#a lot of whom were older than me mind you

[mahoutoons]

me when i remember i used to be one of those "if a woman chooses to wear makeup its a totally feminist choice also misandry is NOT okay" libfems

[demonicbaby666]

Dom Emily prentiss x intern fem reader is all i ask!! Smutty ofc, a lil bit of a humiliation kink if you’re comfortable!!! Thank yewww

Packing Heat

One shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 4.8k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, strap-ons (r!receiving), semi-public sex (office sex, again…), praise, degradation, mommy kink, kind of dub-con at one point, top!Emily, bottom!reader

Summary: Interning at the BAU means you don’t interact with the person in charge a lot. Of course, this doesn’t mean you haven’t seen the section chief in passing or exchanged pleasantries; it's that they’re simple, short-lived and often anti-climatic. However one evening, you find yourself in the desolate office with no chance of going home, work to be done, but no one to sit with you through the process. With only one other soul residing on the sixth floor, it seems Emily may be your best bet for company.

A/n: Listen, could she be more dom? Yes. Is there any humiliation? Not really... But I got lost while writing, so please don't be mad at me... Hope you still enjoy!

When you'd first started at the BAU, it was safe to say you hadn't seen much of the woman calling the shots. There were always updates about when the team were taken out of state, what their cases would entail, the steady progress being made, and the brief comical encounters Garcia spewed around the office. When they were back, everyone made an effort to small talk. They welcomed you well and continued to appreciate the little things you did for them daily. Emily, however, was constantly on the go, meaning every encounter you'd had with her consisted of one-way glances and hopeful smiles in the event she decided to notice her surroundings and the human lifeform less than two metres away. 

She never did, though, until one uneventful evening. 

Almost everyone had vacated the building. The only remaining souls left on the sixth floor were you, Emily, and a one-person cleaning crew—whom you watched exit through glass doors before approaching the brunette's office with shaky knees. Peeking through the window, you saw her attention dart to and from the bright computer screen to the mountains of bureaucratic paperwork lying atop her desk. It was easy to get lost in the little creases between her eyebrows, brought out by the deep scowl she wore, the delicate way her fingers were woven together, and the pads of her thumbs skirting against one another as she pondered in deep thought. 

It was nearing eight, and you were struggling to understand how someone could appear so put together at this late hour, given that their day was most certainly jam-packed with non-stop slog. 

Emily's eyes suddenly flashed up. She squinted toward her door, trying to figure out who'd be here this late other than herself. When she appeared to have worked it out, she leaned back victoriously in her chair, a smug smile on her face, when she called out, "Are you going to stand out there all night?" 

You could have done two things: scurried off like a teenager caught peeping or held your chin up high and walked into the older woman's office with little to no shame. Somehow, you managed to do a mix of both, scurrying in with sagging shoulders, a guilty smile plastered on your face and trembling hands clasping your laptop over your chest.

"Well, it's eerily quiet out there, and I would go home to write this paper. It's just that my roommate and her boyfriend have an awful tendency to forget about volume control when they're—" You cut yourself off, realising it probably wasn't appropriate to talk to your boss about your roommate's over-the-top borderline pornographic soundscape. "I was wondering if I could, you know."

Emily, satirising as ever, waited with a raised eyebrow and a relaxed smile for you to continue your purposefully unfinished question. 

"Sorry, I should let you work." You surrendered to your weak resolve with flushed cheeks and began to turn around.

"Sit," she ordered before you had fully turned back around to the door, nodding to the available chair on the other side of her desk. Her eyes followed your journey to the seat, watching as you placed your laptop down and opened it with shaky fingers. Satisfied, she turned her attention back to her work. "I could do with some company." 

The following silence, starting as unsettling and stagnant, blossomed into something warm and comfortable. There were occasional glances thrown your way and vice versa. Their acknowledgement and appreciation were shown in the form of timid smiles on your end and double takes followed by teasing smirks on Emily's. 

When half an hour had passed, your shoulders had finally relaxed, your fingers had stopped their infernal twitching, and your paper neared its completion. There was a proud smile cresting, and you were trying to prevent it from forming, knowing how dorkish it made you look. But you knew there was no hope when your cheeks ached and your jaw locked. You granted yourself the freedom to display your gloating smile. 

Just as expected, Emily had a questioning look on her face when you dared to look up from the document. There was a playfulness to the upward quirk of her lips - the superiority of a predator knowing the power they have over their prey, ready to prove it at any given moment. 

"I've almost finished," you timidly admitted, feeling obligated to explain as heat infiltrated your jutted-out cheeks. 

Without a second thought, the ravenette stood up and made her way around the desk. She could have easily chosen to turn the laptop around. Instead, she took the far more intimate route. 

Soft curves grazed your shoulder blades, causing you to shiver. The weight finally settled, soft padding pressed flat against your back as Emily read your paper, and suddenly, your stomach had worked itself into looping knots, and your heart was racing. 

The struggle continued as you fought not to fidget, if only to alleviate the growing tension mounting between your thighs. This was only made worse when Emily's right hand left the back of your chair to drop down over your shoulder and land comfortably on your thigh. 

"Such a smart girl," she whispered sultrily into the shell of your ear, squeezing generous flesh between her fingers. 

With a scrambled brain, there was little fight to be put up against the meek whimper that crackled against the constricted lining of your throat. Subconsciously, your thighs tensed, and your pussy fluttered as you were reminded how close Emily's hand was to where you could only dream she'd touch. 

You'd thought you imagined it—the subtle shift in the room from breezy and light to torrid and all-consuming, but with Emily's fingers veering off course, inching higher and higher, reality came crashing down. 

"Thank you," you struggled to get the words out, and when they did come out, they were tremulous and feeble. 

Turning to look at her may have, in hindsight, been a mistake because where her gaze should have been fixed on the laptop screen, it was glued to your lips. Unexpectedly, your stomach flipped, and you felt dizzy. She was still superbly perfect up close, skin smooth like silk, cheekbones sharp as a razor, and lips cut from velvet. It was too close, dangerously so, you had to look away. Outside the window, you spotted a swarm of birds barely visible against the night sky. You ignored the clanking of your heart as you focussed on their synchronicity, watching them circle each other until they became one big blur of messy movements. 

The hand resting on the leather backing of your chair rose, skirting up and over your neck, until a firm grip was established around your dangling ponytail. She was gentle when she tugged, aware that though she wanted to educate you in the art of being owned, you were delicate.

"I think a pretty thing like you deserves a reward," she baited. "Don't you?" 

Her grip on you may have been physical. However, a stronger pull was coming from deep within you, an unimportant piece of scrap metal drawn in by a powerful magnet. It was useless to deny her. The mesmerising glow of her chocolate eyes and the promise of being made to feel special was too powerful. So, you nodded slowly but eagerly, desire painting your eyes dark shades of lust. 

"That's a good girl." 

Emily didn't miss how you preened at the praise and safely stored that information away for further use. She shifted to your side, hands migrating to the small of your waist, guiding you to your feet. The act of it was far gentler than you'd expected, like a gentleman asking a maiden to dance, sweeping her off her feet to whisk her away into a fairytale land filled with magic and romance. 

Certain the benign treatment would be short-lived, you granted yourself the leniency to enjoy it whilst it lasted, refusing to get too caught up in the dull ache between your legs that craved the form of savagery Emily displayed in the field. 

There was nothing short of passion in how she worked. It drove you crazy. As wrong as it felt, you couldn't help but envy the dirtbag the team was working to catch because you saw how badly the brunette wanted them. The look in her eyes, gratification and disgust all at once, when she'd achieved what she set out to do and was staring the devil right in the face - it made your heart race, your palms sweat and your cunt throb. 

The memory kickstarted what could only be described as a brutal attack upon the older woman's lips. To her credit, Emily indulged the outburst for a lot longer than you'd have thought. As if she'd expected it, she quickly responded, pulling you into her body and tilting her head to the side to deepen the kiss. The lead was stolen promptly from your grasp when Emily wedged a leg between your thighs, backed you up against her desk and tactically slid her tongue into your gaped mouth. You would have gasped if not for the fact you were immediately indulged in the minty taste of your boss's tongue skirting over the roof of your mouth. So much so that you scarcely noticed the pressure coming from your core was no longer just a phantom need manifested but taut clothed muscle pressing you further and further into the sharp wooden edge of the desk. 

"Emily," you breathily moaned, pulling back and separating your kiss-swollen lips from the brunette's. Ordinarily, you wouldn't have allowed what happened next to occur, but this was Emily, after all, the BAU section chief, and if you were to let anyone order you about, it would be her. 

She backed away from you with a final nip to your bottom lip, letting it go with a pop, and you fought the urge to reach out and pull her back to you. You knew you'd already tried to take things into your own hands once, and doing so again may undermine any chances you had of keeping the ball rolling on tonight's affairs. 

You could feel the tight pull of your ponytail and all the places where hair had been lead array from the confines of your hairband, and it truly dawned on you how out of sorts you must have appeared. Tracing your fingers over your lips, you could make out how swollen they were - puffy and hot, yet desperate and pouted, begging for more. Your breathing was laboured, filling the room's silence, and your shirt suddenly felt too tight as your chest expanded with each intake of oxygen. It almost came as a relief when Emily opened her mouth to finally speak until you heard what she'd said.

"Take your clothes off," she mindlessly ordered, walking around to her chair and sitting back in it. Her eager eyes trained over your body with the faintest shimmer of mirth. 

Initially, it was a shock. Of course, it was. You were in an official government building, personnel still sparsely spread throughout, and a goddess of a woman was asking you to bare yourself to her. 

For the longest time, revealing your body to someone always felt like giving up something. Perhaps some kind of purity. The moment you gave it up, it bred only guilt and shame that twisted and pulled at the pit of your stomach until you felt sick. You stood there, waiting for that feeling to come. It never did. 

Remaining still, your body pulsed not with nerves but with exhilaration and anticipation. It took a few seconds to realise this was precisely what you wanted. You wanted to give this false sense of purity away. There was not a sudden influx of courage soaring through every living cell of your body. However, there was enough for you to put on a front and do as you were told. 

"Slowly." Emily sat further back and placed her elbows neatly over the arms of her chair. She laced her fingers together, offered you an encouraging nod, and then was back to watching you raptly.

Feeling like a glutton, you followed a path of desire and heeded Emily's request, fingers increasingly fumbling over each button of your shirt. 

"So obedient." And in no way was it said negatively; the adulatory smile she gave you only sought to prove that further. 

The way she looked at you made you feel as though you were already naked. Maybe that was why it was so easy to get lost in the subtlety of undressing. It was art, and you were a performer. That's what you told yourself. And for the most part, it worked. 

With closed eyes, you trailed your fingers over your shoulders, letting your shirt drop to the floor. The AC raised goosebumps over your chest, pebbled your nipples under your plain bra, and you smiled. You smiled because this was the most alive you had felt in months. The thrill of moving on to your slacks and deftly unclasping your belt felt like being on a rollercoaster, like missing a step and laughing fear in the face afterwards. You felt utterly fearless. 

In the back of your mind, you could sense Emily's eyes still on you. You could hear her moving around but didn't think to check her reaction. You were in your element, and far be it for a look of appraisal, or lack of, to stop you. That was until your trousers hit the carpet with a soft thud, and a sharp breath was heard from across you. 

Your eyes snapped open, and you found Emily's smile was absent. The brunette now had her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she looked you up and down, knuckles white from her deadly grip over the armrests. 

She lifted a hand, palm facing the ceiling as her index and middle finger crooked. "Come here so I can get a proper look at you," she said, slightly breathless. 

The desk had conveniently covered the lower half of Emily's body, which meant that when you circled around and came to stand next to her, you could see exactly what the earlier ruffling had been about. 

"Is that?" You froze, both shocked and utterly intrigued by the thick black dildo jutting out from the older woman's opened slacks. 

She didn't need you to finish the question, already nodding as she followed your line of sight. Leaning forward with an outstretched arm, Emily coiled her fingers around your wrist and pulled you forward, causing you to almost stumble over your own feet. At this closer distance, you could tell the faux cock would give you a run for your money. It was thicker than anything you had taken before, though that was not a hard trophy to earn, given that the most you had let anyone put inside you was three fingers. 

"Do you want to come sit on mommy's lap?" Emily asked with a tilt of her head. 

She didn't miss how your breath caught in your throat, how you seemed to stop blinking, stop moving, stop existing.

"Are you scared?" the lioness asked, sights set on her prized fawn. 

You shook your head and placed one foot in front of the other, eyes downcast as you took in the size of Emily's additional appendage. The shake of your jaw gave you away. 

"I don't like being lied to," she snapped, eyes dimming to an even darker shade of brown. 

She pulled you in by your waist and sat you on her lap, cock brushing over the thin material of your underwear. Instinctively, you wedged your bottom lip between your teeth to quiet yourself. But Emily wasn't having any of it. Her thumb came to your captive lip, where she helped release it with a soft flick. 

The smooth texture of Emily's cock through your sodden panties was a needed relief. Its head purposefully pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves evoked a flurry of shivers to run down your spine. And with nothing holding you back, you moaned in gratitude. 

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Emily smirked, watching you rut against her. 

"Yes," you uttered, breath caught in your throat. 

Happy to watch, Emily relaxed her shoulders and leaned back, enjoying the show you were putting on for her. Only when she recognised the tell-tell signs of frustration wash over your features, from your creased brow to the bite of your lip between your teeth, did a sick smirk lick the edges of her lips. With a mischievous glint shining in her eyes, the older woman shifted her position, pointedly ignoring the sound it pulled from you. 

"Something wrong?" she asked with a hitch of one eyebrow, adamant to appear oblivious. 

You gave no reply, only held tight to her shoulders in defiance and continually ground down on her, trying so hard to pleasure yourself to no avail that your eyes began to sting with the emergence of tears. 

With sweat threatening to spill down the side of your face, the tension between your legs starting to ache, and your release nowhere near in sight, you threw your head back with a sigh and whispered a quiet 'please' to the ceiling.

"Please what?" Came the dull reply, tone bored, unamused, unimpressed.  

You tried to impale yourself, failing as strong hands held you down. It was driving you crazy—pleasure being so close yet so far. 

With one hand removed from your hip, Emily gripped your jaw and turned your attention solely to her stern gaze, "Are you going to stop being a brat and tell me what you want?" 

When no answer came, she let go, jerking your head back as if disgusted with the lack of compliance. 

"Get up." 

Ice, you were made of ice. Sat still, shocked, speechless and slightly mortified. 

"Do I need to repeat myself?" Emily's voice was no longer flat; it was not roaring either. Instead, it was layered, resembling the same barbed tone a teacher might use with a disobedient student. It was enough of a motivator to get you to rise to your feet. 

Following you closely, the older woman, too, rose to her full height, hands meticulously reaching behind your back to expertly relieve you of your bra. Never once did she look you in the eye. 

With the same callous approach, you were turned and pressed against the desk, papers sticking to your heated chest. Emily was quick to loop her fingers through the hem of your underwear and slip them down your thighs, allowing gravity to do the rest. 

The full-bodied presence behind you lessened, and you took it as the opportune moment to glance back. 

The brunette had let her trousers drop to the floor, allowing you to see how her porcelain skin was directly contrasted by the black leather of her strap-on. Unlike yourself, she did not appear nervous or afraid. As she kicked the tailored pants aside and met your gaze, you realised how in control she was. 

Her gaze moved down your body, hands running down your back, until finally, she pressed herself against you and lowered her body atop yours. 

"I can feel how wet you are," she teased, running two fingers through the mess between your legs. "Are you always this wet?" 

"Emily, please," you begged. 

"I asked before, please what?" She raked five fingers down your side, moving them back up till they wound tightly in your hair and gripped your neck to an uncomfortable arch. Two fingers pushed inside you but did no more than that, remaining still as stone. "If you're going to be a baby and refuse to tell me what you want, you'll get nothing." 

"Fuck me!" You no longer had the sound of mind to acknowledge shouting something vulgar could attract attention. Logic had evaded you, allowing you to play right into your boss's hands. "Please just fuck me."

Sliding her slick fingers out of you, she proudly stated, "That wasn't hard, was it?"

If the older woman wanted an answer, she did not allow for one. In one fluid motion, she rose from over you and snapped her hips forward, sheathing the entire length of her cock into your cunt. Your breath caught in your throat, resulting in a strained groan tumbling out of your open mouth. The pit of your stomach dropped, and try as you might have not to clench around the toy inside you, you did precisely that. 

It was new, the foreign feeling of being filled so fully that one slight move would summon pleasure that sent shivers through your whole body. It wasn't unwelcome, especially when Emily started to move, and heat engulfed your entire body. Her pace was languid, allowing you to feel each slide of her cock along your slick walls, how each push of her hips ended in the tip hitting the spot within you to cause the furling in your stomach to expand tenfold. It was all you could do not to scream when the push and pull and Emily's hips moved with more purpose, jerking your body into the edge of her desk. 

"I've barely started, and you're already dripping down your thighs." Her voice was laced with mirth, finger smearing your mess as if to prove an unnecessary point that had your cheeks burning up. "How long have you been thinking about this?" Emily finished her question with an arduous thrust. "How many times have you sunk your fingers into your pussy and thought of me?" 

The questions continued, each hitting the nail right on the head. Your cheeks were scorched with the embarrassment that comes with having your desires known and exposed, but it did not take hold of your conscience as the event of falling in front of a large crowd might have. It was comparable to how a blushing maiden may feel when caught by a suitor in only their undergarments. It excited that small part of you that gave in to demoralisation and encouraged you enough to meet Emily halfway as she thrust into you. 

As your pleasure mounted, the need for more grew. Your clit, swollen and needy, begged for relief, and you beckoned to its call, sliding one hand from above your head to the juncture between your legs. It was when the tips of your fingers brushed against your sensitive pearl and you gained the briefest taste of the euphoria that Emily removed her hand from your thigh and snatched your hand away, halting all movement. 

You could have cried, having everything, then nothing, so quickly. 

"Did I say you could do that?" 

Abruptly pulling out, Emily stood tall and proud, staring down at you with curiosity and disappointment lining the brown of her eyes. She heard you whimper and acknowledged your sniffle. 

"There's no need to cry," she tutted, flipping you onto your back and lifting you by your shoulders. "You're going to listen to me from now on." 

You nodded, and she once again lined her cock to your opening, only now she waited, taunting you with possibilities. 

"Beg," she instructed. 

And you heeded. 

"Please. I need you." 

"You can do better." She sounded bored, and this struck a nerve within you, one that begged you to impress her, show her you could be a good little girl, and beg as though your life depended on it. 

You took a heaving breath and looked into Emily's eyes, sporting your best puppy eyes. "I need you. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me with your big cock, mommy. Make me scream out your name. I need it." 

"There's a good pet," she cooed, mesmerising you with the bating of her lashes as she looked down to where your bodies were so close to touching. 

It all happened in a blur. The next thing you knew, your nails were digging into muscled shoulders, legs wrapping around a slim waist as the brunette filled you, wasting no time in picking up a brutal tempo. You barely recognised the sound of your voice as high-pitched obscenities spilt past your lips. You felt your whole body light up, heard blood pulse in your ears, and saw in real-time just how easy it was to aid Emily in calling upon your impending orgasm. 

Your vulgar mouth, luckily, seemed to amuse Emily enough for her to let you continue rutting your hips against her. The corners of her lips curled, and her smirk lasted only so long for you to see before she inched forward and kissed you with passion and hunger. It was easy, so easy, to melt into the brief moment of intimacy. The butterflies felt tangible, and the sparks crackled in your ears; it felt so fucking good you'd almost forgotten just where you were. Of course, bubbles eventually popped, and this one was demolished by rustling outside Emily's office. 

What little movement Emily allowed, her hands holding you firmly against the desk by your waist, was not enough to wriggle free and glance behind to see what was happening. Instead, the possibility of being caught weighed heavier with each drawled-out second. 

"Emily," You tried but were cut off by a tongue sliding into your mouth. "Emily, stop."

With a bite to your lip, the older woman backed off, confusion marking her features, "What is it?" she punctuated her question with a hard thrust. 

"Someone's o-" another hard thrust. "Someone's outside."

Emily smiled, picking up her pace, forcing you to breathe so deep you felt your lungs expand. 

"You'd better be quiet then." 

Whatever protest you were about to give died in your throat when nails skirted up to your chest and dug painfully into your breast, and Emily pushed herself so deep within you that you felt her hitting your cervix. A strangled cry was briefly heard before you managed to clasp your hand over your lips and silence your own mewls. She was fucking you as if her life depended on getting a reaction out of you that would draw attention. Nevertheless, you held firm and stayed as quiet as your muffled sobs would allow you to be. 

"Emily, please," you were pleading for release and for the brutal fucking stop because you knew there would be no chance you could keep a lid on your volume; there would also be no chance you would survive not cumming. 

Taking note of this, the older woman took the route of giving you your release, dragging a thumb down over your clit and applying the right amount of pressure to have your tense legs turn into a shaky mess of tremors. She didn't stop there; with a brief slide, she ran your slick over your bundle of nerves and started to circle steadily. 

"Fuck!" You screamed out, missing the way the ruffling outside suddenly stopped. "I'm cumming. I'm cumming." 

"That's it," the brunette encouraged, her fingers coming up to crook and tangle through the mussed mess of your hair, nails slowly working against your scalp. "Let everyone hear what a slut you are, letting me fuck you over my desk." 

She didn't stop, though, not when your clit felt raw and your pussy tender, not when you begged and not even when you reached out and tried to grab her wrist. Emily only yanked you down by your hair, relishing the thud the brutal move made. She fucked you harder till stationary fell to the floor from your thrashing arms, and by then, her lips were already wrapped around a nipple, sucking firm whilst you cried through a second orgasm. 

When you finally felt empty, you didn't even try to open your eyes. You knew your vision would be blurred if not blacked out. Instead, you focussed on coming back down to earth, steading your breath and not thinking about how you strangely missed being filled by Emily despite being so fucking sore. 

"Are you still alive?" a smug voice asked from above, and you pried your bleary eyes open to weakly smile. 

"I think so," you whispered, peeling your sweat-slick back from the desk. That was when you remembered the unknown personnel outside and shot a look at the door. 

"They're gone," Emily said, cupping your chin and turning you back to her. Again, you were greeted by that conniving smirk. "After your commentary, I think they understood we didn't want to be disturbed." 

"But-" 

"Uh-uh." she silenced you with a finger to your lips, the smell of yourself still narrowly fragrant. You took the digit into your mouth, patting yourself on the back as you watched Emily's eyes turn dark. "You want to make Mommy feel good now, don't you?" She knew the answer, but oh, how she loved to watch you sink to your knees and eagerly nod anyway. You helped unclasp the straps of her harness, then set to pealing the last barrier keeping you from her heat down her legs. 

"My good little pet," she said, smiling down at you and happily watching you beam. Her hand cupped your jaw before moving to the back of your neck, where she pulled you to her core and began singing a melody of moans. 

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[ldrfanatic]

this happens once every few lifetimes

mattheo riddle x reader

synopsis - reader transfers to hogwarts from ilvermorny. she and mattheo fall in love with each other at first sight.

warnings - none, i think?

listened to while writing - the alchemy by taylor swift

i have a clara bow theo one in the works right now that i'm excited to drop at some point. ngl this gif of benjamin in deadly class inspired this idea A LOT.

part two?

slytherin boys works

you waited with baited breath outside of the great hall.

any moment now the doors would swing open and albus dumbledore, who you knew only through legend, would announce your transfer to hogwarts.

it was terrifying honestly. leaving ilvermorny was indescribably difficult. but when your father got a job opportunity at the british ministry of magic, it was decided. already you were feeling overwhelmed. you'd done your research but hogwarts was much larger than ilvermorny. it was much older as well, and thus had gained a reputation over a thousand years of producing some of the greatest witches and wizards the world has ever seen.

the large magnificent doors opened and every pair of eyes was on you.

you walked forward with sweaty palms, subtly attempting to dry them on your plain, black hogwarts robes. another change. the wardrobe was much more strict here than back in america. and where every student at ilvermorny wore the same blue and gold, students at hogwarts wore colors representative of their house.

finally, you reached the end of the walkway and stood face to face with a dusty and rather ancient looking hat. to your light surprise, it spoke. a woman whom you'd met briefly beforehand, professor mcgonnagall, picked up the hat gently and motioned for you to sit on the stool.

it was time to be sorted into one of hogwarts four houses. you'd been in wampus, the house of the warrior, at ilvermorny, and despite hours of research, you couldn't distinguish what the hogwarts equivalent would be. all four houses seemed to be good choices but there was one in particular that stood out to you.

no shorter or longer than exactly fifteen seconds after the sorting hat touched your head, a declaration was made.

