, he hadn't really responded, but he'd taken it.

Trying to justify whatever this has turned into makes you feel foolish. It's not like you didn't know who and what he was from the start. Dangerous, for one. Fickle. A liar, albeit a good-looking one, which is probably why you're in this mess to begin with. Not exactly boyfriend material. Besides, you know a front when you see one and it's fairly obvious that there are so many things broken inside of him that it's a wonder he doesn't rattle when he walks.

You should have stayed as far away as possible but he could be very charming when he wanted something, and when he'd decided that what he wanted was you, it had been nearly impossible to resist. In hindsight, it was almost funny because you knew better, you did, but he had still reeled you in like a dumb fucking fish. And when he had, it turned out that he could be funny, sometimes almost sweet, and then you had started falling before you even realized it. You're a grown woman but he's got you acting like a teenager all over again and not only is it unwise on your part, it's pathetic and it should probably make you angrier than it does. The humiliation of it all is only partly made up for by the sex.

Because the sex is very good. You're not naive enough to think that you're anything special to him, but when he's in your bed it's so easy to forget that. Too easy. Aside from just being plain fun to sleep with, there's a focus and a hunger there, like you're either a puzzle to pull apart or prey to be devoured, and it's nothing short of addictive. Just the memory of it makes you flush and squeeze your legs together. Once you start thinking about it, it's hard to stop. The taste of him, his voice in your ear as he slides into you, how he feels inside of you. The way his breath hitches when he's close to coming. It makes you ache until it's hard to concentrate on anything else, and your thoughts go to the box under the bed. You don't have to wait for him to text you. It's been over a week and at this rate you'll get nothing productive done until you blow off some steam.

After a bit of digging you find something that will hopefully do the job and lay back on the bed. It's not going to be what you really need, but desperate times call for desperate measures so you try to make the best of it with what you have available. His touch is burned into your memory at this point and closing your eyes makes it easier to pretend that it's his hands sliding over your skin, rather than your own.

"Please..." you breathe, cupping your breasts and imagining the way his eyes darken when you beg, "Please..." Of course, it's not as good as the real thing, but when you get on your knees and sink down onto the dildo it's even less satisfying than you'd hoped. Not that a hunk of silicone could ever compare but the only thing it shares with the genuine article seems to be the temperature, because it's like trying to scratch an itch in a spot you can't quite reach by yourself. It's frustrating, but you're nothing if not determined. It's less fun and more work than it should be, leaving you sweaty and out of breath as you chase your release, which remains stubbornly out of reach. Rolling your hips and grinding down on it makes it feel a bit better, and you can feel it slowly starting to build, just a minute more and-

The sound of the lock turning over is like getting doused with a bucket of ice water and there's only a moment between the door closing and him calling your name, leaving you scrambling. You've never been more grateful for the drapery shielding the alcove containing the bed from the rest of the room, because it buys you a few seconds more to collect yourself, for all the good it does. In the end you do manage to cover yourself and sit up in what you hope is a nonchalant and completely un-suspicious way.

"In here." It comes out a bit breathy and unsteady, making you wince as the drapery twitches to the side and a very familiar head of bright hair pops in."So, I take it you're not a big fan of, I don't know, knocking?"

"You gave me a key, remember?" He jingles said key in the air merrily before pocketing it, flicking his eyes over you. You can almost see a cartoon light-bulb turn on above his head because his expression quickly changes into that of a cat who has just been offered a complimentary bowl of fresh cream to go with their organic, free-range canaries. "Now, why am I getting the distinct impression that I'm interrupting something?"

"Beats me." You shrug, hoping he doesn't notice your burning cheeks. By the look in his eye, it probably isn't your most convincing performance.

"Huh. Is that so?" The mattress dips under his weight as he sits down and sneaks his hand under the covers, fingers slowly trailing up your leg. "Somehow I don't think you're being entirely honest with me right now." It feels so good to be touched again that when he puts just the slightest pressure on the inside of your knee you're unable to resist, legs spreading almost on their own. Walking his fingers up the inside of your thigh, it doesn't take long until he brushes against the base of the toy.”Someone's been busy." Quirking a brow, he gives you a pitying look. "Did you miss me?"

"Don't flatter yourself," you roll your eyes at him, trying to ignore it when he flicks it a few times with his fingers, the vibrations reverberating in your core.

"You know..." he grabs the base of the dildo and gives it a few slow thrusts, which for some stupid reason feels so much better than when you were doing it, making you whimper despite yourself, "I can take care of you better than this ever will." You both know that's true, but that doesn't mean he has to be so damn smug about it.

"I don't need you to get off." Maybe the words come out a bit harsher than you intended them to, but he just grins at you, tugging at the sheets.

"That's an interesting choice of words because I never said you did." Stretching himself out on his side next to you, he props himself up on his elbow. "Go on, then," he leans in close, his breath tickling your ear, "fuck yourself. That's what you were doing when I walked in, wasn't it?" The words make a wave of heat wash over you and for a moment it's hard to think.

"You could help a girl out?"

"Sure I could," he drawls, pulling the sheet away and leaving you bare. "But you don't need me, right?" He looks as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth as he blinks at you.

It's only half putting on a show as you start working the toy in and out, biting your lip. The embarrassment doesn't last long, because it feels much better like this, with him whispering encouragement in your ear, hungry eyes watching your every move. The slick sound of the toy moving inside of you is loud in the confined space, somehow even more so than when you were alone. Finding a good angle isn't hard and you can hear his breath hitch as you let out a low moan, legs spreading a fraction wider. It still isn't enough though, making you curse under your breath.

"You planning to be a dick about this for much longer?" Winded and miserable, you shoot him a glare.

"Haven't decided yet." His lips brush your ear as he continues, "Besides, you're so cute when you're struggling. It's really working for me." He grabs your free hand and guides it to his fly, pressing up against your palm. You can feel him throbbing, and you're not sure when you last wanted something this badly before. Actually scratch that, because it was probably a little over a week ago.

"I'm not struggling," you huff, turning your face away. He's going to be insufferable after this

"Funny, because it sure looks like it from here." When he grabs the toy and pulls it from you, you don't resist. "I can give you a hand if you want. You've just got to ask." He ghosts his fingers over you, barely touching but just enough to feel how wet you are. When you grab his wrist out of frustration and try to rub against his hand, he tuts disapprovingly. "You don't ask, you don't get. Come on, just three little words..." For a split second, it's an entirely different sort of torture and you can only barely keep from flinching.

"Please don't, just..." Patience close to running out, you groan. "I haven't come in over a week." You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth because you can see him quickly put two and two together.

"So you did miss me." He dips between your folds with a self-satisfied smirk, making you shiver as he teases your entrance with the tip of his finger. "You could've just said so, you know."

"Maybe I didn't want to give you the wrong idea but yeah, I missed you, just a little bit. Happy?" At this rate, he's going to drive you insane with his teasing.

"Not quite. Close, though." Feeling the way you clench against his fingertip he grins, "What else?"

"Fine, I take it back, I need you, so can you please just-" When he slides a single finger into your aching cunt it's somehow worse than being empty, and the last shreds of your self-control evaporate." Please, I need more," you slide your fingers around his wrist, "I want all of you. Can I have you like that? Please?"

"How can I refuse when you ask so nicely?" he gives a breathy little laugh, "I've had plenty of girls wrapped around my finger before, but you're something else." You're not sure if that's supposed to be a compliment or not but then he's kneeling between your legs and it doesn't seem important anymore. When he slides three fingers into you, it's almost gentle.

"You don't have to be so damn careful with me," the words come out a bit breathless and stuttered as he thrusts into you, making it hard to talk.

"Maybe not," he hums as he adds a fourth finger, smiling at the way your eyes start to glaze over, "but I try not to make a habit out of breaking my toys, so..." When he hooks his fingers up and wiggles his hand, you can't hold back a whimper.

"Please..." you scramble to grab his wrist again, "Just give me, please, I promise I won't break, please..." The last part comes out in a drawn-out whine. It's pathetic, but you're beyond caring.

"Greedy is such a good look on you." He shakes his head with a small smile and strokes the inside of your thigh before pushing his hand into you a fraction of an inch at a time, and the only thing you can do is try to breathe. Hitting the slope of his knuckles, you have a fleeting thought about lube but it proves unnecessary as a few shallow thrusts to spread your own wetness turns out to be enough to get past that point. When your body sucks him in the rest of the way, he lets out a gasping little moan right along with you. Rather than going straight to making a fist, he flexes his fingers inside of you, feeling you out. You can feel those stupid bracelets he's always wearing rub against your pussy lips as he bottoms out, your cervix nestling between his fingers.

"This what you wanted?" He's barely moving but between his knuckles and his fingertips, you're lost in the sensation, insides quivering as he rubs every sweet spot at once. This isn't the first time he's had his hand inside of you, but that had been different. The thought of him actually letting you come like this, making you come like this is intimate in a way that makes your head feel as if it's filled with static.

"Yeah," you gasp, "god, don't stop, love your hands so fucking much, fuck..." The way he fills you up is dizzying and it's exactly what you needed. He's slow and methodical as he pulls you apart bit by bit until you're arching off the bed.

"Are you going to be a good girl and come for me?" He looks very pleased with himself for reducing you to a whimpering mess so easily but it doesn't even matter because your release is already curling at the base of your spine, swelling until it feels like it might flood your throat and spill out of your mouth. You wish he'd just keep talking because he sounds so good.

"Yes, please, oh please," you claw at his wrist, desperate for more, faster, harder, something, but it's like trying to dig your nails into marble. There's a high-pitched ringing in your ears and nothing else seems to matter except him and the way he's making you unravel around his hand. You'd say anything, do anything, just to make him keep going. "I'm gonna, please, love you, please don't stop, don't stop..."

"That's it," he murmurs as you start to tense up, "that's my good girl, go on..." The litany of begging sticks in your throat as he tips you over the edge, making your cunt clench down around his wrist. As you spasm helplessly around his hand he moves with your body, drawing the waves of pleasure out until tears sting the corners of your eyes. It takes a long time to come down because he doesn't stop until you're shuddering and oversensitive. You're so fuzzy around the edges when he finally stops that him fishing his phone out from his pocket doesn't faze you too much.

"What are you doing?" Too blissed out to really care, the words lack any real heat.

"Just grabbing myself a little souvenir. " he grins, snapping a quick close-up of your cunt, puffy and still twitching around his wrist. "You don't mind, do you? You're just so pretty like this." Before you can respond there is the chime of him pressing record and then he's twisting his hand inside of you, making you arch off the bed again. It feels as if your nerves are completely exposed, his touch throwing up sparks as he rubs against every single one of them. By the time he slowly pulls his hand out and puts the phone away you're sweaty and shaking, the beginnings of another orgasm starting to curl low in your belly.

"You're such an asshole," you huff, head falling back against the pillows.

"That's a bit uncalled for, don't you think?" Wiping his hand on the covers he stretches out next to you, nipping at your shoulder. "I'm pretty sure I made you come your brains out a few minutes ago, so how about some gratitude, hm?"

"Right, gratitude." Hooking a finger in the waistband of his jeans, you giggle. "So, should I say thank you, or...?"

"Actually," he runs a fingertip around one of your nipples, making it pucker, "I was thinking more along the lines of me fucking you within an inch of your life." It's a stupid line that has no business sounding as good as it does, but it still sends a hot stab of want through you.

"That works," you swallow thickly, very aware of how sensitive you still are, almost bordering on sore. "yeah, that definitely works."

As he makes quick work of his t-shirt and starts undoing his fly, you just watch him. The afternoon sun hitting the drapery makes dappled spots of light dance across his skin and mussed hair, painting him in a kaleidoscope of colours, and something about the way he looks right now makes your chest ache. He's so out of place in your worn-down, shitty apartment. This can't last, you tell yourself, this is a mistake, this is-

"You're so fucking beautiful, you know that?" The words tumble out of your mouth before you can think, "I can barely stand to look at you sometimes." For a split second, there's a tension to his shoulders that wasn't there before and you bite your lip. Stupid. In the end, he doesn't say anything. The moment his expensive designer denim hits the floor he's crawling up your body, capturing your mouth in a demanding kiss.

"Less talking," he breathes against your lips as he grinds against you, stiff cock rubbing through your slick folds.

"Okay," you slide a hand across the nape of his neck, the pale wisps of his hair tickling your fingertips as he bites down on the curve of your shoulder. "Okay." With the way he attacks your bare skin with his teeth and tongue, it's as if he's out to devour you, littering nearly every inch of your neck and your breasts in angry red splotches. There's going to be bruises after this, you can tell.

"You're so," he pants as he slides into you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, "how are you so fucking soft?" As he rolls his hips and bottoms out you can hear his breath catch. "Fuck."

It starts out slow, the way he rocks into you. Not tender, but slow, and it has you digging your nails into his back as he splits you open all over again. It's torture in the best way as he slides into you. His weight feels so good on you and you moan, wrapping your legs around his waist as tension inside of you coils tighter and tighter. Every noise he makes goes right into your ear and it makes your head swim, because it's for you, you're doing that. Sneaking a hand down to rub at yourself you half expect him to stop you but instead, he encourages you.

