#all of you who are still patiently waiting for me to finish this challenge

[ozzgin]

Request/Idea-

Male Yandere Lawyer x Female Embroider Reader (a lady who works as a tailor is fine too)

Imagine a man falling head over heels for that newly employed lady who hand embroiders beautiful handkerchiefs in a luxury shop he visits to get his custom suits! And he just trying to coax her into dating him, marrying him, and becoming his stay at home wife (and mother of his children eventually) 🥰🤭

Age difference? I need some DILF Daddy energy more in my life (but don’t make him an actual father…yet)

P.S. I adore your OCs and writing. And your artwork is way too fucking good! You’re art is just *chef’s kiss* infuckingcredible

-👘

Ooh, you know what this reminds me of? I have a yaoi volume from Scarlet Beriko, “Queen and the tailor”, about an interior designer that visits a legendary tailor whose suits will supposedly help you achieve success. The tailor turns out to be a scary looking, blunt man but nonetheless extremely talented. I liked the premise a lot, so it’s definitely interesting to try out a different perspective.

In this case I have the image of a patient, soft-spoken reader and a hurried, short tempered lawyer. Comically different but in a way that eventually works out, you know? Also thank you for the kind words!

Yandere!Lawyer x Embroiderer!Reader Headcanons

Featuring a Reader that is blissfully unaware the lawyer she just stared dating has their entire life together already sorted out.

Content: female reader, age gap, older yandere, obsessive behavior

Your eyes begin to hurt mildly, so you look out the window and blink repeatedly, trying to refresh your poor sight. Such detailed works always strain you terribly, but you love seeing the finished result. Others must, too, given your handkerchiefs are often sold out the very same day. Right before your needle pierces the silk canvas anew, the door opens with a burst and you jolt. An older man in a suit, arguing loudly over the phone. He’s drumming his fingers over the counter, eyes darting around in search for an attendant. You know the type quite well, so you hurry over with the hoop still in your hand. “Might I help you with anything?” You mouth discreetly. He turns to you, stares for a couple of seconds, and promptly ends his call.

Out of all the places, he certainly didn’t expect regretting his rusty, unpolished flirting skills in a luxury tailor shop. Yet here he is now, clumsily mumbling something about his new suit he’s come to pick up and wondering how to connect that with your number. The name’s the easy part, as it’s neatly and conveniently printed out on the little badge pinned to your collar. Everything else, not so much. You excuse yourself and return moments later with his order. Shit. You tilt your head, confused by the delayed response, worrying whether you forgot something. Next time. He’ll figure it out for sure next time he comes here.

If there’s one good thing about his career, it’s that his eyes have been trained to spot every detail. For example the embroidery hoop you gently held while speaking to him, so he knows exactly what his next custom order will be. Truth be told, he didn’t anticipate your popularity and long waiting times, but a calculated raised tone with a sprinkle of intimidation has convinced the employee to assign him to you as earliest priority. Whether he can flirt remains to be seen, but arguing with others? Child’s play.

“Thank you for coming again today.” You bow slightly and extend the gift bag. “Although, I must say…I’ve never seen you using these before. What has caused your sudden interest in handkerchiefs?” Rather bold of you to begin such conversations, but your curiosity is too great. No matter how hard you try, you can’t imagine why a blunt, nonchalant man like him would abruptly become passionate about embroidery. A lover? You smile faintly at the idea. Whoever it is, they’ve taken quite the challenge upon themselves. The lawyer frowns at the inquiry. It seems you’re just as observant as him. Maybe this shall be the pretext he can finally cling onto. So he presents it in the factual truth you’d hear in a courthouse: it’s his excuse to see you. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Well now, isn’t it just silly? He could’ve simply asked. Buying countless expensive handmade items instead of plainly confessing his intentions…He stumbles, flustered. The same man whose ruthless reputation has even reached your humble ears is anxiously awaiting your response with a deep blush on his face.

The childlike innocence doesn’t last long. You’ve agreed to date him and that’s great, but he’s a man with little time that has known exactly what he wants for many years. When he laid his eyes on you he didn’t imagine cheesy coffee dates as you discuss your favorite color and cautiously breach the topic of intimacy. What’s the point? He’s already certain he’ll spend the rest of his life with you. Skip the unnecessary steps. On the other hand, you’re not as cooperative as he’d wish. Truly, the tangible proof that opposites attract. You’re always calm and take your time with everything. It’s almost frustrating how easygoing you are. When asked when you’re moving in with him, you just smiled and wondered out loud what could be wrong with your small studio above the shop. Marriage? Good question, you never thought about it.

Oh, the irony. Last time a client was being particularly difficult, your lawyer boyfriend pulled him out by the collar under the mortified stares of the other attendants and shoppers. The exact attitude he himself would’ve shown before, yet this time it’s different. Of course it is, it involves you. His thin patience runs out if it’s you. That’s all there is to it. Can you blame a man for following his heart? They say you should always chase your dreams; he prefers hunting them down efficiently, and the shotgun is pointed in your direction. His sweet, exquisite prey he can never get enough of.

Finally you agree to move in with him. Your hesitation was maddening and he’d started coming up with downright psychotic alternatives to convince you, such as your studio burning down after a vicious attack of some unknown hooligans. So it was rather wise of you not to push someone that knows the law like the back of his hand, even if you aren’t aware of it yet. He enthusiastically guides you around your new forever home, omitting unimportant details. The spare office he emptied for a future nursery? You’ll get to that later.

He can’t wait to spoil you. See, that’s the advantage of dating an older man. He’s gotten his life sorted out a long time ago. All that was left was finding you. You just need to be a darling and behave. He knows you will. After all, you’re his talented little embroideress that won’t have to worry about anything else ever again.

[frantic-fiction]

Beg 18+

Pic Credit: astarionposting

Astarion x F!reader

Summary: Astarion asks for more blood, you make him work for it.

Warnings/Tags: Smut MDNI, fingering, begging, slight overstimulation, sub!Astarion, switch!Astarion, Druid!Reader

Word Count: 3.8K

Masterlist

"There you are, darling,"

Astarion hovers above you as you sit cross-legged in the grass by your tent, his shadow blanketing you, blocking the sun's warmth. You hum in acknowledgment, but your focus is solely on your book. A delicate finger dangles in front of the vampire, who audibly scoffs but otherwise stays silent and waits, patiently observing. 

You pick at the skin of your lips absentmindedly with your teeth as you flip the page. You can feel his eyes on you, taking every inch of your body in with his wandering gaze. Shifting in the grass, you continue to read, relishing the impatience dripping from Astarion, smirking when each flick of the page elicits a huff of annoyance from the vampire.

Once your chapter finishes, you mark your page and lean back on your hands to look up at the man with a quizzical arch to your brow. "How can I help you, Astarion?" 

His annoyance melts like ice in the sun as a sultry smile stretches his lips. "Can I not simply want to see your enchantingly beautiful face?"

You snort, "You have barely spoken to me since the tiefling's party. So I'd say you want something." Standing, you brush off the dirt on your pants and move to store your book away.

"I have to!" Astarion balks, pressing a hand to his chest in a dramatic display. "Besides, we have been incredibly busy running all over the gods damn wilderness since you and everyone else seem to want to play the hero."

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, a playful retort poised on your tongue. "I'm terribly sorry that some of us have morals and a conscience," you tease, your gaze meeting him with a mixture of challenge and amusement.

"Oh, I have morals, my sweet," Astarion purrs, leaning into your space, his breath chilly against your skin. "however, mine sway towards the more sinful side."

You suppress the shudder that trembles through your body. Astarion always has a way of reducing you to a mumbling, blushing mess with only a few salacious words. It's like he holds the key to pulling you apart and leaving you consumed by him, and he knows it, too. But you're not giving in that easily. There's something he wants. You can see it in his eyes, and he's not going to get it without working for it.

Putting your hand up, you interrupt his following flirty remark. "Did you want something? Or are you just here to interrupt my free time?"

Astarion looks at you in shock, mouth open to speak, but no words seem to want to flow. His eyebrows furrowed, and a smirk stretched his lips. Leaning on one hip, Astarion flicks out his hand, idly looking at his nails. 

"Yes, actually, I have a list. Coin, sex, blood, revenge," Astarion counts on his fingers, his tone dripping with amusement. "Certainly not in that order, and I could go on, but what I came here for specifically is something that might be better…" Astarion looks around the camp, taking mind of everyone. "Discussed in private."

Having a hunch on where this would lead, you stifle a laugh, a plan forming in your head. "Then lead the way." You motion for him to walk, smiling brightly at the vampire. 

Astarion nods smugly, obviously feeling like his plan was going just as he attended. He escorts the two of you past the others' tents and deep into the woods. Your hunch seems more viable as the brush becomes thicker and the symphony of nature's melody replaces the still air. 

After a few minutes of walking in relative silence, the two of you break into a small clearing. Its grass has spatters of bright patches of wildflowers, and the colors of oranges, pinks, and blues contrast against the expanse of green. There's a small pond on the far side, and cattails and pond reeds sway in the winds. A deer is grazing the water, but sensing Astarion as a predator; it quickly retreats to the woods.

Paying more attention to the scenery, you had yet to notice Astarion stop mid-step and swing on his heel. You stumble slightly into his chest. "I believe this spot will do nicely," he declares smugly as you step back.

Taking a step back, you quickly recover, "And why are we here exactly, Astarion? I was quite enjoying my book."

For a moment, uncertainty flickers across Astarion's features before swiftly being concealed behind a facade of confidence and a devilish smile. Turning away from you, he strides further into the small alcove.

"Are you so eager to escape my company, my dear?" he counters playfully, eyes scanning the clearing. "I thought you would like this little spot. I had no idea how beautiful the woods could be." 

"You're stalling," you accuse.

"Am not!" Astarion's voice echoes against the canopy.

Folding your arms over your chest, you give Astarion a pointed look.

The vampire sighs deeply, shoulders slumping. "Gods, this is embarrassing," Astarion mumbles under his breath so low you barely catch it. He combs a hand through his tousled curls, not bothering to turn back to face you. "Fine, yes, you see… I'm hungry, darling. Starving, actually."

Of course, the prick ignores you for almost a week to ask you for a bite. After what he did, he thinks he can call on you like his personal snack pack. Oh no, he's going to have to do better than that.

"Then hunt." You smirk, "Or did you need me to ensnare something for you?" 

"Excuse me! I am perfectly capable of hunting!" Astarion snaps his head back and storms toward you. "It's these bloody woods; there's barely any fauna in the cursed thing."