"slytherin!"

an older student in green robes gestured you over to the table on the far right. not wanting to sit at the very front and continue to be gawked at, you briskly walked a little further down and took a seat at the middle of the table.

once you'd taken your seat, dumbledore began to explain that hogwarts would be hosting the triwizard tournament this year. after a flashy introduction from beauxbatons and durmstrang, you effectively decided that you were not the most interesting shiny new toy at hogwarts this year and silently thanked the universe for this turn of events.

at last, it was announced that you could eat and the tables filled with food. all around you students' plates began magically creating complex dishes. there were even some dinners that held food that you were sure you couldn't see anywhere on the table.

frustrated, you stared down at your empty plate. it was a long journey to hogwarts. you were hungry and quite frankly tired of things being so different. if one more complicated situation made its appearance at this school, you were undoubtedly going to lose it.

"just think about a food you really want to eat. it can be anything."

a boy next to you with brown hair and bright blue eyes leaned over. a thick italian accent levied on his deep voice.

you closed your eyes and thought about a delicious juicy cheeseburger with golden-crisp french fries. sure enough, when you opened your eyes, your plate had filled with food.

absolutely giddy with glee, you turned to thank the mystery man.

"no problem. i'm theodore nott. this is draco malfoy next to me."

the platinum blonde boy didn't even look up to acknowledge your existence. theodore, seemingly sensing your mild displeasure, spoke up.

"don't mind him. welcome to slytherin house. riddle, say hello to our newest recruit."

the dark haired boy directly across from you who you assumed was 'riddle' did in fact look over from his conversation with a boy with a chestnut colored complexion. yet, when your eyes found his, he didn't say hello.

he didn't say anything actually. he just sort of stared. as you held eye contact, it was like lightning running through your veins and sizzling at your fingertips.

for a moment, you wondered if he'd ever seen a person before.

then, as if he'd snapped out of a daze, a gentle smile played at his lips. dark curls fell over his brown eyes that seemed to sparkle the longer you looked at them.

his large hand crept over the table until it was outstretched towards you with a kind smile.

"mattheo."

you shook his hand with a shy smile. mattheo was currently looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered. in fact, your little interaction had gone on so long that theodore and the boy mattheo had been speaking with had both strucken up conversation with other students at the table.

"y/n."

mattheo eyed your appearance. his gaze flickered across your face, then to your hair, and all over the parts of your body he could see.

"sorry if this is a little awkward, but i can't remember the last time i was this captivated by someone." mattheo finally released your hand and you had to stop yourself from begging him not to.

"welcome to slytherin house. you're in the snake's nest now, beautiful."

---

7.8.2024

[dyns33]

Family honor

So Alfie x Y/N Shelby wife will be a little series now

There were several differences between a Gypsy wedding and a Jewish wedding.

The most obvious being that gypsy marriage was not recognized by anyone except gypsies.

But if it wasn't celebrated, you could walk past a priest, a rabbi, an imam or the fucking King himself, to live for years with the same person, under the same roof, with children, that would not have the slightest importance for the gypsies.

Alfie Solomons muttered several times that none of this was kosher, but he respected all the rites and traditions of Y/N's family. Even drinking alcohol, he who hated having a foggy mind.

"Already quite foggy the rest of the time, love. But if your savages of brothers insist…"

“The savages insist.” John said, giving him a whole bottle of whiskey.

“I can’t believe this asshole is going to become one of us.”

"Oh, Arthur, I'm touched that you accept me so quickly into your heart."

It took several people besides Tommy and Y/N to stop them from killing each other, when they were completely drunk.

Then they insisted on walking together in the horse field, the older Shelby brother ending up giving his blessing before falling asleep under a tree, making it clear that he would slit Alfie's throat if he did not treat his beloved little sister correctly.

The wandering jew left him to return with the others, who were dancing and singing. A perfect wedding, completely normal.

If he was offended when Y/N told him that the Jewish marriage was practically the same, he didn't show it, just made a strange sound with his nose.

There may have been less alcohol, and it was legally recognized, but the rest was a gathering of a lot of loud people, not speaking English, jumping around and congratulating them on their union.

Y/N, however, quickly noticed the biggest difference between gypsy marriage and Jewish marriage.

Although they had been a little surprised and worried by her choice of husband, her family had decided to give a chance to Alfie Solomons, whom they judged solely because of his actions. The rest didn't matter in the slightest.

With the Camden community, it wasn’t so simple.

“Your lovely wife is going to convert ?” an old woman asked, although it sounded more like an order than a question.

"Ah, frau Aldermann. It is true that I am such a pious man myself, it is a very important subject that my wife and I have talked about a lot. Isn't that right, treacle ?"

“Good, good.” sighed a man, patting his shoulder, not seeming to understand Alfie's sarcasm. "This is very important, especially for such an admired member. Perhaps your mother was of Jewish parentage ?"

She could have replied that she had not really known her mother, and therefore even less her family, but her husband saved her from this discussion, which he considered ridiculous, by inviting her to dance.

A true act of love, for him who hated dancing, in addition to suffering terribly because of his back.

It didn't take long for her entire family tree to be dissected in every way. The old harpies of Camden were like all the harpies of London.

The fact that she couldn't answer their question was almost a good thing. This mystery made it possible to say that if we could not verify that she was Jewish through her mother, we could not verify that she was not either. And everything always went through the mother.

The deplorable past of her father and the Shelby family could then have been forgotten.

The problem was mainly that her mother was not Mr. Arthur Shelby Sr. wife, which made Y/N a bastard. A gypsy bastard at that.

Even when she didn't understand the language, she guessed that people were talking about her. These looks and these laughter, she knew them well. Her brothers had suffered them when they were younger, before they used their fists to silence the ignorant and conquer Birmingham.

But she wasn't in Birmingham. Her brothers were not there, and it was her husband's kingdom.

Alfie wasn't the last to comment on gypsies.

"You know, I expected to have to sleep in a caravan for our honeymoon. It would have been terrible for my back, I don't know if Thomas took pity on us or if his petty posh side is to be thanked."

“They had a tent for us, but Finn threw up in it.”

"Fuck off, love. You're kidding me !"

“Then we would have danced naked around a fire asking the moon to give us happiness, health and above all a lot of fucking money.”

"… Yeah, you're totally kidding me, you little rascal." Alfie said, mock irritated, pulling her in for a kiss.

He didn't seem to notice that every little word spoken against her family and their traditions was beginning to weigh on her.

At least it was never completely mean when it was him. Almost innocent, full of prejudice and stupidity, but not crossing certain limits.

The rest of the community was not so kind. Many had not appreciated that the King of Camden, such a prized party, war hero, respected gangster, charming man, ended up with a girl like her. It must have been business, blackmail, or black magic.

There was no other possible explanation.

For several months, she decided to be the reasonable adult, remaining calm and polite, taking the blows as best she could. Tommy had taught her how to do it.

He had also taught her the pride of gypsies. Honor.

So there came a day when she was walking through the bakery, and some of the employees made a little joke about stealing and fortune telling, laughing like the idiots they were.

Normally, she would have ignored him. But Y/N was exhausted, and Polly's voice repeated in her head that no Shelby would ever allow themselves to be treated like this, so before they had time to react, she grabbed the hair of one of them, placing a knife to his throat.

"Tell me another joke about gypsies. Then I'll tell you a joke about Jews. Then I'll kill you."

The boy squealed, calling to his colleagues for help with his big, frightening eyes, but no one dared to move. Because they knew she would go faster. And even if she wasn't moving fast enough, she was Tommy Shelby's sister and Alfie Solomons' wife. Literally untouchable.

"Come on." she whispered in his ear. "Make me laugh. No ? No more jokes ? You're going to play the victim. It's funny, people who complain about being mistreated, then do exactly the same thing to others while thinking they're superior. You're all the same."

She didn't comment on the puddle under his legs, nor the little cry of panic when she released him.

Everyone stood still, watching her leave, and when she met Ollie's gaze, she knew she had just made a mistake. She only proved that she was indeed the savage they all described, the bad person.

Alfie probably wouldn't be happy when his right hand man told him what happened.

He did indeed seem to be in a terrible mood when she found him waiting for her in the living room, sunk into the sofa, indicating that his back was hurting badly, but that he would refuse to talk about it.

"Come, love, have a sit. Come on, sit down here."

Not wanting to act like a child, she remained silent as she took a seat in the chair he indicated to her.

This was obviously not what he expected, because he didn't speak either, staring at her intensely, hands crossed, displaying a small pout.

“Do you want to tell me what happened at the bakery today ?”

“Why ask if you already know ?”

“I would like your version.”

"I threatened to slit the throat of one of your workers and disrupted production. Do you want to spank me ?"

"Tempting. Why did you want to slit his throat ?"

“Unimportant.”

"Unimportant, uh ? Unimportant, love ? Because Ollie came to tell me that some guys were talking bad about me wife."

Groaning slightly, Alfie stood up just enough to push a piece of paper and pencil in her direction onto the table between them.

"Names."

“Alfie…”

"I want the names, treacle. I've already gone around the bakery telling everyone that insulting me wife and her family was insulting me, and I don't like being insulted. Names."

“You always make fun of gypsies.”

"Wrong." he retorted, holding up a finger as if that proved his point. "I do it when your brothers are around, because Thomas can be a little prick, and it's hilarious to see Arthur react like a mad dog. But I have nothing against gypsies. Lovely people. The proof, look at you. And look at me. The two most wonderful creatures our communities could spawn, right ?"

Despite all her strength, Y/N couldn't help but smile, which seemed to please her husband. He then placed his victorious finger on the paper, insisting on names.

If she had shown mercy by not cutting, this would not be the case with the wandering jew, king of Camden Town.

No one insulted his wife. No one looked at his wife badly, no one criticized her, no one tried to take away from her, no one thought of her with bad thoughts.

“Not even you ?” Y/N asked with a mischievous smile.

"Not at all. Now you brought up spanking. You brought it up first, love, not me."

“My brothers would be furious to hear that you beat me.”

"Don't tempt me, I can spread false rumors all the way to Birmingham just for the thrill of them all running here, and finding us…"

“You’re the one who deserves a spanking.”

"Ungrateful wife. Threatening me, under my own roof, when my back is killing me and I have just condemned half the city for the love of her."

The Shelbys never knew about their sister's difficult first months in Camden. Tommy noticed that he seemed to be treated with a little more respect when he walked the streets, but neither Y/N nor Alfie talked about what had happened before this outpouring of acceptance from the community.

On the other hand, Arthur noticed marks on his little sister's neck, and he tried to strangle Alfie, even after realizing that it wasn't what he thought, because it wasn't really better for him.

And Solomons reminding him that he was his brother-in-law didn't help at all.

[jeanmoreautemple]

Thea Muldani: a rant

I feel weird about Thea but I can’t really put into words exactly why? So I’m writing down some things I’ve thought.

I honestly didn’t think much about her before TSC, like she was okay (I wish she’d been introduced earlier tho or that she hadn’t graduated already so she was a recurrent Raven player or something).

After reading the extra content I wasn’t bothered about the age gap between her and Kevin but yes a little bit about the fact that Kevin was fourteen when they first met + the -you fuck like a virgin, maybe some practice will make you better at it- comment that Nora included. It was uuhh weird but the rest of the Kevthea story was okay, and Thea is 100% not a groomer. Plus, Nora technically deleted the extra content so in theory nothing there is canon yet.

Now in TSC we get her sole appearance in TKM from Jean’s POV, who has known her since he was fourteen (like Kevin- this is important to keep in mind). The scene starts out cute! We find out she took him under her wing and even had nicknames for him like Paris and her little duckling🥰. So the fourteen year boy that just arrived from france with broken English looked up to her, Thea was ~21 at this point.

We know Jean is going through HELL during this time:

And we also know the Moriyamas were always particularly cruel with Jean, getting more physical him than with Kevin. Even though It’s said that Riko would torture Jean and Kevin (broken hand incident) in private, hence the other Ravens not knowing the whole picture, how can a fourteen year old kid hide such pain? But apparently , as we later find out, Thea was too deep into the Evermore raven cult mindset that she didn’t find anything strange about the coach and Rikk’s behavior towards Jean.

At 15 Jean is given a number and place in the perfect court, but only at 16 joins the lineup. He gets a lot of hate, especially from the other defensemen, whom Thea works with:

Although the Ravens are know for being extremely violent training, at least in the court Thea must have noticed that the defense line were especially brutal to Jean. Or SOMETHING.

But here comes the worst part: during this same year Riko forces Jean to sleep with 5 defensemen. By the time Jean is a junior most of these have graduated which means they were 20 or older. So Thea had been playing with each of these guys for at least 2 years (except for Grayson), she knew them.

They went on to joke and talk about the whole ordeal as Jean paying for his perfect court number. Thea also being in the defense line could have heard all of this first hand, we don’t know. But It’s so widely talked about that it reaches Tetsuji and we do know Thea witnessed Jean’s punishment:

Coincidentally Thea starts a sexual and emotional relationship with Kevin this year (it’s her last too).

So here’s the part that made me dislike Thea very much. In TKM she goes to Kevin demanding answers, Kevin then brings her to Jean, who is looking like this:

It’s been three years since she graduated but she’s still wearing her Raven number in a necklace, and when she sees Jean’s state in TSC she comments how if Kevin hadn’t said anything she’d think it normal:

By now it’s clear she at 26 is still 100% brainwashed, but this next line of hers cemented it:

YOUR OLD TRICKS ?!

So let’s break that down:

1. The immigrant kid (16!) she watched over for two years from age 14 to 16 suddenly starts having sex with members of HER (23!) defense line who are all around her age and openly hate him for 5 consecutive nights and she doesn’t suspect anything?

2. Said defensemen then brag and shame Jean afterwards calling him a whore, which leads to Jean getting beaten half to dead by their coach and still nothing?

3. Years later she recalls the incident as Jean being up to his little tricks and being rightfully beaten to a pulp?!!!!

I can’t. I know she’s also a cult victim but no. It was super common for Ravens to have hate sex with each other but her being close to Kevin (and somewhat Jean) during the time Jean’s (a 16 year old!) assaults were happening and still remaining this clueless… I’m sure she must be lovable for both Kevin and Jean to respect and care for her so much but her one scene convinced me she’s way too deep into the Raven spirit and her presence around Kevin and Jean would be just so harmful.

But I have to give credit when it’s due, apparently after some hours with Kevin and 7 years later she believes her King broke Kevin’s hand:

In conclusion:

Thea is absolutely no groomer but if one takes a look at her attitude towards Jean’s sexual history when he was 16 and how her relationship with Kevin was happening simultaneously, her you fuck like a virgin, maybe some practice will make you better at it and tell me you weren’t up to your old tricks comment combo, it all makes me dislike her. Cause you’d think someone who at 22-23 was dating a boy who had just turned legal would be careful or mature enough to choose her wording better when talking about the sexual activity between a boy close in age to her own boyfriend with people around HER age, but nope. The fact that Kevin married her, has a child and lives happily ever after with her seems unbelievable to me.

PS: Her and Kevin’s (we don’t know if he believes Riko) apparent ignorance or lack of suspicion of Jean’s freshman year assault was the most hurtful part of TSC tbh (not counting Elodie). Imagine having the closest people to you misunderstand/ believe lies about such a traumatic event. I guess this is why Nora didn’t include a Andrew POV, I would have died or wanted to kill Nicky and Aaron for not looking deeper into Andrew’s attitude.

[bosbas]

Chapter 6: you had to kill me, but it killed you just the same

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 4.0k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love, angst, miscommunication (ish), lots of feelings in this one, benedict actually being the biggest idiot known to man, slow burn continues to slowly burn

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: kind of a Benedict heavy chapter oops

May 29, 1814 - The Featherington Ball two nights prior proved quite the romantic affair, prompting not one, not two, but three proposals in its aftermath. The inquisitive minds among you may inquire, 'To whom were these proposals directed?' But the more important question, dearest reader, is of the identity of the proposer. The answer is quite simple: it was Mr Nigel Berbrooke on all three occasions. And so, the members of the ton may be unsurprised to find that Mr Berbrooke was met with three swift rejections. One hopes that Mr Berbrooke will have a shift in fortune at the Smythe-Smith musicale tomorrow night. 

Among other news, our esteemed diamond has fled the spotlight. Miss Y/N Beaumont has not been spotted in the ton since the night of the Featherington ball. While Mr. Alexander Beaumont, her brother, cited an awful headache as the reason for her early departure from the ball, this author wonders whether Miss Beaumont was simply through with the social scene. One could certainly not blame her if Nigel Berbrooke is the only man of the ton who has taken romantic action this season. Hopefully, the Smythe-Smith abode will provide a better stage for young love, and if not, then at least the musicale will undoubtedly prove very entertaining. 

As Francesca finished her dramatic reading of the Whistledown column, she was met with resounding laughter from her siblings. Although Nigel Berbrooke's lackluster success in his romantic pursuits was amusing in itself, Lady Whistledown's sharp wit and Francesca's theatrical flare only added to the absurdity of his situation. 

Even Benedict, who was in a disagreeable mood because he hadn't spoken to you since the ball, couldn't help but chuckle. Eloise, breathless from laughter, extended her heartfelt condolences to the three unfortunate ladies who had fallen victim to the decidedly disagreeable Mr. Berbrooke. 

"Three proposals in two days, all met with rejection? Positively ghastly," remarked Anthony, shaking his head in amusement. 

Hyacinth was quick with a playful dig at her older brother. "Bold of you to assume you would be more successful than him, brother," came her retort, met with more giggles from her sisters and a feigned gasp of offense from Anthony.

"I assure you I absolutely would, dear Hyacinth. To start, I would refrain from pursuing three women at once. But you can rest peacefully knowing that whenever I choose to propose, my future wife will say yes in an instant," he drawled, a playful arrogance underscoring his words.

"I'd certainly like to see you try," Ben spoke, a slight edge to his voice. "Proposing to someone, I mean." Anthony turned to face his brother on the couch and raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. 

He retorted with an equally cutting edge to his voice, "In reality, Benedict, it seems that you are in a better position to propose than I am, don't you think?"

As the thick tension in the room became palpable, Francesca, Eloise, and Hyacinth held their breath in anxious anticipation. Though neither brother displayed outward aggression, their words carried an unmistakable undercurrent of intensity.

Benedict's breathing grew heavier, his eyes narrowing. Keeping his temper in check, he shot back sarcastically, "And what, pray tell, gives you that impression, dear brother?" Silent ripples of anger emanated from him, and the Bridgerton sisters felt a rising unease as the dispute seemed on the verge of eruption.

Sharp and deadly, Anthony's voice cut through the charged silence of the sitting room, "The fact that you already have someone to propose to, perhaps."

Anthony had barely finished speaking when Benedict rose abruptly, hands formed into tight fists at his sides. With a murderous look on his face, he ground out, "Actually, I don't believe I do." 

Seeing Anthony open his mouth to respond, Ben cut in quickly, pure poison dripping from his voice, "You are mistaken, Anthony. I have absolutely no one to propose to. There is simply nothing there. Nothing that a marriage can be built on, at least. I am aware that Y/N is looking for a husband, but it will most certainly not be me."

Hyacinth let out a quiet gasp of disbelief, quickly covering her mouth. Benedict swiftly stormed out of the room, leaving his siblings in dumbfounded silence. After a brief pause, Anthony shook his head, cursing under his breath and running after Benedict.

Benedict could barely feel his legs, white-hot anger flooding through him as he made his way to his bedroom. Typically, in such intense moments, he sought solace outdoors or channeled his frustrations into his art. But he had spent too many afternoons watching your nose scrunch as you laughed on the swings with him in the garden, and the walls of his studio were entirely filled with endless incomplete sketches of you, so he found the prospect rather unbearable at the moment. 

But he felt Anthony's firm hand on his shoulder before he could reach the staircase. Rolling his eyes and turning around, Ben spat a callous, "What?"

"Benedict, you are being ridiculous," came Anthony's response, in a tone of voice that was not unkind. "I cannot pretend to understand the inner workings of your friendship with Y/N, but I do know that you are inadvertently distracting her from finding a husband."

Entirely disarmed by his brother's change in tone, Benedict let out a long breath, defeated. He ran his hands through his hair, clearly frustrated by his impossible situation.

"Perhaps the kindest thing to do would be to let her go," pressed Anthony carefully, aware of the sensitivity of the topic. "I doubt she is aware of it herself, but the girl clearly has some sort of feelings for you, and you are only leading her on, so to speak."

Benedict could only nod, anxiously chewing at his lower lip. He knew his actions at the Featherington ball were not helping in your search for a husband, but it hurt just as much to stay away. Either way, Ben was desperate to speak with you. He knew he had to give you space, but it had been two days of complete silence from both of you, and he was itching to apologize properly.

---

As you waited outside of the Bridgerton residence, you shifted on your feet. Usually, you were happy to walk in unannounced, the closeness between your family and the Bridgertons removing the need for formalities. But you were nervous to see Ben. You hadn't seen him in a few days, let alone spoken to him, and you really would rather not have the conversation you were about to have with him. Cass suggested sending him a letter, but you couldn't imagine him opening it alone, reading that you wanted distance from him. It was much better to do this in person, and hopefully, he would understand your situation. He would have to, as the Smythe-Smith musicale was tonight, and both of you would be in attendance. 

Steeling yourself, you opened the front door and walked in, greeting the butler with a smile and a short wave, as you usually did. You practically skipped to the back door, eager to see Benedict despite dreading the difficult conversation ahead. You found him on the swings, staring off into the vast expanse of the Bridgerton garden. As you reached him, you tapped his shoulder three times and uttered a soft "Hi, Ben."

Immediately turning toward you, his face lit up in joy, and he stood up to hug you tight, spinning you around. "Well, hello! It's been far too long. How have you been?" 

As you both settled into the swings, you cleared your throat uncomfortably. "I've been alright. How about you?" 

"I've been alright. Anthony has been as irritating as ever, but unfortunately, there's no cure for that at the minute," he answered, earning a soft laugh from you. 

But your face dropped quickly, and you found yourself anxiously chewing your lip and staring into his perceptive eyes. Wordlessly, he asked you what was wrong with a slight tilt of his head and furrow of his brow. 

You cleared your throat again and spoke, "I apologize for running off the other night. I feel like I should explain myself. I've had some time to think in the past few days, and I do realize that I overreacted a bit, and for that, I am sorry." 

He reached over to grab your hand, rubbing his thumb in a comforting manner. Although it pained you, and you wanted nothing more than to lean into his touch, you carefully took your hand out of his grasp and set it in your own lap. A look of hurt flashed briefly across his eyes, and you felt your throat tighten and your stomach ache. But you had to continue. You had to get it all out now while you still had momentum.

"I just-" you paused. "Um, it might... benefit me... if we took some time apart," you said. You knew Benedict was trying to hide how crestfallen he truly was, but you knew him too well to be oblivious to his pain. 

You quickly jumped into your loosely prepared speech, "I don't mean away completely! And I don't mean forever, of course. I just think I could benefit from us... not acting how we usually do while I am trying to attract suitors."

He let your words hang in the air, fully processing what you were saying. "Of course, whatever you need. I'm sorry if I was distracting you from-"

"No!" you cut in. "Not at all! I think I was more distracting myself. This is not your fault in the least, Ben, and I'm sorry it's affecting you."

With a small smile, he shook his head, "It's quite alright, darling. I understand completely."

Except you really didn't think he understood. At all. 

"Maybe... maybe we could refrain from dancing at future balls? And perhaps it is not the best idea for you to call me darling. Or kiss me on the forehead. And I know I get anxious sometimes, and you really do help me when you hold my hand, but maybe we could refrain from that as well? And I still want to see you loads, obviously, but maybe I won't ignore any potential suitors who come calling in the mornings in favor of coming to see you here."