"Yeah," he murmurs, nipping at you, "make yourself come for me, I want to feel you." Between his cock and his voice you're already halfway there, and the words go straight to your core. When he starts to pull away you wind your fingers through his hair, cradling the back of his head and keeping him still. Dragging your nails across his scalp and tugging on his hair makes his eyes widen as he lets out a surprised huff of breath against your lips. The way he fucks you makes it hard to touch yourself with any real accuracy and as the headboard starts smacking into the wall it makes you fumble and slip, but in the end it doesn't matter much because you could probably get off from just the noises he's making. It's not that he's particularly loud, because he isn't, but the hitched breaths and unsteady little moans falling so freely from his mouth sounds like music to your ears. When your release rips through you for the second time it's intense, leaving you gasping for breath and digging your nails into the back of his neck as you spasm around his cock.

Between the pleasure almost drowning you and the way he looks as he gets close, it takes more willpower than it probably should to keep yourself from calling him beautiful again. Brow furrowed, he's almost frantic as he chases it, driving into you as deep as possible when he finally tips over the edge. You can feel every throb and twitch as he comes, hips stuttering as he rides it out. It's easy to forget what this really is when you're caged in by his arms as he trembles above you, chest heaving. As he comes down, he buries his face in the crook of your neck and for just a few short seconds, you let yourself pretend.

It doesn't last, of course. As he rolls away from you, you're not sure what to say. It's not like pillow talk is ever on the table. Rather than wait for him to slink off, you do something potentially stupid. It's a bit of a scramble to get on top of him before he gets up, but you manage to straddle him. Perhaps right on top of him isn't the best place to stage a sit-in, but you do it anyway.

"Not so fast." The element of surprise or possibly your breasts being right in his face seems to work in your favour.

"Is this your way of asking for another round?" He frowns and grabs you by the waist, but he doesn't push you away, at least not yet. The idea of going again so soon sounds very tempting in theory, but less so in practice.

"Maybe," you stretch, drawing his eyes to your breasts. "But I was mostly hoping you could hang around for at least a few minutes since I haven't seen you in a bit." You trail a few quick kisses from his shoulder to his jaw, the hint of stubble rough against your lips. "Your whole 'boink and bounce'-routine is getting old, by the way. I'm sure you can spare five minutes so I can feel a bit less like a used tissue."

"Used tissue, really?" He lets out a deep sigh but doesn't move. "Sounds to me like someone's a bit testy over having to go without for a week."

"I'm not testy," you huff, rolling your eyes. Tracing a finger over his clavicle and the hollow of his throat you continue, a bit scared of fucking this up and scaring him off. God knows if there's anything you're good at, it's fucking up. "Don't get me wrong, we have fun, I like you, but I'm under no illusions, here. It's just..." You shrug, "This is nice."

"Oh, so you like me now?" he chuckles, "Funny, I could swear you were calling me an asshole earlier."

"Maybe I have a soft spot for assholes, then."

"Yeah, that must be it." He nods, thumbs drawing lazy circles across your hips as the silence stretches out. "You could've called, you know."

You scoff.

"I'm not going to call you every time I feel like having an orgasm. Besides, you've been pretty clear on how this is going to work, remember?" You do your best impression of his voice as you continue, "Don't call us, we'll call you, yadda yadda yadda..."

"Is that what you think I sound like?" He frowns, and you're not sure if the offended look on his face is genuine or not.

"A little bit." You hold your thumb and pointer finger up, nearly pinching them together. "Just a little. Now..." you press a quick kiss to his cheek, "I'm going to shower. You're free to join me, if you want."

"I've seen your shower," he pulls a face, "I think I'll pass."

"Suit yourself." It feels good to be the one who walks away for once.

When you get out of the shower he's nowhere to be found, but you weren't really expecting anything else. As you make your way to the kitchen counter to fix a cup of coffee you flick your eyes to the door, and for a second your stomach drops all the way to the floor. Did he put the key back? On closer inspection, it's not your spare key dangling from the hook. You turn the bracelet over in your hand. One of the little beads is shaped like a skull, and it almost looks as if it's laughing at you. Looks like you'll have an excuse to call him.

[moonlightkitties]

You are your fathers daughter - Red Dead Redemption Reader Insert - (Part Six)

Plot: Arthur, Charles, and Javier bring Sean back where you and him spend some time together.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: Smut, unprotected p n v sex, drunk/tipsy sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), first time.

A/N: This is my first smut so idk really know if it's good or not but I enjoyed writing it.

If you want to read the previous parts of "You're your father's daughter", you can find them here

Today was the day. The day that Arthur, Javier, and Charles would go back to Blackwater to save Sean. Trelawny had a good lead on where he was so Arthur was going to meet up with him and the others.

"You sure I can't come?" You ask, handing Arthur one of his guns. He huffed "You can" he paused smirking at your excited grin "But you're not goin to, I ain't risking your life for some crush." You glare at him, your cheeks a light pink "That doesn't even make sense" you huff, Arthur chuckled and ruffled your head "Can you at least watch over camp while I'm gone?" he asked. You nodded and watched him ride out of camp.

The day went on as normal; you did chores, chores and more chores. It was exhausting and the day still wasn't over. Sitting next to Tilly and Mary-Beth as they both read, the three of you started talking about the type of guy you would like to marry.

"I want someone who's sweet and shy but strong when they need to be" Mary-Beth said, playing with her hair. "What about you?" Tilly asked you. You shrug "I don't know...I'm not really the marriage material." John chuckled from a few feet away "That's for sure" he said, Mary-Beth chucked a stone at his head, making him yelp and move away.

"Aw, come on, there's gotta be some type of guy you like" Mary-Beth said, trying to cox you to tell them. You sighed "I want a guy that's funny and sociable. A guy that can make conversations with anyone." Mary-Beth giggled "It sounds like you're describing Sean." Your face goes pink "Sean? No, he's like an annoying brother." Tilly smiles "Really? You're blushing an awful lot." You groaned "Maybe I like him a little...but doesn't Karen like him too?" Tilly shrugged "I think she's over him."

Karen joined the three of you, a bottle in her hand, which wasn't really surprising "Who's over who?" she asks, tilting the bottle upward to drink.

"You being over Sean" Mary-Beth told her, Karen snorted "Please, I've been over him. Why you askin? Someone else like him?"

"(y/n), does." You rolled your eyes, thanks for that Mary-Beth. Karen chuckled "Well, good luck with him (y/n), he's a handful." Your face flushed an even darker red and you looked away. How embarrassing.

"You really like him, don't you?" Mary-Beth asked and you nodded "But you like that Kieran boy too?" You look at her "I mean, he's cute yeah, and we've been fishing together but that's about it, why? Do you like him?" Now it was Mary-Beth's turn to get all flustered "A little, but he's an O'Driscoll." You let out a laugh "He's not an O'Driscoll, he save mine and Arthur's life." Mary-Beth looked behind your shoulder "Speaking of Arthur, is that him?" you turned around and she was right, it was Arthur. You looked around "Then where's Sean and the others?" You asked, anxiety bubbling in your chest.

The first thing you heard was Sean's voice, he was riding with Javier on the back of Boaz, you could tell Javier was getting annoyed at the Irishman's ramblings. Sean dismounted and almost immediately he was bombarded by questions and welcomes. He took in all the welcomes and praises and before the night fell a party already started.

You took it all in, everyone was drinking, Dutch's music was playing as he and Molly danced and now you just wanted to see if there was anyway you could get to Sean without being interrupted. Sean was already downing his third drink by the time you caught up with him "There's my girl" he slurred, pulling you into his lap, you let out a gasp "Sean?" you ask, his hands finding your waist. He chuckled and started kissing your neck, his facial hair feeling scratchy on your skin.

"We can't" you whimper, feeling like putty in his grasp "You're drunk, you probably don't even know who I am." Sean chuckled, practically purring into your neck "Of course I know who you are love." You narrowed your eyes at him "Oh really? Then what's my name?" Sean scoffed "Geez, enough with the questions (y/n), you want me to fuck ya or not?" Heat started to form at his words and you rubbed your thighs together. Yes, you really did, but he was drunk and probably speaking out of his mind.

"I do" you whimper "But you're drunk, it's not right, you're not thinking clearly." Sean scoffed "I'm thinking as clear as ever love, come on" he started nipping and sucking at your neck, most likely leaving marks. Almost everyone was drunk, so no one was bound to see the two of you but still.

"In a little bit" you told him "I haven't had a drink yet." Sean barked out a laugh "You, little Miss Van der Linde, drink?"

"Not usually" you tell him, getting up off his lap, choosing to ignore his raging boner that was poking through his jeans. He grumbled from the loss of contact but got up to follow you to the crate that held the liquor. You picked a bottle up, even though you looked confident, you didn't feel it. You've never drank in your entire life, you didn't see the appeal. Sean smirked at your hesitance "Go on then lass, drink up." You rolled your eyes but opened the bottle up and took your first sip. Wow. It did not taste good at all, but when you swallowed it, the burning in your throat felt strangely good.

You had no idea how many drinks you had, but as Sean dragged you into some random tent you knew you had too many. He pulled you into a sloppy kiss, unbuttoning your pants and pulling them down, your underwear soon followed. "We have ta be quick, love" he said, pulling his own pants and underwear down. You whined and started grinding on his cock, but stopped forgetting something, your face turned red, either from the whiskey or the embarrassment.

"I'm a virgin" you told him, holding onto him, burrowing your head into his neck. He stopped his movements "A virgin?" he asked and you nodded "Y-yeah, but I still want to, please take me Sean." He growled and set you down on the bedspread "I'll be gentle" he promised. Who knew your first time was going to be a quickie and you tipsy?

He opened your legs and kissed down your thighs, once he got to your already aching and wet pussy, he kissed your clit and shoved two fingers inside. You let out a loud moan, which you immediately covered with your mouth. Sean tore yours hands away from your mouth "Nuh uh, lass, I wanna hear ya." He went faster, his tongue sucking on your clit, making you squirm and hold onto his orange locks, pushing his head in more. You felt something happen, you arched your back and let out a cry of pleasure as you came. Your legs shook and your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath "That was" you gasped "Amazing?" Sean asked, giving a kiss to your clit.

You nodded "Yeah, it was." Sean smiled "Ah, but we're not done yet, love." Oh, yeah, you forgot. "Ya ready?" he asked, positioning his cock at your entrance, he pushed in, you arched your back, letting out a small whimper of pain. Sean shushed you and when you gave him the "Ok" to keep going, he pulled out and slammed deep into you. You gasped in pleasure, he thrusted into you, hard and fast. The familiar feeling of your orgasm came back "I-I'm coming!" you moan out, holding onto Sean as thrusted "So am I love" he moaned, his moans were gorgeous, and you hoped this wasn't just a one time thing.

You came, hard, your pussy clenched onto his cock he gave one last thrust as he came deep inside of you. You didn't care, there would be time to scold him later. You breathed, deep and heavy as he pulled out.

"I need a drink" you groaned as Sean helped you back into your clothes. He laughed and kissed your forehead "Come on then" he said, pulling his own pants up and helping you up.

You followed him out of the tent, not knowing that the tent you used to loose your virginity was Johns.

Whoops.

[madhatterbri]

Take a Letter | Hangman A.P.

Summary: In a moment of vulnerability, you penned a heartfelt letter to Adam, confessing lingering feelings and doubts about your marriage. Days later, Adam discovers the letter and returns to you.

Author's Note: Western AU starring Hangman. Mentions of Nick and Matt Jackson and Ric Flair.

Please remember none of the western stories are linked together. ❤️❤️

My Dearest Adam,

As the sun sets and night takes over the town you once called home, my heart wrestles over the notion of getting married to such an awful man. This union weighs heavy on my thoughts, and I wonder if I have made the right choice in allowing him to accept my hand in marriage.

In the rare quiet moments I have while running the saloon, I reminisce about all the dreams we shared under the full moon and stars. Oh, how I wish they would become a reality. Perhaps they will in another life.

I yearn for the days we spent traveling under the merciless rays of the sun, and our love ran free like the wild horses.

May our paths cross once again, my love.

Yours, Now and Always,

Y/N

Adam stood motionless as his eyes swam through the letter once more. She still loved him despite everything that happened between them. The soft sobs of her servant sounded in his hideout house. He gripped the paper roughly and looked at her. His stern eyes glared at her. She flinched.

"Why are you just giving this to me now, Dollie?" He demanded. The date on the corner of the letter was a week before her wedding. He wondered why he was given this letter only two days before her wedding. What if I'm too late, he thought to himself.

"I wanted what was best for her. I've known her since she was a baby. You can't be mad at me for acting in what I thought was her best interests. After her father passed that saloon has been her everything," the woman sobbed louder. She blew her nose into her handkerchief. Adam rolled his eyes at the woman's dramatics.

"Where is she?" He asked. In order to make up for lost time, he needed to get to her sooner rather than later.

"She still works at her dear father's old saloon, m-Mister Hangman," she answered between breathy sobs. Hangman slid the paper in his pocket and stomped towards his horse. The woman quickly followed after him, sliding into her carriage. She silently prayed that she wasn't too late.

👢

"To the best little watering trough in the town," a drunken man yelled. His glass, full of alcohol rose high in the air. He swayed in his chair as he fished for something in his pocket. Crumpled up pills trapped in his hand. He slammed a fistful of bills on the bar top. "Another round on me!"

The saloon erupted in cheers. Spirits were lively at the Sundown Saloon. The saloon served customers from different occupations such as lawmen, cowboys, and even outlaws. With the owner of the saloon getting married, more customers turned out than ever before.

You stared from the second floor with a mix of emotions. Tonight was the last night your father's dream would stay alive. Tomorrow, Sundown Saloon would be no more. Just a bittersweet memory of your father's second pride and joy.

Heavy footsteps coming up the stairs distract you from your thoughts. A drunk man teetered up the stairs. His alcohol spills all over the floor. A madam smiled and winked at you. The man was too drunk to know what he was getting into. The woman was known to rob the men as they slept.