His outburst has the surrounding animals scurrying, and before you can open your mouth to utter a mocking retort, Astarion grabs you by the waist and pulls you flush against his body. You yelped at the sudden force of his moments, your hand catching yourself on his chest. 

"Don't make me say it," Astarion breathes against your ear, his hands trailing teasing paths down your sides. 

"Astarion," you chuckle, feigning ignorance. "I don't understand what you're implying. If you want something, you'll need to say it."

Astarion nuzzles against your neck with a groan of frustration, his lips brushing against your skin in a maddeningly gentle caress. "Darling, may I have a taste?" He murmurs, the scrape of his fangs against your flesh nearly causing you to relent. "I'm famished, and your blood… Gods, it's intoxicating. I promise to make it just as pleasurable for you."

How easy it would be to say yes. Let him take what he wants and wait for the next time he wants something from you. But you weren't his little chew toy, just waiting for whenever he deems you worthy enough for attention. No, he needs to learn. 

"Beg." You demand, twirling out of his grasp and pushing him away gently.

"What?" Astarion pauses, disbelief written across his face as if he misheard you. 

"Beg." You repeat, your words slipping from your lips mockingly slowly.

"Are you serious?"

You meet his gaze with unwavering resolve, waiting for him to comply. As realization dawns, Astarion's expression shifts to amusement.

"Joking doesn't suit you, dear," he scoffs, his laughter echoing through the clearing. 

Silent and persistent, you hold his gaze, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. His eyes drift to the faint scar beneath your chin, a silent reminder. Wetting his lips, Astarion clears his throat before looking at you, clearly trying to grapple for the upper hand.

"Must we really play this song and dance?" He asks.

"If you want my blood, this is how you'll get it."

You hold firm, with your arms crossed over your chest. Astarion stares at you as if seeing you for the first time, and a mix of emotions storms behind his eyes. His body seems to deflate, coming to terms with the fact that you won't back down. Licking his lips, Astarion swallows hard and opens his mouth to speak.

"Darling," he murmurs through gritted teeth, his posture betraying his inner turmoil. "Allow me a taste of your exquisite blood. I'm starving and beg for your mercy."

"On your knees," you command softly, relishing the power that surges between you. "And I want a please this time."

Astarion looks at you with wide eyes. "Must I degrade myself further?" The anticipation in his voice betrays his reluctance to give in to you. "You've already gotten what you've wanted."

Biting your lip, you step closer and delicately cup his jaw, your touch gentle but commanding, and bring Astarion's lips tantalizingly close to yours. "I'll let you have your fill of my blood and more if you want. But only if you're a good boy and listen." Astarion breath leaves his lungs in a shuddering gasp, all fight seeping from his body.

"You are a cruel woman." 

With a resigned sigh, Astarion sinks to his knees. His silver curls reflect the golden light filtering through the forest canopy. His back is pin straight, and his neck is arched up to look at you with his deep crimson eyes. You can't help but focus on the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows again.

"I beg, please allow me the privilege to taste your tantalizing blood," he starts, but you zone out the rest of his words, focusing more on Astarion himself.

You focused on how his shirt hugs his chest, the cotton straining in some places while loose in others. You noticed how blue his veins are, just under his pale skin. You see how his pants seemed tight in the front, something stiff straining against the thick fabric. 

Wait. Oh. Now that is interesting. 

You pounce before you can think things through, mind moving more on instinct than anything else. Astarion's plea for you is replaced with a yelp as you push him on his back and straddle his lap.

"Wh-what are you?" he stutters before letting out a pathetic moan he will most certainly deny later. 

You capture his mouth in a heated kiss. Your tongue runs over the seam of his lips, and when Astarion allows you access, you lick into his mouth. Your tongues twirl in a practiced dance as you deepen the kiss. Astarion groans into your mouth. A hand moves up to cup your head, fingers combing through your hair. 

"Astarion," you purr breathlessly, rolling your front against the vampire's growing bulge. You press your body closer against his, practically willing yourself to melt into him. "Did begging for me get you all excited?"

"Excuse you? No! Don't be ridiculous," he tries to deny but fails when another moan rakes through his chest with another turn of your hips. 

"Look at you, all hard and needy." You lick up the column of his throat, stopping to playfully bite at his ear before whispering. "Do you like being my good boy, Astarion?"

"Shit! You're being ridiculous," Astarion pants, his hand tightening on your hips to cease your ministrations. "You're rubbing against me like a desperate virgin. Any man would get aroused."

Humming calmly, you sit back on your haunches and remove your shirt, tossing the garment into the bushes. Astarion's eyes immediately wander your exposed skin, drinking in the sight of your body. You take your bra off and trail your fingers over your nipples. Astarion lets out a pitiful groan.

"That's disappointing," you pout out your lip, trying to conceal a smile. "I was going to reward you for being so good." 

"Darling, I think this is reward enough, so long as we end this with my teeth in your pretty neck."

"That's good to know," you chuckle, trailing a hand down the valley of your breast and over the planes of your stomach, stopping just shy of your waistband. "I'll enjoy this reward for both of us.

Astarion's brows scrunch slightly in confusion before zeroing in on your hand as you teasingly slip under the waistband of your pants and past your folds. Sighing softly, you begin to tease your clit with the pad of your finger, staring down at Astarion, who looks as if he might just have an aneurysm.

He cools his features with a smug smirk, idly trailing his hand up your side. "A show and then dinner? My dear, you're not as good at this teasing as you think, but I admire your effort."

One of Astarion's icy hands works up to your side, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The other grips your hip and begins to rock you against his stiff erection. You involuntarily gasp at the friction, allowing the vampire a moment of control.

Astarion ruts against you, letting out a grunt when you grind down with equal enthusiasm. Then suddenly, Astarion's hands are ripped from your body and pinned to the ground as you rise further, removing any contact between the two of you.

"What?" Astarion exclaims before looking to the side. Little vines sprout from the ground, binding his hands to the hard earth. "Gods, you wretched thing." 

Clicking your tongue, you grin wickedly down at the trapped man. "Only good boys get to touch."

"Darling, must we continue this?" Astarion groans in frustration, tugging at your vines, annoyed when they don't give. "We both want this. You're the one making things difficult."

"Maybe, but only because I love hearing you beg for me. Now, unless you're going to give me what I want." You resume your ministrations, moaning as you dip a finger into your neglected hole. "Keep quiet,"

"At least remove your trousers!"

"Don't make me gag that pretty mouth of yours, Astarion." 

Astarion fumes from underneath you, but you can see the cracks forming, the dilated pupils, the rapidly falling chest as he pants for breath he doesn't need, and the way he tugs against his bindings even though he knows nothing will give. You know he'll break. He already did once he had a bit more incentive.

Adding another finger, you start to pump in and out of your dripping cunt; an audible squelching noise can be heard with each dip of your hand. You moan, dropping your head back. Circling your puffy clit with your thumb, you rock against your hand, your other one snaking up your body to tease your breast.

"Astarion," you breathe out, smirking when you hear the man's frustrated groan. "Gods, I'm so wet, making a mess, squeezing my fingers so tight."

"You are killing me all over again, sweetheart," Astarion cries; his hips are desperately trying to move against you, but another vine wraps around his stomach, holding him down.

"Just say the word's Star," you say, pinching your nipple and rolling it between your fingers. A whine rips from your throat when you curl your fingers up and hit that spongy spot, which has a familiar burning sensation that starts coiling in your gut. "Fuck, say the words, and it could be you making me feel this good. Won't you be my good boy?" 

"Gods," He bites back another moan, slamming his head in the dirt. 

"I'm so close," you whimper, moving your thumb faster against your clit. "Just imagine it could have been your cock I'm clenching around, not my fingers. Could have been you that's making a mess of me." Looking down, you see Astarion all flustered, mouth agape, and hair a mess of frizzy curls, his whole body practically buzzing with need. It was enough to send you over the edge cumming around your fingers with a choked sob. 

This finally broke the man. "Fine, okay! Please, please let me go!" Astarion pleads, voice ragged and needy. "Just let me touch you. I'll do anything you want, please. Gods, please, please, please!"

Suddenly, the vines vanish, and your lips are again on his. Astarion's pleas muffle against your mouth and quickly morph into a satisfied grunt when he bites his lip. Now that he's finally free, Astarion's quick to roll the two of you and pin you against the cold earth. Nestled between your thighs, Astarion starts mindlessly tearing at his clothes, his mouth trailing sloppy open-mouth kisses down your neck and to your chest. 

"You are an evil woman." Astarion murmurs against the skin between your breasts. Slipping one of your nipples into his mouth, he begins to suck, and you gasp, arching your back into him. 

"Astarion, fuck!" 

A hand curls into his hair, your nails raking against his scalp, causing him to hum against your chest, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine. You feel his hands move to your pants, tugging them down your hips, dragging your drenched underwear with them. 

A cold finger trails through your warm cunt, and you shiver at the feeling. "I must admit, darling, I quite like it when you take charge, but," His voice rumbles against your skin, and you whine at the feeling of his fangs teasing your swollen nipple. "My patience has grown thin, so if it's okay with you, your good boy will take his reward now." His finger teases your entrance, barely dipping in.

You clench, choking on the gasp that bubbles up your throats. "Yes! Gods, please fuck me!" 

Astarion cups the back of your head and kisses you deeply. Feeling his hard cock swipe through your cunt, your gasp into his mouth, your hand coming up to hold his face. He presses into you, and you pull away from his lips, moaning at the stretch of his cock, filling you to the brim. Astarion peppers feather light kisses over your face and neck as he bottoms out and waits for you to nudge him to continue. 

Throwing one of your legs over his shoulder, Astarion pulls out almost entirely before impaling you again and sets a steady pace. A pace has your toes curling and you feeling breathless with each delicious drag of his cock against your walls. You don't think you'll get over the feeling of Astarion inside you, feeling the ridges rub against you in all the perfect ways as if he has the only manual to tear you apart with mind-numbing pleasure. 

"Ugh-Always so tight," he grunts into your neck, "So perfect, just for me."

"Astarion!" You dig your nails into his shoulders and buck against each of his thrusts. "Faster, please!"

Astarion picks up the pace; your collective sounds of pleasure mingle together in the air, and the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes around the clearing. Astarion's forehead drops against yours, and both of your noses brush against each other as he breathes in every whimper and moan of ecstasy you give him with each drag of his cock against your walls. Snaking a hand between your conjoined bodies, his nimble fingers swirl around your clit in time with each grind of his hips. 