Benedict was staring at you dumbly. Hearing you say, out loud, everything that needed to change, it was astounding to him how close of a friendship the two of you had. But he understood. Oh, did he understand. And he would do anything for you, even if anything involved giving up ballroom dances, because, let's be honest, who else would he dance with if not you. He realized you were staring at him expectantly, and he nodded quickly.

"Yes, yes, of course, dar-" He cringed internally. Perhaps this would be more challenging than expected. "Yes, of course, Y/N," he finished. 

You smiled back gratefully, responding, "Well, that's settled then."

---

Benedict's earlier confidence in his ability to refrain from touching you was proving to be completely misguided. He had been at the musicale for barely an hour before he felt himself nearly vibrating with the need to be close to you. He had watched as you talked with suitor after suitor, patiently waiting for you to come over when you had a spare moment. But the spare moment never came. You were utterly enthralled in your conversations, not even sparing him a glance. The only time you had spoken to him was a small "Hello!" in passing as you walked across the ballroom holding Lord Egerton's forearm. At least you were not ignoring him purposefully, but he was still moping dejectedly about the ballroom, unable to join in the lively banter his siblings and yours always provided.

His night had not improved much by the time the musicale was over. His mother had pleaded with him to dance with Penelope Featherington, and he had begrudgingly complied. Of course, he usually enjoyed the girl's company, but tonight, he would have preferred to sulk in a corner of the ballroom by himself. Ben had also gone to the terrace with Colin and Alex but quickly opted to go back inside and torture himself by keeping an eye on you. The whole time he observed you, he could feel an unpleasant feeling deep in his stomach that traveled up his torso until it settled uncomfortably in his chest. It was an exercise in masochism, watching you flirt and smile and even giggle with other men. But Ben knew he could do nothing about it, aside from stewing in his own despair, of course. You had explicitly asked him for a chance to properly be courted without his interference, and it would be cruel to disallow you that. 

While Benedict had a relatively uneventful but painful evening, you barely had a moment to yourself. Gentleman after gentleman, followed by mama after mama, came to ask you to dance or talk to you. You smiled through it all, of course, but as the night wore on, you became more and more irritable, finding that you simply wanted to go and chat to Benedict for a few minutes, to take a break from social niceties and have a laugh or two with him, at least. But you needed to stay focused, or your talk with Ben would have been for nothing.

After hours of listening to the grueling sounds of the Smythe-Smiths playing various instruments, you rejoiced when your mother interrupted your conversation with some earl or viscount and his mother. Their names escaped you, but at this point in the night, you were proud of yourself for even giving them more than one-word answers. Politely excusing yourself from the pair, you smiled gratefully at your mother, who only laughed good-naturedly at your distress. 

"I didn't see you talking to Ben much tonight. Is everything alright with the two of you?" 

You looked at your mother, cringing. "That obvious, was it?"

She gave you a questioning look and smiled, answering, "Given that the two of you usually are attached at the hip at every event you attend, yes, it was quite obvious."

You rolled your eyes at her, hiding how truly upset you were that you and Ben had taken some time apart. "We were not that attached! Besides, it's only one ball where I was more focused on finding a husband than my best friend. You should be happy!"

---

It had not, in fact, been only one ball. You had now gone five consecutive balls without dancing with Benedict. Opportunities to talk with you at these events were scarce, and he was lucky if he managed to secure a mere five minutes alone. Colin had noticed him looking dejected and morose at every social event, not that Ben was trying particularly hard to hide it, and asked about you. Benedict's response to his brother's concern was curt and evasive, a gruff "everything is fine." 

Despite the distance, Ben found solace in your afternoons together after you had finished seeing callers. The moment you saw him, you would relax and launch into a lengthy explanation of the latest exciting information you had acquired from the vast library in the Beaumont home since none of the "so-called gentlemen" bothered to listen to you, as you put it. 

He did enjoy your ramblings and appreciated the opportunity to ramble himself, launching into detailed studies of his favorite artists of the time. However, he was finding himself less able to put on a happy front when he barely talked to you for days at a time. At this point, he was not even harboring any negative feelings toward any of your suitors; he just missed you. His days felt empty and long, not having been apart from you for this long since before you could speak, probably. His family had noticed, and he was growing sick of their soft voices and careful treatment of him. He just wanted you back. He wanted to feel your head on his lap again and spend hours by your side in his art studio, painting on a canvas as you sat near him and read. Most of all, he missed the comfortable intimacy that came with your friendship, the quiet understanding that had been feeling out of sorts since you asked him for some space. 

So, when you had bounded into the Bridgerton home this afternoon, carrying a new book in tow, he knew he couldn't go on the way the two of you were right now. You immediately noticed Benedict's tense mood, even more so than usual, and did not relent until he spoke to you about what was bothering him. You had a feeling you knew what he was going to say, having also felt his absence to the point of distraction, and had prepared to have a talk with Ben whenever he was ready. You would usually give in to anything he asked of you, having little to no self-control when it came to Benedict Bridgerton, but you knew you had to be strong today. 

Seeing his bloodshot eyes, you placed a comforting hand on Ben's shoulder, breaking one of your rules but not finding it in you to care. He put his hand over yours, instantly feeling better than he had in over a week.

"It's just hard, isn't it? Have you felt it, too?" he looked at you, feeling a tad vulnerable.

You looked away, unable to meet his eyes for fear that you would start crying. You took a breath before answering, steeling yourself. "I have. It is proving to be quite difficult. But I need to find a husband, Ben," you said, your voice firm. "So, unless you're willing to marry me, it does have to be like this," you tried to make a lighthearted comment, but the crack in your voice gave you away too easily. 

Your words left him speechless, and if he was completely candid, he could have cried right then and there. Benedict understood what you were saying. What you were implying, rather. And he shook his head, voice soft, "I can't do that, Y/N. I'm so sorry."

Of course, you had expected this answer, but it didn't make it any less difficult to know that Ben was still opposed to the idea of marrying you after having experienced the last week or so. So you nodded, finally looking at him, a sad smile gracing your lips. 

"I guess that's our answer, then," you spoke. 

Your words were a complete blow to his chest. He felt like he was going to be sick. Because, of course, this didn't only mean that the two of you would not be married, something Benedict already knew. This meant that your friendship could truly never be the same. The search for a husband you didn't even want was simply an insurmountable obstacle. 

At least for today, he could still pretend things were normal. Your hand was still enclosed in his, and for a moment, he could forget all that had transpired and just enjoy the feel of your skin against his and the promise of an afternoon full of your entertaining and lighthearted literary commentary. 

---

Violet was at her wit's end. She could recognize that her son was being a complete idiot, said with affection, of course. However, Violet would not stand for you, Benedict's best friend, her own best friend's daughter, looking absolutely heartbroken night after night, talking to men who would never understand you in the way that Ben did, and who did not even want to try. She knocked on his studio door and, upon entering, let out a deep sigh at the sheer volume of sketches of your face, your hands, your eyes, and just you in general that adorned her son's art studio. 

The dowager viscountess cleared her throat with an air of authority, ready to give Benedict some much-needed tough love. Once she had made herself comfortable, sitting on the couch facing Ben, Violet clasped her hands in front of her. She could tell Ben was already dreading what she was going to say.

"Benedict, my sweet. You know, when I married your father, I was over the moon to be marrying someone I was not only in love with but also someone I could call my dear friend. In my experience, friendship as the foundation of a marriage creates the best kind of partnership."

Ignoring Benedict's increasingly tense energy, she continued, "I know you have an extraordinary friendship with Y/N. Everyone knows, actually. One can very clearly see that the two of you care for one another, and a friendship as special as that is not easy to come by." 

Seeing her son open his mouth to interject, Violet silenced him with a stern look, not in the mood to be interrupted. "I fear that if you do not take advantage of this wonderful gift you have been given, your best friend will end up married to another man, and your friendship will be lucky to survive."

Benedict had had quite enough already. Anthony, then you, his mother, and even Hyacinth and Colin were all telling him the same thing, clearly not understanding that he simply did. Not. Want. To. Marry. You. 

He was through feeling wounded; his hurt had transformed into full-blown anger. Being mindful to keep his voice in check, he spoke with as loud of a voice as was appropriate, desperate for anyone to actually listen to what he was saying. 

"Mother, I appreciate your concern. But as I have told Anthony, Y/N, Hyacinth, and Colin, I do not wish to marry Y/N. I did not want to marry her two months ago, before her debut, and I do not want to marry her now. I am sick of everyone telling me what I want or what they think I should do. I know that I do not want her, and that will be the end of the discussion, thank you very much."

Benedict barely processed his mother's sympathetic look in response to his declaration, ignoring the hand he felt on his shoulder. Disappointed and a bit sad for your future, Violet walked out of his studio, knowing Ben wouldn't continue the conversation further. 

Of course, what Benedict had told his mother was a lie. A lie so often repeated in his head he had been inclined to believe it for the better part of the last decade of your friendship. But deep down, Benedict knew it wasn't the truth. 

The truth was that marriage was your worst nightmare. He was all too familiar with your grievances toward the institution, having heard you talk about your distaste for having to find a husband since childhood. Ben had spent years by your side, listening to you express your aversion to marriage over and over again. You were convinced you would be miserable after being wed, endlessly searching for something more: a freedom you thought you could never achieve once you were married. 

And so, he could not marry you. It was selfish, to be sure, but he did not want your distaste and displeasure with marriage directed at him. He would give you anything else, but not this. In Benedict's opinion, if he married you, you would grow to dislike him, feeling trapped within the confines of your relationship. 

Throughout your shared childhood, Ben watched you grow into an incredibly smart woman, and your growth inevitably brought about a growing hostility toward your future as a wife. He was intimately familiar with the fear that brought about this hostility, and he couldn't bring himself to be the person who made these fears come true.

Benedict knew that the two of you could learn to love each other if you were married. This was, of course, assuming that he wasn't already in love with you, which he could not bear to think about properly. He just didn't think he could survive it. Having a front-row seat to the unhappiness you would feel after being married and watching you fall out of love with him because of it. He simply couldn't be the cause of that. He cared about you too much to take that risk. So he chose to stay away instead, even if it meant the end of years of close friendship and love and intimacy. 

—

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[en-gelic]

𓍼 . about us ⋆ p.sunghoon

pairing ๋࣭ ⭑ brothersbsf!sunghoon x f.reader | genre(s) ๋࣭ ⭑fluff, secret relationship word count ๋࣭ ⭑1.1k | warnings ๋࣭ ⭑ petnames (princess, baby, my love), slightly suggestive, mentions of parties, drinking, kisses | status ๋࣭ ⭑ proofread ! | 𓍯 library ๋࣭ ⭑

Seven months ago, upon the birthday of one of your brother’s friends whom you were told to stay away from, loud music ached your head and resounded through your ears, bitter liquid igniting your throat as you made your way through a crowd of third years playing drinking games, declining their invite for you to join them, and forced your way through the vacant kitchen. Refilling a new cup with water to soothe the pain that was crawling into your head, you sat on the kitchen counter after filling it up, closing your eyes and praying that no one entered your room and infused it with disturbing noises and revolting scents. As you opened your eyes, you caught the amused stare of a boy with pale skin, dark brown hair that fell below his eyes, abnormally long fangs, and a sharp jawline. You watched as he scanned you and walked towards you, a boyish grin igniting on his face. Your mind blanks as his built arms form a cage around your body. His face resembled an animal who finally caught something it desired. Snapping out of the trance he had so easily put you in, you attempted to free yourself which was stopped without difficulty. As his face advanced towards yours, your breaths mingled, and a rush of memorabilia flooded your mind as you recalled who he was.

Park Sunghoon.

You were five years old when you first met him, two years before he got into his career of figure skating. You met him through Jake, your older brother by one year, and was instantly included as the baby of the friendship. Mainly because you were the baby of the friendship. Your friendship with him continued until you were 15 when he went abroad to continue his training in figure skating. You knew Jake still called him, but you didn’t know that he came back. Looking much more like a man rather than an adolescent boy.

Leading your mind back to reality, you scanned his face again. Nothing changed much besides the fact that he looked a lot less young than he did when you last saw each other.

“So now do you remember me, love?” He asked, breath fanning your face, probably reading the confusion on your face as you looked at him.

Your stomach lurched at the sudden nickname and hint of playfulness in his tone.

Ignoring his question, you caught his face in your hands and lifted it to examine it better. “You look old.”

Hearing this, his face contorted in confusion at your sudden statement. “That’s one way to welcome me.”

Your mouth curled at the corners as you replied, “My apologies, your highness. I welcome your presence dearly.”

Amused at your tease, he straightened up. “You haven’t changed at all, princess.”

“You’ve changed. You became a massive flirt.” Your nose scrunched to mask the acrobatics your stomach was performing.

“Only for you.”

You could admit that before he left, there was something between the two of you. Exchanging secret glances, holding hands, and the utmost care you would put into doing something that had something to do with him.

“I heard from an unnamed source that you say this to everyone.” Still smiling, your arms engulfed his neck, pulling him into a hug.

“Tell that source, that I only mean it when I’m talking to you.” His body was warm and his hair tickled your shoulder. He adjusted his head and trailed soft kisses from your neck to your cheeks, stopping just as he reached your lips.

Amusement hinted with disappointment washed your features as he pulled away. “You tease.” You muttered, bringing your hand to the nape of his neck and pulling him towards you. Breaths mingled; your lips connected moving in sync as your heartbeat rapidly increased. Separating the both of you, you jumped off the kitchen counter, noticing almost immediately how much he had grown.

“You’re still short.” His lips, now tinted in pink, found their way to your forehead as you tugged at his hand, insisting on bringing him up to your room to show him everything he missed out on while he was gone.

Years had gone by, but it still felt like nothing had changed at all.

All you desired was a moment with him alone. Cramped in your room, your brother and his friends made themselves visibly comfortable by splaying their limbs out on your bed, leaving no breathing space for you who was in between Jake and Sunghoon. The movie was draining and boring, but Sunghoon insisted that they all watch the movie together. With only seven minutes left in the movie, you listened as everyone’s breathing became heavy. Your eyes began to feel heavy and were about to shut before an arm snaked around your waist and pulled you closer to them. He planted a kiss on your neck and adjusted your head so that you were resting on his arm. Flinching, you felt a cold hand sneak under your shirt drawing hearts on your stomach, reminding you how much he loved you. 

“Your hands are so cold.” You said, fighting the urge to kick him as his hand was creeping higher. 

“I’m cold-blooded.” He replied, his breath warm against your neck as you rolled your eyes at the horrible joke. He kissed your collarbone for a longer period this time and you quickly moved out of his reach, sensing that something that could get the both of you in trouble was about to happen. A grin painted his face as he pulled you back into his arms. “Is my baby scared that they’ll find out about us?” His tone was mocking as he was amused by your cautiousness. He was always getting the both of you into situations like this. Sending you messages when you were showing your brother something, knowing very well that you named him ‘My love’, holding your waist and nuzzling his head between your neck when everyone was around but no one was watching. Elbowing his rib, you turned to face his amused stare as he leaned down to peck your lips. Doing it more than once to tease you. For the last one you initiated it and held it for long, only separating to catch your breath. Lip on lip, moving in sync as your breaths mingled together. You felt someone moving beside you but still didn’t stop just to tease your boyfriend who pulled away almost immediately upon hearing the movement.

You looked up at his face and grinned in utter amusement at the worry that was painted on it. 

“Are you scared they’re going to find out about us?” You teased, copying his mocking tone. He grinned back at you and muttered lowly against your hair, “How about we go to my place to continue?” 

Your smile increased as you sat up and walked towards your door. "Why not?"

⭑ authors note: my perfectionism tried me while writing this :/

౨ৎ perm taglist: @i57berry @cholexc (open)

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[imjustasimpxd]

My Angel (Part Two)

➬ Reiner Braun x Fem reader

Part One | Part Three | Masterlist | Blog Home | Aot Masterlist

Summary : Reiner was always taught that the devils of Paradis were vicious creatures, but what is he supposed to do when he soon finds himself reluctantly falling for one? Or when he is forced to go back to Marley and leave her altogether?

Word count : around 5, 200 words

Warnings : Again, very angsty. Reiner feels guilty about what he’s done, reader is angry with him. Crying, mentions of heartbreak. Spoilers for season 4 part one.

Author’s notes : reblogs are appreciated!! I appreciate all feedback on my writing so that I can know what you guys liked and what you think I should improve on😊

Disclaimer : this is a work of fiction and should in no way, shape, or form, be taken seriously.

Side Note : this fic, and everything else I’ve written on my blog, is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or steal my work.

❗️Important Note❗️

There will in fact be a part three! While I was writing part two, it ended up becoming so long that I just decided to split it up. That’s why this chapter leaves off on a cliffhanger (and that’s also why it took me so long to post this one). But I thank you all for your patience. If anyone else wants to be tagged for part three then let me know in the comments! :)))

“Can I please ask where exactly we’re going?” Reiner questioned, his voice lacing with a hint of annoyance as Falco gripped his arm, anxiously pulling him towards the city’s back alleys.

“I told you it’s a surprise! A friend of yours wants to say hi before the show starts!” Falco explained, glancing backward at his superior with a cheerful smile as he continued to pull him in the opposite direction.

“Is that right?” Reiner spoke sarcastically, scoffing quietly to himself as he took in the boy’s words.

What was Falco really up to?

Surely the whole “a friend wants to say hi” explanation was made up; because Reiner Braun wasn’t exactly a man you would think of as having friends.

Sure, he was surrounded by people a lot of the time, and he even had allies with whom he got along pretty well with. But even so, Reiner knew he was nothing more than a comrade to them; nothing more than a vessel to wield the armored titan.

But that was okay, because they were nothing more than comrades to him.

With being born Eldian as well as being a warrior for Marley’s military force, Reiner Braun didn’t exactly have the time, luxury, or frankly, the mental strength to seek out any social interactions beyond strictly work-related ones.

Well, at least, not anymore.

He made that mistake once, and in doing so, it cost him the demolition of a poor woman’s heart; as well as his own.

In fear that opening up to another person again might cause that beating vessel in his chest to truly see itself past repair, Reiner Braun had decided to close himself off from others, refusing to repeat those tragic events of his past.

So, with that in mind, who exactly was this “person” that Falco was happily dragging him by the arm to see?

It couldn’t have been anyone he was genuinely close with; there wasn’t anyone like that for him, not anymore at least. Any authentic connections he once had with people were now severed, collapsed by the calamity he caused back on that forsaken island.

So who on earth was he being forced to see?

“It’s just in here!” Falco said excitedly, his finger pointing toward a wooden door as they rounded the corner; one that lead to a basement stationed under an older apartment complex.

From the outside, the place looked dim and run down, its location secluded to a quiet and unfrequented street.

The very sight had Reiner scratching his head in confusion. Of all places, why here? Why pick such an isolated area to meet with him? Not only that, but why would this person send a naive little boy to escort him to this place instead of just contacting Reiner directly?

Was this a trap he was walking into?

Should he leave?

Like a flame set to brush, panic began spreading through Reiner’s veins. His free hand was gripped into a strained fist and his eyes darted in all directions, watching out for any surprise attacks.

If this really was a trap, if someone was anticipating charging at him, then he’d be ready for it.

Suddenly, the wooden door opened. Loud groans from the beat-down hinges filled the air, followed by the sound of footsteps; footsteps that belonged to a dark, hooded figure.

Reiner’s eyes widened at the scene before him, an eerie feeling twisting in his stomach as he watched the mysterious person walk out the door; heading in his direction.

Whoever it was, he thought about fighting them off, even going as far as raising both his hands in the air to assume a defensive stance.

However, that’s when he caught a glimpse of Falco next to him. The little boy had started to head towards the figure, almost as if he was acquainted with the human; if it even was human.

“Falco wait!” Reiner quickly followed in the boy’s footsteps, gripping his arm before he could walk any closer to the person. “We should leave.” He suggested, anxiously tugging on the boy’s limb in hopes to urge him back in the opposite direction.

“It’s okay Mr. Braun,” Falco smiled, quick to reassure his superior. “This is where he said to meet him.”

Who’s he? Was it that person lurking around with the cloak draped across their face? Or was there someone inside as well?

Reiner didn’t have any answers, nor did he have a definite resolve on how to react in this situation. Should he trust Falco’s judgment and allow this “meetup” to happen? Or should he grab the boy and run while he still had the chance?

The latter seemed like the best option, especially considering the fact that Falco was just a child, and therefore could’ve easily been manipulated into something dangerous.

He wanted to trust Falco’s words, but it was too risky. If something happened, the boy’s blood would be on Reiner’s hands; and he couldn’t bear the weight of any more sorrow, or any more guilt.

“We’re leaving, Falco!” Reiner insisted, readjusting his grip on the boy’s arm to forcefully pull him away from the situation.

Although, just as he’d turned around to take those first few steps, he heard something that made his body freeze, and his heart clench.

“If you’re done arguing you can go on ahead. He’s waiting for you inside.”

That voice. Reiner knew that voice.

It was the same one he used to hear nagging at him to wake up in the early mornings. The same voice that used to comfort him whenever he was feeling disheartened.

It was… the same voice he never thought he’d have the pleasure of hearing ever again…

All he received was one simple sentence, but that was all the verification he needed. There was no doubt in his mind, the voice he heard: belonged to you.

“Y/n?!” His body immediately turned around to face the hooded figure. His eyes then squinted, trying to see more than just the gentle silhouette of a pair of lips and a jawline that was exposed by the moonlight’s glow.

The figure froze at his words, saying nothing in response; almost as if they didn’t anticipate being recognized.

“Y/n, is that you?” Reiner asked again, hoping to earn a response this time.

However, there was none; at least, not a verbal one.

All he gained was a sudden flinch that occurred once he spoke that name a second time, followed by the subtle shaking of fingertips that poked out from the sleeves of the cloak.

You must’ve been scared, embarrassed; perhaps even both.

And who would blame you for it? The last time you saw him he had slaughtered more than half of your comrades. Who knows what he’s capable of now after four years have passed?

“Falco?” Reiner finally broke the silence, glancing down at the boy he was still holding on to. “Why don’t you go on inside, I’ll be with you in a minute.”

However, before the boy could open his mouth to speak, he was quickly interrupted. “There’s no reason for him to leave! I’m not staying to chat.” A stern voice echoed past the cloak covering your face, but that didn’t phase Reiner.

He knew it was you from the moment that first syllable left your lips, even more so now that you’d spoken a second time.

Your tone was serious, added with a hint of aggression in order to scare him off, but he wouldn’t be turned away by that. Not when this was the chance he’d been silently praying for ever since he left that island four years ago. The chance to finally see you once again, even for just a moment.

Now that this chance was finally here, standing in front of him, there was no way he’d let it slip away; regardless of the tone you used with him.

“Just a few minutes?!” He insisted, taking a few steps forward in case you were preparing to run away. “Please?” He asked in a much quieter tone, his eyes practically begging for you to give in, to grant him even the smallest portion of your time.

Even after all these years he still knew how to persuade you, didn’t he? He must’ve, otherwise, your mouth would’ve never opened to let out a frustrated “Five minutes and that’s it!”

Reiner’s shoulders quickly relaxed at your words. His head then turned towards Falco subsequently, giving him a quick nod of his head: which apparently was his signal to “get going.”

Falco’s gaze switched between Reiner and the person he was apparently dying to speak to. The boy was unsure of what was going on, or who that unidentified person even was, but nevertheless, Falco knew better than to argue with his superior; so he’d comply with the orders given to him.

“S-sure…I’ll just, be inside then…” Falco spoke hesitantly, slowly backing away to walk toward the wooden door. He stopped momentarily after placing his fingers on the handle, almost as if he was waiting for Reiner to change his mind. But after receiving no signs of a change of heart, Falco reluctantly opened the door and stepped inside; closing it behind him.

The moment that wooden door shut, an unpleasant silence filled the air. Instead of partaking in the “conversation” you were supposed to have, the two of you just stood in silence.

You didn’t dare speak up. Reiner was the one who made you stay after all, if anyone should be the first to start this conversation it was him.

Your eyes were fixated on him with a calloused glare, your lips refusing to part even the slightest bit.

Reiner on the other hand, wore an expression more timid and anxious than yours.