"Congratulations, missus," the man spoke. His eyes half closed. He raised one of his hands to show you his missing ring finger. He slurred his words. "Don't cheat. Learned the hard way,"

"Thank you for your advice, Mr. Flair," you smiled.

"Come on, darling. There is fun to be had," the madam told the old man. She winked at you before sauntering away with him.

The madam and drunk man left you to yourself. The man on the piano played a lively tune. Men and women alike were jumping to their feet to dance. Those too drunk to stand on their own, resigned to just sitting on a stool and singing loudly. You chuckled to yourself and walked to your room to get ready for your nuptials tomorrow.

You sat in silence as you stared at your wedding dress. Any woman would be ecstatic that they were getting married tomorrow, but not you. Your heart was out there somewhere in the sands of Texas.

Your fingers ran through your hair as you decided to get ready for bed. A good night's sleep will wash away all the doubt. Your door suddenly opened and revealing Dollie at the doorway.

"Y/N, please don't be cross with me," Dollie breathed heavily as if she had just run a mile to get to you.

"Cross with you? Where have you been?" You questioned her whereabouts. She was like a mother to you ever since your mom passed when you were a baby. Now she came to you smelling something awful and dirty.

The servant looked down ashamed and opened the door. Before you stood the one and only Hangman.

👢

Adam stopped at the doorway and stared at you. His light eyes took all of you in. He thought he would never see you again after he left you. He stepped inside and lowered his black bandana.

"I... I should go," Dollie excused herself. She closed the door behind her, leaving the two of you alone in your bedroom.

"What are you doing here?"

"I got your letter," he answered and grabbed the letter from his pocket. Two fingers held the folded letter before you. Your mouth dropped in shock.

"That paper is nothing but a foolish child's dreams. Give it to me so I may burn it," you ordered and reached out to take it from him. He placed the letter back in his pocket. You stared at him in confusion.

"Don't marry him," he whispered, yet you could hear him clearly.

"What?" You asked in shock. Your eyes furrowed in confusion. The last time you saw Hangman, he was running away from you at the mere thought of a life together.

"You heard me,"

"Why?" You asked.

"You know why,"

"So I can go off with you, and then you get scared and leave in the middle of the night again?"

He flinched at your words. That night had to be the biggest mistake of his life. After years of the two of you playing cat and mouse, he finally opened up to you. He was in love with you. Thoughts of you being a weakness to him shrouded his judgment. While you slept next to him, he took off.

"No more running. Matt and Nick, they have families, and that's what I want one day with you if you will have me,"

You opened your mouth about to let your hurt ruin everything you wanted with him. You took a deep breath. As much as he hurt you that night, you were still in love with him. "I'm to be married tomorrow,"

He looked down and sighed. He figured he would be too late, but he wanted one last shot to tell you how he felt. "I'll leave you to get married. He's a very lucky man,"

This was it. The last time you would ever see the Hangman, your Hangman. Your heart pounded so loud that you wondered if he could hear it. You had to push your emotions aside if you wanted to be with him again.

You opened the door to your bedroom. Dollie almost fell down yet caught herself. She was known to eavesdrop on conversations. Especially your conversations when it came to the Hangman.

"Dollie, excellent timing as always. Please prepare my effects and my horse. I do not believe my wedding will be taking place tomorrow,"

Dollie smiled triumphantly and bowed her head. "As you wish, my dear,"

[kazukazuhas]

❝ 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 ❞ —- [ 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 ] / 𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

𝐳𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⇢ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ; ; the night finally swindled into the shiny lights and the music lowered but just above everything, everyone else. a warm hand held yours softly as he gazed lovestruckly, eyes soft with his love and you take your first step together as a married couple.

⇢ 𝐜𝐰𝐬 ; ;  kissing ;; fluff ;; marriage things ;; zhongli is and way younger here (around after the archon war time) ;; this takes place wayyy before the fall of the exuvia ;; use of the name "morax" ;; god/dess!reader / venti's sibling ;; slight angst at the end

⇢ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ; ;  i'm not the best for this guy (and not down for him much) but my friend likes him so i decided to grace her with him for the event like diluc. also there are some inconsistencies with the lore, i apologize. i just want the yaksha to be alive. i forget they died okay–

⇢ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ; ; @spoopy-fish-writes // @spoops-inliyue ;; @decaffeinatedcloudkryptonite // @shaantiofher ;; @sunangelstears

it was no surprise that tonight he had finally wedded you, the only shock is that it took him so long to do so. the lights hung low and swirled like fireflies dancing in the grass at the perk of night, the smell of wine wavered on the wave with a gentle sweetness mixing in the air. it was no big event, liyue however did celebrate the occasion with bright colours lining the sky, despite the wedding itself not even in the city.

morax, though not by your side at the moment, laughed alongside his dearest friends with a boyish charm you only saw once before in the younger years of the friendship you had with him. it was pleasant seeing him so relaxed, so happy with the music lifted his smile higher than where he had flown. dancing playfully with the younger adepti alatus was fond of.

"i still don't approve of this." a blunt voice broke your trance of the scene before you, a light giggle still in his voice. "but– i'm happy that you're happy," the man you leaned on sighed with a sort of relieved tone before squeezing your hand.

"thank you, barbatos." a soft reply was all you granted him before continuing with the heart eyed staring back at your husband. your brother scoffed lightly before wrapping his arm about you, a simple side hug.

slipping away from the crowd to where you and barbatos sat watching, morax glared softly at your brother but kept a hand extended towards you. ignoring the tension between the archons, you shake of the younger god of the pair's arm off before holding your husband's hand and pulling him away.

"do not start a fight," you mumbled while smiling back to the young adepti conversing close by. morax groaned before mumbling a yes quietly, sending a glare back to the anemo archon swirling the wine in his cup.

abruptly stopping and facing him with a sincere smile and a glint of lovestruck-ness in your eye, you reach behind him to wrap your arms around his neck. your brush the short strands of light faded brown over around your arms and pressed your forehead to his shoulder. without needing to see it, you knew that he subconsciously shut down beofre he could wrap his arms around your waist and bury his own face in your hair.

the world slowed, he thought, or atleast he had his in his arms, swaying with the music played and in a trance of love and wine. he hummed softly agsint your ear and lulled you further in love with all his small actions.

"i will forever love you," you mumbled softly against the fabric of his clothes, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck with closed eyes and hummed along with him.

"as will i, my dear."

✧ — ✧ — ✧

sat still, in near shock of the news displayed for your view but hand still shaking at the realization of what you heard. the delicate teacup slipped from your fingers, meeting the ground and falling into tears of shattered despair. you stared at the young traveler and their companion with a wild fear in your heart, looking for answers.

"rex lapis– my husband is dead?"

"husband!" the companion screeched before flying around and hugging your shoulders, clearly distaunt herself by the news you heard.

you knew something was strange for the past weeks, he had no a word spoken you and disregarded all advances to your worry for him. a falling out of anger was the result of such disregard.

now you wish you tried harder.

𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩, 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚, 𝙚𝙩𝙘. 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙧 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙧 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙡𝙚𝙙𝙜𝙚. 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙚𝙭𝙘𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚. 𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙧. 𝙠𝙖𝙯𝙪𝙠𝙖𝙯𝙪𝙝𝙖𝙨 2023

[sichore]

Jimi and Pickles for #7 ♡

We're going Victorian AU for this one. Do we like pain? :D

7. Write about one member of your ship asking the other to dance with them.

Jimi stares down at the gloved hand offered to her and back up to his crooked grin. "Are you serious?"

And Pickles winks, and were it not for the lavish ball, and their lavish clothes, and the lavishly dressed vermin around them gussied up in their riches and fortunate birth – it would be like nothing has changed.

"Dead serious," he replies, his smile unwavering.

Jimi keeps her face carefully neutral, to not give away how her stomach flips and twists with dread and disgust.

But she gives him her hand, and he leads her to the dance floor.

Hand in hand, hand on waist, hand on shoulder. All in prim and proper form to twirl about in a matter about as exciting as watching dead fish swirl in eddies off the pier.

Which is to say, not at all.

"I could fall asleep if it weren't for this corset," Jimi grumbles.

And Pickles laughs, and that hasn't changed at all. "Yeah, this barely counts as dancin', huh?"

"Hmm." Jimi doesn't want to draw anymore attention by appearing disinterested or impolite, so she keeps her eyes on his face, directly on an invisible spot upon his cheek. No amount of blush or powder can hide the dull pallor of his skin, no longer to be kissed by the sun. "You seem to be adjusting well enough."

"It was nothin' findin' the rhythm. Really, the hardest part is not tripping on skirts–"

Jimi grits her teeth. "Not what I meant." And then, putting on a strained smile: "You should be doing this with your lovely bride-to-be."

"An' she's catching up with yer handsome little guard, so we can have this one, yeah?"

His eyes don't leave her face. Eyes that are still green like the algae on the docks that Jimi knows aren't actually brighter now. They just appear more vivid with the life drained from his skin.

His gaze burns, which is absurd, when she can feel no warmth through their gloves, through the layers of cloth between them. Jimi can't feel anything, but the pressure of his hand pressed into hers.

"You're just making a bigger target of yourselves," Jimi hisses, brown gaze flitting over his shoulder for a moment.

Pickles just laughs, again, in that quiet, huffing way of his. "We're makin' our stand. You were always part of this, Jim–"

"Don't call me that."

She looks back to him and catches the flash of hurt in his eyes, and Jimi pushes down the sick knot of regret, aching and longing, deep in her belly. She holds its head underwater, ignoring the thrashing and desperate cries.

"I want no part of this. You have your wealth, you have your marriage, and you have no need of me, just my wares to keep up this farce–"

"It's no game," Pickles says gently, heedless of the vicious barbs that Jimi hurls at him. They break, spin about on an axis, a full rotation of the world before they return to face one another. Hand in hand, hand on waist, hand on shoulder. "You'd be right there with us if it weren't for the laws."

Jimi's eyes drop to his breast pocket. "You speak of madness."

"Well, yeah."

The strings halt, the perfurmed and powdered vermin break into applause, and Pickles lifts her gloved hand to his lips that feel like a press of flesh, and nothing more.

"I'm mad about ya." Beneath the brim of his hat and the shadows that will ever dust his eyes is a glow that has never once dimmed. That hasn't changed. That hasn't died. "Always have been."

[Soft OTP Prompts]

[onmymasa22]

Do a silk painting without gutta

Thats u, and this is me.

And everything is exactly how it needs to be.

Whatever is going on with u, is going on with u. Im in a world where i want to watch crossing delancy

I find that the body sometimes holds onto dates. I dont know if its scientifically proven. For me it comes from an episode of greys anatomy. A woman has a heart issue on the same day every year, and they find out that that date years ago, her forst love died and since she has suffered from a "broken heart". If your body is shaking today. If you have anxiety that you are trying to keep from being debilitating. If you woke up just wanting to go back to sleep. If breathing exercises aren't doing enough. If things need to get put off from today because you are just trying to keep it together. You are not alone.

Throw up into a diary how you feel

Let yourself cry.

I want a great life

The body holds onto dates. We remember what our body went through a year ago. And while no one is destroying my life this second, a year ago it was, and today my body feels like everything is falling apart, even though it's not. I woke up shaking. I haven't shaken the feeling of wanting to throw up yet and it's 15:35. It feels like the world is falling apart. And today, thats what it feels like. October 7th 2024 feels like my own personal world is falling apart outside of everyone elses and outside out reality. Im happy that i have my stuff figured out. Im waiting to see the contract for living in Jerusalem. Im doing ok. Im paying. Im alright.

U will be ok. Theres no war going on. U can do today. It wont be easy. But the war in your head is not like the war outside. So take a deep breathe. Play guitar today.

Learn ballet. Make mugs and dishes out of clay with your hands. Create art. Learn piano.

I made an instagram page. Its hard not to compaire myself to others. Why dont i get the same opportunities as they do. Why dont people see me. Where is my place. I need to seperate- who inspires me and who makes me feel competitive. Who feed the critic voice in my head, and who feeds the passion voice in my head. In the end, i need to just keep creating. You arent who i want to be. I dont need for u to like me. You arent straight.

I'm so excited to never see you again after my degree. Itll be nice to not need to be around people who are slanted.

Who else is waiting for mani pedis to become

I know when I'm standing across from someone who is slanted. They will live slanted, and they'll die slanted. It has nothing to do with me. I know when im right. I know when im wrong.

I think the reggio emilia approach is the most stupid approach there is for above kindergarten. Its meant for early childhood to age 6. Thats all its for. I think that thats is stupid.

This year i can go in knowing that this isnt for me. I can just play music in my head instead of being in class

What to do instead of listening while the teacher is teaching.

It's been a year that we have felt more connected to being Jewish.

A year that we have shown how brilliant we are. We brought washing machines, dryers, BBQs, generators, and phone chargering stations to the border.

We have given haircuts and shaves out of love.

We have tied tzitzis.

We have helped farmers.

We have fed fish and watered plants for the kindergartens that were evacuated.

We have housed people, we have helped people, we have supported people emotionally and monetarily.

We have given birth to more babies.

We have celebrated marriages.

We have dedicated happiness, joy, dancing, and loving to those we have lost.

We sang zemiros.

We laughed till our stomachs hurt.

We have baked challah, we have sung havdallah as a group.

We have been sensitive to others and what they might be going through.

We have cried from videos of soldiers calling their mothers, and we have hugged people tighter.

We have heard Holocaust survivors remind us that we will get through this.