Another moan rolls off your tongue, and soon, that warmth blossoms once again in the pit of your stomach. "D-don't stop," you plead, hands running up his chest to wrap around his shoulder. "M' close." 

Astarion nuzzles at your neck and inhales your scent, groaning at a particularly tight squeeze of your cunt. Even after all the begging and pleading you put him through, he still silently asks before he takes a bite. The thought warms your heart and is something you'll have to reflect on later. 

"Yes! Please, bite me!" You whimper, clutching the back of his neck and pressing him close. 

The sharp sting of ice pierces your neck, and you cry out against the pain. Astarion pays special attention to your clit, applying pressure and dragging his thumb around the swollen bud, his way of helping you through the initial sting. After a moment, the pain resides in mind-numbing pleasure, and soon, everything becomes too much. 

Astarion consumes you. His hand caressing your body, his mouth lavishing your neck, his cock hitting you perfectly in spots only he seems to know how to reach. It's all too much, and soon tears prick at your eyes, and the heat in your lower stomach bursts, draining lava into your veins. Your nails dig into the flesh of Astarion's shoulders as you scream out his name, body spasming around the pleasure that courses through your body. 

This seems to be enough to push Astarion over the edge with you. Still drinking mouthfuls of your blood, Astarion is rutting into you, grinding your pelvis against the solid earth. His moans hum against your skin, and his thrust becomes sloppy before a rush of heat gushes inside you as Astarion cums.

With a few more gulps of blood and a few more thrusts of his hips, you whimper with overstimulation. Astarion removes his mouth from your body, licking any stray droplets. He rolls onto his back, dragging you with him until your head is lying on his chest. You whine at the loss of fullness, cringing at the feeling of your combined release that begins to drip down your legs. 

"That was…" Astarion trails off, seeming to be at a loss for words. 

"Way better than the tiefling party." You mumble against his chest, smirking at the snort he makes.

"Yes, I would be inclined to agree."

"So you admit it," you tease, trailing your thumb over Astarion's nipple. "You liked begging for me."

"I wouldn't… mind if you took charge again," Astarion says, skirting around your claim.

"Whatever protects your ego." You tilt your head up. "Hey, Star?" 

Astarion hums in acknowledgment, but his eyes are closed, his body seeping into a comfortable stillness. You note something he didn't allow himself to do at the party. Reaching your hand up, you run your fingers along his jaw, coaxing his eyes open.

"Next time, don't ignore me for a week to ask for my blood. I don't want you hungry. I care about you." 

Astarion seems to freeze at your words as if he's never heard a caring word said to him. The thought alone makes you want to hunt this Cazador down and flay him for all of Baldur's gate to see. 

Astarion opens his mouth to speak, but no words escape. He clears his throat and tries again. "Yes, that will certainly make things easier from now on." 

The two of you lay there in silence, just enjoying the feeling of each other's skin against the other. Soon, when the sky turns to ombres of blues, pinks, and purples, you decide it's time to return to camp. Astarion is quiet for the journey back; an air of contemplation clings to his being. You don't push. Goodnights were said, and you parted ways, feeling like something had changed. Everything may have changed.

Heya, it's been crazy, but I finally got some time and energy to finish up this piece I've been working on for a while. I hope Astarion's not too out of character for as earlier of act one, I just liked the idea. I hope you all enjoyed, let me know what ya thought!

Taglist

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[generalsmemories]

Unwanted reunion

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ prompts: “catching the other one crying shortly after an argument and immediately feeling an overwhelming wave of guilt crash onto you.” + "it's okay, we can fix this..." + “playing with their hair until they fall asleep”|| 1k event

✧ contents: hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, implied character death

✧ a/n: if u wonder how in the world i came up with the scenario below. i genuinely don't know either it's a mystery to even me. CREATIVE LIBERTY WINS AGAIN THE PROMPTS WERE LITERALLY INSPO AND NOT WRITTEN DIRECTLY INTO THE SCENARIO. also implied that this took place after the battle with phantylia so keep that in mind.

NOT BETA-READ AS USUAL FELLAS I WANTED TO HAND THIS OVER TO YA'LL ASAP AS AN APOLOGY FOR STARVING YOU ALL FOR SO LONG!! it's mild angst though, so sorry.

Jing Yuan's can feel a familiar heaviness weigh on his body as well as the feeling of someone wrapping a roll of gauze on his arm. However opening his eyes proved to be a challenge in itself and it's only with great struggle that he can manage to force them slightly open to the bright light.

The first thing he notices is the familiar ceiling of your shared home. A bit weird since whenever he did get injured he would immediately be rushed towards a private room by the Seat of Divine Foresight - which was the safest place for him to stay. Perhaps you had gotten your will again to take care of him - seeing as you're a high ranking healer yourself and quite a stubborn soul.

But his eyes still widen a tiny bit when he sees you sitting by the edge of the bed, one hand gripping his gauzed wound while your other hand is busy trying to find something to keep your hard work in place. You're humming a soft tune again, he never knows what sort of melody you're humming, only that it had become a habit for you after the amount of years you had spent by his side bandaging his battle wounds. Something about helping your mood and staying positive.

"Your recklessness knows no bounds, Jing Yuan." the sternness of your voice snaps him out of the daze he's in, immediately rising up from the bed only to groan in pain when the wounds that you had just wrapped up react to his body folding, "... And still don't know when to rest - even when I'm in the middle of treating you."

"...How much time has passed?" he asks, voice hoarse after having slept for who knows how long. You only hum, setting the bandages aside - the gesture causing Jing Yuan to follow your hand movements which makes him notice the bloodied bandages inside the trash by your legs.

"A couple of days, I was just finishing changing your bandages when you finally woke up. Here, some water." you inform, raising a glass towards his lips, patiently waiting for him to move closer.

You only start to speak again after he's taken several gulps, placing the cup of water back on the nightstand beside his bed. "Why are you so willing to throw your life away?" you ask after a moment of silence, helping Jing Yuan rest against the headboard, eyes never leaving his own that don't dare to even look into your own.

"It's my duty-"

"Your duty is to make sure as many of the Cloud Knights survive a battle. Not gamble your life on a piece that you weren't sure had the capabilities to help."

Jing Yuan bites his tongue at your immediate rebuttal, you were right after all. "The Master Diviner was right there by you. A troop was enough to guard the entrance, you didn't need to leave the master diviner with them to go on this-"

"... Can't you be happy for once whenever we meet like this?" he asks quietly, effectively stopped you from saying anything more. His gaze is cast downwards whenever he mutters the same question to you whilst shrinking a bit after asking. There's no sign of the proud general in your presence - in front of you is just Jing Yuan asking a supposedly harmless question.

Perhaps that's the reason why you can never shove him away immediately.

"... You know what my answer is."

Jing Yuan was no crier. In fact, you think he stopped crying or showing any visible sign of discomfort or uneasiness the day he got the title as General. You're pretty sure you can count the amount of times you've seen Jing Yuan cry on one hand.

Perhaps his ability to hide his own needs and wants so often day by day for the past centuries makes your dismissal of his simple wishes that more gut-wrenching for you. You try to ignore the overwhelming guilt that washes over you every time you have to say the same thing to him.

"... You have a lot of things that you want to get done on the Luofu, Jing Yuan." you murmur softly, extending a hand to run your fingers through his locks, breaking apart any knots that may have formed in his sleep.

"You know we can meet again, but now is not the time - especially now," you gently remind with a sombre smile, your hand moving from his hair to rest against his chin to make him face you.

"It's gonna be alright, okay?" he scoffs at your reassurance, finally coming to terms with your conditions once again like always, wrapping his arms around your waist to fall down back on the bed with you on top.

"Remember the last time you said those words to me?" he says, almost sounding offended at your choice of words to which you only smile against his skin in guilt.

"It was the first time I saw you cry so hard," you try to joke, pressing your hands against the mattress to push yourself off of Jing Yuan, choosing to hover above him instead.

"... I'm sorry," you decide to say in the end after a moment of silence, once again threading your fingers through his hair - an act you knew used to calm him before. At this moment though, you're not so sure.

"Why? Shouldn't I be sorry?" he asks in return, a small yawn leaving his lips as his eyes struggle to stay open. You smile bitterly as you shake your head, still threading your fingers through his hair.

"No, none of it was your fault - what happened back then was out of your control. But this time it isn't. I can wait for a long time, Jing Yuan. I know you're aware of that so don't try to rush anything to meet me again." you tell him, leaning down to press your lips against his forehead.

"So it's time to wake up, dear. Luofu is waiting for you."

[captainsophiestark]

Head of the Family

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Anthony and his wife are moments away from leaving for their wedding anniversary second-honeymoon, when the demands of the family threaten to delay their departure significantly.

Word Count: 2,446

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I smiled, already pushing open the door to my husband's office even as I knocked. We were due to leave for a month long anniversary trip together, and I'd just finished securing the last of our preparations. Now, the final step was rounding up Anthony from his duties as Viscount.

If it had been up to him, I knew he would've thrown every last piece of paper in the trash if it meant leaving with me a moment sooner for our trip. But most of his family relied on him to run the estate for all their wellbeing, and he had to make sure things would stay in order even while we were away. When I stepped through into the room from the hallway, I found him leaning over a stack of papers on his desk, one hand tangled in his hair and the other scribbling away. He didn't even look up as I entered the room.

"Apologies, my love," he mumbled, still writing as I shut the door gently behind me and crossed the room to his desk. "I am almost done, and then we will be free to shut out the world once again and enjoy our time, just the two of us, however we like."

"I truly cannot wait," I replied, a devilish smirk pulling at the corner of my mouth as I settled in to perch on the edge of his desk. "Is there anything I can do to help speed along the process?"

"I wish, but sadly there is not. Fortunately for both of us, this is my last document to complete, and once it is done we will be free to leave."

As if Anthony's words had summoned her from the ether, as soon as he'd finished speaking, a knock came at the door to his study. A moment later, without waiting for a response from Anthony or myself, Eloise pushed open the door and stepped inside.

"Oh good, you are both here," she said, her shoulders noticably relaxing when she caught sight of me. Anthony paused his writing to close his eyes and sigh as Eloise crossed the room and plopped into one of the chairs directly before Anthony's desk. I fought a smile. "I have a... slight situation, which I need to make you aware of."