He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, fingers fidgeting with each other as he contemplated the best way to start this conversation.

“I uh…” He tried to speak, but the words fumbled in his mouth, leaving just as quickly as they came.

It’s ironic, just a moment ago he was begging for you to stay so that he could have the chance to talk to you, but now that his chance had finally arrived, he couldn’t think of anything to say.

As he stood there, overanalyzing a potential response, he noticed the way you scoffed, clearly annoyed at his delay in response.

You were growing impatient with him, and if he didn’t take the opportunity to speak with you now, you’d most likely never allow him another chance to waste your time again.

So, after what had seemed like hours of silence, when in reality was more like 1 minute, Reiner finally spoke up.

“Can you take off the hood?”

Your eyes quickly narrowed in confusion at his odd request. Out of everything he could’ve asked, everything he could’ve apologized for, this is the first thing he says?

“Why?” You questioned, still unsure of his intentions on the matter.

“I just…” He began, but his words quickly started to fade out, almost as if he felt unworthy to be asking in the first place.

Nevertheless, you were persistent.

“You just what?!” You snapped, frustrated at his apparent dedication to withhold information from you; a recurring dedication at that.

“I just…” he inhaled shakily before speaking, “I want to see your face.”

You paused at his words, taking a moment to process what he’d just said. After expecting something pitiful, or perhaps even bitter coming from him, it was quite a shock to receive this: a fairly tender request.

He wanted to see your face? Why? What difference would that make?

It’d be the same one he saw four years ago, nothing’s changed; at least, not to you.

Despite asking for something which would require him to look upwards, Reiner kept his eyes glued to the ground, as if he felt undeserving to see you again. It wasn’t until he heard the heavy sigh that jerked past your lips, along with the quiet “fine” you gave in response to his request that made him finally look up.

As his gaze lifted, watching you pull that gloomy hood off your head, Reiner was met with a flashback of memories.

It all reappeared in an instant: the sound of your adorable laugh, the way your hair looked when the sun glistened across it, even the small little habits he’d discovered about you as time went by; they were all coming back, recollecting in his mind clearer than if it all happened a day ago.

Reminding him, painfully, of a time when things were simpler, when he was happier, and, most regretfully, a time when he had you.

Pulling off that hood allowed him to finally lay eyes upon a face he hadn’t seen in ages. A face he used to watch soundly sleeping next to him at night, placing gentle kisses all over when no one was around.

It was the same face he used to stare at in fascination; taken back by the beautiful way your lips would curve upwards into a smile, or even the way your eyes radiated the most alluring shade of color when the sun shone across your skin.

That face was one he had desperately longed to observe once more for the entirety of four long years, and coincidentally, it was the same face that now stared him down with an irritated glare.

Absent was the sparkle your eyes once held for the man standing before you, and gone was the loving countenance you were never hesitant to grant him.

Now your face lay still, your features refusing to move even the smallest bit in case it were to form some sort of pleasant expression towards him accidentally.

Who was this woman?

If not for the fact that he had easily identified her face, Reiner wouldn’t have recognized her.

Where was the kind and loving woman he fell in love with? Was she not the one standing before him now?

No, this woman was different. This one seemed to hold an inkling of abhorrence towards him, easily provoked by just his presence alone.

Was this… the product of his own making?

Was this… what he’d turned you into?

As if he wasn’t tormented enough by his decision, now he was witnessing the consequences of his actions unfold before his very eyes.

“How.. how are you here?” Reiner stuttered, still in shock over the fact that you were actually standing there; that for whatever reason, his prayers to see you again had finally been answered.

“I’m only here in service of a friend; nothing else.”

Your response was so vague, so cold; nothing like the endearing way you used to speak to him.

“Which friend?”

“It doesn’t matter,” You replied forbiddingly. Your tone sounded so distant, so unfriendly towards him.

To think, the last time he heard your voice, it had told him “Goodnight, I love you.” But now that voice was harsh as it spoke, probably regretful of saying those very words after waking up to find out he’d abandoned you that next morning.

The difference in your tone was beginning to eat away at Reiner, straining that beating vessel in his chest more and more with each look of your indignant expression. As if you’d just picked up a shovel and started digging, deepening his guilt further than it already was; if that was even possible.

“Your minutes are up by the way, and I have to leave.” You suddenly spoke, hoping your statement was bleak enough to end the conversation, meaning you could finally leave; finally be free of him.

“Wait!” Just before you could escape, Reiner quickly reached forward and grabbed your wrist, clinging to it as if his life was hinging on it. “Wait please, don’t leave…”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

He deserved that. Honestly, he deserved more than that.

Call him whatever names you could think of, and he would let you, he’d allow every single one of them, no matter how excruciating, because he knew they were true; because deep down he knew he deserved them.

“I’m not interested in what you have to say, Reiner.” Your words were like knives to his heart, causing the already aching organ to shudder yet again. “Whatever it is you should’ve said it four years ago.”

Was that true?

If he really did explain it to you before he left, would things be different now? Would you have understood his situation? Understood why he had to do it?

Why he had to leave?

“Please,” he implored, desperately maintaining that grip on your wrist. “Please, just let me explain it to you.”

It was pathetic, how he was begging like this, pleading for you to stay and hear him out as if he wasn’t the one that left you in the first place.

“Nothing you say will change what happened.”

He knew that was true, but in spite of that, he still refused to let you go again without telling you, without apologizing at the very least.

“I know,” he admitted, a glossy haze shimmering in his eyes as he looked at you. “But please, I want you to know the truth.”

A part of you wanted to leave, to deny him any further chances to cause you more pain with an explanation. However, another part of you wanted an apology. You wanted to hear his side of the story; to hear whatever excuse he had for abandoning you. No matter how twisted, or pitiful, his reasoning was, you couldn’t deny you had questions you wanted him to answer.

“Fine then. Tell me.” You quickly adjusted your posture, staring at him with your eyebrows raised; a gesture he remembered you only used when you were serious about something.

“Why did you betray us?”

Here it was, the moment he had been waiting for since this conflict arose: his chance to finally be understood, to be seen as more than just the traitor he was made out to be.

“I was given orders,” he started, retracting his hand from your wrist now that you’d clearly abandoned the option to run. “I had no choice but to follow them.”

“And what were your orders?” Your voice sounded heavy, almost as if it was hurting to bring all this back up again; like a wound that was still fresh, still desperately trying to heal itself.

Reiner’s mouth remained shut, his head lowering as he closed his eyes, not wanting to answer your question. He knew he’d be made to look like the villain no matter what he said, no matter which way he worded it.

Did that mean he really was the villain?

In your eyes, maybe.

Perhaps you’d never accept his side of the story, never be able to see past the wretched sins he’d carried out. But regardless, even if he never got the forgiveness he so desperately wanted from you, he couldn’t hide from the truth any longer. It was time to embrace it, all of it.

“They told us to sneak in and make allies first, that way we had the people’s trust and no one would suspect us.” He sighed, his eyes refusing to look up at you in fear of the face you’d make upon hearing his confession. “Once the time came, we were ordered to steal the founding titan by whatever means necessary. And if anyone tried to stop us, we had permission to silence them, using whatever tactics we deemed fit.”

Reiner’s heart felt tight as he let those words out, his shame growing stronger now that he was remembering it all, remembering what he’d done.

How did things end up like this?

He was just trying to do what he was trained to do: save the world from ruin; that’s all. But here he was now, that mission an embarrassing failure as he reminisced on his actions; the same actions that caused such sorrow for so many people, including himself.

And as if things weren’t bad enough, as if Reiner wasn’t feeling guilty already, he heard a sudden change in your breathing that could only mean one thing: you were beginning to cry.

“No, wait!” His head quickly lifted to look at you, instantly regretting it as your distressed face came into view. “Please, don’t cry.” He begged, using his thumb to wipe away the liquid collecting on your skin; which you surprisingly allowed him to do without putting up a fight.

“Don’t cry, okay? Not for me.” He demanded, despite his own eyes welling up with tears as well.

He just couldn’t bear it, knowing he was hurting you yet again.

It was almost as if nothing had changed, even after all those years. As if he was reliving those horrors of his past once more, reliving that anguish he saw imprinted across your visage when you found out he was the armored titan; the same armored titan that had killed so many of your friends.

You didn’t understand it, even now.

Was the man who used to dote on you really the same person as the one who carried out such violence and hatred against your people?

How could that be true? How could he have done such a thing, committed such betrayal against the woman he loved?

What changed? Was it something you did?

Or perhaps a more gut-wrenching explanation: he never loved you to begin with. Maybe that’s why it was so easy for him to give you up, maybe, this was his plan all along.

“What else?” You asked, your voice trembling in the process.

Reiner’s face quickly scrunched in confusion, unsure of what you were getting at. “What do you mean?”

“Were those your only orders?” Tears quickly began trickling down your face faster than Reiner could stop, your gaze looking more despondent than ever. “Was there really not anything else?” Your lips parted to let out a stinging sob, one that seemed like it’d been held in for too long.

It was obvious you were waiting for some sort of answer from him, and every second he delayed with a response was only tormenting you further.

But, even so, it didn’t change the fact that Reiner didn’t understand what you were asking of him; or what you wanted to hear so badly.

Your eyes stared at him in sorrow, more tears absorbing into your skin before you asked your question one last time; phrasing it differently now.

“Was falling in love with me a part of your mission too? Was I just another means to accomplish your end goal?”

Reiner’s heart convulsed at your words, his mouth agape to let out a pained gasp.

Did he just hear that right?

A tool?! Is that really what you thought? Is that really all you assumed you were worth to him?

As if you could ever be such a thing.

Granted, he understood how you may have assumed that, given the matter of his betrayal and all. But, despite that, he never expected such an absurd accusation.

There was a wide range of names you could’ve called him: a traitor, a liar, a monster; anything, and he would’ve accepted it; He would’ve owned up to it.

But this: questioning whether or not his affection towards you was genuine; that was one accusation he’d never admit to.

You were never a tool, you weren’t even a part of his plan to begin with. Falling in love with a woman of Paradis wasn’t exactly one of the orders he received when he was assigned to that mission. In fact, getting involved with you went against the sole purpose of him being there; the sole purpose of his assignment.

He was sent there to exterminate the Eldian race, to wipe out every last one of those despicable beings so that the world could finally be safe.

Falling in love wasn’t an order laid out in his job description at all, much less with a woman of Paradis. And yet, he did.

Reiner was a strategic man, he wasn’t one to easily abandon orders, no matter how difficult they may be. That in itself should’ve been enough to prove his affection toward you; because he never would’ve done such a thing had he not felt it was worth it, had he not felt you were worth it.

Nevertheless, here you were, teeth gritted in frustration as you impatiently awaited his answer.

Your face spoke only of torment, and it pained Reiner to have to witness it. The way your eyes were slanting together in an unsuccessful attempt to subdue your tears, your fingers curling into fists to help better contain your irritation, all of it was a clear sign of the repercussions his decision to abandon the woman he loved had caused.

It was just like the last time, you were falling to pieces over him once more, and Reiner couldn’t stand the sight of it.

Your gentle cries may not have been as loud and mournful as they were four years ago, but it didn’t matter; the fact that you were even crying in the first place was enough to make that twisting sensation return to his stomach; possibly becoming permanent at this rate.

Reiner stretched his arm out to grasp your hand, hoping to console you, however, you quickly backed away, refusing to let him touch you.

“I don’t want your pity!” you spat, your fragile body trembling from both the anger and suffering fueling inside. “I just want the truth! Did you ever love me?”

Was that even a question?

Yes, he was fully aware that it would’ve been hard to believe the authenticity of someone who’d abandoned you; someone who so easily decided to turn against you, as if doing so didn’t phase them in the slightest.

But regardless, ignoring the heinous crimes he’d committed, did you still believe he never loved you?

Were his actions before this messy conflict never enough to convince you of his sentiments?

What about all the times he’d hold you in his arms, whispering to you about how happy you made him feel? Did you really not believe any of that? Was he pouring out his heart’s inner-most secrets for nothing?

Or what about the times he’d surprise you with food, despite rations being low? He almost got caught stealing food for you so many times; which was unwise of him considering the fact that it could’ve possibly had him kicked out of the survey corps: meaning his whole plan to infiltrate the military would’ve gone up in flames.

Or, perhaps how he’d always try to keep an eye on you during missions, making sure you never encountered something too dangerous for you to handle. You always complained that he was being too paranoid, but it was only because, unlike you, he was aware of the kind of power titans held; the kind of pain they could’ve, he could’ve, inflicted upon a tiny human being.

All he ever wanted was to protect you, to do what was best for you. Did you really never realize that?

Even after he made Annie and Bertholdt promise not to lay a hand on you during their countless fights with the survey corps, even after all the times he put your saftey before his own mission, was it still never enough?

Even when he left you behind, did you really never consider the fact that he could’ve been doing it because he thought it’s what’s best for you?

You would’ve never been safe with someone like him, so he spared you from that danger by leaving.

Even though he caused you much pain by doing so, did you still never put that together?

“I understand if you don’t believe me when I say this,” Reiner began, “But I never stopped loving you.”

Even before any words left your lips, the doubtful look stringing along your face was enough to tell Reiner that you didn’t believe him; or were highly skeptical at the very least.

“If that’s true, then why wasn’t that enough for you to stay?”

He’d asked himself the same question so many times before. Why didn’t he just give up on his mission and stay with you? It’s not like he wouldn’t have preferred that option in comparison to the one he chose.

Why didn’t he just let the Marleyans presume him dead, forgetting his life in Marley and starting a new one with you on Paradis?

He wanted to, he considered it even. But there was one factor he was forgetting that made all the difference; one tiny reminder that convinced him to abandon that option in the end: you deserved better.

If he stayed behind like you would’ve wanted him to, like he would’ve wanted to, then he would’ve been living a lie; deception would’ve been rooted at the heart of your relationship.

He would’ve never been able to fully open up to you because doing so would mean he told you the truth about his past, about where he’s from and why he came here in the first place. He’d have to fabricate every detail about his life up until this point; tricking you into believing he was born inside the walls just like you. He’d need to have an excuse for everything: why his parents weren’t around, where he was born, what his home life was like, everything.

Nothing about his life would be real anymore, from the moment he’d wake up, to the second he drifted off to sleep at night, he’d be living a lie.

Every time he’d look at your innocent expression he’d be reminded of the secrets he was keeping from you, the lies he was tricking you with; and he couldn’t live like that. He refused to live like that.

“Staying would’ve only put you in danger, so I left, taking the danger with me.”

“I see.” Your voice was strained, as if you were having trouble processing everything. The shock from seeing him again so unexpectedly still hadn’t exactly worn off yet, and with the addition of all this new information piled on top, you didn’t necessarily know what to say; or how to react.

So, instead, you remained silent, hoping some ideas might materialize inside your head as you waited.

However, you weren’t kept waiting for long because Reiner quickly took an initiative to speak once again, asking something that left you stunned,

“Is it okay if I kiss you?”

Your head quickly flung upwards to look at him, contemplating whether or not you heard him right.

“What??” You asked, aghastly, desperately hoping you misheard his question.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” He repeated, unfortunately proving that your ears were working just fine, and that you did in fact hear him correctly the first time.

He only meant it as a farewell, nothing more.

He knew this might very well be the last time he ever saw you again, so, with that in mind, he wanted to leave you with something pleasant to remember him by.

He had every intention of letting you go, he’d walk away and you’d never have to see him again afterward.

Just one last memory with you, that’s all he wanted. One last moment to reminisce on the merriment of his past before he let you go for good.

That’s what he wanted at least, but, when you finally uttered a response, he realized it might’ve been too much to ask for.

“I’m with someone else now, Reiner.”

Part One | Part Three | Masterlist | Blog Home | Aot Masterlist

(YES THERE WILL BE A PART THREE. So comment below if you want to be tagged).

Tags : @thebadbatch @mvteria @nervouslad @ah-finally @usagikookiejams

This fic, and everything else I’ve written on my blog, is mine and only mine. I work very hard on everything I write so do not, under any circumstances, modify, copy, or steal my work.

Keep in mind that commenting to tell me what you liked, what you don’t, how I can improve, and any suggestions you have helps me A LOT more than simply liking my posts. If you’ve had the time to read my story, how much longer does it take to leave me some feedback on it? 😊

[pippin-katz]

I can’t find it, but there was a post that asked what your favorite change from the book to the film was, and I have decided on mine!

I love that they are older in the movie.

Matthew mentioned changing it to make it feel more like the first “real love” of their lives and not something that could be written off as “puppy love”. I totally get what he means, and I completely agree with the decision.

“I’m never gonna love anybody in the world like I love you.” - Alex Claremont-Diaz, pg. 312

It’s a really beautiful line, but it does make me pause for a moment. Alex is only 22 at this point. As much as I believe him, the vast majority of the population does not fall in love that young and stay with that person for the rest of their life.

Alex isn’t directly referring to marriage here, obviously, but that’s the next step of their relationship if they were confident and ready to.

There’s a reason so many marriages that are made at that age range result in divorces. I’m 22 at the moment, and the idea of getting married to someone, whether I think I “feel forever” about them or not, fucking boggles my mind; I don’t think there’s any circumstances where I would agree to marry someone at my age. A marriage this young is just begging to fall apart.

I mean, we refer to college students, most of whom are in the early 20s age group, as college kids. Alex is still finishing college during the book, while in the film, he’s already completed his initial college degree and has moved forward to law school.

Adult audiences know this too, so a line like this coming from a 22-year-old would likely make them roll their eyes. Their thoughts would be: “You’re practically still a kid, you have no idea what your future will be like. You’re going to change, they’re going to change, and you can’t know that your relationship will work with all that.”

And they’re right, and I agree.

But if an almost 30-year-old makes that statement? That’s far more believable!

And I know some people might be thinking: “Early 20s to late 20s isn’t that big of a gap.”

While that’s true in the grand scheme of a lifetime, a lot can happen in six-seven years. I mean, just look at where the world was back in 2018 compared to where it is now! A person can change a lot in that time.

Regardless, Alex and Henry being closer to thirty rather than twenty serves their love story really well. The level of commitment they are agreeing to feels believable, and like they could actually do it.

P.S. - this isn’t to say that I have a problem with them being younger in the book; I find both versions fantastic in their uniqueness.

[topazy]

Teen spirit

Pairing: Carl Grimes × reader, Maggie Greene × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing, blood and violence

Chapter: 6.01

You try your best to pay no mind to those staring while you explore the different streets of Alexandria. Carl doesn’t seem to notice as he pushes Judith in her pram, or if he does, he doesn't let on. The first few weeks in your new home have been hard on everyone. Noah was dead. While on a supply run, he was torn to shreds by walkers. A few others had died, including Jessie’s husband Pete, whom Rick shot for killing Deanna’s husband, which resulted in your group getting the cold shoulder from a lot of people who had lived in Alexandria since the beginning, and they no longer thought your people belonged in their home.

“I’m glad Maggie isn’t making you go anymore.”

Since Carl was no longer going to ‘school' Maggie said you didn’t need to either, on the condition you help out with different chores, one of them being looking after Judith. “Me too,” you say, leaning down and tickling the baby’s cheek. “It means I get to hang out with my favorite girl.”

“Carl, y/n.”

You turn to see Father Gabriel walking over. Maggie had overheard him telling Deanna that your people were dangerous and shouldn’t be allowed in the community a few nights prior, so it was surprising he would speak to any of you.

Carl’s tone is sharp. “What?”

“You heard what I told Deanna about your group.”

“What is it you want?” You ask.

“It was about me, not you or your group. I know that now.” Gabriel admits, “I want to help. You tried to reach me back at my church, but I’m ready to learn now.”

“I think you need to tell everybody.”

The older man’s eyes gloss over slightly. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

Carl starts to push the pram again, but strops and sighs. “Come by around three. We’ll start with the machete.”

When Gabriel is out of earshot, you say, “That was nice of you.”

He shrugs, “Suppose we gotta keep being nice to each other since we are all going to be living together. Besides, I think he’s still struggling with what happened at his church.”

You smile softly. Carl has always remained kind to others, even when he’s angry. “Yeah, I think you're right.”

—

“Y/n, Y/n!”

Hearing your name being called, followed by a thumping noise coming from the bathroom door, you turn off the water and go to step out, but slip on the shower, stubbing your toes on it and letting out a string of curse words.

The banging continues. “Y/n! Y/n! You need to get out of there now!”

Hearing the urgency in Carl’s voice, you grab a towel, and you step behind the door and open it a crack to hear him say, “What’s going on?”

“We are being attacked; you gotta help me keep Judith and Enid safe.”

The fear in his voice causes your heart to start beating faster and faster. Scrambling, you start pulling clothes on, doing your best to ignore the blood coming from your toe. When you open the door, you see Carl looking towards the staircase, directly at the front door, one hand tightly wrapped around his gun. Hearing you flinch while putting shoes on, his gaze jumps between you and the door. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” you lie, trying your best not to whine in pain as you tie the laces on the dirty, worn-out white converse. “Who’s attacking us?”

“I’m not sure. They climbed the wall and just started killing people. Enid saw a man kill Shelly with a machete. They are worse than the dead.”

A large part of your new community, including Rick, Michonne, Daryl, and Abraham, had left Alexandria to lead a herd of walkers away, meaning you were lacking fighters to defend your home. At least you still had Carol, Rosita, Maggie...

“God, Maggie!” You hold onto the banister and pull yourself up. “I need to find her.”

“You can’t go out there; it’s not safe.”

“But she’s my sister.” Tears well up in your eyes. “I can’t lose her too! I’ve just lost Beth; I can’t, I can’t.”

Attempting to comfort you, Carl holds you and places his hands on your shoulders. “Maggie is one of the strongest people I know; she will make it. I promise.”

You knew Carl couldn’t promise you that, but you needed to pull it together because right now nothing was more important than keeping Judith safe. You wipe away a fallen tear. “Okay, let’s do this.”

—

When you went downstairs, Enid informed you that the group invading Alexandria was called the Wolves. It wasn’t clear what they actually wanted; some members of the Wolves were looting houses, and the others were tossing petrol bombs and destroying everything they could.

Sitting back to back in the hallway, watching the front and back doors while Enid kept an eye from upstairs, Judith slept blissfully unaware of all the chaos going on in her crib.

Hearing a loud noise, you flinch. “What was that?”

“It sounds like a car horn.”

You chew on your bottom lips, and the blast of the horn would draw any nearby dead to the scene. “This is just going to keep getting worse, isn’t it?”

“No, my dad will be back soon, along with everybody else, and we will all be fine.”

You let out a deep sigh. You didn’t want to be so negative, but the fear of something bad happening to those you loved weighed heavily on you. Slowly, you look away from the back door and face Carl’s head. A few seconds pass before you lean in and kiss him on the cheek, “Thank you.”

He blushes, and you return to watching the back door. You’re unsure of how long you will wait for something to happen when Carl jumps to his feet and runs out of the front door.

You catch a glimpse of a wolf chasing Ron. Just as you reach the front door, Carl shoots the man in the leg and aims his gun at him, but the wolf tearfully starts begging for his life and for help with his leg. You watch in horror as Carl hesitantly lowers his weapon, and the wolf viciously grabs the barrel of his gun. You sprint to them and pull the trigger, shooting the man in the head.

You just killed someone.

You offer Carl your hand and help pull him to his feet. “Oh shit, your foot.”

You look down and see blood soaking through your shoe. Gulping down, you say. “It’s fine. Ron, you need to come inside with us now.”

“Come on, man, it’s not safe out here.”

Ron thinks it over as you go back towards the house, with a slight limp in your step, and Ron goes to follow but spots Enid in the doorway and storms off.

—

Carol came by to check on you, Carl, and Judith. She informed you that they had taken one of the men prisoner, but the rest of his group had either run off or been killed. You were even more thankful when she told you your sister was fine.

“Thank God,” you say sincerely.

Carol smiles at you and says, “I’m glad you kids are alright. I’m going to go let Maggie know you are here; she was looking for you.”

Just as she leaves, Carl comes back into the room with a first-aid kit in one hand and a note in the other. “Enid’s gone; she left a note sharing, ‘Just survive somehow.’”

He sits on the edge of the couch. You go to grab the first-aid bag from him, but Carl keeps a tight hold of it. You roll your eyes playfully at him and say, “I can do it myself.”