We saw notes written for religious Jews so they would know that those hostages were rescued that Shabbos in the summer.

We celebrated and could breathe deeply that shabbos.

This year has effected everyone a million different ways. With all the bad, there's also this.

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime – Four // Wanda Maximoff

chapter three | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter five

author’s note: I hope you all don’t mind the slow burn because it’s like my favourite thing and i promise things will get spicy soon 😂

Since my rather abrupt revelation about Wanda, I found myself racked with guilt.

Not because she was a girl – I couldn't help my feelings in that sense – but because she was my brother's fiancé. And every time he came to me, gushing about how great of a date they had or how much he was falling for her, the guilt hit me like a sharp pain in the chest, because I understood what he was saying. I felt the same.

And it didn't help when they would occasionally go on dates in front of me, and all I could feel was an unexplainable jealousy in the pit of my stomach. I had no right to feel like this when she was an engaged woman. Her naturally flirtatious personality was simply that: a personality. And even though we'd had a genuinely lovely day a week ago when she invited me to her home, it was no reason for me to think of her in such a way.

The next date on Y/B/N and Wanda's journey to marriage was at our house in the garden. I wasn't actually aware of it until I saw them sat on some garden furniture.

My mum wanted me to help her with some gardening and I found her kneeling by some plant pots, a fair distance away from Wanda and my brother. As I approached her, I glanced in the couple's direction, seeing them sat opposite one another and enjoying a selection of finger foods and tea. They were far away enough to have privacy, but close enough for me to make out their expressions.

"For goodness sake, Y/N," my mother said when I kneeled down beside her to help. "Do you have to wear those horrendous trousers?"

I rolled my eyes, sitting on the ground comfortably. "I'm curious, mother. Do you like anything that I do?"

She gave me a disapproving glance. "I'm only looking out for you, dear. That outfit is very... unladylike."

"Well, they're comfortable," I quipped, before grabbing a spade and getting to work.

"So are dresses," she pointed out, continuing repotting her plants. "And they're prettier, too."

"Considering I have to wear a dress all the time and that I'm in the comfort of my own home, I'm going to pretend you didn't just make me feel bad for wearing these."

She didn't say anything, but I could tell she wasn't happy. I didn't mind wearing dresses, but I would be lying if I said trousers weren't more comfortable. The only time I could wear them was at home when doing chores or simply lounging around. I'd make the most of it whilst I could, no matter what comments my mother made.

I wasn't afraid to get my hands dirty as I helped her repot the plants before digging into the soil and planting some seeds she'd bought this morning. My mother, despite adoring gardening, hated getting messy, so you can imagine the look on her face when I got soil all over my clothes.

"I wish you would act like a lady sometimes," she mumbled to herself, but I didn't let it faze me. It was all I heard, so I was used to it.

Laughter sounded from behind us and I risked glancing back, seeing Wanda laughing at something Y/B/N said. I rolled my eyes subconsciously before looking back to what I was doing. My fingernails dug into the soil with irritation, directed at them and also myself. Though, despite my irritation, I still had an urge to glance back at Wanda, and when I did she was looking my way this time. A mere glance on her part, but she directed a smile my way before looking to my brother again.

I'd like to say that was it, but I continued to steal glances of her as I worked alongside my mum, taking what I could get as I admired her from afar.

She looked stunning today, as she always did. Her long curls were left out, flowing over her shoulders and pretty green dress; I wasn't close enough to be able to tell, but I was sure that her dress complimented her eyes. A dark forest green colour with golden flecks, matching the deep green of her dress. Or so I assumed.

"They seem like they're getting on well," my mum said at one point, earning my attention. She was talking about Y/B/N and Wanda as she continued, "They make such a lovely couple."

I swallowed hard, nodding lamely. "They sure do, mum."

She gave me a sideways glance. "You know, your brother will be married soon and then it will be your turn."

I groaned quietly, knowing where this was going. There was no point trying to stop her because once she started, that was it.

"You can't just keep locking yourself in your room and writing stories," she was saying, but I attempted to tune her out which sometimes felt impossible since she had no off button and her shrill voice always managed to break through my bubble. "You have to find a husband. An actual person who you can marry and who can take care of you."

"I can take care of myself."

"Y/N, you know that's not what I mean..." but I stopped listening as she got started going on another ramble about the benefits of having a husband.

Instead, my eyes darted around the garden until they naturally gravitated towards Wanda. It was definitely the wrong time to get distracted by her though, since she seemed to be sucking some food off her thumb. As she did, her eyes found mine and she took that as her opportunity to wink in my direction playfully, hiding a smile as her thumb remained between her teeth. Y/B/N didn't seem to notice, as he was looking the other way, and I felt my cheeks heating up as I looked away quickly, remembering my dream.

She's going to marry your brother. She's going to marry your brother. She's going to marry your brother.

A stupid mantra that didn't work, but I attempted to drill it into my brain anyway.

"...and it would be nice to be able to do all the wedding stuff for you next time around," my mum continued to ramble, unaware of my flustered self.

The image of Wanda sucking her thumb was permanently engraved in my head and I struggled to wish it away. No more staring for today, I told myself, before getting lost in gardening again.

After ten more minutes of nonstop nattering about finding a husband for me, my mother excused herself to refill the watering can. I was grateful for her momentary absence, appreciating the silence and lack of guilt-tripping. Until I heard footsteps behind me shortly after, making me groan loudly.

"I'm not finding a husband right now!" I snapped, unable to take it any longer. But when I spun around to give her a piece of my mind, my mouth hung open like a fish out of water.

"I'd sure hope not," Wanda answered with a stifled laugh. "Then I'd have to share your company with somebody else."

Closing my mouth and standing up, I cleared my throat. "Sorry. I thought you were my mum."

She nodded, eyes roaming my whole body for a second, making me nervous under her stare. I hadn't actually seen her since my inappropriate dream and it was growing increasingly difficult to be so close to her without thinking about it.

"I figured. I just wanted to say hi," she said, expression softening as she met my eyes.

I was right about the dress bringing her eyes out more. A forest green colour, as I'd predicted.

"Hi," I said, giving her a small, nervous smile. "Erm, how is your date going?"

She shrugged, raising her hand to hold her forearm comfortably. "It's okay. It's wonderful out here, I'll give him that."

Relaxing into the conversation, my awkwardness fading already, I smiled in agreement. "Yeah, it is pretty."

A smirk appeared on her lips. "Yeah. So are the gardeners."

Admittedly, it took me a few seconds longer than it should have to realise she was talking about me. When I did, I felt a heat creeping up my neck and to my face and looked to the grass to distract myself. See, when she did stuff like that, it made me question a hell of a lot.

She chuckled. "So, gardening. Another dislike of yours?"

I shook my head, risking looking back up to her. "No, actually. I don't mind it. I'm just not a fan when it gives my mother an opportunity to discuss marriage."

Wanda's interested was piqued as she quirked a brow. "Oh? Your mother has suitors for you?"

I squeezed my eyes shut at the possibility, shaking my head. "I'd rather not ask, Wanda."

She let out a short laugh. "You've got time anyway. At least until Y/B/N and I are married."

I hoped she didn't see the involuntary wince I did at the mention of that. "Honestly, I'm not even thinking about that now... I'm nowhere near ready for that."

"Would you not want to get married?" she asked curiously, tilting her head to the side.

I sighed, looking around, unable to keep my eyes still. "I don't know, I guess? Eventually? But to somebody I love, not some arranged marriage just for the sake of it." My words sank in quite quickly and I straightened up, instantly looking to Wanda with apologetic eyes. "Bloody hell, that is not what I meant to say–"

"It's fine," she reassured me with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I get it. And, well, you're not wrong."

I smiled halfheartedly, the guilt at my previous words still present. I could honestly say that I wasn't aiming that comment at her, but I wouldn't blame her if she took it that way.

"It's important to fall in love with the person you marry," she said, gaze locked on mine. "You have to learn about them, who they are. Their likes, their dislikes. Their personality. If they have a sense of humour or if they're as dry as cardboard. If they're into you as much as you're into them."

Nodding slowly, I wasn't sure what to say. My mouth went dry the longer she watched me, eyes dancing with an emotion I couldn't recognise. Then her eyes fell to my lips and my knees began to shake subtly, wanting to give in because of how confused I was.

"Y/N, dear, don't dirty Wanda's dress with your muddy hands!" my mum called, breaking the strange silence that had built between the brunette and I.

Stepping back with realisation (and grateful for the interruption), I wiped my hands on my shirt subconsciously, making a further mess of my already mud-stained clothes. "Sorry."

When I looked up, Wanda was chewing on her lip, eyes doing a once over on me yet again. It was moments like this when I couldn't tell if she was teasing me or if she actually had an interest in me, maybe, like that.

"Wanda, honey, let's get you inside," my mum spoke, approaching the two of us and looking to her.

Nodding, Wanda glanced at me once more, shooting me a sweet smile, before being led away by my mum. I breathed out slowly, knowing it was wrong of me to feel this way about her. But it was hard not to fall for her when she had so much about her that was interesting.

Her passion for art, her teasing, playful attitude, her sense of humour... and then there were the physical aspects, like her beaming smile, her luxuriant brown hair and her entrancing hazel eyes. She was literally perfect and my brother was one lucky man. For once in my life, I was actually jealous of something he had that I didn't.

"Y/N!"

Speaking of the devil...

"Y/B/N, hey," I said with a smile as he approached me with an extra jump in his step. "What's up?"

Grin on his lips, he smacked my arm. "Did you see, Wanda? Didn't she look stunning?"

The guilt was cutting real deep. "She did."

"I think I'm in love," he gushed, eyes rolling backwards with delight. "She's perfect, Y/N, you don't get it."

"I can imagine...," I mumbled, but he barely noticed, too lovestruck to realise.

"Every date I've been on with her has been amazing," he continued. "If we weren't already engaged, I would've proposed!"

I raised my eyebrows with surprise, definitely not expecting this. He'd made his attraction to her known since the moment we'd met her, constantly talking about how gorgeous she was, but he'd never sounded happier than he did now.

"Mum adores her," he said with a content smile. "Dad would probably marry her if we was thirty years younger. And you–" He looked to me gratefully. "You're making an effort and I appreciate it."

Oh, God, the guilt was overwhelming.

"Everything is going perfectly," he finished with a sigh. "I just– I can't wait to marry her, Y/N."

I smiled for his sake, but my insides were shrivelling up and failing me. I was a horrible person, wasn't I? What kind of monster falls for her brother's fiancé? Me. I'm the monster. But not anymore. I couldn't let this get out of hand. I had to do better.

I promised myself I'd do better.

—

Doing better was going well, I'd like to think. I mean, it had only been two weeks, so I couldn't guarantee, but I was no longer having... thoughts... about the Maximoff in question.

Yes, there was that familiar inkling of jealousy tugging away in my stomach whenever Y/B/N would talk about her, but I think I was getting better at ignoring it. I had convinced myself that my feelings towards Wanda were not true but merely a schoolgirl crush (which I wasn't allowed to have, but still) and that I'd get over it after some time.

I'd liked, maybe two girls in my life before her. The first being when I was a child, about five, and a girl in my class did something different to her hair. If I remember correctly, she always had one ponytail that sat at the back of her neck, then one day, she came in with two braids down her head and it really wasn't a massive change, but five year old me developed a huge crush on her. That was when I learnt that a girl liking a girl was not only forbidden, but viewed as a sin.

The second girl I liked was in my Literature class in secondary school. She was probably the first person I'd fallen for in a way that was considered more than a simple crush. Something about her way with words was so attractive to me, as was the cute smile she'd send my way whenever she'd be my partner for an assignment. I never told her how I felt for she only ever treated me as a friend and the last thing I wanted was to bring shame to my family for liking girls.

Those instances, and the fact that I regularly found myself admiring women in a way I found incapable with men, made me realise I was different and I always would be. And so, the chatter about finding a husband and getting married always scared me because I was afraid that I'd be stuck in a place that I would never get to be myself in. Even though that was the reality of most women anyway.

So, in addition to the fact that it was wrong of me to like women (though it felt anything but) and that the woman I liked now was my brother's fiancé, I convinced myself it was just a mere crush I had on Wanda. She was a pretty girl with an attractive personality and that was it.

Or so I thought.

"Go get your brother, Y/N," my mum said one evening. "He's in his study. Dinner is almost ready."

I nodded and headed to my brother's study across the hall. He was sat at his desk, focusing on something specific that he was writing and barely acknowledging my presence. I glanced around the room, taking in the bookshelves filled with manuscripts, both published and unpublished, and notebooks of ideas piled on desks.

I wasn't jealous of this place, I really wasn't. And I wasn't jealous of my brother either, even when he got credit for things I'd written. I was just angry and hurt that I couldn't have the some privileges he got, such as his own personal study to write whatever he pleased.

"Dinner's almost ready," I called to him from the doorway. "C'mon."

He didn't turn around as he answered, "I'll be with you, one second."

Curious to what had captured his attention, I pushed myself from the doorway and approached his desk. He had a lamp turned on, the yellow light lighting the page he was scribbling on. I peeked over his shoulder and saw him pause from writing, stuck in thought. It gave me the chance to read some words and I tried not to laugh.

"Oh my god, is that a love letter?"

Surprised at my presence, he covered the page with his elbows and leaned on them, looking to me with red cheeks.

"What? No, that's... no," he stumbled out, shaking his head.

Stifled smile on my lips, I looked to him with humoured eyes. "You have to let me read it."

He shook his head frantically, trying to play it cool. "I don't think I can do that."