I bit the inside of my lip to hold back a laugh or a sigh, although I wasn't sure which my body would've manifested. I adored Eloise, but in this family, 'situations' most often meant 'boarderline scandal', and I had a bad feeling whatever Eloise's situation would entail may delay Anthony and I's departure much longer than either of us wanted.

"What is it, Eloise?" I asked after getting a hold of myself, making a point of keeping my tone even and patient. She glanced nervously from me to Anthony, who had resumed work on the document before him.

"I need both of your attention, actually," she said, a slight edge of irritation in her voice directed at her brother. "That is, if it isn't too much trouble."

Anthony let out a sigh, the duration as long as it took for him to finish writing his last notes on the last document standing between us and our vacation. He set it aside, then finally turned his attention to his sister.

"What is it, Eloise?"

"I may have... a bit of a problem on my hands." I raised an eyebrow, and I could see Anthony working his jaw. Eloise glanced between us, and I tried to keep an open expression on my face to encourage her. It must have worked, because after a moment, she continued. "It seems there is a Lord who took my jokes about marriage more seiously than I intended. I think... he may be coming to you to ask for my hand very soon, and you must tell him no."

"Eloise-"

Anthony barely managed to get his sister's name out before the door to the study came swinging open again, this time revealing Francesca striding through the door.

"Oh, I am glad I caught the both of you before you departed for your trip," she said, looking to me and Anthony before her eyes at last fell on Eloise, and she frowned. "Is this not a good time?"

"What's one more?" said Anthony with a tight smile. I hid a laugh behind my hand. Anthony was always the dutiful older brother, although he wasn't always good at hiding his occasional irritation with the role. Fortunately, his sisters either didn't notice or didn't care.

"I need to speak with you about wedding arrangements, Anthony," said Francesca, taking a seat next to Eloise. "Especially since the two of you will be gone for so long, I do not want to leave all the planning to the last minute if I can avoid it."

"Alright, well-"

This time, an almost cacophanous noise from the hallway served as the interruption. As if they'd known we were gathering, and that Anthony and I were almost free of our responsibilities, the remaining four Bridgerton children living in the house appeared, practically wrestling through the door and paired off in arguments. Hyacinth made it to us first, Colin trailing right behind her, neither of them giving their seated sisters a second glance as they addressed Anthony.

"Colin intends to marry someone!" Hyacinth cried over the noise of the rest of us. "We made a bet that if I bested him at pall-mall, he would tell me who, but now he is refusing-"

"Hyacinth, enough!" Colin broke in, shouting over his sister to no avail.

"He is going to have to tell you at some point anyway, Anthony, so it may as well be now so as to honor the terms of our bet-"

"I am not required to tell you or anyone else in this family until I desire to, Hyacinth-"

"Except that you made a bet, Colin, and are now being a sore loser."

Anthony sighed, his attention turning to the last pair, Benedict and Gregory, while Hyacinth and Colin continued to bicker before him. I reached out and gently rested a hand on his shoulder, although I doubted it did much to help.

"I told Benedict I want to learn what it takes to run a household like this," Gregory said, taking Anthony's attention as his cue to start explaining.

"And I told him to come ask you," Benedict said, flopping comfortable into a chair to one side of the room, closer to me. He leaned back, getting comfortable as he watched the scene playing out before him, not reacting to Gregory's scowl.

"But I want to learn sooner rather than later, so it has to be him!" Gregory continued, giving Benedict another stink eye. "He's going to be taking care of things while you're gone, and with the two of you, who knows how long that's going to be!"

I stifled a laugh as Gregory gestured to Anthony and I. He was right, we did have a tendancy to extend our trips beyond their planned length, in the name of spending more time just the two of us.

Anthony took a deep breath and closed his eyes, then snapped back to attention with a huffy sigh.

"Alright, Gregory-"

"What? Gregory? I was here first, and I assure you my issue is more pressing," Eloise broke in. Anthony turned to her with a clenched jaw.

"Fine, Eloise, then tell me-"

"Hyacinth, really! That is unladylike language! Anthony, did you hear what she just called me?"

"I meant it, and I will say it again if I must, Colin!"

Anthony growled, ripping his attention from Eloise to the next sibling in line. Everyone continued to talk over each other, the noise in the room rising as rapidly as Anthony's frustration. Normally, I would've been proud of him for taking the calmer, more patient approach with his siblings, but clearly that wasn't going to work in this case.

I let the chaos continue for another few moments while I counted to ten in my head. When it showed no signs of slowing down, and in fact seemed to be spiralling even more out of control, I put my fingers in my mouth and let out a long, earsplitting whistle that I normally reserved for getting someone's attention a long way off in the vast countryside outdoors.

Everyone in the room stopped mid-sentence and whirled around to look at me with wide eyes. I looked right back, head high and one eyebrow raised.

"That is quite enough, from all of you," I said, my tone at a normal level and much calmer than any of the Bridgerton siblings. "First of all, Francesca, I'm afraid your wedding plans will have to wait until we return. Think about them and plan what you can, and I promise Anthony and I will both make time to go over everything with you the minute we are back in this house."

Francesca nodded and gave me a small smile.

"That works just fine. I did not realize how... pressed upon by my other siblings you would be in the final moments before you leave."

That got a round of insulted outbursts, but they all quieted down again and returned their attention to me when I pointedly cleared my throat. Francesca had always loved me for my unique ability to at least temporarily usher in peace in the household.

I turned my attention to Benedict, with slightly narrowed eyes.

"You," I said, letting the word hang in the air for a moment. Benedict had the decency to look concerned. "You are going to let Gregory shadow you. He wants to learn, so let him. It won't hurt you any, and if he feels he still has more to learn when we return, then Anthony can take him."

Benedict huffed and crossed his arms, so I kept my stare on him for a few long moments. While it wouldn't matter much whether he followed through on our promise while we were gone, for all our sakes I didn't want to come home to find they'd been fighting and having issues the entire time Anthony and I had been away. After a moment, Benedict rolled his eyes, but also nodded, which was enough to satisfy me.

"Good. Then Hyacinth, Colin does not have to tell you anything about whom he is intending to pursue if he does not want to. And, like the rest of us, we cannot do more than simply guess."

Colin crossed his arms and smiled, looking quite satisfied with himself, but I maintained significant eye contact with Hyacinth. So far, she had correctly guessed the affections of all of her siblings before any of the siblings in question were ready to admit those affections, even to themselves. With Colin especially, I knew she had an idea who he was intending to pursue, and she didn't need his confirmation to be confident in being correct. We'd all seen how he'd been acting around Penelope lately.

The corner of Hyacinth's mouth quirked up in a quick smile, and she gave me a nod. I returned the gesture, then turned at last to Eloise.

"Finally, Eloise. Since when do you need your brother to empower you to turn a man down? You know you have our full support, with whomever you decide to reject or accept."

Eloise raised an eyebrow and cut her stare towards Anthony. I heard him sigh beside me, but when I turned to him, he nodded his agreement with my statement, so I continued.

"El, if this man has truly gotten it in his head to marry you and you do not feel the same, simply tell him so. If he proposes, turn him down, knowing full well that your family stands behind you. Since when have you needed your brother to speak your mind for you?"

Eloise scoffed and scowled, then stood and squared her shoulders. She shot an especially strong glare at Anthony as she spoke.

"I don't."

Anthony flung his hands out at the unwarranted hostility directed his way, but Eloise and I ignored him.

"You are absolutely right you don't. If you need our help you will have it, Eloise, as you always have our support. But I know you, and I know you are capabale of telling this man to leave you alone without help. And I think you may even enjoy it."

The corner of Eloise's mouth turned up again, more noticably this time, and she nodded. With all the siblings' various issues sorted, they were much calmer, nodding their thanks in my direction and largely ignoring poor Anthony as they filed out the way they'd come in with much less chaos. Once the door to the study closed behind the last of them, I turned to my husband with a smile. The intensity of his stare almost made me melt on the spot.

"Have I told you lately that you are, beyond a doubt, the perfect woman?"

I laughed, leaning into Anthony as he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his lap. His hand found its way to the back of my neck, gently pulling me into a heated kiss. I let myself be swept away with him for a few moments, indulging in the kiss and resting my hands on his chest, but pulled away with a laugh as Anthony's hands started wandering places inappropriate for his office, when his siblings had just barged in a moment ago.

Anthony frowned and let out a dissatisfied grunt, attempting to tug me back into his chest, but I didn't let him.

"Anthony, we are about to leave for our travels together, celebrating our time as husband and wife. We will have plenty of opportunity to continue this somewhere we cannot be interrupted by your family."

"Damn them," Anthony breathed, leaning forward to match my movement. "I only care about you."

"Hmm, and I you, my love. But consider this: every additional moment we delay our departure in this house, is another moment one of your siblings may return with a new problem for us to address."

Anthony paused, considering my words for a moment. Then, he sprang up, sweeping me into his arms and carrying me with him.

"You make an excellent point. I think it is time for us to away, Mrs. Bridgerton. We can finish our other business in the carriage on our way out of town."

I laughed as Anthony pulled me after him from the room, leaving all the work and pressure that came with being Viscount in the office behind us. His family, despite their earlier demonstration, could manage perfectly well without us, at least for a time. And we'd each more than earned a break for just the two of us. As always, everything here would be waiting for us when we returned.

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

[fiveht]

Proof of life (Adore pt 3)

Hello my sweet angel babies ♥️

I'm not going to be able to adequately express my gratitude for the steady stream of love (and concern, sorry) I've been receiving over the past couple of months. I'm so sorry I've been AWOL, it will definitely happen again. Because see, for me, I usually have to make a choice between social and creative fandom participation. My battery is small, and takes a long time to charge.

Thank you to everyone who's left comments and asks and DMs since I've been gone. I don't think I can respond to all of it, but rest assured those messages ping my cold, dead heart every time I see them.

So I'm gonna go out on a limb here. I did this same thing months and months ago, when I was working on Head Over Feet, and let me be clear: posting even a single word of a WIP goes against my every instinct and principle as an author. I am someone who likes to finish an entire story before I post any of it, and on top of that, I am NOT a fast writer, so the expectations that I'm setting up here might not be advisable. But I did it before and managed to finish the thing, and I want to give you guys something in exchange for being so unbelievably awesome, so here I am again.

This will probably be the only time I mention this story in public until it's finished and posted, and inquiries about my progress are unlikely to help with the writing process, I'm just saying. I reserve the right to change every last word of this before the final draft, and I also reserve the right to fall off the face of the planet and simply never finish it, as much as I will strive to prevent that from happening. Please be patient with me.