Carl gives you a doubtful look. “You won’t do it right because you’ll not want it to hurt.”

He had a point.

After you were sure there was no more immediate danger, you removed your shoe and sock to assess the damage you had done coming out of the shower, and to your disgust, one of your toes had bruises and was swollen, and one of the nails had split, causing the bleeding.

Not wanting to seem like a big baby, you bit down on your tongue as Carl cleaned your foot and wrapped your toes together with a bandage.

“You know, I really could have done it myself.”

He shrugs. “I know, but I don’t mind. I remember watching my mom bandage a woman called Jacqui’s foot up after she tripped and fell in camp one day.”

“What happened to Jacqui?” You ask curiously, since you hadn’t heard him mention her before.

“She killed herself.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“She had given up.” Carl shakes his head. “I sometimes think about the camp I stayed in when the outbreak first started. I miss it. The day my dad found us was probably the best day of my life.”

“I miss the farm; I miss my daddy.” Feeling your eyes start to tear up again, you pat at Carl’s hand. “But if you hadn’t left that camp, then we never would have met.”

You sit in a comfortable silence for a few moments, then Carl moves closer to you, saying, “Thank you. For saving me.”

“Don’t thank me; you would have done the same thing.”

Closing your eyes, you try to push the memory of what happened to the back of your mind. You take a sharp intake of breath when you feel Carl press his lips against yours lightly. He pulls away after a few seconds and says, “I…I… shouldn’t have...”

You kiss him back. You remain lip-locked with Carl, your best friend, until someone clears their throat. You jump back, and Carl stands up, his face flushed red with embarrassment. “Hi Maggie,” he says nervously. “I’m just going to go and check on Judith.”

Maggie has a wide grin on her face; she found it amusing how awkward you looked. “I came as soon as Carol told me where you were; she said you'd hurt your foot.”

“I hurt it earlier, but it’s fine now.”

“Really?” She sits down on the edge of the table across from you. “Carol said it was bleeding and bruised.”

“It was, but Carl bandaged it.”

“With his mouth?” She laughs.

“Don’t.”

Maggie tries her best to hide her growing smile with her hand. “Okay, so I gotta ask, do you know how protection works?”

“Yes.”

“You sure? Because I remember what it’s like to be a teenager with raging hormones. You are both smart kids, but you’re almost nearly sixteen.”

Heat rushes to your face. “Oh my god, Maggie, seriously?”

“Y/n, I’m being deadly serious. This is an important subject, and I just need to know how much you learned before.“

You cut her off. “Of course I know how babies are made. Why the sudden interest in my sexual education, aside from trying to embarrass me to death?”

“I’m pregnant.”

[yurislotusgarden]

Hii! could I request ranpo and chuuya with a fem s/o who makes cute bento boxes for their lunch at work? (I was curious on how this would go, feel free to add any details you want!)

My bento!

ʚїɞ Separately! Nakahara Chuuya, Ranpo Edogawa, Sigma x F!Reader

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ word count: 1764 (Chuuya - 537, Ranpo - 664, Sigma - 561)

ʚїɞ Have Sigma as an extra bcs my ass forgot it was meant to be Ranpo instead of him after I was done with Chuuya's part

ʚїɞ Tw’s: None! Just pure fluff, pet names are used (barely), reader’s gender is not specified that much

Nakahara Chuuya!

ཐིཋྀ He loves the bentos so much, well more like the fact that you take time to make them for him

ཐིཋྀ Tries to always eat them

ཐིཋྀ Once, when you started making them, he didn’t eat the food because he was so busy that day, and when he had a little free time, Chuuya decided it was a better idea to go on a stress smoke break (He tries to limit smoking to the minimum he can if you don’t like smoking/the fact that he does it. He knows it’s because you care about his health)

ཐིཋྀ It ended with you fussing over him eating almost nothing that day and he doesn’t like causing you stress or making you worry so he makes sure to eat those bentos😭

ཐིཋྀ He may be an executive but this man is not embarrassed at all to eat those bentos in front of people, no matter how colorful or cutesy the food looks

ཐིཋྀ Food is food, he’s not gonna not eat cause you to worry just because the bento is one that doesn’t look like someone like him would eat

///////////////

“Lad, may I ask where do you get those bentos from?”

It was a long time since Kouyou noticed Chuuya’s bentos, and she tried to ignore just how much she wanted to try one. The only reason why she didn’t is because she doesn’t know where he is getting them from.

The young woman looked at many shops in Yokohama and saw a few places with similar bentos, but it was easy to see that none of the stores were the ones where Chuuya kept getting his lunch from.

…She really wanted one for herself, especially with how obvious it was that they were delicious, kept quiet about it tho.

Chuuya turned towards the older woman, whom he came to see as an older sister over the years.

“They’re not bought from a shop.”

“You don’t buy them?”

“Not a single one of them. Actually,-”

Kouyou was confused. Where did he get a bento from every single day? She knows the younger of the two probably wouldn’t bother spending his free time making food for lunch definitely a day before, even if he did, it wouldn’t be so colorful or detailed. There were even rice balls decorated as bears and stuff, it obviously took time to make one. But if he wasn’t buying them,  then the only other option that came to her mind was-

“- [Name] makes them for me.”

“She does?”

“Yeah, and she’s yet to make one I dislike.”

It all makes sense now to the red-haired woman. You have more free time most of the time compared to Chuuya, and you were probably aware of the eating habits he had before.

The fact that you take time, quite a lot it seems if Kouyou was to guess, the bentos are even detailed, in a very cute style if she was to say, made a smile appear on her face.

“Mhm, you wanna try?”

“How could I refuse such an offer?”

The food was even better than she thought. Kouyou made a mental note to ask you if you would have a problem with making two bentos from time to time.

Edogawa Ranpo!

ཐིཋྀ Another reason as to why he’s dating you -you give extra homemade sweets to the Bentos-

ཐིཋྀ He doesn’t even need to try to remember to eat it because he ends up eating it before lunch anyway -the reason behind you making more than one bento usually-

ཐིཋྀ He fucking boasts to everyone about the food😭

ཐིཋྀ “See what I have here? HAHA! Something you don’t and probably never will!” ← totally not Ranpo to anyone else -and totally not him to Dazai and Atsushi about the fact that they will probably never have homemade food like him-

ཐིཋྀ Don’t make the bentos with him in the kitchen unless you have prepared double the amount of food you plan to use. He uses any opportunity to snack on the not-ready-yet bentos

ཐིཋྀ BUT! He will share with you if he notices you’re hungry or just generally wanna eat it <3

///////////////

“C’mon give me just a little piece!”

“Nope! [Name] made it for me! Make your own if you want a bento at work, Yosano-san!”

“I can’t make such a bento Ranpo-san!”

“Not my problem!”

With a pout, the brunette turned his chair away, trying to eat his food in peace. It’s one of his favorite bentos! You put his favorites in this one! The only thing he doesn’t like in it is the veggies which Ranpo would ignore or throw out but he knows that he won’t get his favorite candy made by you anytime soon if he does (the others will snitch if he throws them out, especially Dazai and Yosano they did that the one and only time he did so. He learned a lesson from that after you didn’t cook his favorite like you said you would that morning)

Ranpo could practically feel the eye-roll done by Yosano. “It’s not like it’s the only bento you had today.” It’s true, he ate a similar one 2 hours earlier. “Doesn’t matter. It’s my bento either way.” A sigh came from the woman.

And right when one would think his problem was solved, another arrived. 

“Ranpo-san! What an interesting bento you have there!”

“Go away Dazai. I’m not giving you a single piece of my food!”

“Oh c’mon! You can spare a little!”

“Nope! Especially not when it’s [Name]’s cooking!”

Seriously, can’t they leave him alone? He knows your cooking is good, everyone at the agency knows that! But he wishes that you’d never let Dazai taste your food. The bandaged man has horrible eating habits, you both know that, and yet he always tries to get his hands on Ranpo’s bentos. The audacity!

Ranpo could tell that Dazai's annoying mouth was about to open again before someone interrupted him.

"I can make bentos for you too if you like them so much, Dazai-san"

Isn't that his angel who came to visit him at his oh-so-tiring job? Lovely timing, if Ranpo was to say, but there was one problem.

Among ‘hello’s and ‘hi’s from others upon noticing you, gasps could be heard, from 2 men specifically.

"You would do that for me?!"

"Excuse me?!"

What is this?! There's no way that you’re gracing anyone else with the perfection that are your his bentos!

“Hm?” It’s easy to see for anyone in the room that you were confused.

“[Name]-chan, if you could be so nice, could I ask for a bento with cra-”

“No no no! Shut up Dazai! She’s not making you any bentos! In your dreams!”

In the end, while Ranpo and Dazai at first thought that you wouldn’t make the taller brunette a bento after your conversation at that moment, you indeed did as a surprise. 

The best detective in the world didn’t like that but he allowed you to after bribing him and reminding him that if you can get Dazai to eat, you will, no matter if Ranpo will allow you to make a bento for him or not.

Dazai's happy scream the next day could probably be heard throughout the whole building.

Sigma!

ཐིཋྀ He didn’t think he’d be able to adore you more than he already does, and yet you found a way to make him do so

ཐིཋྀ He tries to eat the bentos every day but it isn’t that rare that he forgets about eating altogether when faced with a mountain of paperwork or problems in the casino

ཐིཋྀ He loves how they look and taste. He, at one point, will ask if you can teach him how to cook. Like not even necessarily a bento, just to learn since he doesn’t want the kitchen to end up in flames one day, he’s aware he sucks at cooking

ཐིཋྀ He probably would be a little embarrassed by eating it. Not because of how colorful or cutesy they are, but because of the looks he gets from people who see it. 

ཐིཋྀ The stares aren’t criticizing or anything, others just don’t expect that their boss/the manager of the casino would eat food that looks like that

ཐིཋྀ Someone was probably jealous because he has homemade bentos like that and they have some store-bought sandwiches 💀

///////////////

“It’s mine actually. Sorry, I forgot to take this from here earlier.”

The man standing in front of the bar was shocked.

He’s been sitting there and drinking not too much for some time now. At one point he noticed the bartender taking out a bento from under the bar, the lid see-through enough to see the food inside. He has to say, the detail and overall look were very cute, it definitely took time to make it look so.

The man had thought that the bento was made by someone for the bartender (In his mind it was a fair thought as he didn’t think that one could buy a bento like that anywhere close to a place like this. Especially if you work there).

The slightly shorter man changed his thought upon noticing that the bartender didn’t touch the food he had taken out (later on the lunch break he took out something else to eat)

Around 2 hours after the lunch break, -the bento still untouched, he noticed- the man decided to finally ask, curiosity winning over after all the time spent at the bar seat.

“Excuse me, who is the owner of the bento? I couldn’t help but notice that it hasn’t been touched at all.”

And he really chose the worst time to ask that question didn’t he? Right as the person to whom the bento belonged to, came.

“I-It’s yours sir?”

“Yes, why?”

How is he supposed to answer? That he didn’t think that such a cute-looking bento -that if he could he would consider stealing, it looks delicious and definitely better than his sandwich- can belong to the ever so stoic and calm manager of the sky casino?

“No reason! Was just that curious, that’s all! after all, the bento was lying here for the past, almost, 3 hours by now.”

“Ah, understandable then”

The bi-colored-haired man turned to the bartender, who was already giving the box over to him.

“Thank you for keeping it here for me, Shuichi-kun”

“no problem, Sigma-san. [Name]-san also told me to tell you-”

Yeah, the man needs a break from the confusion and shock for the next week.

And Sigma? He’s just happy you leave the bentos somewhere he can take them from when you know he’s busy.

Notes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

Do not copy or translate my works on/to any site

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

I found the Charlotte Robespierre-pins-down-Couthon-in-an-armchair-and-calls-him-a-hypocrite anecdote in its full glory within La Révolution, la Terreur, le Directoire 1791-1799: d’après les mémoires de Gaillard (1908) page 263-272. The table of contents claim this event happened in May 1794.

-

Gaillard therefore presents himself at Mlle Robespierre's house, she welcomes him in a friendly manner, she does not seek to know the political opinions of her visitor; both talk for a long time about her family and their old acquaintances, she names for Gaillard, with great bitterness, the prodigious number of very honest people dragged to the scaffold by Joseph Lebon; she makes him tell her how he was able to save himself at least from prison and tells him how much pleasure she and her older brother felt in receiving news of him from their younger brother; then Gaillard explains to her the embarrassment he finds himself in and asks her to help him with her advice to save the magistrates of Melun and the signatories of the address to Louis XVI.

”When my younger brother passed through Melun,” said Mlle Robespierre, ”all three of us were living together; I still hoped to be able to bring back the older, to snatch him from the wretches who obsess over him and lead him to the scaffold. They felt that my brother would eventually escape them if I regained his confidence, they destroyed me entirely in his mind; today he hates the sister who served as his mother… For several months he has been living alone, and although lodged in the same house, I no longer have the power to approach him… I loved him tenderly, I still do… His excesses are the consequence of the domination under which he groans, I am sure of it, but knowing no way to break the yoke he has allowed himself to be placed under, and no longer able to bear the pain and the shame of to see my brother devote his name to general execration, I ardently desire his death as well as mine. Judge of my unhappiness!… But let’s return to what interests you. The addresses to the king on the events of 1792 are already far from us; it seems to me that the signatures of these addresses are persecuted less than those who protested against the day of May 31. Try to see Maximilien, you will be content; he was very glad that our younger brother saw you at Melun. On this occasion he spoke with interest of the exercises of your pupils and of the attention you had in entrusting him with presiding over them. I won’t introduce you to him, I would not succeed; I even advise you not to speak to him about me. You will be told he is out, don't believe it, insist on your visit.”

The Robespierre family was housed on rue Saint-Honoré, near the Assomption chapel, the sister and younger brother at the front, the older brother at the back of the courtyard. Gaillard went to Maximilien’s apartment; a young man, looking at him with the most insolent air, said to him, barely having opened the door: “The representative isn’t home…”

“He may not be there for those who come to talk to him about business, but that is not my doing; I will talk to him about his family that I know a lot, you have seen me come out of his sister's apartment who is involved in state affairs no more than I am... Bring my name to the representative, he will receive me, I’m sure of it.”

The fellow did not dare refuse to carry a paper on which Gaillard had taken care to indicate himself in such a way as to be recognized, he immediately came back and gave the visitor his paper saying: “The representative does not know you,” and the door was violently slammed shut!…

The insolence of this brazen man whom Gaillard knew to be the secretary of Robespierre, son of Duplay, to whom the sister attributed the excesses of his brother, the sorrow he felt at losing the hope of saving the judges of Melun and to ensure his personal rest, all these thoughts made him very angry; he calls the young man a liar, insolent, he accuses him of deceiving Robespierre and of increasing the number of his enemies every day, all this in the loudest voice with the intention of being heard by Maximilien and lure him to one of the windows where, surely, he would have recognized him. New disappointment, no one appears and Gaillard goes back to tell Mlle Robespierre about his misadventure.

“I prepared you for it, she told him. ”No one can approach my brother unless he is a friend of those Duplays, with whom we are lodging; these wretches have neither intelligence nor education, explain to me their ascendancy over Maximilien. However, I do not despair of breaking the spell that holds him under their yoke; for that I am awaiting the return of my other brother, who has the right to see Maximilien. If the discovery I just made doesn't rid us of this race of vipers forever, my family is forever lost. You know what a miserable state we found ourselves in, reduced to alms, my brothers and I, if the sister of our father hadn’t taken us in. It’s strange that you didn’t often notice how much her husband’s brusqueness and formality made us pay dearly for the bread he gave us; but you must also have noticed that if indigence saddened us, it never degraded us and you always judged us incapable of containing money through a dubious action. Maximilien, who makes me so unhappy, has never given a hold, as you know, in terms of delicacy. Imagiene his fury when he learns that these miserable Duplays are using his name and his credit to get themselves the rarest goods at a low price from the merchants. So while all of Paris is forced to line up at the baker's shop every morning to get a few ounces of black, disgusting bread, the Duplays eat very good bread because the Incorruptible sits at their table: the same pretext provides them with sugar, oil, soap of the best quality, which the inhabitant of Paris would seek in vain in the best shops... How my brother's pride would be humiliated if he knew the abuse that these wretches make of his name! What would become of his popularity, even among his most ardent supporters? Certainly my brother is very proud, it is in him a capital fault; you must remember, you and I have often lamented the ridicule he made for himself by his vanity, the great number of enemies he made for himself by his disdainful and contemptuous tone, but he is not bloodthirsty. Certainly he believes he can overthrow his adversaries and his enemies by the superiority of his talent.”

The tenderness of this unfortunate girl for her brother was therefore very keen and very blind, she forgot that, a few moments before, she had told Gaillard, with the accent of despair and with eyes filled with tears, that death would seem preferable to the pain of seeing Maximilien dedicate his name to public execration, and yet her brother for his part had devoted mortal hatred to her since the trip she had made to Arras to collect evidence of the massacres carried out by Joseph Lebon.

“In the absence of my brother,” said Mlle Robespierre to Gaillard, would you like to try to see Couthon? He prides himself on being good for me, I will ask him to receive you, he will not refuse me, I will precede you by a quarter of an hour, he will give the order to let you in and we will exit together.”

Gaillard gratefully accepts, takes the address of Couthon who lived at n. 97 of the Cour du Manège, today rue de Rivoli, near rue du 29 Juilliet, and the next morning arrives at the indicated time.

Couthon, whose face was truly angelic, wore a white dressing gown. A child of five or six years old, beautiful as Love, was between his father's legs; he had a young white rabbit in his arms which he was feeding alfalfa. Mme Couthon and Mlle Robespierre stood in the embrasure of a window overlooking the Tuileries.

“You (vous) are,” said Couthon to Gaillard, a friend of Mlle Robespierre, you therefore have every kind of right to my interest, tell me, citizen, how can I be of use to you?”

The fine face, the entourage of innocence, the tone, the manners of good company, this care not to use tutoient when everyone else did so, convinced Gaillard that the slander had attached itself in particular to the person of this worthy M. Couthon, he promises to undeceive all those with whom the deputy had relations.

“Citizen representative, one of your colleagues, Maure, deputy for Yonne, had recalled the former judges, all very honest people, to the courts of Melun, and everyone applauded this act of justice. The popular society was offended by this, it threatened Maure that it was going to denounce him to the Convention as a supporter of Louis XVI and his family, given that these judges had adhered to the address by which the directorate of the department complained of the outrages committed against the king on the day of June 20 1792. The next day your colleague issued a decree dismissing these judges who were not yet installed, and ordered the revolutionary committee to incarcerate them. Can you please tell me by which means these unfortunate judges can escape this act of severity?”

“Admit, citizen,” answered Couthon, “that the Convention is indeed to be pitied for being forced to send as commissioners to the departments a crowd of imbeciles who make it hated and who compromise liberty... Maure doesn’t have the strength to understand that true patriots were saddened and rightly outraged by this fatal day of June 20. The aristocrats, as one said then, were delighted by it, the crimes of the people seemed to them a means of forever losing liberty and reestablishing despotism... It was a duty to rise up against the violation of the home of the first official of the the State and the bloody outrages to which it was subjected that day. I signed an address in which our indignation was expressed in the most energetic terms and I am far from repenting of it. Have the judges you are talking to me about been arrested?”

“No, citizen.”

”That’s what I suspected, they will have been warned; in fact, one is not going to prison automatically, one will have their homes sealed and perhaps not be very eager to arrest them?… Can you assure me, citizen, that these judges are honest men?”

”The most honest people in the country!”

”Well, on reflection, I was going to give you bad advice... based on the distance from Melun to Paris, this is where they will come to hide, one will find them, there is no safety in the prisons of Paris. They'd better go home, they shall be given a guard, they won't even be incarcerated... but once again, how can it be made a crime to have signed these addresses?”

“Citizen,” continues Gaillard, with great emotion, you are convinced that the signatures of these addresses have not committed a crime, you are all-powerful in the Committee of Public Safety where your opinion always prevails. Today, seventy unfortunate people are being led to the scaffold, their condemnation based on nothing other than the signing of these addresses…”

Couthon's face changed, he suddenly takes on the tiger's mask, makes a movement to grab the bell pull... Mlle Robespierre rushes at him to stop him (he was paralyzed from the legs down), turns towards Gaillard and says to him: “Save yourself!” In the confusion into which all this throws him, Gaillard takes Couthon's hat, she notices it, warns him, he runs across the apartment and reaches the stairs. He had barely gone down eight or ten steps when he heard Mlle Robespierre shouting to him: “Go and wait for me at the Orangerie.” (The courtyard of the Orangerie was located at the end of the Terrace des Feuillants where Rue de Rivoli now meets Place de la Concorde).

When Gaillard was able to think, he wondered why the various sentries posted along the Feuillants terrace had not stopped him. A glance in a mirror while picking up his hat in Couthon's salon had told him how altered his face was. Even after leaving the deputy, he did not think he was safe, he did not take four strides without wondering if he was being pursued. He has barely gone down into the courtyard of the Orangery when he goes back up onto the terrace, looking anxiously to see if his good angel was arriving. As soon as he sees her, he runs towards her, loudly asking her five or six questions at the same time without paying attention to the crowd around them. Mlle Robespierre, calmer, tells him in a low voice that she will answer him when they have reached the Place de la Révolution.

“Explain to me, please,” said Gaillard to Mlle Robespierre as soon as they were offshore, ”your haste to tell me to take flight flee and why you held back Couthon in his chair?”

“You were fooled, my dear monsieur, by the profound hypocrisy of Couthon, I was completely fooled myself; I believed your judges saved and you forever at peace like all the signatories of these addresses to Louis XVI... Couthon only showed himself to be so good-natured in order to get to know the depths of your thoughts, you fell into his trap, I could not have avoided it more than you. Your bloody and so justly deserved reproach regarding the 63 victims of today struck in the hearth, my presence, even my confidence could not have stopped his vengeance. The members of the Committee of Public Safety each have five or six men at home who are resolute at their command, because they are constantly trembling. Had he reached the bell pull, this very afternoon you would have been placed in the tumbril alongside the 63 unfortunate people you wanted to save... Fortunately, I succeeded in making him ashamed of the crime he was going to commit by immolating a friend that I had brought to his house... Will he keep his word to me? I followed your conversation very attentively, you did not say a word from which Couthon could conclude that you do not live in Paris... Return home quickly, do not follow the ordinary route out of fear that, remembering the name of the city where your judges were to sit, he sends for men to follow you on the road to Melun.” (1)

Mlle Robespierre barely gives her protégé time to thank her and does not want him to accompany her back to her house. Gaillard leaves immediately without seeing his sister or the two dismissed judges, who have taken refuge in Paris.

(1) The story of Gaillard's visit to Couthon is reproduced almost word for word by M. Lenôtre, in his Paris révolutionnaire, vielles maisons, vieux papiers, 1900, La Brouette de Couthon, p. 279.* Mr. Lenôtre draws his story from the collection of Victorien Sardou's autographs. The note appearing among these authographs which speaks of Couthon comes from Fouché's papers: it is in fact Gaillard who, at the request of his friend Fouché, recorded in writing for him the narration of his interview with Couthon. Gaillard took pleasure in often recounting to the people with whom he was in contact this scene of which he had always retained such a terrifying impression of; this is the reason why it appears today in his memoirs.

*Worth noting is that Charlotte’s identitity is kept a secret in this account, she’s simply described as ”a lady.” This account also includes the detail of Couthon’s son starting to cry and the bunny he was holding getting pushed to the floor once his father gets mad.

[pablitogavii]

Her Best friend

Summary: Pablo is her best friend..until he startled doing some interesting things...;)

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x Reader

Warnings: smutty end ;)

You were family friends with Gavi and Aurora since you three were little kids. Aurora being older always bossed you and Pablo around so you kind of became closer to the younger Gavira sibling throughout the years.

It was clear you were no longer kids when you stopped having sleep overs in the same bed or 'play fights' where you would end up on top of him and vice versa.

It stopped when you got your first boyfriend in high school of whom Pablo didn't really approve and was definitely right since the asshole cheated on you in less than a month.

It was a strange relationship anyways...you couldn't really give yourself completely (you know what I mean) and that kept him impatient and somewhat angry with you.