Well, now I was really curious.

"C'mon, I've read pretty much everything you've ever written," I told him, perching myself on the edge of his desk. "Just a little read and I'll drop it."

Pondering my words, he slowly began to straighten up, uncovering the page. With a sigh of submission, he nodded to it, wordlessly giving me permission to look. I grinned, grabbing the page and holding it to the light so I could read it.

It was mostly ramblings – unfinished sentences, phrases, clauses – but it was all about a certain someone, a love letter as I predicted. It talked about this person's body and lips and humour and fingers and because I was so caught up in teasing my brother, I failed to realise that I was reading about Wanda. At least until it mentioned her accent.

My smile faded when I saw the way he wrote about her, with such passion and ferocity and– he was seriously in love with her. And it may or may not have stung a little because everything he'd written was accurate and I felt the same way. Well, not the in love bit, but pretty much everything else.

"So? Is it bad?" he asked nervously, and I lowered the page to see he was waiting for a verdict. "It's messy, I know. I was just journaling and then it kind of happened."

"It's sweet," I told him truthfully, offering him a reassuring smile.

His shoulders relaxed as I put the page back on the desk before him. "Thank you, Y/N." He paused, before glancing up at me sheepishly. "Now that you're here, you may as well tell me if there's anything I can do to improve."

I raised my eyebrows. "Why? Are you planning on giving this to her?"

He shook his head instantly. "No, oh God, no. That would be severely humiliating. I just thought you could help me for me. You always make my writing better."

I snickered, shaking my head with amusement. Behind the scenes was where I thrived apparently.

"Quickly," I told him as he held out the paper to me. "Mum is waiting for us."

He nodded obediently and I took the paper from his grasp, getting another look at it. Skimming it with my eyes yet again, I found the first criticism and pointed to it so he could see.

"This bit here," I said gently. "You talk about her eyes and say they're magnetic."

"Is that not good?" he asked with a frown.

"It is, it is," I said politely, not wanting to offend him. "But that's all you've written. You want to give the reader a reason to believe you. Why are they magnetic? What about them do you find yourself attracted to?"

He nodded, seeming to get it. Leaning back in his seat, he had a think. I waited patiently, curious to what he would come up with, but then he sighed defeatedly and looked to me.

"What would you write?" he asked, and I smiled with disbelief. It always ended up like this. Me helping him, challenging him with a thought, then him ending up using what I say.

"Okay, let me think," I said, crossing my arms and staring ahead. "Wanda's eyes."

"Here," Y/B/N said, making a gesture to placing something invisible on my head. When I quirked a brow of confusion, he added, "It's your thinking cap."

I rolled my eyes but laughed quietly at his stupidity, then tried to think about what to describe Wanda's eyes as.

It wasn't difficult to imagine them despite having not seen them in a few days. They were always bright, animated, lively. Whether it was green, blue or brown, they were irresistible and as my brother wrote, they were magnetic.

I breathed out, speaking from the heart without thinking. "When Wanda Maximoff looks into your eyes it's like she holds all of the elements in a single gaze. At times, they're greener than the earth itself, captivating and tranquil and daring you to look away. But then they're also bluer than the brightest of skies and darkest of oceans, deep and and liberating and easy for you to get swallowed up in."

A smile fell on my lips at the thought. She truly was something.

I continued slowly, "In the light, you can make out golden flecks, like the first sliver of the sun in Spring. It's hopeful and guiding and fills you with warmth. But what isn't obvious upon first glance is how tempestuous they are, like air itself. She's got a passion behind her eyes that is scary at first, but when you get to know her, you realise that it's a storm worth raging."

It went quiet when I finished and I zoned back into reality, Wanda's eyes blinking away from my mind in an instant. I pursed my lips and looked to Y/B/N with mild concern, realising just how much I'd rambled. He raised his eyebrows with surprise, staring at me.

"Y/N, that was amazing! How did you think of that?" he asked in bewilderment.

I shrugged, feeling my face heat up with embarrassment. "I don't know. I just thought about a random set of hazel eyes and applied my thoughts to it."

He smiled, impressed. "Amazing. I love it."

Grabbing a pen, he began to write furiously on the page and I stood up, dusting myself off.

"You sure that's not going to her?" I asked, still feeling fuzzy from what I'd said and hoping she'd never see it.

"Very sure," he promised, not looking up. "It's just for me."

I studied him judgementally. "Okay, well, maybe get rid of that part about her breasts then. It's a little creepy."

He looked up to me with a boyish grin. "I'm only a man, Y/N. Can you blame me?"

I rolled my eyes, shuddering at what he was implying. The mere implication of a thought of him and Wanda... nope, I didn't want to go there.

"I'll see you at dinner," I said, pointing a thumb over my shoulder. "Try to hurry, yeah?"

"Yes, I'll be right with you," he assured me, his hand moving in a flurry as he wrote. "Just writing what you said so I don't forget. Could be good for a future book, who knows?"

I forced a smile, humming in agreement. "Right. Well, I'll see you at the table."

He nodded and I left his room, letting out a deep breath. Just another day in the Y/L/N household.

—

Popping into town for errands was surprisingly not a task I found boring. If anything, I preferred it, using it as a chance to get away from my mother's incessant marriage-related conversations and my father's constant praising for anything Y/B/N did. Nowadays, it was also a way to escape anything wedding-related, which was a plus.

This time, I was only nipping out to return a book to the library, but my mum caught me before leaving and asked me to deliver some letters to the post office since I was already heading that way. Happy to prolong this outing as much as possible, I accepted the errand and headed to the post office after returning my book.

When I was there, an advertisement caught my eye. A chalkboard outside the store displayed a deal the train station were doing. I probably would have ignored it if it weren't for the mention of Blackpool.

2 FOR 1 ON BLACKPOOL TRAIN TICKETS THIS WEEKEND

Remembering my conversation with Wanda, I realised I hadn't actually followed up with her on my promise of taking her there to paint. She probably didn't even remember, since it was a while ago when we spoke of it, but the idea of going there with her made me excited. Was it stupid to get the tickets? Probably. But did I go inside and get them? Of course.

It was only when I got home did I realise how silly it was. Would she even want to go? What if she made an excuse to get out of it? Oh, this whole thing was stupid. I was overthinking it. Friends went on day trips all the time, it's wasn't a big deal.

To my surprise, when I poked my head into the living room to tell my mum I'd posted her letters, Wanda was sat on the couch with her. They were drinking some tea and having scones, chatting away. I'd called my mum before noticing, so when they looked my way, I clumsily entered and straightened up to make myself look presentable.

"Sorry, I didn't know you had company," I apologised with an awkward smile, eyes flickering to a smiling Wanda before looking to my mum. "I just wanted to let you know that I dropped the letters off by the post office."

"Perfect, Y/N, thank you," she said in response, before looking to the setup before her. "You can join us if you'd like."

I was quick to smile gratefully, though shook my head. "It's okay, you guys enjoy. I'll just be in my room if you need me."

My mum shrugged, sipping her tea, and Wanda watched me with a small smile, nodding in greeting, before looking away. I licked my lips uncomfortably before backing out the room and heading upstairs.

I was working on yet another manuscript that wouldn't see the light of day at my desk when I heard a knock on my door about an hour later.

"Come in!" I called, not looking up.

The door opened and I finished my train of thought before turning around, surprised to see Wanda walking into my room.

"Oh, hi," I got out suddenly, words falling from my mouth without me thinking first.

She smiled softly, stopping before me. "Hey. I'm heading home now, but I just wanted to say goodbye."

I stared at her, forgetting how to speak because she was wearing a lovely floral dress that complimented her figure perfectly.

"Oh, and I thought you might like these," she added before forgetting, then held out a box towards me.

Recovering from my initial stupor, I reached out and accepted the box, realising they were chocolates.

"I got them for your mum, but she said she's not a fan of hazelnut," she explained, and I looked up to see her looking elsewhere with a nervous smile on her lips. "You don't have to have them of course. I can just... eat them myself."

An amused smile tugged at my lips as I quirked a brow. "You'd eat them all yourself?"

She was very much aware of how silly she sounded, but she was adamant on appearing confident, so she nodded with certainty. "Yes... apparently I would."

Lighthearted laughter escaped my lips as I set the box to the side. She was trying to stand her ground, but then she sighed and began to laugh, too. My heart fluttered in my chest at the sound and I appreciated the crinkle by her eyes when her smile widened.

"Thank you," I said, settling on a smile as I watched her with amusement.

She nodded, smile of her own still present, before pointing behind her. "I'll, erm, go now."

When she turned to leave, I felt inclined to say, "Wait!"

She paused, turning around patiently, and I knew there was no going back now. Standing up, I grabbed my purse from the side and pulled out the train tickets.

"When I was out today, I saw that the train station were doing this deal on tickets to Blackpool," I started, hoping she couldn't see my hands trembling slightly. "And I remembered that I promised to take you so you could see the water." I closed my eyes, praying that this wouldn't be a mistake, before opening them and looking to Wanda. "We can go, if you'd still like to." 

She raised her eyebrows, eyes glued to the tickets in my hand. No words were being said and my heart thumped in my chest with the realisation that I may have done something insanely stupid. Before I could even think to apologise, a grin spread across her face and her dazzling blue eyes met mine, freezing me in place.

"Are you serious? Y/N, I'd love to!" she exclaimed, then proceeded to launch herself onto me, arms wrapping tightly around my neck.

I gulped as she did, not expecting that reaction, but returned the hug by folding my arms around her waist loosely. She smelt really good, which was probably wrong of me to note, and I enjoyed the feeling of her so close to me, also wrong of me to note.

"Okay, well, the tickets are for this weekend," I said, desperately trying not to stammer when she pulled away. "I can meet you at the station in the morning. Eight."

Her eyes danced with excitement as she accepted the ticket I held out to her. I reminded myself that this was just a friendly day trip and nothing more.

"Eight," she confirmed, attempting to stifle her eagerness by biting her lip and nodding.

I swallowed hard, trying ever-so-hard not to let my gaze drop to her lips. Because then I'd think about kissing her and that was definitely not what I should be thinking about my soon-to-be sister-in-law.

Oh, God, I was screwed.

[ramp-it-up]

Scene Stealer

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Minors DNI, a little angst, some language, a smidge of jealousy, but mostly just fluff! No smut! 😃 All errors my own.

A/N: This an ask from @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs for the Show Runner AU.  I really love these two. Hope you enjoy, Loves! 💚

Read the previous part, Sundancer .

Hi lovely! Idk if your still doing requests right now? If you are can I have a fluffy/soft-ish moment between Rafa and reader? In the Showrunner AU and reader is actively filming a scene and Rafa's being difficult, lol

Your relationship was the talk of the town, especially since you accompanied Rafael on the red carpet of his latest win; it also happened to be your first nomination.

Ever since you went public, you were content with being ‘partners.’ You, especially, said there was no need for anything more. You didn’t want to tie Rafael to you, because you didn’t own him. 

Art was the most important thing, not a conflict diamond and a piece of paper.

Rafael quickly agreed. After all, it had been his manifesto. You two had a perfect understanding. Until you got this role. 

This gig required you to dance, and you hadn’t used your classical training in a while. You were nervous as hell.

“Who does music videos with this big a budget any more?”

You just rolled your eyes as Rafa as he delivered the shade. He would never outright say that he didn’t want you to do it; he always supported you, but you could tell it bothered him.

There was a slight tension in the air in the days leading up to filming, but you both pretended nothing was up. You were busy with rehearsal, so you brushed the thoughts of this shift in your relationship aside.

Maybe he was a little tight because you told him that the singer could definitely get it during a cast party before you two were a thing. Except in Rafael’s mind. 

Rafa had taken mental notes on everything about you, and this one he didn’t forget. But, he loved you, and he was going to ride for you.  Right?

----------------

On the day of the shoot, Rafa pulled up to the studio at about 1:30. He agreed to meet you there when you invited him for moral support.  You’d been there since 11 am.

He shook his head to himself as he was shown to your dressing room, lamenting the fact that he didn’t bring Diggs, because he would be the one needing moral support today.

Rafael knocked on the door and heard you say, "Come in!"

He walked in and saw you in a big, poofy, but short wedding dress. A more elaborate ballet tutu, but still definitely a wedding dress. Rafael was thrown for a loop, so he just stood there, taking you in.  He felt like he was breaking a rule, looking at you in this dress.

You looked absolutely amazing.

The make up artist was working on you, but you turned around and grinned when you saw him in the mirror.

Rafa felt like he needed to sit down. 

"What do you think?"

Rafael actually couldn't think. He looked down and noticed that you had your pointe shoes on. They matched your skin tone perfectly and extended your lovely legs. 

He began to feel warm, a heat which began in his chest and radiated throughout his entire torso. But he was a thug.  He tried to express it.

"You look beautiful...." 

His throat was dry. What the fuck was wrong with him?

To you, Rafa looked a bit like a fish, his mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out.

"What?" You cocked your head at him.

Rafa recovered and moved toward you. ‘Keep your cool,’ he thought.

You  shrugged at him, turned back around to the mirror, and continued. 

"I would never actually wear anything like this. It's too poofy and big. Too princess-y. Not my style." You grimaced.

"You look beautiful." It finally came out.

Rafael smiled, feeling an overwhelming desire to kiss you. The makeup artist exited and Rafa was left staring at you in the mirror again. You were a vision. 

He cleared his throat, deciding to lighten the mood.

"Can I climb under that dress and do what I want to do?"

You threw your head back and laughed. Once again, Rafael was caught in your spell.