Anyway, here is my paltry offering to say thanks for the love: the (VERY rough) first ~1300 words of the third instalment of The Adventures of Soft Daddy and Danger Twink.

Sirius secures his handheld shower head to its holder at the edge of his clawfoot tub, and steps out carefully onto the bathmat. He shivers in the cool air outside the shower curtain; it's about twenty degrees below zero outside, so even if he could afford to run his ancient radiator at full blast, it probably wouldn't help much.

He dries himself off and checks his reflection in the mirror, turning his face this way and that as he tugs his hair out of the bun he'd piled it into to keep it dry during his shower. There's no need for makeup tonight, not when he's not even planning to put on clothes.

It's incrementally warmer when he steps out into the main room of his apartment. He gathers an array of splayed text books and notes from his bed and dumps them carelessly onto the couch, then closes his new laptop and places it delicately on the coffee table. It's the most expensive thing he owns, save for the Gucci backpack currently sitting in his wardrobe with a three-inch berth around it like his shoes and other bags might somehow contaminate it. It's weird owning rich-people stuff when you are still, objectively, broke as fuck.

He perches on the edge of his bed and sets his phone to charge, because his battery doesn't even last a day anymore, and he's going to need it this evening. He tucks it in next to his pillow and picks up his new toy.

The plug isn't much larger than the one he already has. A little longer, which is appealing, but no wider, so it shouldn't be a challenge to get it in comfortably. He disconnects it from its charger and hefts it in his hand, feeling the added weight from the electronics inside.

He picks up his phone, and hesitates when he sees the notification waiting for him.

Rieka: let's go out tomorrow

Rieka: the fact that we haven't been drunk since the term started is criminal

Rieka: we've had two chem labs and zero drinks

Sirius purses his lips, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. There's a fine line here, and he hasn't quite found it yet.

Me: got plans

Me: raincheck?

So complete avoidance is the best strategy, right?

Rieka: booooo 👎

He sighs, but at least she's not asking for an explanation. He opens a different conversation then, pushing all thoughts of Rieka Lupin into a tidy, sealed compartment, not to be opened during certain activities with a certain relative of hers.

Me: i'm ready

Me: are you in your office?

Daddy: Yup, I've got a few minutes

Daddy: Want me to call?

Instead of answering, Sirius hits the call button himself.

"Hey baby," Remus answers. His voice is already smooth and honey-sweet, and just from that, Sirius knows he's planning to lay it on thick tonight.

"Hi daddy," Sirius says with a smile. "Should I put it in now?"

There's a low chuckle over the line. "Are we feeling eager?"

"Always," Sirius says, laying back on his bed.

"Use the good lube I got you, it's gonna be in there a while."

He switches the call to speaker, and snags the bottle from his nightstand. "I threw out the old stuff, you've got me ruined for cheap lube."

"Only the best for that ass," Remus says, and Sirius can hear his smirk.

He gives the plug a liberal coating, running his fingers along its shape, his dick twitching just at the feel of the silky-smooth silicone, at the anticipation of what's about to happen. He spreads his legs wide, drawing one knee up to give himself easier access.

"Take it slow," Remus says, succinctly heading off Sirius' impulse to just shove the thing inside himself in one go. "Rub the tip against yourself, so you're nice and wet."

Sirius shuts his eyes as he obeys, sliding the slick end of the toy over his entrance. "Okay."

"Are you going to be a good boy for daddy tonight?"

"Uh-huh," Sirius says, teasing the very tip of the plug in and out of his hole.

"Tell me how."

"I'm not gonna touch."

"You're not gonna touch, and you're not gonna come."

"Yeah," Sirius says. His cock is starting to harden as his body tries to draw the plug inside. "Can I put it in, daddy?"

"Slow," Remus reminds him, "Slide it in nice and slow for me, baby."

Sirius catches his lip between his teeth and tries to push the plug in slowly, the way he knows Remus would do if he was here. 

The shower has left him relaxed and more than ready, and it's hard not to take advantage, just press the toy in to its limit because he can. But he's working on his patience -- under Remus' careful tutelage -- so he shuts his eyes and tries to savour it, the tease of the plug's rubber tip at his entrance, the slow stretch as he eases it past the slight resistance before he sighs, and his body eagerly accepts the intrusion.

"Mmmm," Sirius sighs as he settles the base of the plug flush against his entrance, shifting his hips and feeling the constant, dull pressure against his prostate.

"How's it feel?" 

"Good," Sirius says, splaying his legs out and just enjoying the pleasant fullness. It's been almost a week since Remus last fucked him, and that's just way too long. Christmas really spoiled him. He tugs the blankets up around him, because it's going to take some time before his body temperature is high enough to fight against the chill in his apartment.

"Have you tried out the settings at all?" Remus asks him, and Sirius picks up the phone, switching off speaker and holding it to his ear.

"No," he says, grinding his ass down against the bed to test the plug's reach inside him. "I thought you'd rather do the honours."

Remus hums, and Sirius hears the phone shifting in his grip. "I'm gonna turn it on, okay? Lowest setting."

"O--" Sirius stutters as the plug buzzes to life inside him, nestled snug against his prostate and sending little zings of pleasure down his legs. "Fuck that feels good. That's the lowest setting?"

"It is," Remus confirms. "Want to run through them all, see how high it goes? Or would you rather be surprised?"

"Mmmm, surprise me."

"Surprise it is," Remus says, and Sirius hears shuffling papers in the background as he prepares for his night class. Psychology 1001, Thursdays, 7-9:30PM. Two and a half hours of a lecture that Remus swears he's given so many times he could recite it in his sleep, so why not give himself something fun to focus on while he goes through the motions? 

Being privy to all of this brilliant, upstanding man's secret perversions is a privilege Sirius does not take lightly.

"You can turn it off from the app if you need to," Remus is saying, "Or you can call me and I'll switch it off. My phone's on vibrate, so I'll see it right away."

Sirius smiles to himself. "Got it," he says, though this is a rehashing of the rules that Remus had laid out when he'd brought the plug over last weekend. He'd called it a "late Christmas gift", as if he hadn't already given Sirius several thousand dollars worth of presents on Christmas morning.

There's more rustling over the line, the squeak of a chair. 

"Tell me again how you're going to be good tonight."

"I'm not gonna touch myself, and I'm not gonna come." The toy is still buzzing away inside him, making everything a little fuzzy at the edges. 

"Tell me why."

"'Cause daddy's in charge, even when he's not here."

"Good boy."

Sirius squirms with pleasure, his cock smearing a little drop of fluid on his belly as the toy hums insistently at his prostate.

"I have to head out," Remus says. "How do you feel?"

"Good," Sirius says, his abs tensing as he shifts his legs and the angle of the toy changes. "Excited."

"Me too," Remus says softly. "I'll talk to you soon, beautiful. Send me some pictures." With a low beep, the call disconnects.

[hayatofiles]

PROMISCUOUS BOY

prompt: your next-door neighbour keeps bringing hookups one night after other disturbing your precious sleep. exhausted, you decide to write a letter venting all your frustrations — not expecting that in the middle of all this it would reach it recipient.

pairing: blade, jing yuan x fem! reader

cw: scenario format, modern au, slightly ooc to fit the plot, suggestive themes, mentions of sex, flirt, not beta-read

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

Dear apt 502’ neighbour, I understand that starting a letter with "dear" may sound a bit old-fashioned and ridiculous when I don't even know you, but I hope you take in consideration my romantic spirit as a passionate literature student and will overlook this fact. That said, the reason why we’ve never met is mainly based on the times when I leave and get home. You see, I'm in my last year of a master's degree and the university has been charging all my time and dedication, so I barely have time to take care of myself other than to fall into bed and sleep. But lately, in the late hours of the night, I’ve had my rest interrupted at the only moment when my mind should find peace. And I swear, I've tried to use all possible methods to prevent the noise from affecting me but it has been increasingly difficult. Far be it for me to look for trouble because of someone else sex' life, no. I'd rather say good for you instead. But would it be nice of you to fuck your bitches without breaking my wall in the process? I can deal with their horrible moans, but definitely not with my damaged apartment. Be that as it may, I wish you the best intentions. Your apt 503’ neighbour

Blade

Oh, how you hated your neighbour. You hated him so much.

There were few people who achieved such a feat since you were the most patient and easygoing person to ever exist. Not even your Languages ​​and Cultures II’ partner who was extremely irresponsible or your idiot ex-boyfriend who still didn't seem to understand the meaning of the word break-up were able to get out of you a feeling as negative as hate. But, well, for everything in this life there was a first time, and your not-so-dear-neighbour was getting the upper hand.

When you wrote the letter on one of the dozens of nights in which his nocturnal activities seemed to be more important than other people's rest, you didn't expect a few days later for it to disappear from your desk where it belonged, much less for your friendly doorman to confirm your worst nightmare: all the mail for the week had already been sent.

What was supposed to be a joke turned into more days and nights of stress and you even considered writing him a second letter explaining that it was all just a misunderstanding and that the cracks in your wall weren't that important after all. However, when a week passed and your next-door neighbour's sexual activities began to last until the next morning, you understood that he was deliberately mocking you and, consequently, declaring war.

Now take a good look. You were a person known for your poise and calmness in overcoming challenges despite so much pressure, so it was expected that it’d be no different this time. Except it was. Because not even the calm and composure that the gods gave you could help you ignore the terrible moans in the next room, and the investment you put into that apartment was too high to let it go unnoticed.

And so, at 7:05 am on a Sunday morning, you found yourself in front of apartment 502' door knocking continuously on it as you waited not so patiently the willingness of your neighbour to finish his fuck and attend you. How a person managed to have so much sex drive was beyond your understanding, but perhaps this was due to the fact that your neighbour was an old and lonely man who must have found pleasure in the company of women only at night. Yes, that was a plausible reason.

In the end, you spent at least five minutes abusing the door’s wood without stopping. And just as you prepared to knock once more, it suddenly opened and the man who had tormented you all your nights had finally revealed himself.

Your impressions: Well, old he certainly was. Lonely? Hard to say. Now, unfairly hot and attractive? Unexpectedly yes.

When you came to your senses, you and the half-naked man spent a long time staring at each other in silence, absorbing each other's characteristics. You were clearly affected by his beauty and he was clearly irritated by your presence.

"Are you going to stare at me all the way, or are you going to say what you want?"