You first thought it was your fear of losing it so soon but then you realized it was your intuition telling you he is not the one you want to give your innocence to...he's not the one you love.

Realization that you had a crush on your best friend didn't really change much because you always believed he didn't share those same feelings..that is until he started to do interesting things recently.

For example, last time y'all went out was on some dinner event where all footballers brought their girlfriends (aka wags) and Pablo invited you as his best friend cause he didn't want to go alone.

You assumed it was fine and got all dolled up in one of your favorite dresses and some high heels. Since your break up, you haven't exactly had a chance to go out looking this nice.

"You look beautiful, enana" he said making you blush and smile while moving closer ruffling his fluffy brown hair.

"You're not bad yourself, Gavira" you chuckled while he whined about you messing his "perfect hair" per usual but you knew he secretly loved it.

"Y/N! Tu eres tan hermosa!" Pedri walked towards you with his big smile and you smiled back nodding your head before giving him a quick hug.

"Where is Francesca, hermano?" Pablo asked referring to Pedri's date meanwhile moving his hand to touch the back on your thigh like it was the most naturally occurring thing in the world (gif).

It was like he wanted Pedri to see it...like he was marking his territory but why?

"She'll be here soon. I'll see you guys inside!" Pedri said quickly before leaving and you turned towards Pablo whose eyes were glued to his phone screen.

You had every intention of asking him why he did that but you chickened out the moment your eyes met remembering how good it felt to have his fingers on your skin.

Another night, he invited you to his house for a movie night. It wasn't an odd thing for you two to watch movies together, often times leading to you sleeping in his bed while he goes to the guest room.

It was during that movie that Pablo started to give you gentle scratches on your leg and you didn't really mind trying your best to stay focused on the movie.

After a few minutes his hand started to move more inward finishing almost inside your pajama shorts a few times. It was useless trying to focus on the movie but stealing a glance from him, you saw that he appears completely unfazed..like he isn't doing anything "interesting" at all right now.

"Pabloooo" you whine and he finally moved his eyes from the TV screen looking down at you with raised busy eyebrows.

"Qué? You don't like the move?" he asks staring in your eyes while still continuing with his little ministrations. Was he really clueless about what he was doing!? No freaking way!

"Um..no..I..you've been touching me a lot lately?" you say feeling your cheeks heat up and his hand stop moving half of his fingers underneath your pajama shorts.

"So?" he asked like your question was dumb and you looked down at his hand rested between your legs which was such a turn on in that moment.

"Nothing..but..um..you've touched me more than my boyfriend and you are my best friend..and I kinda.." you couldn't finish the sentence since he started moving his hand more tracing circles on your clothed clit.

"like it...?" he whispered while you bit your bottom lip trying to suppress a moan knowing that his family is right down stairs.

"do you like it when I touch you nena?" Pablo moved so that he could whisper into your ear and you closed your thighs around his hand trapping it there.

"did anyone ever touch you, princesa?" Pablo added more pressure against your clothed clit and you let a small whine leave your lips while you shook your head making your best friend smirk and pull himself above you.

"aww my poor princesa...so touch starved...maybe I can change that?" Pablo leaned down and you felt nervous all of the sudden..was this really happening or is it another wet dream?

"wait! we..are..friends" you mumble not yourself believing in those words and he knew that the moment he saw your eyes.

"shh..nena..i want to be your boyfriend finally..." Pablo said and you felt your heart skip a beat as his lips crashed on your and he deepened the kiss pulling you down and resting comfortably between your thighs.

"if you want me to stop..." Pablo said after pulling away wanting to make sure you are comfortable with everything that he was doing.

"touch me Pablo.." you couldn't pretend anymore letting a moan slip your lips the moment you pulled him down and kissed his lips again...guess he's not your best friend anymore ;)

[redheadjustin]

Hope you are having a good day/night?

Imagine if Joker took DNA from Jason during the time he had captured him and used it to create a child, whom he raises to be his predecessor. Now what happeneds when Jason finds out he has a son? And not only that he's being raised by the man who tortured and killed him! (Maybe even a lil batfam/Bruce to help out Jason deal with everything) and what if he is around the same age as when Jason died?

It was a dark and gloomy night in Gotham which was nothing unusual. It was even darker around Wyane manor. A young man in his early twenties walked in the main doors of the impressive estate. He had a military haircut with a white stripe in his hair. And a jagged scar that started on the left side of his lips all the way to the crown of his head. This man was Jason Todd, and he was grumpy as usual. He was called to the batcave when he’d rather be sleeping. Jason had just gotten back to Gotham after an undercover mission in Scotland. The brute of the man dragged his tired body through the main entryway of the manor and to Bruce’s downstairs study. All the while Jason had to fight off memories. These were good memories. But, Jason was far too tired to allow himself to reminisce. Even in the good ones. Once Jason reached the downstairs study it was automatic, reaching for the switch that opened the fake bookcase and revealed the elevator.

Jason had a half smile on his face as he stepped into the elevator. The door closed and his destination had been set all before Jason could turn around to face the elevator. The elevator was slower than usual. Jason tried to keep his eyes open. But his exhaustion won out for a few seconds and his eyes closed. And flashes of memories filled Jason’s mind. A blonde woman, his Robin suit, a crowbar, blood, a bomb, him trying to escape, resignation to dying, green liquid, his eyes opening, rage, Talia, Bruce, JOKER, that laugh, his gun pointed at the bastard, Bruce forgiving him, welcoming him back to the family. Jason is pulled out of his memories by the soft chime of the elevator. Jason shakes his head and walks out of the elevator. And Jason’s smile is back. He’d always loved the batcave. The trophies, the training area and most of all the quiet. It was a place for Jason to clear his head. Especially once he came back from the dead. It seemed ever since his dip in the pit Jason had a lot of anger and thoughts floating into his head at all hours of the day. The only time his head was clear was during petrol. And it was something Jason needed a lot these days.

“Jason.” Jason looks up at the call of his voice. It was his older brother, Dick Grayson. Jason’s legs were moving to his brother without him thinking about it. “Thanks for coming, little wing.” Dick says with his trademark grin and slinging an arm around Jason’s shoulder. Jason lets a snort out, “when Bruce texts me saying ‘batcave now’ i don't exactly have a choice.” It sounded resentful but Dick knew that it was a joke. Dick, Barbra, Jason and Tim all make jokes on how they all drop everything when Burce asks for them. “No, no you didn’t. But tonight it was really important. And you came. I’ll let the old man explain but, the WHOLE family is here.” Dick says as he leads Jason towards the batcomputer. “Wait, the WHOLE family?” Jason asked, alarm suddenly growing in his stomach. Dick didn’t respond and instead kept walking and soon Jason could see the ENTIRE bat family. Burce, Alfred, Barbra, Tim, Damian, Stephine, Cassandra, Duke, Luke, Kate and Selina were all gathered around the bat computer. This was big.

At Dick’s footsteps Burce turns and once he sees Jason a small smile finds its way on the face of the Dark knight. “Thank you for coming, Jason. I know you just got back from overseas and must be tired. But, this takes priority.” Burce says as he raises from his chair. And for a second Jason thought he was 11 again first meeting him. But he's not. And this is more serious than Jason was used to. Not to say that the stuff the family usually deals with isn’t serious, it is, but for some reason when he was Robin things were more fun. And less about trying to save the world and just protect Gotham.

“I’ll get straight to business because this involves the entire family and then me and the others will cover your beat.” Burce started as he sat back into his chair and hit a button and the face Jason still sees in his nightmares, Joker. “About two nights ago Joker was reported missing from Aharkham. Harely was covering for him and his son.” The last word sent a chill down Jason’s spine and he doesn’t know why. He wanted to interrupt but he knew Bruce would explain. “During your flight from Europe, Joker attacked. When we arrived on scene there was a boy about 14 with green hair but normal skin and eyes. Once he saw us he surrendered instantly. He claimed to be your son instead of Joker’s. We took a field DNA sample. Alfred confirmed his relation to you. We immediately brought him back to the cave and we examined the thumb drive he gave us. Joker took your DNA right before he killed you.” Burce finished as he stood and looked into Jason’s eyes. Jason knew. He knew. There was no doubt, he had a son.

“Jason.” Burce said in a soft voice. Jason couldn’t look away. He was a father. And his son was raised by the mam- MONSTER who killed him and is the reason he's much more buff than before. “This is a shock. I understand how you feel.” Bruce did understand just a few years back, Damian joined the family. But this is not as “pure” intentioned. A madman took his DNA to make a son. HIS son and raise it to be like him. Jaon was ferrous. He wanted to kill Joker more than he ever wanted before. “But, right now there is a 14 year old boy in the gymnastics room. And he wants to meet you.”

And with that Jason is moving towards the gymnastics room. He can hear someone call out to him but he doesn’t care. His son needs him. And that’s all that deserves his attention. Soon Jason is walking into the room. He can see his son flipping like Dick does. The green hair sticks out like a sore thumb. Jason knows hair dye from a mile away. If his son wants to continue to dye it Jason will let him. Jason watches with a proud smile as his son dismounts and sticks the landing and Jason can’t stop himself from clapping.

“Nice dismount. Almost as good as Uncle Dick.” Jason said with a smile. The second the words left Jason’s mouth the boy’s head snapped over and if Jason doubted he had a son looking into the boy’s eyes told him everything he needed to know. The boy, already having tears in his eyes Ran to his father and Jason caught him. The hug was tight and filled with love. “It’s okay baby hood. Daddy’s got you.” and while it might be weird to say that to a teenager Jason had missed almost all of his son's life so far, so for Jason he is daddy. “It’s okay bud, I got you. I got you. ”

[jasmineandcedar]

"Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two"

Azriel's shadows and his relation to light

Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade. I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife. (ACOWAR)

Throughout all five books, there is a lot of symbolism surrounding Elain and Azriel, describing them using themes of light and dark. In this post, I will have a look at Azriel’s darkness by focusing on his shadow powers, what the shadows provide for him, how they behave and around whom. I will discuss how this relates to Azriel’s relationship with light in its explicit and implicit sense, and how Elain is described as a physical manifestation of light, and what that means for their relationship. This will be a long post, because I will include a lot of quotes from the books. I try to go where canon leads me (which is a pleasant experience if you love Elriel).

I wrote this years ago because I went a little crazy after ACOSF and the realization I’d likely have to wait years for Elain’s book and I don't know how to behave myself so I dissected every mention of Elain, Azriel, and Elriel in all books. But I have only recently decided to start to kind of archive my Elriel ramblings on Tumblr, because it’s prettier than having them stored in a Word document. I also like the idea of an Elriel community to be part of, although I have no experience in taking part in online fandom spaces. Beware that most of this will probably be old news by now, since many years have passed since ACOSF. Don’t expect anything revolutionary. But, in anticipation of Elain’s book, it could be nice to reminisce.

Azriel’s darkness

We know of Azriel’s past. Explicitly, there’s the literal lack of sunlight in his early childhood where he was locked in his father’s dungeon until the age of 11.

[Rhys to Feyre, about Azriel] Rhys was quiet a moment. Then he said too softly, “His father had two legitimate sons, both older than Azriel. Both cruel and spoiled. They learned it from their mother, the lord’s wife. For the eleven years that Azriel lived in his father’s keep, she saw to it he was kept in a cell with no window, no light. They let him out for an hour every day—let him see his mother for an hour once a week. He wasn’t permitted to train, or fly, or any of the things his Illyrian instincts roared at him to do. When he was eight, his brothers decided it’d be fun to see what happened when you mixed an Illyrian’s quick healing gifts with oil—and fire. The warriors heard Azriel’s screaming. But not quick enough to save his hands” (ACOMAF).

More implicitly, there’s also a lingering darkness to his character.

[Feyre, during her first meeting with the IC] But the second male, the more classically beautiful of the two … Even the light shied from the elegant planes of his face. With good reason. Beautiful, but near-unreadable. He’d be the one to look out for—the knife in the dark (ACOMAF).

[Feyre, during her first meeting with the IC] Cassian tipped back his head and laughed, a full, rich sound that bounced off the ruddy stones of the House. Azriel’s brows flicked up with approval as the shadows seemed to wrap tighter around him. As if he were the dark hive from which they flew and returned. I tried not to shudder and faced Rhys, hoping for an explanation about his spymaster’s dark gifts (ACOMAF).

[Rhys about Azriel] People often made the mistake of assuming Cassian was the wilder one; the one who couldn’t be tamed. But Cassian was all hot temper—temper that could be used to forge and weld. There was an icy rage in Azriel I had never been able to thaw. In the centuries I’d known him, he’d said little about his life, those years in his father’s keep, locked in darkness. Perhaps the shadowsinger gift had come to him then, perhaps he’d taught himself the language of shadow and wind and stone (ACOFAS).

[Amren tells her story] "But I was—the time locked away down there … I didn’t care. I had not felt the wind on my face, had not smelled the rain … I did not even remember what they felt like. I did not remember sunlight.” It was to Azriel that her attention drifted—the shadowsinger’s darkness pulling away to reveal eyes full of understanding. Locked away (ACOWAR).

[Feyre winnows with Azriel] Azriel’s dark breeze was different from Rhys’s. Colder. Sharper. It cut through the world like a blade, spearing us toward that army camp. Night was still overhead, dawn perhaps two hours away, when he landed us in a thick forest on a hilltop that overlooked the outskirts of the mighty camp (ACOWAR).

This darkness is perhaps most prominently manifested by his shadows, which will be addressed shortly.

Azriel’s darkness is somewhat paradoxical when looking at the very well-mannered, gentle, soft, and caring personality traits he possesses (I often wonder who Azriel would be if he had a safe and happy childhood, and it is my personal view that I don’t think there would be much darkness to him had he not had to suffer through what he did during his childhood). These soft and gentle traits seem the most prominent around Elain, who we know he has romantic feelings for, and Feyre, who he has a very beautiful friendship with. I would with some hesitation add Mor here. However, while he definitely has warm feelings for her, there’s also a lot of rage where Mor is concerned (not towards Mor herself of course, but towards what happened to her). I would also maybe add Nesta, but their friendship is newer and developing. I'm sure we will get to see more of that.

[Feyre, flying with Azriel] Then we tilted, shooting straight. Azriel’s body was warm and hard, though those brutalized hands were considerate as he gripped me. No shadows trailed us, as if he’d left them in Velaris. (ACOMAF)

[Feyre flies into a tree during flying lesson] “Shit,” was all I could say as Azriel knelt before me. “You’re all right. Just stunned.” The world was still reordering itself. “You banked well,” he offered. “Into another tree.” “Being aware of your surroundings is half of flying.” “You said that already,” I snapped. He had. A dozen times just this morning. Azriel only sat on his heels and offered me a hand up. My flesh burned as I gripped his fingers, a mortifying number of pine needles and splinters tumbling off me. My back throbbed enough that I lowered my wings, not caring if they dragged in the dirt as Azriel led me toward the lake edge. In the blinding sun off the turquoise water, his shadows were gone, his face stark and clear. More … human than I had ever seen him. “There’s no chance that I’ll be able to fly in the legions, is there?” I asked, kneeling beside him as he tended to my skinned palms with expert care and gentleness. The sun was brutal against his scars, hiding not one twisted, rippling splotch (ACOWAR).

[After Feyre’s first flying lesson] Azriel had given me a tonic that would help with the soreness, but I knew that by tonight, I’d be whimpering (ACOWAR).

[Feyre, at the town house] I was still sore enough the next day that I had to send word to Cassian I wasn’t training with him. Or Azriel. A mistake, perhaps, given that both of them showed up at the door to the town house within minutes, the former demanding what the hell was wrong with me, the latter bearing a tin of salve to help with the aches in my back (ACOWAR).

[Taking Elain to the garden] I [Feyre] dragged a hand over my face before going to Elain and touching her too-bony shoulder. “Can I set you up in the garden? The herbs you planted are coming in nicely.” “I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand. Nesta monitored him like a hawk, but kept silent as Elain took his hand, and out they went (ACOWAR).

[Leaving Velaris for the Illyrian camp] Rhys cleared his throat, and nodded to Mor. Then she was gone, Cassian and Nesta with her. Then Azriel, gently taking Elain’s hand in his own, as if afraid his scars would hurt her (ACOWAR).

[Rescuing Elain] The gray light of morning had broken over the world, mist clinging to our ankles as we headed into that camp, Azriel still cradling Elain to his chest. He dripped blood behind him the entire time—a trickle compared to the torrent that should be leaking out. Contained only by the patches of power he’d slapped on it. Help—he needed a healer immediately (ACOWAR).

[First Solstice together] Azriel emerged from the sitting room, a glass of wine in hand and wings tucked back to reveal his fine, yet simple black jacket and pants. I felt, more than saw, my sister go still as he approached. Her throat bobbed. […] I strode to my seat—nestled between Amren and Mor—in time to see Elain say to Azriel, “Hello.” Az said nothing. No, he just moved toward her. Mor tensed beside me. But Azriel only took Elain’s heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, “Sit. I’ll take care of it” (ACOFAS).

[First Solstice] It was three by the time the others went to bed. By the time Cassian returned, quiet and brooding, and knocked back a glass of liquor before stalking upstairs. Mor followed him, worry dancing in her eyes. Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight. Whether he cared about such things, I had no idea, but I sent him a silent prayer of thanks for his kindness before Rhys and I slipped upstairs (ACOFAS ).

Azriel's shadows

The mix of darkness and gentleness to his person, and with whom what side is dominant, is also manifested in how his shadows behave. Elain is the one person Azriel himself states his shadows are “prone to vanish” around (Azriel’s BC). What does it mean for his shadows to fade or vanish? To know, we need to assess what the shadows do or provide for him? Only then can we know what it then means for the shadows to vanish. That is to say, under what conditions are what the shadows provide not needed? And under what conditions is the opposite true?

I am immensely interested in how Azriel’s powers work. It is one of the things I look forward to learning more about the most in Elain's book (aside from getting more of Elain, but I won't get into that in this post). Since we do not have much information yet, I have tried to figure out as much as possible from what we have. I have catalogued every single mention of Azriel’s shadows in all five books, and these are some patterns I have found. (I will not go into the strength of his powers, as that is an entirely different discussion. I'm intrigued by how the strength of his powers is often compared to Rhys by Feyre, and how Rhys himself is somewhat intimidated by Azriel. There's just so much we don't' know.)

Firstly, we shall have a look at how the shadows are explicitly described by Azriel and by others. Then, we will look at patterns regarding his shadows’ behavior and use all of this information to draw some conclusions.

How are his shadow powers described?

From Rhys we know that it is assumed that Azriel’s shadow powers came to him during his time locked up in his father’s dungeon. They have no relation to the powers he has by nature of being Illyrian, channeled through his Siphons.

Shadows different from anything my powers summoned, spoke to. Born in a lightless, airless prison meant to break him. Instead, he had learned its language. Though the cobalt Siphons were proof that his Illyrian heritage ran true, even the rich lore of that warrior-people, my warrior-people, did not have an explanation for where the shadowsinger gifts came from. They certainly weren’t connected to the Siphons, to the raw killing power most Illyrians possessed and channeled through the stones to keep from destroying everything in its path. The bearer included (ACOFAS).

That his shadows came to him during childhood aligns with how Azriel describes his shadows as having always been there to keep him company.

[Azriel during second Solstice night] But even the silence weighed too heavily, and though the shadows kept him company, as they always had, as they always would, he found himself leaving the room (Azriel’s BC).

What does the company of his shadows provide?

We can gather some answers from how others describe what the shadows do for Azriel. We should perhaps take this with a grain of salt, as it is noted that no one really understands the nature of his powers (see Rhys’ quote above). To guard against this lack of understanding, we will combine this information with a look at how his shadows actually behave.

[Feyre’s POV. Going to Rita’s with Cass and Mor] It was an effort not to stare at Azriel as he watched them head up the steep street, arm in arm and bickering with every step. The shadows gathered around his shoulders, like they were indeed whispering to him, shielding him, perhaps. His broad chest expanded with a deep breath that sent them skittering, and then he set into an easy, graceful stroll after them (ACOMAF).

[Feyre, about Azriel’s shadows when Azriel attacks Eris during the meeting with the High Lords] “Enough, Azriel,” Rhys ordered. Perhaps those shadows that now slid and eddied around the shadowsinger hid him from the wrath of the binding magic. The others made no move to interfere, as if wondering the same (ACOWAR).

[Feyre, about Azriel’s shadows during their rescue mission] Azriel had made us invisible—shadow-bound. We sprinted between tents, feet flying over the grass and dirt. “Hurry,” he whispered. “The shadows won’t last long” (ACOWAR).

[Feyre, when searching for the Hyberns] We searched, but the missed arrows had been snatched up by our attackers —and even the shadows and wind told Azriel nothing, as if our enemy had been hidden from them as well (ACOMAF).

[Rhys, when Azriel gives him intel ahead of the first Solstice  together] Az’s expressionless face was precisely the reason he’d never lost to us at cards. “Why should I be the judge of that?” “You mean to tell me that you weren’t bluffing when you said you didn’t track Lucien’s every movement?” Nothing. Absolutely nothing on that face, on his scent. The shadows, whatever the hell they were, hid too well. Too much. Azriel only said coldly, “If Lucien kills Graysen, then good riddance” (ACOFAS).

The shadows are explicitly described by others (Rhys and Feyre here) as protecting him by shielding him, giving him information, and hiding his emotional state, and even his scent.

Related to the shadows tendency to shield and hide Azriel’s emotional state and his scent, we know that Azriel is often described as unreadable. In fact, “unreadable” (and words of similar meaning) is one of the most common explicit descriptors of Azriel (I have catalogued all of those too). For one, his emotional state is often unreadable, and secondly, we know he also hides how physical pain affects him. Meaning, SJM has made a blatant point of telling us how being stone-faced and unreadable is one of Azriel's defining traits.

[Feyre asking Rhys about Azriel] “Does he mind what he does? Not the spying, I mean. What he did to the Attor today.” Rhys loosed a breath. “It’s hard to tell with him—and he’d never tell me. I’ve witnessed Cassian rip apart opponents and then puke his guts up once the carnage stopped, sometimes even mourn them. But Azriel … Cassian tries, I try—but I think the only person who ever gets him to admit to any sort of feeling is Mor.And that’s only when she’s pestered him to the point where even his infinite patience has run out” (ACOMAF).

[As Cass and Az save Feyre and Lucien from Lucien’s brothers] Azriel flicked the blood off his own blade and stalked toward me. I met the hazel eyes of the shadowsinger. The cool face that hid such pain—and kindness (ACOWAR).

[About allying with Eris] Mor whirled on Azriel. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Azriel held her gaze unflinchingly. Didn’t so much as rustle his wings. “Because you would have tried to stop it. And we can’t afford to lose Keir’s alliance—and face the threat of Eris" (ACOWAR).

[When questioning Amren about how to escape the Prison] Because the shadow in the corner behind Amren … that was Azriel. The obsidian hilt of Truth-Teller in his scarred hand. He’d moved without my realizing it—though I had no doubt the others had likely been aware. Amren bared her teeth at him. Azriel’s beautiful face didn’t so much as shift (ACOWAR).

[After the meeting with the High Lords] Rhys rose from his seat and dragged a hand through his hair. “That went well. It would seem none of us won our bet about who’d fight first.” Azriel stared at the floor, stone-faced. “Sorry.” The word was emotionless—distant (ACOWAR).

[After Feyre and Azriel rescued Elain and Azriel is injured] I didn’t know how Azriel had managed to stay aloft—stay conscious during those minutes in the sky. I didn’t let myself think about how and when and why he’d learned to manage pain like that (ACOWAR).

So, assuming Rhys and Feyre are correct in how they interpret Azriel’s shadows, it seems Azriel has had a need for concealing his physical and emotional state, since his childhood. Which makes sense, considering what he went through. He has learned to hide how external threats affect him. Logically, to protect him. His shadow powers seem to have come to him during this time and in doing so his shadows are described by others as hiding and shielding him. It makes sense, because what do shadows do in a material sense? They hide, shield, veil. What do you wish to hide, shield and veil? That which you wish to protect from external threats.

So, for one: the shadows shield him – to protect him.