"I'm working babe, but we can arrange something later..."

‘Whatever you say, my love,’ Rafael thought. 

But what he said was, "Cool."

--------

When filming started, Rafael stood out of the way behind the camera to watch. It was a church scene and apparently what you had to do was dance down the aisle to the altar for the wedding scene.

You were lowkey checking for Rafa, and everytime you looked over, he was glowering at you, the set up, or back seat directing. You could read him like a book, and he was not amused or positive about this.

That only made you more tense and out of the zone. You began to regret inviting him.  What was his problem? Was he jealous? He was being an ass, and you were going to tell him about himself later.

You ignored him as you stretched to get ready for another take. You were not going to let him ruin this for you.

---------

Rafael saw you and melted. He watched, mesmerized, as you danced toward the star of the video. Rafael’s heart clenched when you reached them and kissed them lightly on the lips. 

It happened at least six times for the different takes and angles, and Rafa had visions of dragging you away from there, but he remained calm.

Rafael had no idea that his emotions were so loud. All pretense, all acting skills, all professionalism went out of the window the moment he saw you in that wedding dress.  

He just did not think this production was up to the standard of you. And he caught on to the interactions between you and the star of the video between takes. It was not cool

You  ran through a couple more takes and finally it was time for the last scene, the love scene.

You were whisked back into your dressing room for a wardrobe change. Rafa paced up and down in the hallway to calm himself down. After a few minutes he thought it worked.

Until you came back out.

You were in the sexiest black nightgown he'd ever seen. And those heels. You looked hot as fuck. But when he looked into your eyes, it was clear that you were terrified. 

"Rafa, I don't think I can do this. I'm not feeling it…” Nerves were getting to you. 

“They are sooo not like I thought they were. They're kind of…. There’s no chemistry. And I’m a hack actor if I can’t do this…”  You bowed your head, ashamed.

Rafa hooked his fingers under your chin and brought your head up. He looked at you sternly. He was angry. But not at you.

“Energy up. Expectations down.” 

You tried to respond with a brave smile, but you were really about to burst into tears. Rafael grabbed your hand and pulled you back into your dressing room. He made sure to lock the door.

You thought you knew what he wanted.

“Rafa, we don’t have time for that, I…”

“C’mere.”  

Rafael hushed you and grabbed your hand, pulling you into his embrace. His large hand was on your lower back, and he held your other to his chest, beginning a slow dance to music only he could hear.  

You looked up at him quizzically and raised your eyebrow.

“Rafa, what…”

“I know that we talked about not seeing the need for marriage in this crazy world, and that we are married to our art, but take a little mind excursion with me…”

You fell into rhythm with him as he began to whisper-sing “Hideaway.” 

…See you’ve had the wrong plan

been sipping the wrong wine

Ay ay… let me put you on my vibe.

“Imagine we’re dancing at our wedding…”

You snapped your head up and looked in his emerald eyes. They twinkled down at you.

“I said, ‘imagine.’ This is just an exercise.”

“I would write a new song just for you and sing it while we’re dancing and get you wet for me but make you wait until after we party all night with our friends to get some.”

He smiled down at you and you were with it, getting into the fantasy. You swayed with him a little longer and smiled back up at him. Rafael’s stomach flipped.

So of course he twirled you away from him and back into his arms. His hand moved down your back to your ass.

“Seeing you in this would be the perfect wedding present. Imagine me waiting on you, not wanting to wait any more to touch you, taste you. Make you a mama.”

You stopped and stared at Rafael.

“….That’s quite the imagination you have there…”

Rafa stared back at you. “I am a creator. I create wild musings.” He turned you around to face the mirror. 

“Use it.” 

He put his hands in your satin covered hips. 

“Pretend you’re a woman who would want that. Marriage. A husband who would cherish you and try to make you happy.” 

Rafael bent down to hug you from behind, pressing his cheek aside yours.

You gazed at your reflections in the mirror. In that moment at least, you were that woman.

Rafael kissed your neck. You closed your eyes and you felt it before you opened them, but when you did, he had stepped away.

“Now go out there and pretend that person is what that woman wants.” Rafael looked at you in that way one more time before he cleared his throat and looked down.

You straightened up and walked toward the door. 

“Thanks for the fantasy, Cash.” You looked back at him.

Rafa winked at you. “Anytime.”

——-

Three hours later, after you’d killed the scene and production had wrapped, Rafa waited for you in the parking lot, smoking and dialing Diggs on the phone.

“Whattup. D. I need you to talk me out of buying a rock.”

--------

Tag List:

@braidedchallah @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @lonelydance @jbrizzywrites @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @anh1020 @sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri @theselilwonders @biafbunny @summerofsnowflakes @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @janthonybitch

[remscorner]

Sebastian x Gotoran!Reader 3 (SFW)

Contains: reconciliation, slight fluff, Sam is still salty, Y/n is a dick but she's honest, Sebastian is awkward asf, Fem!Reader

part one, part two, 3

Spring 24 // the flower dance

Instead of going to the dance, Y/n had spent her day roughing it out in the mines, slaying all kinds of monsters and picking up new materials and ores.

She didn't wanna wear a dress, nor did she want to dance.

At least the dresses she ever wore in the past weren't so poorly designed.

Though she especially didn't wanna see Sebastian after abruptly lashing out on him and calling him a dick.

Even if she had gone, there would've probably been a lot of stares and whispers crowded around her.

Like at the egg festival...

Y/n had enough of hearing others complaints and worries.

The words were implanted in her brain, rotting in her own core.

It wasn't like they didn't impact her well being..

'What if she drops a bomb right here?'

'Careful, Jas! Stay away from her..'

'That girls dangerous Vincent, she's the reason your father is gone'

Y/n gave out a sigh, remembering the harsh words that were cruelly shoved into her system.

Maybe staying in the Gotoro Empire was a better idea...

"Oh my Yoba, what am I thinking? I'm not staying for a stupid arranged marriage" Y/n scoffed quietly, she hit herself in the head with her palm before standing up with a groan.

"Especially with some dumb pretty boy soldier.." ___

After getting out the mines, Y/n had gone to the secret woods and fished around Marniesbefore going deeper into the forests.

There was a faint melody playing around the woods and Y/n swung to the tune.

She had to admit, she was always a sucker for a good slow dance song.

She could barely make out the voice of Sam, singing with the music through a loud mic.

Though Y/n could tell the boy was holding back and it really irritated her considering she herself had gone through a band period with some of her old friends.

Having enough with the blondes painfully held back singing, Y/n, frustrated, quickly trudged towards the area of the dance.

Eyes followed her direction as the town watched her smoothly climb over the fence and towards the trio who had just finished performing.

There were cherry blossom petals in her hair and bandages covered her injured body from the harsh monsters hidden in the mines.

The blossoms really took her back to her home.

How the first thing she'd see in the spring morning of her apartment was the cherry blossoms blooming right outside her window.

It made her feel a bit home sick...

Sam stared at her with shock and concern.

What did she want?

He raised an eyebrow at her and she let out a grunt, pulling him by his tie to the corner of the  clearing.

"W-what-"

"Your singing is terrible, it was out of pitch"

Sam was disheartened at her stingy remark.

"I'd like to see you try?" Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes at her.

Yoba did Y/n make him act different.

Y/n scoffed lightly, she was actually lead singer in her old band...

"I mean the way your holding back makes it terrible and out of pitched, if you keep your voice quiet the way you do, the music will overtake the actual lyrics, not that the lyrics don't do a play in your terrible singing..." she let go of his tie and looked towards the trees, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

"What do you know about lyrics?" Sam gritted through his teeth, he was done with her bull and everyone knew it.

She knew everything about lyrics...

"You look great in that shirt, I said to you on a Thursday" Y/n sang to the words Sam had sung just prior to their tiny conversation.

He cringed and covered her mouth.

"Ok, I get it but for real, what would you even know about music? What gives you the right to judge me?"

Y/n could feel herself grow arrogant over his words, she could blow up and tell him about her old band right then..

But then she wouldn't wanna explain the whole backstory to why they broke up.

"Sam, just trust me, even if the lyrics are terrible at least make an effort and stop being such a pussy, do whatever you wanna do, scream if you have to but just have fun with it or you'll never get anywhere"

His brows furrowed angrily, he knew she was right.

He knew it since the very beginning.

Sam nodded, Y/n nodding back before staring over at Sebastian and Abby who were glaring daggers straight at her.

She nodded to them and Sebastians eyes softened with hers.

Just before Seb had the chance to speak up,

Y/n was hopping over the fence back into the forest.

Without a second left to waste, Sebastian made the rash decision to go after her.

"Y/n!" He yelled out after he climbing over the fence carefully, he had no idea where she could've run off to in such a short amount of time.

Before he knew it, Sebastian had been standing beneath a larger tree in the middle of a clearing.

It was deep into the forest and he'd been near the mountains right about now.

"Looking for me?" The familiar voice uttered from the tree.

Sebastian looked up to see Y/n, comfortably laid down on a large branch, her sun hat hanging on a small twig below her.

She eyed him up and down before staring straight into his eyes with what felt like anger to Sebastian.

"Uh.. I wanted to talk" he said awkwardly, his fingers twitching at the tense energy fuming from Y/n's body.

"What about?" Y/n pushed, she swiftly hung her legs from the branch, hanging upside down with her eyes closed.

She could feel the blood flow to her head in the following, even if it'd given her a headache, it was a bit comforting to know she was alive with the feel of pain.

Sebastian slowly walked to the tree and sat down at the stump, beside Y/n as he occasionally glanced over at her.

Staring deeply into the dangling locks of hair falling almost perfectly beside him.

"I uh.. I'm sorry for.. you know, being a dick... I didn't mean to make you feel like where you came from matters or anything like that, and I know it may seem like it but I'm not doing this out of fear ok?"

Sebastians anxieties grew along side the silence that followed his confession.

It'd been at least a minute before Y/n finally let out a sigh.

He watched as she climbed down, sitting next to him.

She'd left a fair amount of space in between them where her sun hat now sat.

"So.." Sebastian muttered.

They both stared down at the grass

Y/n picked up a lone daisy growing from beneath the tree stump and placed it in the pocket of Sebastians blue suit pocket.

The colour didn't suit him at all...

___

Sebastian walked back to the festival by himself, Y/n was gone by the time he had anything to say about the flower.

He sighed, staring at the white petals as he twirled it by the stem.

Sebastian was allergic to flowers.

He took it, despite the consequences he'd have later on.

It seemed to tell him that he'd been forgiven.

It was comforting.

His cheeks warmed at the thought of having something other than of his own room to feel comfortable with.

It was strange, unsettling even.

Sebastian never cared for things like plants, so why was the thing so damn important to him?

[penwieldingdreamer]

Dante's Prayer - Chapter 2

Another chapter for you guys, thank you so much for the likes and reblogs. Thanks to @fortheloveoffanfic for betaing again. Enjoy and let me know what you think.

Warnings: none

Words: 1582

Chapter 2

Amalie sat next to the vanity, watching the maid style her sister's hair. She had seen Mister Shelby, accompanied by his brother and Johnny Dogs, a friend of the family, and could already find the truth in the rumors spread about him. His eyes as cold and deep as the Atlantic in Winter and not even his smile could give them warmth. "Are you excited for the ball? Mother went all out, even a few cousins from Austria came to attend, móraí can't wait to meet the Shelbys."

"Do I really have to go? You know I hate balls and dancing." Saoirse whined, grunting as Doris pulled a curl too hard before she answered instead of the sister.

"Your mother wants you to meet your husband, miss, it won't do you good if you don't attend. Besides, I heard Mister Shelby is very handsome."

Snorting, the youngest of three heavily leaned her head on her hand, not sure what to think about all that swooning the two women were doing. "If you like him so much, why don't you marry him, Doris. I bet he wouldn't mind as long as he's had someone to warm his bed and take care of things he doesn't want to do."

"Now don't be that way, little sister." Amalie admonished, taking the pearl necklace their grandmother had given to Saoirse on her eighteenth birthday. "Who said anything about you warming his bed? That's what mistresses are for."

The comment was supposed to be in jest, yet it stirred doubt in the youngest daughter's heart. What if her husband would take another to bed? She despised the fact that she'd have to marry Mister Shelby, but she'd hate it even more would he take a mistress. Nothing was a worse fate in her mind than to shrivel away in a loveless marriage where both partners would do no more than sit across from each other and never utter a word.

"I do hope you were only joking, my dear." their mother's voice sounded sternly from the door to Saoirse's room. Her blonde tresses were swept back into soft finger waves framing her face and the small tiara their father gifted her, pinned to the top of her head. "The guests are waiting and you still aren't dressed for the ball."

Sighing, Helene motioned for Doris to fetch Saoirse's dress, while the lady of the house finished her hair and laid the pearl necklace around her neck. "Everything will be going smoothly and you'll see, you'll have something in common by the end of the night."

"What? That we both are forced to marry each other?" The youngest daughter turned to face her mother, feeling the anger rise again underneath her skin.

"You know your father and I are only looking out for you." Helene tried to reason with her daughter, her delicate hands tightly holding onto her shoulders. "I want you to be safe and if I have to marry you off to a man who can ensure that, then I will."

Clasping her own hand around her mother's, Saoirse let out a soft sigh. "I know, I'm sorry. The thought of having to live with a man I don't know and who doesn't know me made me anxious, I didn't want to upset you, mother."

Their eyes met in the mirror and even Amalie smiled at her mother and sister. Helene leaned down and laid a soft kiss on Saoirse's rose colored cheek. "You'll always have a home here, you know that. If Mister Shelby dares to only once lay a hand on you, I will have Johnny bring you back here and he will wish to have never been born."