You blinked once, twice, three times until his words hit you, making you visibly red with embarrassment. How rude!

"First, good morning to you too," you said venomously, "Second, didn’t you read the letter, no? What part of not breaking the wall didn’t you get?"

The man seemed to take your words into consideration for a few seconds before a sneer appeared on his lips and his eyes narrowed in amusement. He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms over his bare, scarred chest, making him more attractive than he already was.

"I don't see how this is up to you alone. After all, the wall is as much yours as it’s mine," he says and you open your mouth in shock.

"Excuse me? How can I not when it’s my side that is being damaged the most!"

"Then you better start looking for a bricklayer."

Gods, this man was impossible! You already knew that you hated him for a very insignificant reason, but now you were sure that he was more detestable than he let on. And the fact that he counts your arguments with that purposeful blank expression infuriated you even more.

"Unbelievable. Not only can't I keep my apartment intact, but I also have to spend sleepless nights because of the noise too."

"If the noise bothers you so much you can always come and join in," your neighbour offers with a small smirk, but the devilish glow that radiated from his crimson iris didn’t hide the true meaning behind his words.

Too embarrassed and disconcerted to continue the argument with the man, you angrily return to your house, slamming the door aggressively and containing the scream of frustration that bubbled in your chest.

Yingxing in turn couldn't help but think that you had a nice ass, and that annoy you was even better than he thought.

Jing Yuan

Two whole days looking for the letter all over your apartment took you to the most advanced stage of despair. Even though you had already ransacked your living room from floor to ceiling more times you could remember, messing up your kitchen and bedroom in the process, you still hadn't found a single trace of the piece of paper. And even though a part of you already knew that there was a high chance that the letter had been mixed in with the other correspondences and had been forwarded to its intended recipient, you'd rather have a hole in the ground swallow you than consider the only plausible option.

Even so, now here you found yourself: in front of the apartment 502’ door with a courage and pride that wasn't yours, sweat running down your spine and the dread of finally coming face to face with the man who not only ruined your last nights sleep, but who could very well ruin your social life too. God, just thinking that he could be a troublemaker and report you to the police, tarnishing your criminal record and your reputation as a good neighbor made you sick to your stomach.

But there was no other alternative. You had to make sure he hadn't opened the letter, or, in the worst case, consider not bringing this humiliation to the public.

So, minutes after knocking on the door, you were finally greeted by the resident of apartment 502 who, for much your surprise (or much delight) was wearing nothing but a bath towel with the steam's traces still emanating from his pale, wet skin. It suddenly became very clear to you why all those dozens of women made sure to scream “Oh, Jing Yuan!” every time they reached an orgasm.

"May I help you?"

Yeah. Fucking kill me, you wanted to answer.

The words you had practiced so much seemed to have escaped your brain and a familiar heat burned your cheeks. The embarrassment was huge, but you had already come this far and there was no going back. You only wished your neighbour wasn't this attractive, though.

"Hi. Good evening, sir. I’m your nextdoor neighbour and I wanted to know if by any chance you received a letter signed in my name", you stuttered so fast that you feared you’d have to repeat the sentence all over again since Jing Yuan didn’t seem to express any reaction for a few seconds. 

As the realization hit him, though, a faint gleam of amusement crossed his golden irises and mortification hit you like a bolt of lightning.

Oh shit. He had read the letter.

"Just a moment, ma'am", Jing Yuan said with a playful smile on his lips and entered his apartment for a few seconds, returning shortly afterwards with the well-known envelope in hand.

He held out the letter and you trembled as you finally picked it.

"I can tell that this was not a letter intended to be sent, right?"

"No, it wasn't. And I'm so sorry for causing you so much trouble! God, what a humiliation! Now would be a great time to die", you pleaded into the void and your handsome neighbour laughed in response.

"It’s alright. You know, it's the first time I've received a letter from such a beautiful lady, although the content was definitely not what I expected", he said contemplatively crossing his huge arms on his huge chest. You looked away feeling more embarrassed, "Nevertheless, I also apologize for my lack of attention. I’ll be more considerate from now on."

If only it could get any worse. Here he was apologizing for having a healthy sex life when you should probably be doing the same. Having sex not apologizing, of course. 

Fearing that if you said anything else your words would come out more clumsy than the erratic beating of your heart, you forced a smile to your neighbour who was now looking at you intensely in slight amusement. And realizing that if you stared back at the man for too long your role as a fool would only get worse, you came up with a quick excuse to escape from there and back to your apartment. Maybe your next letter would be a goodbye to the world because you refuse to leave your home from now on.

"Thank you for your attention and again I apologize for the confusion, Mr. Jing Yuan. It was great meeting you, really, but I need to go so have a good night and don’t mind me anymore," you bow quickly and respectfully as your face burned in red, and stumble on wobbly legs back to your door.

However, before you could enter your house due to fumbling with the wrong keys for the lock, Jing Yuan let out a light laugh and replied: “It was my pleasure to meet you, Miss Neighbour. Although, I must say that I would like to keep hearing more from you from now. This time, in person, of course."

Needless to say you entered your apartment at lightning speed vowing never to exit it again, leaving behind a very good-humored Jing Yuan.

How delightful to know that you already knew his name before he even needed to introduce himself, huh.

[allthornsnopetals]

Tall S/O

:Includes:

:T.Denali:

:K.Denali:

:I.Denali:

Umm, yes you can!! Something, for the fellow tall girlies, 100% I'm 5,12ft... Ik, but at least I'm not short, but finding pants that can cover my ankles is, rather challenging.

:T.Denali:

Tanya is 5,5ft, while Myanna Burning—the actress, that plays her—is 5,1ft... She is a small bean.

In other words it is really not that hard to outgrow her, unless you are below 5ft or the same height. (If you are, that f sucks.)

Legit calling for you if she can't reach for something on a high shelf.

When she first laid eyes on you, she legit thought you were a model of some sorts. You had to be with all, that leg, and height.

She legit is drooling, like the horndog, that she is. Her mouth is salivating, eyeing you as one would with a meal.

I picture Tanya, constantly asking for uppies. (shut up this is my HC, so I say so).

She's extremely aware of the height difference, but she couldn't careless, in fact she loves it!

Always wearing your clothes and even your heels. She would deny ever taking anything from your closet, perhaps pointing her finger at Kate.

She will only return the clothes she 'borrowed', if you manage to find where she hid them, which is like finding a needle in a haystack.

Oh, and if she is at booby height, babe your done for. At least shoving her face where it shouldn't, ten times a day. Wanting hugs only because she wants her face in your boobies

I'm sorry but you will be wearing nothing but shorts when you are home, because in my perspective she loves the look/appeal of your legs. She will even offer/will shave and or wax your legs for you.

She's obsessed!

Love's it when you cage her in with your legs when love making, especially if your legs cross over daintily around her tiny waist.

This is gonna sound—because it is— dirty, but her favorite thing to do, when in the bedroom is ride your thighs/your entire leg, and yes she will boot fuck your foot, grinding and reaching her high.

She is like a dog on another kind of drug, humping, and even whining—which, would lead to begging—if you decline her of her favorite thing to do in the bedroom. Watch out, she will pounce when you are not looking, and perhaps boot fuck when you least expect it, again like a feral dog.

"My love, please!" Tanya begs, pouting the best she could, trying to sway Y/n. "Honey, you have made a mess on both my legs, I have to clean myself up, and put an end to tonight's festivities. I'm sorry." Y/n stood, kissing her wife's cheek.

Tanya's pout deepens, crossing her arms over her bare breasts. An idea pops in her head, causing a sly grin to split her face. She speeds into the bathroom, running Y/n a bath while she worries about fixing the room.

Once the tub is full, she's tugging her loving wife into the bathroom with her, and instantly getting her in.

"You dirty, little girl." Y/n teases, feeling Tanya plop herself on her thigh, and starting to rock her hips.

Tanya grins, bracing her grip on her darlings shoulders. "Dirty? No, clean. You wanted to clean the mess I made and I'm not finished, that is called compromise." She pecks her love's grinning lips, riding her tired thigh.

'Compromise' happens a lot with Tanya. Finding a solution to both of your problems, still being able to be satisfied.

If she is misbehaving or being an asshole, you can always say: "Be good and I'll let you make a mess on my legs tonight, but be an asshole, and I won't let you touch me." That shuts her up, makes her behave, listen, and even have Kate whining to you, when she feels as if she is being mistreated.

Tanya is a strong woman, who is def a top/Dom, and wears the pants in the relationship, but pull the: I'm covering my legs or you are getting none of this. She's a flopping mess, suddenly turned baby bottom with amazing hearing and obedience.

She's folding in seconds.

Def following you around, waiting patiently to be whisked away into the bedroom.

:K.Denali:

Kate is 5,7ft, which is pretty tall, so finding someone that is even taller... Now that is something.

The very first time you both met Edward is reading her mind and is finding: "Well, damn! I can't wait to climb that tree, ohh baby!!" With her face looking like this: 🥴

She gives: Yeah, that's my wife vibes, I know she's a Goddess.

Deadass, flexing on the nearest person.

She wouldn't subject you to wearing only shorts around the house. She doesn't want her sisters or anyone who visits to get any ideas.

But show an inch of leg, she's going feral. Deadass, pulling out her dusty reading glasses or binoculars, and perching herself up on her legs, like a fucking pervert just to get a slight look at those stunning legs.

She calls you: Tall tree, supermodel, mommy-long-legs.

She would 100% love back rides, being carried (bridal style) around like a baby, and climbing your shoulders.

As much as she likes being the bigger spoon, you're taller than she is, so she would adore being the little spoon when cuddling.

Asking for uppies all the damn time!

If you're mad at her for whatever reason and state that you will kill her. Kate would happily die with her head squeezed between your thighs, and snapping her head clean from her body. She thinks that it's the most blessed, righteous, and holy way to die.

Loves to be wrapped up in your legs.

Either when you are cuddling, holding her when you are doing her make up or hair, or when she's going to town between your legs. Miss ma'am just loves being swaddled with your legs.

Do be careful, she may never wanna stop cuddling if it means being wrapped up in your legs. Would throw a fit if you decide that you're done.

Love's it when your legs are thrown over her shoulders when she's eating you out, oh goes nuts when you begin to suffocate her between your legs when cutting it close to the edge, legit feeds her pride. (She's a vampire, she doesn't need air.)

Ohhh, she loves eating you out. It's her favorite thing to do in the bedroom. It gives her a reason to come close to something she thinks as holy.