Aside from shielding him, the shadows give Azriel information (again, see above how his shadows are described). Rhys says Azriel “learned their language”. This seems true in both a figurative and literal sense. In his role as Spymaster, he seems to use his shadows to gather information. What use does he have for information? To know where there are threats so the threats can be neutralized or otherwise dealt with. Or to gather information so that the IC’s plans can be safely executed. That is to say, for protection. Let's look at some examples:

[The IC about trying to get into the human courts to access the half of the book] Rhys shook his head. “One, it’d take too long. We don’t have that time.” I thought of the past few wasted weeks, how hard Azriel had tried to get into those courts. If even his shadows and spies could not breach their inner workings, then I doubted an assassin would (ACOMAF).

[Feyre to Rhys, about Eris, during negotiations with Kier and Eris at the Court of Nightmares] What is he doing here, I speared down the bond, not bothering to hide any of what coursed through me. Making sure Keir agrees to help, was all Rhys said, the words tight and clipped. Restrained. As if he were still holding the full might of his rage in check. Shadows curled around Azriel’s shoulders, whispering in his ear as he stared down Eris (ACOWAR).

[Cassian about Azriel perhaps learning about Nesta] Cassian hadn’t told anyone about the step he’d found with the clear finger holes burned into it. He wondered if Azriel had somehow learned of them, the news brought to him on his shadows’ whispers (ACOSF).

[Nesta tells Cassian and Azriel the women should be taught Valkyrian techniques] She’d meant it in jest, but the words rumbled through the space, as if she’d spoken some great truth, something that made fate sit up. Azriel turned to them fully this time, eyes narrowed. Like those shadows had whispered something to him (ACOSF).

[After Nesta tells Feyre about the risk of her pregnancy] Cassian soared over the House of Wind to find Azriel there, hovering in place, a heavy pack in his hand. Whether that had been from a separate warning from Rhys, or Az’s own shadows whispering, he didn’t know (ACOSF).

[Cassian and Azriel with Koschei] “You fell for it rather easily,” Koschei went on, “though you took your time making contact. I thought you’d rush in for the kill, brute that you are.” They could make out nothing of him beyond the shadows of his form. Even Azriel’s own shadows kept tucked behind his wings. Koschei laughed, and Azriel stiffened. Like his shadows had murmured a warning (ACOSF).

[Azriel, alone during second Solstice night] Az snickered to himself, to the listening shadows around him. Sleep, they seemed to whisper in his ear. Sleep. I wish I could, he answered silently. But sleep so rarely found him these days (Azriel’s BC).

[Second Solstice night] Azriel winnowed into shadows before she could say anything, appearing at the doors to Rhys's study a heartbeat later. His shadows whispered in his ear that Elain had gone upstairs (Azriel’s BC).

So, secondly, the shadows give him information – again, in general to protect him in some shape or form (although, as seen above, there's instances of a more neutral information exchange occurring between Azriel and his shadows).

The shadows’ behaviour

It seems not enough to take Rhys and Feyre’s word for how Azriel’s shadow powers work. Let’s also look at how the shadows behave.

There is little consistency in what precise words are used to describe the shadows’ behaviour. Many different words are used - shadows coiling, curling, wreathing, swarming, writhing, shielding and so on - during quite similar circumstances. As stated, I have catalogued every mention of Azriel’s shadows in all books, and in general, when the shadows move around a lot and move closer to Azriel, there is some form of distress, emotional or physical or both. I will include a few examples, but across all books, there really is too much to give a full picture of the shadows’ behaviour during distress without including a very large amount of examples. I've tried to choose examples that exemplify the shadows' general behaviour during distress. Since I have catalogued all mentions of his shadows by category, i believe I can do this with a satisfactory amount of accuracy (but feel free to correct me if you disagree).

[After Azriel attacked Eris at the meeting with the High Lords] But I looked to Azriel, currently leaning against the wall beside the floorto-ceiling window, shadows fluttering around him. Even the birds in their cages nearby remained silent. I said down the bond, Is he all right? Rhys tucked his hands behind his head, though his mouth tightened. Likely not, but if we try to talk to him about it, it’ll only make it worse. (ACOWAR)

[Rhys says he would “thank the Cauldron” if Amarantha showed up, offering them a chance to defeat Hybern] Too far—this was pushing them both too far. I tried to catch Cassian’s gaze, but he was monitoring them closely, his golden-brown skin unnaturally pale. Azriel’s shadows gathered close, half veiling him from view (ACOWAR).

[Before the final battle in ACOWAR] “I can fight on foot,” Azriel said to Rhys. “No.” There was no arguing with that tone. Azriel seemed like he was debating it, but Amren shook her head in warning and he backed down, shadows coiling at his fingers (ACOWAR).

[Cassian and Azriel at breakfast, Cassian and Nesta are needed at the river house] “At least you’re honest.” Azriel smirked. “You and Nesta are wanted down there.” “Because of the shit with Elain?” Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?” Cassian waved a hand. “A fight with Nesta. Don’t bring it up,” he warned when Azriel’s eyes darkened. Cassian blew out a breath. “I take that as a no regarding the meeting topic, then.” “It’s about what I discovered. Rhys said he requires you both there.” “It’s bad, then.” Cassian surveyed the shadows gathered around Az. “You all right?” His brother nodded. “Fine.” But shadows still swarmed him. Cassian knew it was a lie, but didn’t push it. Az would speak when he was ready, and Cassian would have better success convincing a mountain to move than getting Az to open up (ACOSF).

[After Nesta’s powers are revealed during her nightmare] Then Rhys inhaled sharply, his body full of movement again. Azriel asked, his own shadows gathering at his shoulders, “What happened?” (ACOSF).

The shadows moving closer to Azriel or moving around a lot when he is under some form of distress is a general trend, and a strong one. However, shadows sometimes are present under neutral or more positive circumstances too. I would say there is still often (but not always) some emotional state that could perhaps explain the presence of the shadows in examples like those. Some examples of more positive or neutral circumstances:

[When Nesta is grateful for her Solstice gift] And then she jumped to her feet and flung her arms around Azriel. The room went silent for a beat. But Azriel chuckled and squeezed her gently. Cassian smiled to see it— to see them. “Thank you,” Nesta said, quickly pulling away to marvel at the device. “It’s brilliant.” Azriel blushed and stepped back, shadows swirling. (ACOSF)

[Azriel, trying to get through to a horny Cassian that him and Nesta are needed at the river house] Azriel cleared his throat, and Cassian blinked. “What?” “I said, are you two ready to head down to the river house?” “Two?” He blinked through the cloud of arousal. Azriel chuckled, shadows skittering. “Did you listen at all last night?” “No.” “At least you’re honest.” Azriel smirked. “You and Nesta are wanted down there.” (ACOSF)

What we can learn from this is that he is in general in a state of emotional or physical distress when his shadows are very active. His shadows being present is not always a negative thing (as in, him being negatively affected by something). However, his shadows vanishing or fading is always a positive thing (as in, he is in a positive situation).

Because the only entirely consistent pattern to be found is that the shadows are only described as vanishing, fading, or lighting up when he is happy, content, and relaxed. In all five books, it seems this has only (as in, being explicitly mentioned) happened around Feyre, Elain, and Mor.

[When Feyre first meets the IC] Mor patted Azriel on the shoulder as she dodged his outstretched wing. “Relax, Az—no fighting tonight. We promised Rhys.” The lurking shadows vanished entirely as Azriel’s head dipped a bit—his night-dark hair sliding over his handsome face as if to shield him from that mercilessly beautiful grin. (ACOMAF)

[Feyre, about Azriel] Yes—Azriel, who kept a step away, whose shadows trailed him and seemed to fade in her [Mor’s] presence. (ACOMAF)

[Feyre, flying with Azriel] Then we tilted, shooting straight. Azriel’s body was warm and hard, though those brutalized hands were considerate as he gripped me. No shadows trailed us, as if he’d left them in Velaris. (ACOMAF)

[Feyre introduces Cass, Az, and Rhys to her sisters during their first meeting] “Cassian,” I said, inclining my head to the left. Then I shifted to the right, grateful those shadows were nowhere to be found as I said, “Azriel.” I half turned. “And Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court.” (ACOMAF)

[Banter during dinner with the IC] Cassian only grimaced at Rhys and Azriel. “I told you that the moment we started letting females into our group, they’d be nothing but trouble.” “As far as I can recall, Cassian,” Rhys countered drily, “you actually said you needed a reprieve from staring at our ugly faces, and that some ladies would add some much-needed prettiness for you to look at all day.” “Pig,” Amren said. Cassian gave her a vulgar gesture that made Lucien choke on his green beans. “I was a young Illyrian and didn’t know better,” he said, then pointed his fork at Azriel. “Don’t try to blend into the shadows. You said the same thing.” “He did not,” Mor said, and the shadows that Azriel had indeed been subtly weaving around himself vanished. “Azriel has never once said anything that awful. Only you, Cassian. Only you.” (ACOWAR)

Azriel arrived first, no shadows to be seen, my sister a pale, golden mass in his arms. He, too, wore his Illyrian armor, Elain’s golden-brown hair snagging in some of the black scales across his chest and shoulders.  (ACOWAR)

[During flying lesson with Feyre] Azriel only sat on his heels and offered me a hand up. My flesh burned as I gripped his fingers, a mortifying number of pine needles and splinters tumbling off me. My back throbbed enough that I lowered my wings, not caring if they dragged in the dirt as Azriel led me toward the lake edge. In the blinding sun off the turquoise water, his shadows were gone, his face stark and clear. More … human than I had ever seen him. (ACOWAR)

(I won’t do much deeper analysis in this post, but I am sure there’s more to this passage than meets the eye. As far as I’m aware, no other fae has been described to appear “human”, and the  fact that it is done in connection to “the blinding sun”… I think there may be some Elriel symbolism going on here).

[Azriel at the town house with Feyre, Cassian, Nesta, and Elain] Cassian’s dark brows narrowed. I dragged a hand over my face before going to Elain and touching her too-bony shoulder. “Can I set you up in the garden? The herbs you planted are coming in nicely.” “I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand. Nesta monitored him like a hawk, but kept silent as Elain took his hand, and out they went. (ACOWAR)

[Solstice night] Elain sucked in a soft breath that whispered over his skin. His shadows skittered back at the sound. They'd always been prone to vanish when she was around. (Azriel’s BC)

I believe these are all instances of his shadows vanishing from all the books (feel free to correct me if I’m wrong). I think all the above examples show his shadows’ behaviour is consistent with the idea of the shadows being there to protect him (by shielding him and giving him information). The shadows came to him, he learned their language at a time when that was what he needed, and they stayed with him.

If the above is accepted as true. What does it mean for the shadows to vanish? It means there is no need to be shielded, and there’s no need to gather information. Because there’s no need for protection. He is safe and content. The shadows vanish when he is safe and not under any form of emotional or physical distress. This view seems entirely consistent with canon (as seen above).

Remember also what I discussed earlier about his gentle and soft traits coming out the most around Feyre and, even more, around Elain - two of the only three people in whose presence his shadows are described as vanishing or fading. To say that his shadows vanishing is somehow indicative of the shadows not liking that person, or that person being evil is simply not aligning with canon. Canonically, the shadows only vanish when the opposite is true. Shadows vanishing coincide with Azriel being able to express his soft and gentle side, not needing to be stone-faced and shielded. As such, his shadows vanishing cannot be described as anything other than positive. Not needing his shadows is character development for Azriel, as it means he is breaking free of whatever darkness he had to embody to get through the dungeon*. It means he is letting go of being unreadable and guarded and constantly informed of his surroundings. He is joking and connecting with Feyre by the lake during her flying lessons. He is relaxed, happy and content (and smitten, to put it lightly) around Elain.

*This is most certainly not to say I think he will lose his shadow powers overall. It’s just that he doesn’t seem to really need them when he is in a state of safety and contentedness (which it seems he until now rarely has been).

(Again, my personal view is that I don’t think there is an inherent darkness to Azriel. I think he was forced to embody such traits to get through the abuse he was put through. As such, I don’t think Azriel needs someone that can “handle his darkness”. I think he needs someone that lets him be himself, which is gentle and caring. Under such conditions, as seen above, there appears to not be much darkness to him.)

Conclusion

To conclude, and get back to canon once again, who is the only person around whom the shadows are described by Azriel himself, the one the shadows keep company, as “prone to vanish” (Azriel’s BC)? Elain. With Elain, his “head goes quiet” and his “shadows vanish” (Azriel’s BC). It now becomes glaringly obvious what it means for his shadows to vanish.

[Azriel flies Elain to the town house] Azriel arrived first, no shadows to be seen, my sister a pale, golden mass in his arms. He, too, wore his Illyrian armor, Elain’s golden-brown hair snagging in some of the black scales across his chest and shoulders. He set her down gently on the foyer carpet, having carried her in through the front door. Elain peered up at his patient, solemn face. Azriel smiled faintly. “Would you like me to show you the garden?” She seemed so small before him, so fragile compared to the scales of his fighting leathers, the breadth of his shoulders. The wings peeking over them. But Elain did not balk from him, did not shy away as she nodded—just once. Azriel, graceful as any courtier, offered her an arm. I couldn’t tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, “Beautiful.” Color bloomed high on Azriel’s golden-brown cheeks, but he inclined his head in thanks and led my sister toward the back doors into the garden, sunlight bathing them. (ACOWAR)

[Elain and Azriel in the garden] Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports—likely information on the Autumn Court that he planned to present to Rhys once he’d sorted through it all. Already dressed for the Hewn City—the brutal, beautiful armor so at odds with the lovely garden. And my sister sitting within it. (ACOWAR)

Additionally, we know that Azriel even says in his bonus chapter that he doesn’t need his shadows to read Elain. He already understands her, and he trusts his understanding of her to not need his shadows to inform him. Not even to double check.

[Azriel and Elain, alone on second Solstice night] “I..." He watched her swallow. She clutched a small gift in her hands. "I was coming to leave this on your pile of presents. I forgot to give it to you earlier."  Lie. Well, the second part was a lie. He didn't need his shadows to read her tone, the slight tightening of her face. She'd waited until everyone was asleep before venturing back down, where she'd leave her gift amongst his other, opened presents, subtle and unnoticed. (Azriel’s BC)

To wrap up, lets get back to the symbolism. As seen in the quotes above, Azriel relaxes in the presence of light, implicit and explicit. His shadows vanish. There is peace and quiet in the presence of light. He suns his wings where there is light. Why? We know how defensive Illyrian males are about their wings. Rhys didn’t let anyone so much as touch his wings for 500 years. So, what could it mean for an Illyrian male to be so relaxed as to sun his wings in someone’s company? There is only one reason any Illyrian male would be so lax about their surroundings as to sun his wings. To sun your wings is to be safe. His shadows, who shield and protect him, do not need to do so where there is light. Around whom do his shadows vanish? Around whom are they even “prone to vanish” (Azriel’s BC)? Around the one with whom he is the most gentle and soft, because she inspires it and that is who he is when he is not in distress. Around the one who is consistently described as the very manifestation of light and sunshine. She is “like a summer dawn” (ACOMAF), “full of light”, like a “blooming spring” (ACOWAR), a “bloom of color and sunshine” (ACOFAS), “glowing like the sun at dawn” (Azriel’s BC), with a smile “as bright as the setting sun” (ACOSF).

Elain.

The lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her.

I think Feyre was partly wrong. At least, she only got half of the equation right. She said Elain would cling to Azriel for some peace and quiet (ACOMAF). From what we have seen, it goes both ways. Azriel clings to Elain for peace and quiet. In doing so, his head goes quiet, and his shadows vanish. Because he is safe, content, and himself.

And then, shadows vanished, he suns his wings.

[wonjns]

uncanny ii. resemblance ∯

♡° pairing. . .  lee heeseung x male reader

♡° genre. . . smut, fluff, angst

♡° summary. . . so you ended up with your twin sister’s boyfriend... what a turn of events. heeseung is definitely your dream guy, but little did you expect all of what exactly would unfold once you got him.

♡° includes. . . bottom!reader, even more horny bisexual hee!! lmao, lots & lots of kissing, dry humping, possessive heeseung, finger sucking, car sex (almost), blow job, orgasm prolonging, unprotected sex (dont irl!!)

♡° wc. . . 7k

°A/N. . . requested by many !! months & months later... finally 😮💨, i am so happy to be posting this!! i had no idea that so many of you would enjoy Uncanny, & i never intended on adding a second part. im just so mad it took me so long to write— so i’m sorry guys, i really hope its not awful !!!

                                  . . . .% Part 1 ♡ % . . . .

ㅤ

“so.... you two are now... dating...?”  

three pairs of very beady yet confused eyes lingered before you in your family living room. their glances examined you head to toe, along with a certain 6' ft male who stood beside you. 

you could feel your palm growing clammy in heeseung’s hold as you both timidly nodded, desperate to read the intent behind the deadpanned expression on your parents’ faces.

despite heeseung’s tall and stronger build, he almost felt his weakening knees give from beneath him as he caught eye contact with your sister-- his ex-- who had an ominously suspicious look on her face. he had seen this expression on her quite often, but was never the recipient. it was less than ideal. 

“well, y/n, do you really like him?” your mother chimed, her puzzled tone cracking the silence. 

all you could do was nod once again, slightly more fervently at the question. if only ‘like’ was enough to describe your feelings for the equally-as-nervous boy who stood fiddling with your fingers.  

“and heeseung? do you really like my son?” your father spoke up this time, eyebrows transfixed as he sunk deeper into his leather recliner. 

heeseung found himself only able to offer a shy nod as well, the soles of his shoes feeling as if they were hovering over lava from the heat of the atmosphere. 

“words, son.” your dad sternly quipped. 

it was unbelievable to heeseung how these two adults, whom he'd usually seen as secondary parents, suddenly felt like stone cold, life-sentencing supremes.

“yes–” the poor boy coughed, clearing his throat. “yes sir.” 

the fluttering of your heart after hearing his confession out loud threatened to distract you from the anxiety that surged through your nerves, but one glance up at your sister snatched you back to reality.

you couldn’t believe any of this was actually happening. normally, you and your twin shamelessly spilled everything you thought and felt to one another without a second thought - but you could only feel like shit as your mind resurfaced flashbacks of heeseung working your body in ways you’d only dreamt about, while your sibling, who just so happened to be his former lover, lingered cluelessly outside your room.

you and the older male had debated often after your first hookup whether or not this was something you guys should make public, out of fear of what your sister would think. 

but you knew you were too in love with heeseung– and always have been, to keep things suppressed. especially since neither of you showed signs of leaving what happened as a simple one night stand. so you chose the route of honesty, which lead you to the painfully awkward confession in front of your high council of family members.

“okay.” your mother, sister, and father chirped in a perky unison.

the air shifted, the imaginary weight your shoulders bore suddenly vanishing into nothingness. 

“okay!?” you and heeseung blurted in an equally perplexed harmony.

“yeah, okay!” your sister responded, on her own this time.

she uncrossed her folded arms, picking up the laundry basket she was previously interrupted from lugging to her room. “whatever keeps mr. clingy out of my hair so often. he’s a lot like an abandoned puppy at times, you know... was starting to get a bit draining.” 

“i’m... right here, you know.” heeseung mumbled out in response to your sister’s teasing. you noticed the tint of his cheeks growing red and couldn’t help but softly chuckle.

“honey, don’t be a bully.” your dad replied before your parents emitted a couple giggles themselves. 

“i’m sure what she meant to say was,” your mother started, standing to grab her purse and approach heeseung. “we love having you around. you’ve been a part of this family for some time now, so as long as you take care of our son as well as you did our daughter, there’s no reason for us to not give you our blessing.” 

and with that, she gave heeseung and yourself a quick peck to the cheeks before sauntering out of the room. she was followed shortly by the others, leaving just the two of you motionless as mannequins; both dumbfounded. 

that was... easy. too easy.

the back of your head landed gently against your pillows as heeseung pressed a deep kiss into your lips, giddy giggles escaping the both of you. 

the taller male’s hands casually roamed under your tank top as his mouth nearly swallowed you whole, pliantly groaning as he felt your fingers dance into his locks. his confidence was through the roof, the adrenaline from the confession still running ramped through his bones. 

he rolled his hips flush into yours, smirking into the makeout after absorbing one of your small whimpers. 

“what... even just happened?” you sighed out as heeseung moved to nip at your jaw. 

“i have no fucking clue.” he chuckled between nibbles on your sensitive skin, tracing over the area under your ear with his eager tongue.

you moaned, tugging his head back to reconnect your lips and feel that very tongue glide over yours. you reveled in the feeling of his hands massaging you beneath your shirt, not even the slightest bit surprised when he lifted it high enough to place kisses on your tummy.

“i just don’t- seriously... how did we pull that off??” you babbled, genuinely baffled while heeseung adjusted between your legs into an easier position for planting pecks along your hips.

he hummed into your skin, propping one of your legs around his torso. “i don’t know, i guess we’re way better than we thought.” 

heeseung’s kisses started growing hungrier, and he took the liberty to suck a few marks on the surface of your stomach amidst your confused rambling. your hips started instinctively rolling into his chest, and you bit back a moan from the friction of your member grinding against his solid pecs. 

“seunggie, wait, literally everyone is still home...” 

“so? we got the green light, didn’t we?” the boy taunts before playfully tugging on the waistband of your shorts. 

you chuckle before nudging his hands away, scooting yourself back to sit up against your bed’s headboard. “i think so... but let���s talk about that first.”

heeseung huffed while blinking his gorgeous lashes at you, dramatically hovering above the empty silhouette of where your body was. 

“talk about...?”

“well, the word my parents used. dating.” you uttered as if it were a curse word. 

“you... want to talk about the word ‘dating’?” he questioned, shifting to prop his head up with an elbow. 

“not the word itself, stupid- i just..... i think-” you stumbled, laughing to yourself while also resisting that familiar rosy blush from spreading on your cheeks. "i think if we’re officially a thing...”

heeseung hesitatingly nodded along with your words, his beautiful brown orbs watching you intently as if he was trying to read your mind. 

“then shouldn’t we, like, do the things people who date do before we keep messing around? like,, don’t we have to do that sappy couple stuff before sex?” 

heeseung couldn’t help but release a loud chuckle at your adorableness, attempting to muffle it in a nearby pillow. god, you wanted to at least pretend to be aggravated, but his laugh was just too damn cute. 

“you’ve never dated anyone, have you?” he asked when he eventually finished his cackles. 

“...is it that obvious?” you chime, your signature blush undeniably as present as ever. 

the older boy cooed at you, quickly sitting up and pulling you into the empty space between his lap. he pecked your lips, running his thumb along the bridge of your nose and fondly examining your flustered face, a little too long for your liking, before finally speaking up. 

“i mean, if my baby boy wants a date, then that’s what we’ll do. you’re right, we should get to know each other more first.”

you wanted to melt into a puddle and trickle all over his lap right then and there, and absolutely would if you physically could. you felt small, but protected, under heeseung’s gaze. something about the way he looked at you made your insides ignite with a feeling you’d never felt so intensely before, and you started to realize you were down… bad.

“okay!” you triumphed brightly.

you cupped your hands around his neck, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on his forehead before staring back into his eyes. 

“where do you wanna go?” heeseung inquired, nonchalantly leaning back on his arms propped behind him. 

“i don’t know? we just established i’m the one who’s never done this before!” you admitted while shifting your eyes down to his prominent adams apple, grazing your finger over it. 

“fine, it’ll be a surprise. and you’re gonna love it. this friday.”  

everything just sounded so cool coming from him, and he spoke in that careless manner that was just too hot to keep you focused. 