"Thank you, mother." the youngest of three squeezed the hand on her shoulder, giving it a light kiss on the slightly wrinkled yet still soft skin.

"You're welcome, luv, but now get dressed before the guests think you ran away." Winking at her two daughters, the lady of the house left the room.

Amalie grinned at her sister, leaning back on her seat next to the vanity. "Well, I do hope that Mister Shelby will behave, it would be a shame to see his handsome face get scarred."

"I wouldn't know." Saoirse shrugged with a smile playing on her lips as she changed into her dress, the red silk and taffeta fabrics only slightly framing her body, keeping most of her curves hidden but giving the eye enough to be interested. "I haven't looked at the picture mother gave me. I didn't want to know the man that might ruin my life and freedom."

With a shake of her head, the oldest of three stood from her seat and helped her sister with the buttons on the back of her dress while Doris busied herself with taking the shift from the chair and cleaning up the slight mess around the room. “Well, little sister, you’re definitely missing out.”

"Miss, may I present the Shelby family from Birmingham." the butler told Saoirse, giving her a little bow as she saw the two men staring at her, no smile on their lips. Just their hard, cold eyes, as blue as the stormy Atlantic sea.

Snorting, Saoirse sent her a grin and they left her room with their arms linked, their heels clicking on the marble floor as they made their way to the ballroom of the estate.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, she moved forward with her hand held out in greeting, all the while feeling the scrutinizing gaze of the older woman behind them on herself. "Mister Shelby, it is a pleasure to meet you. I do hope that I will fit your expectations, considering we are to be we'd in a few weeks from now."

Snorting sounded from beside her and Saoirse wasn't sure if she had said something false. The Shelby brother in front of her gaped at her, mouth opening and closing, like a fish out of water and his eyes wide eyed and filled with uncertainty. "I do not believe this is a laughing matter, Mister Shelby, so please enlighten me."

"Forgive me, but it seems you 'aven't been informed well enough." he stated, a smirk playing along his lips, yet his eyes held no warmth, even with the mirth coloring his words. "It’s my brother Arthur you've been greetin' not me, Thomas, that you're supposed to marry."

She blushed the darkest shade of crimson as she remembered the conversation she had with her mother. It was the same day her parents had agreed to marry her off to Thomas Shelby and they had told her about the man, but stubborn as she was, Saoirse had run away, not wanting to see or hear anymore of the business man and gang leader from Birmingham. And now looking back at the smirking man, Saoirse felt the anger boil in the pit of her stomach. How dare he mock her for that honest mistake? If this was the way her married life with him was going to be, she'd stop it right there. If only she could slap that smirk from his face, granting her satisfaction for being the prick of a businessman that he was.

"Well, if you'll excuse me, Mister Thomas Shelby, there are other guests I have to greet." she ground out between clenched teeth and left the three Shelbys in the ballroom, Polly glaring daggers at her nephew. On the way out she ran into Niamh, one of their maids, hurrying out of sight with a haunted look. "Are you alright?"

"I'm so sorry, Miss," she mumbled hastily looking over Saoirse's left shoulder to where the Shelbys were still rooted to the spot but Arthur was watching the redhead closely, his eyes furrowed in confusion. "I-I forgot something, yes, something in the kitchen."

Taking a hold of her arm, the younger woman led the maid away from the party, the eldest Shelby brother hot on their heels while Saoirse asked herself why she was afraid of the man. "Has he hurt you, Niamh? Taken you against your will?"

"Nothing of the sort, Miss." She shook her head, her red waves bouncing with the motion. "I was stupid and in love."

Furrowing her brows, the youngest daughter of the Duke stopped them both behind a corner. "Then why wouldn't you want to talk to him? It could be your chance."

Niamh's eyes glazed over with unshed tears, thinking back to the day he said his vows and sealed it with a kiss. "It's too late for that. I wanted so badly to tell him that" but she broke off, shaking her head.

"What? That you love him?" Saoirse inquired, putting her hand on the maids arm, hoping to get a real answer out of her.

"No, at least not just that." she started, brushing away a stray tear that had escaped. "I wanted to tell him that I was with child, but he married another. Arthur is Jack's father." The little boy had been coming to the stables often enough, trailing after Owen who took care of the horses.

"What?!" the deep timbre of a voice pulled them out of their conversation and both women turned to look at the man that had caught up to them, blue eyes blazing like the stormy sea as he strode towards Niamh.

Arthur Shelby had been a father long before Linda told him about the child growing in her belly.

tagging:

@fortheloveoffanfic @fics-not-tragedies

[elizabeth-baelish]

Partner in Crime

Part 1/?

Pairing: Petyr Baelish X Reader

Word count: 1738

Warnings: none

Synopsis: With the help of the Vale, the North falls back to the remaining Starks. Petyr and you, his partner in crime move to Winterfell and is about to manipulate everyone to finally achieve your goals, the Iron Throne.

Aidan Gillen Week 2020: Sat, Oct 31 (Halloween)

I was thinking of writing a Petyr fic for a pretty long time now and this week was quite handy 😅 so this is my first fic with him, I hope it's okay!

∆

Blood. Blood and dead bodies everywhere. You were walking above the fallen soldiers at the field after the end of the Battle of the Bastards. John killed Ramsay and the rest surrendered, the wolf flags took the places of the previous ones.

A huge amount of men died: knights of the Vale, soldiers from both House Stark and the Boltons. The flies were already resting on the wounds making them smell. You flinched but then jump when you felt a hand on your ankle.

"Please, hel-." He couldn't finish his sentence since you stabbed him with your sword. You gasped for air and cursed when you saw it was a knight from the Vale. Luckily, no one noticed or thought it was the enemy. Either way you helped him after you glanced at his wounds. No one could've helped.

You didn't take part in the battle since Petyr didn't let you although you were his personal body guard. The game he was playing was dangerous and if he or you didn't pay attention for a moment, he would be dead. Lord Baelish and you met in Kings Landing during a ball. You were lucky to born in a wealthy family, but you didn't feel like that. You didn't want to marry and have children, instead you wanted to do something important and useful. At the event, you were watching the dancing couples from the side when Petyr offered his hand which you accepted happily. After the dance, you were walking in the gardens while you told him about yourself and vice versa, though it was pretty difficult to get any information about him. Then when he escorted you home he offered you a job as you mentioned him about your plans.  It felt like ages since then.

You went through a lot, the plan went well and now Winterfell was yours and Petyr's. Technically the Starks', but Sansa was easy to control. She was in your hands. At least, that's what you thought.

You wiped the blood with a clothing and headed back to the castle. The gates were still a mess only a few guards asked your name and who you were. When you informed them they let you in and followed your way to your room. You opened the door with the big old key and leaned on the closed door with eyes closed. That man really freaked you out. It wasn't the first time to kill though.

"Are you alright, (Y/N)?" Petyr's voice echoed making you gasp.

"Why can't I just be alone in my room for a second?"  You snapped as you took off your sword belt and placed it on the table in the center of the room.

"What happened? Your hands are shaking." He observed and walked over to you from the window.

"Nothing." Petyr gave you a 'You can't fool me' look earning a sigh from you. "Alright. A man scared me then I killed him. I thought he was one of Ramsay's soldiers. He just grabbed my leg and-. Ah, just let it go, I'm fine." You sat down on the edge of your bed, Petyr following you. "Let's talk about something else. For example, what's next?"

"A game, my dear." He smirked. That kind of smirk which he only gave to you and it melted your heart. You had feelings for him, though he didn't know about them. You knew he was head over heels in love with Kat then Sansa so you didn't even bother. You just kept your feelings for yourself.

"I like games." You smiled. "And who are the main players this time?"

"You." He stood up and walked back to the window watching the life of Winterfell. He hoped he would soon observe as the King himself.

"Me? Personally, I would like to remain the Game Master if it's not a problem." You weren't fond of the thought being used as a doll. Particularly, in Petyr's theater.

"Don't worry. It will be easy. I just would like you to talk to Sansa. Braid each others' hair, talk abut love and knights. I would like you two to be friends." He said avoiding eye contact.

"Are you kidding me, right?" He exactly knew that you weren't on speaking terms and only talked if it was necessary. "And I don't think that a girl who was raped and assaulted and was forced to marriage will talk about knights and love." At the word 'rape' you could see that Petyr's jaw clenched and balled his fist. "Petyr it wasn't your fault. We didn't know about Ramsay." You eased you voice to comfort him. You stepped next to him and placed your hand on his shoulder. "We messed it up together."

"No! Only you. You were in charge of asking and getting information about him." He snapped. He was a calm person and only acted like this when he was extremely fed up or disappointed. You drifted away and sighed.

"I can't believe what you've just said. But alright. If you feel like this then achieve what you want alone. I would ruin everything, anyway."

"Stop acting like a child, (Y/N)." He sighed rolling his eyes.

"Get out." You hissed through your teeth.

"Excuse me?" He glanced at you with tilted head.

"You heard me. Get out of my room. Lord Baelish." You crossed your arms and tried to put a strict face on, but the only thing you wanted is to hug him tight and never let him go. He hesitated at first, then he glanced at younbefore he left your room.

The night was full of nightmares with wolves, mockingbirds and faceless men. You woke up swimming in sweat and panting. You were about to make some sense from the dreams when you heard a knock on the door.

"Lady (Y/N)? Lady Stark would like to have a word with you in her chamber as soon you are ready." The guard informed you through the door.

"Thank you, sir. I will made my way there first." You said. After you heard him left you took on your rather masculine clothes as it was much comfortable and useful. You didn't trust anyone there and you were in a dangerous place with hazardous situations, like this one. Why in the seven hells would Sansa want to speak to you?

Your sword hung on your side as you were taking the steps to the next floor. A few knocks on the door and the redhead  yelled to come on in.

"My lady." You bowed your head. "You needed to see me."

"Yes, thank you for coming and also my apologies if I woke you up. And please call me Sansa. I think we have known each other pretty long now and are friends." She smiled. You hid your disgust from the word 'friends' but faked a smile.

"As you wish. So, Sansa, how can I help?" You asked as she gestured towards the empty seats.

"I have a kinda personal question for you. And you don't have to answer if you don't want to." She help up her hands.

"Alright." You shrugged.

"What are Lord Baelish's intentions? I mean, you are the closest person to him and I thought you knew." She was playing with her necklace as she told you her rather intimate question.

"Well, honestly, I don't know." For the long term you knew, but the near future was still a blur. "And if you really want to know, I think you should ask him yourself. All I can say, that he feels sorry and terrible for what he did, Sansa. Even if he looks shady, he cares for you. He sees your mother in you and maybe that's why." You were still mad at him, though you felt the urge to defend him both mentally and physically.

"Thank you for telling me this, (Y/N)." She put her hands on the top of yours making you feel embarrassed. "Oh, I'm sorry. I know, you like to stay in the distance." She pulled her hand back and stared in the fire. "It's just... I'm happy that there is someone I trust here. I admire you, (Y/N). Despite that you are a girl, you can defend yourself and at the same time you are gorgeous and attract the men." Your eyes widened hearing all these compliments from the girl you hated. Though, if she knew you also took your part of all the things happened to her, to the kingdom, to the death of her dad, she wouldn't wanted to be so desperately be friends with you.

"Oh, I don't think I'm attractive at all, but thanks." You tucked a lock of hair behind your ear.

"And I hope, I'm not asking too much but would you be by my side? At least, until John comes back." She bit her lower lip down fearing your reaction.

"What about Brienne?"

"I sent her to the Black Fish and I don't want to bother her anymore. So, what do you say?" She asked as your mind were already clicking and the wheels were screeching. Being this close to her can be handy and she may tell you secrets that Petyr will never know about. All in all, that's what he wanted.

"Let it be." You cracked a mischievous smile before you hear the sound of the horns and the gates opening. You shared a look and headed downstairs immediately.

When you arrived to the gates you saw a boy in a chair with a girl. Sansa rushed to him and hugged him tight. You could see Petyr from the corner of your eyes standing upstairs and watching the scene.

"Isn't that the cripple of Ned Stark?"

"Brandon Stark. The last true heir of Eddard Stark." You heard the whispers. If he was Brandon Stark you were both in a pit with Petyr. A quite deep pit. And you just hoped that chaos was a ladder.

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Requested by: @hello-lucky-luka

The corpse groom

Every minimal details had to work, said your parents.

You were being forced to get engaged with Shigaraki Tomura, a noble from a family whose had their status, but no money. In contrary to your family who had money due to their bussines involving fish, but no such tittles.

You had only a conversation with the man, but both your mothers exclaimed how it was scandulous to be alone on a room alone before the marriage.... The wedding rehearsal was a disaster where you just wanted the ground to eat you alive... especially with that random woman laughing.

Despite Shigaraki calling you back, you ran away due to all extress of not being prepared to be married with a man you barely knew... You wish you had never entered that florest though.

A man. A DEAD man emerged from the ground and you colapse... wakening up only by some snickers, noticing that now you were in a world where dead creatures lived.

A man with an eye missing out with blong hair was shaking you and screaned along with yourself when you finally woke up.

"Where am I?! Where is this?! Who are all of you and why do you look so-so-?!"

"Fucked up? Absolute filled with trash? News flashes newbiew! We're fucking dead!" A man spoke, he was huge and with a hole on his chest that you even saw through it.

"Ooh new meat!!!!" Another man with the jaw broken aproached and you yelped, falling on the floor but with arms... DEAD ARMS on you as if they tried to prevent your fall.