Kate smirks, loving her necklace, aka the legs of her wife. "You little shit!" Y/n growls, clenching her legs around Kate's neck, ready to decapitate her head.

She had pissed her off again, but at least she will die a glorious death. "Mmmh, I can smell hell from here. Harder Princezná, I think God's calling me." She encourages Y/n, feeling her tighten her hold.

Tanya along with Carmen. "No, Y/n let her go. She pissed you off but it doesn't mean you should kill your wife. Let her go!" Tanya orders, pulling Kate from her feet with Carmen's help.

Kate whines. "Noooo! Let go of my feet, let me die a beautiful death!"

She would legit piss you off on purpose, because one she enjoys it, two she thinks you look hot when you're mad, three if she plays her cards right she might die in the bedroom or on sight with you trying to decapitate her.

She would fight off anyone trying to obviously save her life.

She would hate it if you tease her for her height in public, but loves it when you are both in the comforts of your home.

Like Tanya, would wear your clothes, especially your sweaters, hoodies, and jackets. You'll have a hard time finding them or even her with how many layers she may wear at once, and hiding herself somewhere.

:I.Denali:

Irina is 5,9ft, making her the tallest among her sisters, so discovering, that her mate is far taller than she is, it's gonna crush her ego a bit.

But she would recover.

In fact, she's excited to find someone that is taller than herself. This means shopping for clothes pacifically tailored to both your heights, and complaining together when certain clothes don't work out. I imagine her saying: "Well this is bullshit..." With you nodding in agreement.

Legit catwalks/runway moments when trying on new clothes.

When she first laid eyes on you, she was checking out your boots, wanting to get her hands on them, thinking that she could do with the extra inch.

What she didn't expect was to find you attached to the said boots, instantly drooling. Glad she found someone, that is an absolute stunner and super model.

She loves it when you cuddle. Legit has no troubles with who gets to be the big spoon or little spoon, because she is pretty tall as well.

Love's it when you splay your legs over her lap when relaxing or reading or chatting. Would mindlessly caress your leg, regardless if it is bare or clothed.

She isn't one for uppies, but if she needs something she cannot reach, immediately calling for you, even though she's 5,9. But who knows, you might be far taller, which means if something is completely out of her reach, she is set.

Unlike her sisters, she isn't drooling or turning into a pervert when she catches a glimpse of your legs. No, she's chill and super cute when smothering her face in your lap.

She's a cutie.

Oh, but she's on her knees, so damn weak when it comes to scissoring.

Sure there is a bunch of long legs, but she loves it when you cage her with your legs, with the goal to grind your sex on hers.

And oh, miss ma'am is folding the moment you clasp your legs around her, oh she's yours, instantly melting.

"Ohh, try this one, I think it would look great on you!" Irina tosses a dress at Y/n, watching as she undresses herself for the tenth time.

"What do you think?" She comes up from behind, feeling her waist and hips, gliding her hands over her sides, and watching her love through the mirror.

"I think, that we should take a couple photos and perhaps have a little runway show."

Irina giggles with giddy excitement, already planning her outfit.

She would even trade clothes with you.

Sharing clothes becomes second nature and before you know it, you're both basically sharing one closet, wearing whatever works.

[queercontrarian]

Eris calls in his bargain with Rhysand: he wants Nesta to join him in the Autumn Court to help him in his scheme to bring down his father.

happy eris week fuckers. this one goes out to @secret-third-thing for being so endlessly patient with me. also thank you to @fieldofdaisiies for being the best beta i could ask for. i love you, please enjoy ♡

@erisweekofficial

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The Bargain

For as long as she could remember, Nesta had had no illusions about life being fair. Her mother had rid her of that idea when she was just a stupid little girl, but despite how well she had been prepared for disappointment Rhysand’s announcement still felt like one giant cosmic joke.

Silence. Complete and utter silence was ringing in her ears as Nesta waited for the male to say something else. Anything else. She had to have misheard him. There had to be a misunderstanding, some sick joke or a cruel prank for how she had behaved in the past year. But she had been good recently, she had tried…

Cassian’s voice pulled her out of her stupor. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he asked loudly, as if to challenge Rhys to say it again. He wasn’t the only one. No one in the room seemed to comprehend what their High Lord had just announced to them. Cassian was holding Nesta’s hand almost painfully tight, but she was grateful for the anchor, tethering her to the couch, to here and now. Her head was buzzing.

“Eris demands that Nesta join him in the Autumn Court,” Rhys repeated, “To support him in his scheme to bring down Beron. That is what he demands as his part of the bargain.”

“You can’t be serious.” The words broke out of her as she was thinking them and immediately all eyes snapped to her. The ringing in her ears persisted as she felt herself slowly turn to stone under the combined scrutiny of the room and she reverted into her own space. This could not be happening to her right now. She felt the fire thrum in her blood, icy power bubbling up in her, and did her best to fight it down.

“Well, so much for finding out where his loyalties lie. There's your answer I guess,” Amren quipped, leaning back in her armchair. Mor clicked her tongue at her friend and Amren threw up her hands in frustration. “I’m just saying.”

Mor’s face was nearly as pale as Feyre’s, who was clinging to the pillow in her lap like a shield. “I thought our support was to be given after Eris is already High Lord,” she said, “That you would help validate his claim to the throne or whatever he would need after takeover.” Lucien snorted and then quickly cleared his throat as the attention shifted to his corner of the room.

“Apologies, Morrigan, but why would he need help when he is already High Lord? If the magic chooses him, isn't that claim enough?” Amren hummed, choosing to inspect her nails while Mor tried to launch into an explanation.

“I’m just saying, it’s not–”

Azriel interrupted, finishing Mor’s sentence for her. “This isn't the kind of–” He paused, looking at Nesta for a short moment before looking away, “-support we promised.” Both Mor and Cassian nodded at that. Nesta stayed frozen in her seat.

“And besides, his bargain is with you, not Nesta,” Feyre threw in, still clawing at the pillow in her lap. Rhys nodded but his expression was pained.

"That is correct.” Nesta drew in another deep breath. “I am, however, the High Lord Nesta has sworn fealty to. She is part of the Court, and as High Lord I am the Court and the Court is me."

For a long moment no one said anything as they let the reality of the situation sink in, trying to process what Rhysand had laid out for them. Nesta closed her eyes and breathed out shakily before opening her eyes again. Cassian gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Reject it,” he said, his voice impossibly calm and steady, “This bargain is out of the question.” He squeezed her hand again, and Nesta wasn’t sure if it was meant to reassure her or him. Her hand felt so cold. She could feel her power’s pulse in her palm and quickly pulled her hand away from Cassian’s.

“The bargain was made long ago. And unfortunately Eris has already told me that any other solution to our deal will be unacceptable to him,” Rhys explained. “He will consider our bargain unfulfilled. This is the support he wants, the only support he’ll take." For the first time he met Nesta’s eyes and she almost believed the sorrow in them when he said “Trust me, I’ve tried.”

She didn't know what to do with that admission. Frankly, she didn't want to acknowledge that any of this was happening at all. Nesta didn't want to speak, she didn't even want to think. She tugged at a loose thread on her dress, wondering if the whole stitching would come undone if she kept pulling. Silver lights danced at the edge of her vision and she squeezed her eyes shut to snuff them out. It was too much, all of it. She had to be dreaming.

Cassian jumped to his feet, pacing a few steps through the room, his wings thrown out wide. She could almost see him tremble with anger. “Nesta is her own person. She can make her own choices, he can't force her to go," he growled, pointing his finger accusingly at his brother. Nesta shivered. Yes he could. He very well could, otherwise they wouldn’t be sitting here.

“He doesn’t have to. I do,” Rhysand replied, running his hand across his face. There was a deep tiredness in his voice that revealed to Nesta that they had already lost this battle.

“And because you are High Lord she has to follow,” Azriel concluded for him. Rhys nodded again and Mor scoffed, though her grasp on the back of the couch gave her true feelings away. It was fear, not anger, that had her fingers damn near piercing the expensive upholstery, the furniture groaning under her tight grip. She too already knew they would find no way out. There was no solution to this but what Eris had laid out for them.

Nesta saw the shield around Feyre light up before she noticed the silver flames licking at her own fingers, and she balled her hands into fists quickly trying to extinguish the fire but it was too late. Before she could even think of anything else Rhysand smothered her in a wave of darkness.

The fire did not go quietly, hissing and cracking so violently that Nesta herself tried to jump away from it, though with the couch at her back there was nowhere to go. Through the noise of the fire she heard several people call out to her but she could place neither where their voices were coming from nor who was reaching out. She closed her eyes, trying to calm down and center herself despite the fire around her, stoically following the mind stilling exercises Gwyn had taught her. Nesta let out another shaky breath and a sudden calm washed over her. She felt her heartbeat thunder in her ears, her blood rushing through her veins along with something else, something older, stronger, fiercer.

Finally, the prickling feeling left her fingers and the fire went out, taking the overwhelming darkness with it. A shocked silence had fallen over the room. Nobody dared to move. Still, Nesta kept her fists closed as if moving her hands even a little bit could rekindle the flames. She was shaking, and she was cold, she was so cold…

“I’m sorry,” she forced out, sounding much more cool and collected than she felt, “I don't know–” She grabbed a fistful of her own dress and felt pure relief when it didn’t catch on fire between her fingers. Gradually, she felt the air around her warm up again as the conversation picked up anew. When she opened her hands she found her fingernails had left tiny crescents pressed into her palm.

“Is there really no way out of it?” Elain asked, her soft voice shaking. “Could you not just… release Nesta from her oath? Then she wouldn’t have to go.” Mor shook her head but it was Lucien who answered. She heard him as if from far away.

“If it was before Eris had voiced his intent to take Nesta as support for the bargain that might have worked, but now that we know… you can’t cheat a bargain.”

Nesta tried to breathe evenly as she inspected the wounds in her palm closer. They weren't simple bruises; she had burned the shapes into her skin. Still, it didn't hurt and Nesta quickly hid her hands under the blanket before anyone else could notice what she had done to herself.

“But it could work. We could risk it, we could stall…” Feyre was nearly pleading, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. There were tears in her icy blue eyes, and Nesta was almost surprised to find she cared so much. Then again her sister cared about everyone, even her. Once more, Lucien was the one to squash her hopes.