“perfect,” you feigned confidence, having transitioned to fiddling with his hoodie’s drawstrings. “and... no more kissing until then.” 

heeseung let out an exaggerated gasp, eyebrows furrowing at you.

you could only chuckle before being completely tackled back into your mattress, your boyfriend’s lips as relentless as ever. 

so much for that rule. 

two weeks later, you and heeseung were sickeningly attached by the hips— and lips— more than ever. 

the boy had swooped you off your feet in every sense of the term. he took you on your first date, a dual movie-picnic date on his front lawn wrapped in warm blankets (all too cliché, but still didn’t fail to spark a storm of butterflies in your stomach), which led to your second. and then third. and then fourth... and they only got better each time.

after living a long, agonizing year of being secretly infatuated with him, you weren’t sure if it were physically possible to even fall for this guy any more.

yet, you were wrong. 

through solely a few mere weeks, myriad of walks around town, and late night drives, you were seeing so many more sides of heeseung than you could’ve imagined. his charms, humor, honesty, chivalry, and even his flaws. you were taking in all of it. and he was learning so much more about you, beyond the fact of being the former love of his life’s twin brother.

you were growing obsessed with each other, and it showed. at no point in the day could heeseung keep his hands to himself anymore, and you were hardly complaining.

it even came down to the time you had to actually pry his lips from your neck in a public restaurant so that a stunned waitress, the unfortunate soul to serve your table, could finally take your order.

he just loved to show you off;

no matter where you were. 

his tinge of possessiveness was a bit embarrassing at first, but god it was kinda hot. you were so caught up in the total package of lee heeseung that you hardly had sense to worry about anything else; not caring if you were in the seclusion of your rooms or a grocery store parking lot when he would snake one of his hands down your pants to greet your erection.

every little thing he did drove you crazy, and even more so vice versa.

little did you know, heeseung was operating from a slightly different source of obsession.

you sat in the passenger seat of heeseung's red mercedes, soft rnb music playing through your boyfriend's speakers as one of his hands securely held the back of your neck while he lathered your lips in passionate, lustful kisses.

you moaned as heeseung swirled his tongue in your mouth, taking his sweet time in tasting you and using his free hand to guide yours down to his crotch. you were hesitant, but couldn't resist pressing your palm to his member to feel how hard he already was.

heeseung exhaled from the pleasure, wasting no time in maneuvering your hand beneath his waistband. he swallowed a gasp that escaped your lips once he started shamelessly bucking his hips up into your hold.

it took strength, but you willed yourself to break apart from the kiss and give him a nervous look, considering the two of you were parked in front of his parent's house in broad daylight.

"babe," you spoke, catching your breath. "we're about to go inside, we shouldn't."

your boyfriend smirked at you, hearing your warning but noticing how you still hadn't retracted your hand from inside his pants. his eyes also caught the slowly forming tent in your own jeans.

"exactly, that's why we should get this out of the way now." he half whined, needily leaning over into your space and tugging at your hips. "my mom takes forever to get dinner ready, you know I can't wait."

his plush lips were immediately on your neck before you could rebut, him aiming straight for your weak spot. damn, he knew exactly how to kill your resolve in an instant.

you rolled your eyes, partially from annoyance but also from the way he groaned while sucking on your soft flesh. you fumbled a bit, climbing over the center console and settling atop of his thighs. his satisfied grin only grew wider before rushing to capture your lips again, his kisses as addicting as ever.

heeseung's large hands roamed up and down your back as he widened his jaw to deepen the kiss, and quickly settled them on your hips to grind you forwards on his lap.

your arms found purchase on his broad shoulders as you molded your mouths more fervently. heeseung repeated the action in a rhythm, pleased by how simple it was to get reactions out of you.

jolts of excitement tingled through your legs as your clothed bulges ran along each other, the feeling heavenly as you began bucking your hips on your own accord without his assistance. heeseung's hands snuck their way under your shirt and returned to roaming your back. he gently dragged his short nails along your skin, causing goosebumps to grow array all over you.

your own hands began unbuttoning his flannel and dipping under his collar, the familiar smoothness of his shoulders warm on your fingertips, helping settle your anxieties of being seen by the neighbors, or worse– his own parents who were inside the house mere steps away.

you couldn't understand how heeseung always had you in these sort of positions, but judging from the rock hard length pressing between your thighs, he was clearly into it.

heeseung could still feel your nervousness, and leaned back amused as he watched the embarrassment and pleasure battle for dominance on your face. he kissed the tip of your nose and chuckled.

"your sister used to love making out to this song." he mumbled in a low tone, dipping down to wrap his lips around your adams apple while simultaneously turning up the radio's volume.

you could barely register the odd statement as you threw your head back, eyes fluttering closed when heeseung started suckling and licking on the column of your throat in sync with the melodic tune that filled the car. 

it was bliss, but just as you felt yourself drawing close to your high, the sentence rang through your head again.

your sister? this song? in this car?

suddenly, the image of your sister being in your exact same position– which she undoubtedly had been in several times before, flashed through your mind.

it caused you to jolt a little bit. heeseung paid no mind to the sudden action, thinking it was another one of your cute responses to his ministrations.

"uhm... hee?" your hips slowed to a halt, a bit of that familiar guilt settling into you again.

at first you thought it was just mindless sex talk, but as you had delved deeper into your official relationship with heeseung, you caught on to how often he would still talk about your twin, consistently making comparisons and recalling similarities between the two of you.

he wasn't necessarily wrong, but it was getting weirder as it progressed. you had just convinced yourself it was natural due to how similar you were with your sibling, and kept things pushing without dwelling on it for too long.

"hee?" you spoke again, opening your eyes when you hadn't gotten a response.

he hummed against your neck, sloppy kisses never ending in the crook of your neck. you managed to draw back, gently pushing his shoulders to disconnect from his lips. he looked at you quizzically, yet adoration still beaming in his eyes.

"i've been meaning to talk to you about-"

you were cut off by the abnormally loud ringing of his cell phone, which sat lodged in one of the car's cup holders. he sighed, telling you to wait just a moment when he read the caller id.

"hello? yeah mom, we just pulled up. we're coming in now." he exhaled, gently rubbing your thigh.

a huff of disappointment left your nose, but you were semi-grateful you didn't actually have to have the awkward conversion right before meeting his parents.

you gathered yourself back together, clasping the first few buttons of heeseung's shirt back together for him as he flattened the small wrinkles on yours.

he opened the car door, helping you climb out of his lap and onto the pavement, where you readjusted yourself in the reflection of the car's glass.

"after you, prince." heeseung gestured to his home's front door.

"but, it's your house." you responded.

"yeah, but... mom likes it when people make strong first impressions." the older boy grinned.

you took your bottom lip in between your teeth, a pool of nervousness returning to your gut as you realized you really had never met heeseung's parents before.

sure, they were all too familiar with your sister from their year together, but you were an entirely different story - an entirely more complicated story.

you knocked on the large glass front door nervously, heeseung standing just behind your shoulder. he leaned down to whisper.

"they don't take to strangers very well. if you get scared, tap my leg. they can be pretty tough."

heeseung was a liar. 

you had received nothing but beaming smiles and suffocating hugs as soon as you stepped through the door. 

you had prepared to walk into a homophobic hellfire, not knowing what sort of glares and comments would be thrown your way. setting the fact that you were a boy aside, you still had plenty to worry about.

heeseung left a committed relationship, albeit not by his own choice, just to end up with his girlfriend’s brother was quite a unique situation - yet it seems his parents hadn’t even thought about that as they chattered away through dinner table conversation. shit, the wholesome smile you were met with the second his mom opened the door would be tattooed in your mind forever.

“so, y/n dear, heeseung hasn’t been giving you too much trouble now, has he?” his mother asked as she cut her steak into tiny pieces from across the table. 

“our son can be so lazy sometimes,” his dad chimed in with a chuckle. “gotta make sure he’s not constantly slacking off.”

you laughed, feeling like heeseung was being regarded as your new employee. you caught a slight frown on his face from his parents teasing, and you reached up to run your hand through his hair. 

“i guess you could say he isn’t too bad.” 

he looked to you quickly, an adoring smile growing, seemingly grateful you hadn’t joined in his parent’s shenanigans. or so he thought. 

“except for when he takes forever to get out of bed. or to go run errands. or to-”

“alright!” he huffed, frustratingly spooning some food together on his plate.

you all erupted with laughter, he was so cute when he pouted. it was nice seeing lee heeseung, the confident athlete, get all blushy and shy around his parents - his usual commanding demeanor nowhere to be found as he sheepishly shoveled broccoli into his cheeks. yet another side of him you hadn’t expected to see, but made you fall just a little more.

you found yourself in heeseung’s room after dinner, a surprise to no one, after helping his parents clean the dishes afterwards. 

you had taken the opportunity to spend more time laughing and teasing heeseung alongside his parents, so it was no shocker that he quickly whisked you away to his own private space - desperate to have all of your attention fully on him.

you giggled as you were ushered into his bedroom, his hands never leaving your waist until the door was securely shut. 

“your parents are so much fun.” you beamed at the taller boy whose blush still lingered on his face. 

“yeah, probably a little too much fun.” he huffed, walking over and plopping on his bed.

your eyes fondly gazed around his bedroom, surprisingly still somewhat childlike, figurines and pictures of his youth still lining the shelves. a genuine smile grew on your face. you really shouldn’t be shocked, he did often have the tendencies of a big baby.

“you know, mr. lee, you’re not all that of a tough guy.” you commented, reaching up to examine one of his action figures.

“oh, really? what makes you think that?” he chuckled back, discreetly unbuttoning his shirt while you were distracted.

“yeah… i don’t know why you put up the act so often, you’re really just a little softie. like i remember whe-” the words halted in their tracks when you turned to taunt him more, but froze at the view of his toned abs glaring right at you, jeans slightly lowered on his hips. 

“is that so?” he responded lowly, tilting his head to the side. “why don’t you bring that little ass over here and see how much of a softie i really am?” 

his words sent a wave of arousal straight to your cock, which you immediately tried to will from springing to action so quickly.

you let out a half-spirited scoff, trying to appear unbothered as he sat there and widened his legs while staring you down. but damn, the golden evening light that shone through his window was hitting him in all the right places. his solid abdomen lured you in while he lolled his head back, teasing you with the prominent grooves of his neck that had you practically squeezing your legs together. 

damnit, he was temptation personified – too effortlessly hot for you to resist.

before you knew it your legs brought you to stand between his. he cocked an eyebrow before giving you another annoyingly sexy smirk and nodding his chin towards your own top. 

“off.”

your face instantly surged with heat, but you couldn’t help but obey with the sudden authority he spoke with. in seconds your shirt was discarded and on the floor by his feet, a chill crawling across your topless chest. 

“you know, i’m not really a fan of how much you used my parents to tease me tonight,” he said monotonously, raking a warm hand up your exposed torso. “i think you were enjoying it wayyy too much.”

his thumb found one of your perked nipples, rubbing in firm circles. you moaned at the sensation, just to hurriedly cover your mouth with your own hand, the realization that you were at his parents’ house hitting you once again. 

“hee… wait.” you responded, attempting to take a step back. 

heeseung only chuckled before catching you still with his free arm, continuing to play with your sensitive bud. 

“where’s all the laughter now? you were having so much fun earlier, remember? let's keep that fun going.”

your boyfriend then leaned in to run his warm tongue over your other exposed nipple, causing you to hold back another whimper as your hands flew to his hair. he pulled your body closer as he started suckling on the bud, and you didn’t have it in you to fight it anymore. once he started working his mouth on you like this, you were puddy.

you cursed how weak you were to his actions, but even he could sense how badly you wanted him at all times.

“s-someones the jealous type, huh?” you stuttered, sounding way less intimidating than you wanted. “even over your parents, hm?”

he released your bud with a wet pop, dark eyes shooting straight up to yours before returning his lustful gaze to your body. your limbs started to quake with desire.

“how could i not be? when i have all of this just for me…”

both of his hands held your hips as he licked a long, teasing strip up your torso before finishing it with a peck to your chest. he locked eyes with you again, his determined pupils staring deep into your trembling, desperate ones. he enunciated his next words slow and smooth, like honey.

“just… for… me…” 

you pounced first. you couldn’t take it anymore, the alluring mischief in his eyes and addictive touch all over your physique had you grinding your topless bodies together like animals. your limbs entangled with his as your mouths waged war together, the possessive bites against your lips sending your mind into a daze. 

he effortlessly flipped you over, taking the advantage to grind down on you even stronger one last time before working the zipper of your jeans. he stripped the both of you down to your boxers in record time, licking his lips as he watched you begin to palm your own growing bulge - putting on a show for him. 

“you’re going to absolutely kill me.” heeseung muttered, trying to control the raging need surging throughout him.

“your parents might do that for me, if they catch us.” you speak with a newfound confidence, hiding the fact that you were completely mortified of that exact occurrence. 

heeseung chuckled before shimmying your last layer of underwear off, leaving you fully exposed for him as he lowered his own and started pumping his unbelievably large member. 

“we won’t have to worry about it if you can stay quiet, prince.”

you thought heeseung was about to just dive into you raw as he lowered his muscular body to yours, but relaxed when you felt him reach under his pillow to grab a bottle of lube. your eyes grew wide. 

“you planned this!” you gasped, fauxing a complaint.

“shh shhh.” heeseung hushed you, tapping his fingers against your lips. 

narrowing your gaze at him, you didn’t hesitate to trap his fingers between your lips, emitting a low groan from your throat as you ran your tongue over his digits. you successfully caught him off guard, if his quiet gasp was anything to go by, but a sly grin crept on his face.

“naughty boy, trying to do my job for me. are you that excited?” he commented before yanking his digits from your mouth, chuckling at your pout. 

he leaned down to swiftly place a flurry of pecks on your plump lips while lubing his fingers up, right before he reached down to push them into your entrance. you moaned into the air much louder than before, causing his other hand to toss the bottle of lube and clamp your mouth shut. 

“god, baby, do you want them to hear us? control yourself.” he smirked, finding all too much pleasure in the way your eyes rolled back when he began pumping his digits in and out of you.  

a mantra of muffled sounds flew from your mouth into heeseung’s palm, and thankfully so, since your body had already compromised your self control. when he finally pulled his fingers from your ass, you whined at the loss of contact. 

“heeseung, please fuck me already. please.” you breathlessly begged once he removed his palm from your mouth.

again, heeseung mercilessly chuckled down at your state. 

“such a needy boy… so fucked out and i haven’t even done much.” 

you wanted to banter back like you usually would, but this man had already reduced you into such a desperate mess with nothing but a couple minutes and his hands. he learned so quickly how your body worked, and how much of an affect his words had on you. once you were turned on by him, you wanted– needed every ounce of him as soon as you could have him. 

feeling merciful, heeseung lined up his girth with your entrance, pushing in slowly. this time, it was an equal struggle for both of you to keep yourselves quiet, the size of his length and intense look into your eyes causing you to melt while your hole sucked him in so desperately. 

“fuck, fuck. still such a tight ass. my boyfriend really loves my cock, hm?” heeseung grunted, trying to keep himself together when he saw tears of pleasure form at the corner of your eyes.

you nodded your head, unable to form words at the pleasurable pain you felt. your fingers curled into his dark locs as he lowered his head to sink his teeth into your neck, sucking marks there in order to keep quiet. you were fighting with everything in you to not scream and beg him for more, for him to fully consume you. 

“h-hee,” you whined, trying to keep it a whisper. “more.”

your hands sprawled along his toned back, feeling his muscles ripple as he began rutting his hips into yours, releasing deep moans into your neck. the vibration had you feel like you were levitating, a sensation only heeseung seemed to bring you. 

legs sliding along his strong thighs, you wrapped them around his torso as he picked up in speed, your vision blurring over at his power. 

“you’re so sexy, baby. sucking me in so well, making me lose my fucking mind.” he commented between the harsh nips along your jaw, sweat starting to bead around his forehead.  “what if my parents came in here and saw me wrecking you like this? would you like that? my mom seeing me do all of this to you right here after breaking up with your sister.”

you squeezed your legs tighter around his torso as he spoke, causing you to moan out loud once feeling your leaky cock rub against his solid abs. before heeseung could shush you, you clenched down on his fat length while your liquids shot out over his chest - him finding the moment so hot that it was only a second before he was emptying out in you as well. 

he collapsed on top of you after as you both silently gasped for breath, but you welcomed the crushing feeling. 

you couldn’t believe you just screwed him in his childhood room, with his parents just on the other side of the door, praying they didn’t hear you. but knowing how turned on heeseung was by risks, you should’ve known this was gonna be how the night would end.

after just sitting in eachothers embrace for a while, you finally sat up, heeseung leaning over to place even more kisses on your glossed over lips, never getting enough of you. 

“lets get cleaned up and head to bed, prince. my parent’s already know you’re staying the night.” 

“staying the night?” you questioned tilted your head. you saw another sinister glint in his eye as he kissed you one more time.

“yeah, you still gotta meet my grandparents tomorrow.”

you drug your feet through the threshold of your home, utterly exhausted. it had been a long day of class, filled with a suspicious amount of exams and lectures compared to normal, but you were relieved to finally be done with the day. 

heeseung had texted you just as you had begun driving home, telling you he was already at your place helping your dad with chores around the house. you smiled to yourself, still giddy over how perfect he was and thankful for the loving relationship between him and your family – you couldn’t wait to finally see him after such a draining day. 

it was oddly silent as you walked through the house, failing to have found heeseung when visiting your parent’s room in hopes to collapse in his arms as soon as possible. 

you heard giggling rise in volume as you crossed the house and neared your room. you drew closer to your door, hearing muffled sounds just behind it. when you curiously turned the doorknob, the sight of heeseung looming over your twin sister, mouth practically devouring her, caused you to stand frozen - blood running cold under your skin. 

you stood speechless, tears beginning to well as you watched their lips passionately interlock in a noisy makeout just like they had done months before, tongues brazenly running along each other as wanton moans filling the atmosphere. 

you tried to speak but could only choke out a sob, your knees threatening to betray you. heeseung and your sister paused, turning their heads towards you after hearing the sound. they both stared at you pathetically, and simply chuckled before heeseung returned his grip on your own headboard, continuing to thrust his tongue into your sister’s mouth - the latter resuming to claw at your boyfriend’s naked back and moaning smugly.

you were stunned, and wanted to scream, cry, or throw anything you could get your hands on at them… 

but instead, you woke up. 

your body jolted up in bed, met with a dimmed room and a ray of moonlight beaming onto you - reflecting a sheen of sweat on your face. 

glancing around the darkened room, your eyes found the clock at read 1:25 am. not far from your line of sight was heeseung himself sprawled out beside you, softly snoring away with an arm draped over your waist. you noticed you were in one of his baggy shirts, the previously comforting smell almost causing you to grow nauseous. 

you couldn’t control your breathing, stinging feelings of betrayal and embarrassment still burning in your gut from your dream - rather, nightmare.

you let out a deep sigh once you finally realized everything you had seen in your sleep state wasn’t real… everything except the tears. you felt salty droplets drip from your chin and onto heeseung’s arm, who began to stir. 

humiliated, you tried to shuffle back down into your prior position in order to avoid waking up heeseung, failing to soften your fast breathing or stop your flow of tears. 

but alas, as if your uncomfortability set off an inner alarm of his, heeseung had awoken. you felt him lean up on his elbow, arm lazily pulling you towards him. 

“whats wrong, y/n?” he asked in a groggy voice. 

immediately, another stream of tears raced down your cheek at the sound of his voice. it was embarrassing how worked up you had managed to get from a simple dream, but you almost felt sick even being this close to him, although he had done nothing wrong. 

it had finally become too much; your insecurity and constant comparisons to your sister had caught up to you. the continuous chipping away at your rose-colored view of heeseung had ultimately found you, and it hurt like a bitch. your intrusive thoughts were convincing you that you were nothing but a rebound-by-blood, a second best option.

refusing to have heeseung see you like this - a sobbing mess in the middle of the night, you remained facing away from him, not answering his initial call. 

“y/n.” he spoke again, a little more cognisant. he turned your body over, squinting at you through the dim lighting, before his eyes gently widened. “what happened? bad dream?” 

he was right, but it was more so your subconscious so cruelly giving you a visionary of what you had secretly been scared of this whole time. sitting up, you wiped away the wet streaks on your face. 

“heeseung… do you like me?” 

the older male furrowed his brows. “babe, what? i-” 

“im serious. do you like, me?” you insisted, doubt slithering its way onto your expression. 

“where the hell is this coming from?” heeseung sighed, pushing himself to fully sit up. 

“everytime we’re together, you always talk about her. how much i look like her, sound like her, the things i do… the things we do…"

as much as it pained you to finally ask this question out loud, you couldn't keep it in anymore.

"you’re not over my sister, are you?” 

your beady eyes held a tundra of anxiety in them, with heeseung’s almost bulging out of his head. 

“you make me feel like i’m not even my own person, hee.” you continued, voice cracking between sobs. “you’re still hung up on her and you just use me, don't you? just to feel like you’re still close to her.”

heeseung was baffled at your accusation, and was ready to rebut everything, until a wave of awareness crashed over him. his gaze softened, hearing the doubt and self-consciousness in your voice. he turned his body to face you directly. 

“y/n. i won’t lie to you. when your sister dumped me, my entire world felt like it was shattering. i had gotten use to a life with her, and i did have genuinely strong feelings for her… i thought she was my everything.” 

you could feel yet another dam breaking behind your eyelids, closing them shut in order to keep the waterworks from flowing. 

“but,” he spoke firmly, taking both of your hands in his before you could retract them. “i love you, y/n. i love you. when i started seeing you, i did think it would just be a way for me to move on, but you are amazing. so fucking amazing. everything you do, all you've done for others,, i’ve fallen so fucking hard for the person that you are. you’ve made me feel things she never did, and never could. i’m sorry i’d been so caught up on your sister before, i guess i just wasn’t ready to move on as soon as i thought. but there is absolutely nobody i’d rather be with than you… right now, in this moment. i promise you that with every fiber of my entire being.”

with that, the well overflowed, streams of tears treading down your skin and landing on the interlocked knuckles of you and heeseung. you knew telling the truth, his words smashing down and easing away each wall of doubt you had in your mind. 

you were so unbelievably in love with this man, and a tender wave of relief radiated throughout your body when you caught the reassuring smile he gave you, closing the distance to attach your lips in a loving kiss.

the kiss deepened as you grabbed the sides of his face, pouring all of your emotions into the gates of his lips, melting into the comfort of his affection. his long arms wrapped around you and pulled you under him, meeting no resistance. 

he moaned into your mouth when you licked at his lips, letting you in easily. he kissed you sensually, slower than any other time before, refusing to detach your mouths until you absolutely needed to breathe.

“never gonna make you doubt how much i love you again,” he whispered into your neck as he started laying sweet kisses to your soft skin, hands gently roaming every inch of you. 

his supple lips felt like heaven as they followed his path down your body, taking his time to suck marks into every inch as he lowered himself. when he reached your hips he left wet open-mouthed kisses along the waistband of your boxers, looking up at you with his beautiful orbs for permission as his hands tugged at the seams. 

the butterflies returned when you nodded at him, running your hands along the grooves of his biceps. he removed your underwear, not wasting any time in placing kisses to your shaft, chills shooting up your spine at the sensation. his nose poked at your pelvis as he lightly dragged his lips up to your tip, before taking your length whole in his mouth. 

you gasped as the warmth of his mouth, hardly having the energy to react to the pleasure. your head fell to the side of the pillow as your erection was soothed over by heeseung’s talented tongue, flattening along your member licking up and down before he started bobbing his head. 

his large hands kept your body still from squirming as he showed your cock attention, occasionally humming and sending more waves of electricity through your legs. 

“feel s’good… gonna come.” you muttered not long after he started, only causing a satisfied groan to rumble through his throat. 

he released your member and lowered just to prod his tongue at your rim, before suckling gently on your balls and recapturing your cock in his mouth in one swift motion. a couple more strokes of his precise tongue and you were spilling into heeseung’s mouth, shuddering when he didn’t waste a drop. 

he repositioned back above your body, and you had only then noticed he’d slept in just his boxers, his neck chain dangling in front of your face. you ran your hands up his toned torso, once again growing obsessed with the feeling of his skin on yours.

the look of utter adoration in his eyes felt heavy on your form, and you could already feel yourself wanting more when he dipped down to place searing kisses to your jaw and grind your hips together.

“i love you baby, let me keep making you feel good.” he spoke, nipping at your earlobe while reaching down to stroke your member back to attention.

“please, baby. i love you too. and i want you so bad, forever.” you admitted, feeling the breath of a light chuckle against your cheek.

just as you wished, his thick length had entered you, gliding along your walls in no time with a delicious friction that you never got tired of. except this time, more than just desire and arousal, the friction brought a comfort, a feeling of love you could feel surging throughout your whole body.

“you can have all of me, whenever you want, prince. i belong only to you.”

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