"Pardon." The man with glasses spoke before casually kneeling to pick his arms and placed them back to help you stand up.

"T-this i-is-"

"Oi! YOu ShOUlD Be GrAtefUll To BE DraGGed DoWn HeRE!" A creature with their eye hanging of their head spoke and you almost vomited.

"Yes. Parcially because they are master's spouse." One blond man with a fucking katana on his stomach spoke calmly as you gagged in horror.

"W-what w-was that part again?"

"It seems we're engaged." A gruff voice spoke from behind you, scaridly you sneak over your shoulder and gasped at the sign of the main responsible for you to be in this circle of horror.

The man had messy brow hair with golden eyes, his skin was a mix of faint blue due to how long his corpse have been dead as half of one arma of his was pure bones while the other was... "fine". He wore a black messy and torn black tuxedo with half of his tie missing as he crossed his arms over his chest.

You screamed in horror when someone patted him on the back and his fucking eye dropped on your hand.

"Geez is just an eye." The man who patted the other spoke as he gravbed the eye nornally back and handed to the owner, his body was full of holes as if he had been fuzilied.

"Imbecile." The owner of the amber eye punched the back of the white hair man head... making it to fall to thhe floor.

You screamed again.

~

You came to learn that this man was actually murdered. He had fell for a woman's trick to get her hands on the money of his family. Ever since then, the dead people around there told that this man, Chisaki Kai; whose by disgust at himself decided to change his name by Overhaul; vowed to himself that he would wait for someone else, and perfect, to marry him.

And looks like you were the poor soul.

"I-I'm really sorry what happened to you. But I really cant do this! I have another man to-to-"

"YoU'Re An IdiOt?!" The creature screamed and you flinched at how his eyeball swinged... giving you shivers and even the urge to puke.

"We learned that you were on a arrangement married." The white, and dirty, haired man spoke and Chisaki's eyes narrowed.

"So there is another one huh?"

"There's no other one! A-Actually- You're the other one! My groom is waiting up there and you are just... just-!"

"Dead." He hissed and you swear you saw a tinge of sadness on those dead cold amber eyes of his "It doesn't matter. We are engaged and that's final."

He stormed his way out of the room, making every person of there to look at you as YOU made something wrong.

The fuzzilied man and the creature followed after him as you continue to think of something, anything to get you out of that place.

~

"Maybe they lost their head or something." Mimic spoke as Chisaki paced around the room with a frown.

"Shigaraki Tomura. Boss trust me, there's nothing special about this guy! Just give some time to them, and bing! The curse will be broken and you got someo-"

"Stop." He said nonchantly, shoulders sagging in defeat as he ran his reamaining hand on his hair "They have a point. I am prisioned with this.. dead. While they are still with lungs functionanting... maybe it was indeed a mistake." He sighed.

The two man changed worried glances. Before Mimic smirked and elbowed his commurate, aproaching Chisaki slowly.

"What does that wispy little brat have

That you don't have double?"

"He can't hold a candle

To the beauty of your soul." the white haired man placed a hand on his shoulder.

"How about a pulse?" Chisaki hissed, slapping Kurono's hand away from his shoulder.

"Overrated by a mile." Mimic answered smugly.

"Overvalued, overblown

If they only knew

The you that we do" the two continue

"And that despicable little creature

Isn't wearing their ring" kurono pointed to the ring of his finger.

"And he doesn't play piano

Or dance, or sing

No he doesn't compare" the both said in hopes to cheer up his boss and friend.

"But he still breaths air." He noted sharply before the two got in feont of him as he tried to exit.

"Who cares?

Unimportant, overrated

Overblown, if only they could see

How special you can be

If they only knew the you that we do"

He glared a both of them before hsi vision got into the only candle lighten up on the room, frowning at it...

"If I touch a burning candle

I can feel no pain

If you cut me with a knife

It's still the same...

And I know his heart is beating

And I know that I am dead

Yet the pain here that I feel

Try and tell me it's not real

And it seems I still have a tear to shed" he layed his back miserably on the wall and placed his good hand to cover how much his pain was feeling.

"The sole redeeming feature

From that little creature

Is that he's alive," mimic exclaimed while getting from behind, transforming into his human form, still with the eye hanging from his skull as one of his legs were missing.

"everybody knows

That's just a temporary state

Which is cured very quickly

When we meet our fate" Kurono aproached from the other side while taking off his head to make his point.

"Who cares?

Unimportant, overrated

Overblown, if only they could see

How special you can be

If they only knew the you that we do"

Impatience and rage took over him as he punched from behind the two man. The two hissing in pain before seing how numb was he... how miserable he sounded for the first time since they knew him.

"...If I touch a burning candle

I can feel no pain

In the ice or in the sun

It's all the same

Yet I feel my heart is aching

Thou it doesn't beat, it's breaking

And the pain here that I feel

Try and tell me it's not real

I know that I am dead..." he layed on the bed, looking at the ceiling with no hope before closing his eyes.

"Yet it seems I still have

One tear to shed" they widened their eyes at the single drop of water coming out of his closed eye.

"Do deads can cry now?!" Mimic whispered shouted before cursing out loud when Kurono merely sighed and punched him with more force than Chisaki had before.

~

You were absolutely horrified. Not even two days in here and one subordinate of your family had died from a heart attack and appeared on the same place you were stuck in... and it seemes like he brought the news which brought you to the reality.

When you went missing, your and Tomura's family had canceled the wedding due to you not being there, assuming you had ran away from your responsibilities and another woman came in rushing as a thunder to take the responsibility.

This made you realize how... you didn't were cared for by your supposed future broom. It was all a arrangment marrige after all.

The sound of a sad yet beautiful music took your thoughts away as you followed the beautiful melody... finding a door half closed, you decided to pick inside only to widened your eyes in shock as you see the man you were supposed engaged to playing the piano.

People could call you crazy, but in this scenario he looked... quite beautiful. His eyes were sorrow but still focused on the piano in fron of him, slender and bones fingers dancing on each piece of it as his shoulders tensed when he heard the door making it a sound... but still not looking up.

"You play wonderfully." You mused out loud as he scoffed, wincing a bit you remember that he some how must still be offended by what you said earlier.

You slowly and shyly took a seat next to him, visibly noticing him not enjoying the least your company as he still played.

"Im sorry I hurt your feelings-"

"I thought deads didn't had those." He grimaced and you instantly shut uo before slowly playing one note, smilling shyly when he stopped a bit to inspect your actions.

"My parents thought I didn't had to do piano classes, so I sadly didn't had one chance to play such beautiful songs as yours..." you tried to mimic his actions before you and him hissed at the horrific sound it came out.

"God have mercy, your parents were right on not trying to put you onto such a thing." He growled and you felt offended. Going to talk back you closed your mouth when he aproached you, placing his still carnal hand and skeleton one underneath yours, encouting you silently to touch it.

He started to play one song more animated, you gasping in awe at the beauty of it and how he was actually showing you how it was. The sign of it made him smirk as you giggle... although he widened gis eyes whem his hand decided to pop out of his wrist and dance on the fucking piano.

You giggled and hesitantly picked it back, offering him with a smile.

"Pardon." He coughed as he put it back with a scoff as you smiled at him.

The door suddenly slammed open, the blond man who scared you at the first day panting as Chisaki glared at him from his seat with you.

"What is the meaning of this?" He growled, getting up as the poor guy pointed at some place in the hall.

"I-Is urgent boss! Is something about your-" Kurono popped out of no where, shutting his mouth up.

Chisaki gave you an apologetic look before adjusting his tie and going after then.

After a few minutes of no company you sighed and decided to walk around until you heard whispers shouts on what was suppose to be the kitchen.

"I'm sorry master, but the marriage will only be "real" when both of the involved are from the same world." Tengai spoke as you heard Chisaki punching something.

"What is needed then?!" He shouted and you curled in yourself by instinct.

"That's the best part!" Mimic said in glee before darkening his voice "We're going to kill them!"

You muffled your gasp as you pecked inside the room, seing all the man in there looking at Chisaki. Who for the first time had a conflicted expression.

Suddenly he let out a heavy sigh. Making you curious and rather anxious on what he would say.

"No. I was a criminal while alive, but certainly I am not a beast." He murmured as the others on the room frowned.

You laid your back in the wall sighing... biting your lip as all the thoughts in your head ran and ran until you decided to enter the room slowly. Shocking everyone.

"What are you doing in here?" Chisaki growled, eyeing you between his eyes, before taking his hand out of his face to watch you more properly when you took a seat next to him.

"I will do it." You spoke witha smile, giggling a bkt when one of the man's jaw literally fell.

"You heard it." He mused out loud as you pondered over your final decision.

"You weren't selfish enoigh to murder me. And only what you done with my stay in here was trying to be gentle with me until i ruined everything with my hurtful words. But still I have one wish to make.... I want the wedding not to be soon, neither down here... on the surface more likely, so you all and myself can watch the beautiful nightsky."

"... fair enough. Then why are you trying to brush the wedding aside then?" He asked with his noss arched up, you hesitated before grabbing his hand that weren't left any skin or muscles on it, surprinsing him for once.

"Because I want to know my groom before I marry him. And I want you to know about me as well." You smiled and you swore the deadman was smilling as well.

"Very well.... finance."

[manikrege]

For 'gifted' kids who feel like a disappointment

You ever wanted to become an astronaut? I think we all did. At some point in our childhood. Back then, the stars and moon felt so close. Power Ranger transformations looked realistic. And getting an A+ was just a matter of focusing on your studies one week before the exam.

But above all, life was fair. You work hard, you get rewards. I remember teachers telling me how I was going to be so happy & successful after my 10th board exams. Of course, they postponed that promise until after my 12th, then my graduation, then my MBA ... and now they joke about how marriage is the true final test.

Part of me wants to believe in their simple idea. But it's starting to crack. Because I know for sure that I gave my 100% at the job. I was still fired. I know for sure that I wrote those blogs and manuscripts with all my heart. They were still rejected. I'm confident that I gave that relationship all the time and love I could've given. It still ended.

All of a sudden, I don't feel like I'm the gifted kid they told me I was. I'm no longer a topper, a front runner, a prodigy with all the potential, or an obvious winner on my way to conquer the world.

It's not like I'm a complete mess or failure. It's just this uneasy & humbling discovery that I'm actually average in many areas, and even terrible at some things that come easily to my friends. It's the discomfort of realizing that lagging behind somewhere is inevitable.

It hit me when an aunty asked me about what I'm up to nowadays, and I felt afraid to tell her that I'm taking a break to figure out my next steps. I guess I didn't want to show that I've burned out, lost my way, or worse, extinguished my 'spark.' I guess I didn't want to look like a disappointment.

But I really do. I feel like I was slowly climbing to the top of this roller coaster and now that I'm here, all I can see is a plain straight line for a few miles ahead. No ups and downs. No crazy loops. No thrilling adventures. Instead, a patch where I'm supposed to stumble and fumble. A middle that just doesn't seem to end. Between being a carefree, city-exploring, movie-going, third-year student and a responsible, settled adult. Just between these phases, you get it?

It gets complicated when I look around. Just yesterday, we were all skipping class to catch 'Endgame.' And now everyone's on their own trajectory, spread across the world, chasing different dreams and goals. I see friends getting excited to announce their milestones on LinkedIn. Getting hired by big fish. Securing scholarships in Ivy leagues. Launching their own startups. I mean, how the fuck is everyone getting featured in Forbes' 30 under 30?

Look, I really want to be happy for all of them. But at some point, we all start to compare a little, don't we? Especially those of us who've always been a little competitive.

When I was reflecting on these feelings last night, I thought about how the problem started in statistics class. When Radhika ma'am drew a straight line pointing upward and forward from 0 to 100 on the graph. And we were told: "This is how success looks like." A steady consistent burn towards status, security, fame, and money. And until recently I didn't realize how much that model was hurting me (well, I've always thought that math is shit anyway).

Because if I look back at myself and people I'm proud of, our growth has been anything but linear. Sometimes you take a step back, sometimes you go in circles for years, sometimes you say "fuck it" and abandon the axes to run away into some other dimension. Growth is not always beautiful. In fact, it can be very messy. It hides in pain, dances behind self-doubt, smiles in suffering, and celebrates obstacles. Which is why we don't always recognize it as it's happening.

Growth is also seldom tagged on Instagram or vlogged about on YouTube, only it's end products are. We don't see the hardships, the mistakes, the pressures, the embarrassments, the anxiety, the stress, and the crushing disappointments that come hand in hand with shining 'talent' ... Tweets and Stories are too short to fit all this heavy baggage that's part of everyone's journey.

Lastly, growth is also very unfair. It doesn't always lead to meaningful or positive results. Sometimes its only job is to make us hurt. You don't always become stronger or better. You don't always come out smiling. You cannot have full control. You can do everything you possibly could've done and still lose. You can try, try, and fail in spite of all your attempts. Shit will just happen for no reason, serving no purpose. Not all dots will connect.

And that's something I'm learning to make peace with. I'm learning to normalize:

Not having a plan for everything

Fucking up even when I was prepared

Needing help or guidance from others

Taking a gap year for my mental health

Not only depending on my 'strengths'

Being just another guy in the crowd

Letting others take center-stage

Helping others without feeling threatened

So here I am. Excited to announce something, too. Excited to announce that I'm currently not doing, winning, or being great at anything. Because there's nothing wrong with sitting out a match every now and then. A hunch tells me that I'm going to hit the ball out of the park when I get back.

Hold on, Manik. Hold on.