“No, Feyre, you can’t risk it. Rhysand won't risk it. Broken bargains are certain to end in catastrophe, but a willfully ignored bargain is just as unpredictable. You remember how badly you were doing in the months after we left Under The Mountain-” Feyre winced but Lucien pressed on, “-and now with the pregnancy… there’s no margin of error for you, and Eris knows it. It's likely why he chose this moment to strike.” Nesta glanced at Rhysand for confirmation. The male had paled noticeably; once again, her sister's life was put on the scale.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Feyre asked, the hurt in her voice painfully obvious even as her mate reached out to her with his hand.

“I only found out yesterday. I'm so sorry, Feyre darling.” But Feyre pushed him away.

“Yesterday was almost twenty hours ago.”

“I know, I was trying… I was trying to find a way out of it, a way to evade the bargain, to-”

“Twenty hours, Rhys,” Feyre reminded him, her voice shaking.

Azriel muttered a curse under his breath, offering a very creative new idea on what Eris should bargain for next, and Nesta withdrew into herself as chaos erupted in the room, Cassian, Feyre and Rhysand all yelling at each other. There was nothing she could have done anyway as everyone else was dragged down the same path Eris had prepared for them.

We'll play later, Nesta Archeron. Had he known then? What had she done? What had he seen that had convinced him he needed her?

When she finally looked up her eyes found Lucien's almost immediately. The male had stayed across the room from her while the Inner Circle argued amongst each other, standing so still he was nearly blending into the wall. His scarred face bore a curious expression. A tad worried, maybe. For her? They barely knew each other. His metal eye whirred in its socket and he turned to the side, his hand reaching up to his face. Nesta could almost feel the high ‘plink’ noise reverberating through her skull as he tapped the eye once and then a second time when it would not stop moving. She quickly focused her attention elsewhere.

Amren seemed to have found a new target in Mor, who was still standing frozen behind the sofa, her dark wine-stained lips a stark contrast to her pale face.

“Well, don't stand there staring like a struck deer,” she mocked the female, throwing a piece of candy from the table in her direction, which Mor elegantly dodged, “it's not you who's going after all.” Mor opened her mouth as if to retort, her pretty face pulled into a mask of fury, while Amren grabbed some more candy to throw.

“Stop it, both of you,” Cassian interrupted sharply, placing himself between the two, “this isn’t helping anyone.”

“You can't tell me what to do,” Amren shot back, but she settled on her couch again, instead opening the paper wrapper of one of the chocolates and popping it into her mouth.

Feyre’s sudden groan of pain broke the petty arguments up right away. Her sister grabbed the back of her armchair hard, face twisted into a grimace. Her mate was at her side in a second.

“What is it?” he asked anxiously, trying to put a hand on her back to feel her pain. Feyre slapped his arm away.

“I am fine,” she said through gritted teeth. Everyone watched as they stared at each other, apparently engaged in another intense mind to mind communication until Feyre broke, turning her face away from her husband.

“Rhys, I said I am fine, I am fucking fine,” she snapped, walking a few steps backwards, out of his reach. Another wave of pain shook her and she pressed her hands into her lower back with a groan. When Lucien reached out to stabilize her, Rhysand growled. Immediately Feyre’s head whipped back to him, her eyes narrowed with anger.

“How deep do you want your grave to be?” she hissed at her husband, “Fucking keep it together.”

Silence fell over the room. The only sound was Feyre's heavy breathing, the crackling fire across the room and, of course, Amren’s candy wrappings. It lasted several seconds before Azriel finally spoke up.

“Perhaps you should discuss this amongst yourselves,” he suggested carefully, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Rest for a while. You're both burdened with far more than anyone should carry, just take this moment to talk it out.” Rhysand hesitated but Feyre nodded briskly.

“Let’s,” she said coolly, gathering herself for a moment before heading for the door without looking back. Rhys followed her much more cautiously.

Nesta tuned out the hushed discussion between the remaining members of Rhysand's inner circle pondering possible solutions that weren’t directly playing into Eris’s hands, looking for loopholes or, in Azriel’s case, the merits of murdering Eris before the bargain could be fulfilled. Nesta wasn't sure of what to do. She didn’t want to participate in the fruitless discussions and she didn’t want to leave alone. She wouldn’t even know where to go - she couldn’t make it back to the House of Wind on her own. So she waited.

Eventually Elain came to sit by her side, leaning her head against her shoulder like she used to when they were kids. Her sister's dress rustled as she tried to get comfortable. It sounded louder still to Nesta's numb brain. Elain smelled like cinnamon and apples and Nesta suddenly, ridiculously, felt sad that none of them would be able to properly enjoy whatever delicacy her sister had baked for their dinner.

“Are you alright?” Elain asked quietly, in that soft, almost sad tone she adopted as of late whenever she spoke with Nesta. Nesta barked out a laugh.

“Obviously not.” Her tone was biting but her sister only nodded.

“Figures,” she mumbled. Nesta only stared back at her incredulously. Then she scoffed.

“Some seer you are. Such perspicacity, what astute observations you enlighten us with,” Nesta muttered. But when Elain looked up and met her eyes she couldn’t help herself. They both burst into laughter, quickly hiding their giggles behind their hands to not startle the others. They might think Feyre's sisters had lost their minds at last, cackling like two crows on a branch at the misfortune of some poor fool down below. And maybe they had, only the poor fool was Nesta’s role to play and misfortune was what the Mother had woven into her life from the day she had spun the first thread of her fate.

All three of them, Mother, Seer and Lady Death herself already knew that there was no changing this path, no matter what the others might tell themselves.

Nesta was going to Autumn.

◇

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[fandoms-are-my-friends-1321]

Clueless is an Understatement

This may not be the original idea for Rayne that I had, but at the same time, it is an extremely adorable request that I could not refuse! Plus it allows me to try and write a character that is similar to Mash (I love his brainless antics). I hope that you enjoy this fanfic @jennapancake! Thank you again for the request! Gifs are not mine.

Summary: Y/N Burnedead, Mash's older sibling, followed him to Easton Magic Academy to help protect him on his quest to become a divine visionary. Along the way, they caught the attention of Rayne Ames, who is absolutely smitten by Y/N. The only problem: Y/N does not know how to take a hint.

Warnings: reader has some small injuries, mentions of blood, otherwise none (but if I miss something let me know!)

In a world where magic users dominate the population, there were two non-magic users who were hoping to change their fates and prove that magic was not the only thing that made a person worthy in the eyes of higher powers. The first one was Mash Burnedead: a boy who relied only on his powerful muscles in order to become the divine visionary and allow his family to live in peace. The other is Y/N Burnedead, Mash's older sibling who is also a non-magic user and just as strong as their younger brother. Y/N knew that Mash would face a lot of dangerous challenges and potentially evil foes during his time at Easton Magic Academy, so they took it upon themselves to take the entrance exam as well and help Mash on his quest.

At first, many of the other students wondered why a person as old as Y/N waited so long to join the academy, but they made up the excuse that they were simply too nervous to participate in the entrance exam until now. Of course this was far from the case due to Y/N's trust in their own muscular strength, but it was a necessary lie to keep people off of their backs. Y/N and Mash only allowed trusted friends to know their non-magic status, or the more accurate truth, they all found out after the battle with the Magia Lupis.

"Dude, I still can't believe you have no magic power at all! That is total side character ener-," Y/N smacked Dot across the face before he could finish his sentence.

"And yet you let a side character show you up," Y/N said as they dusted off their uniform. Y/N walked over to Mash and ruffled his hair, causing him to mumble as he tried to fix it. "Come on, you know I don't like my hair being messed with, Y/N."

"I couldn't help it, little brother. You are just too precious sometimes," Y/N said in a monotone and yet excited voice. "Don't forget we have our workout scheduled for 3 today after my classes are finished, and I can't wait to out rep you today."

Mash shook his head from side to side. "Only in your dreams, sibling."

Despite being a first year, Y/N managed to be placed in some upper level courses at Easton, one of which being the Study of Magical Creatures. Rayne Ames, a current divine visionary and the older sibling of Y/N and Mash's friend Finn, also helped to pull some strings for the older Burnedead. It's not that he doubted their prowess, and if anything, it was their power that Rayne admired along with their beauty and talents. However, some of the professors were still skeptical of Y/N and Mash when it came to their "magic" abilities, so he offered his support in their favor.

Today's class would be taking place outside in one of the open pastures by the school, with today's lesson involving herding and calming wild Wrivian's, horse-dragon hybrids that were the size of a small cottage. Rayne was waiting patiently for Y/N to arrive for class, and he caught himself checking his robe for any stray crumbs from lunch. He never used to worry about his appearance since he is usually well-kept, and yet ever since he met Y/N, he felt the need to look even more pristine when he knew they would be around.

Not that Y/N would notice the small details to begin with...

Y/N arrived a few minutes before class began, and Rayne waved at them as they approached. "Good afternoon, Y/N. Are you ready for today's class?" Rayne stated with a slight smile.

Y/N clenched their fist as they took on a fighting pose. "I was born ready, Rayne. Any challenge that these Wrivian's bring, I will take each one down with my fist."

Rayne let out a chuckle as he moved to stand beside them. "I thought you would say something along those lines."

The professor explained the task to the students, making sure to reiterate that no harm should be brought to any of the Wrivian's or they would fail the assignment. All the students broke off into pairs, which would make wrangling the beasts an easy task, but Y/N and Rayne faced more difficulties. Rayne used frontal attacks with Partisan to deflect the fiery breath from the Wrivian, the creature's emerald scales flexing as it weaved expertly through the air. Y/N took more of a distraction approach as they waited for the right time to strike.

"Y/N, they have a blind spot if you move to the right! Now is the time to tame this beast! Remember, avoid harm at all costs!" Rayne instructed as he launched the silvery swords of Partisan one last time.

"Kay', taming magic activate!" Y/N shouted the fake spell as they squatted and leaped into the air, easily reaching the Wrivian hovering in the sky. Y/N grabbed the Wrivian around it's broad neck, the rough texture of the scales cutting into their hands as their weight brought them and the creature back down to the ground. The cloud of dust and the immense crash had Rayne worried, not so much about failing the assignment but for Y/N's safety. I really have fallen for them, Rayne thought as he dashed to the scene. He expected to see the Wrivian knocked out from Y/N's brute strength, but Rayne was shocked to see that the creature did not have a scratch on it. If anything, it seemed quite happy as it expertly stole a cream puff from Y/N's cloak.

"Hey, that's my afternoon cream puff," Y/N whined at first as they looked up at the beast with a minor frown, but as the Wrivian let out a whinny at the sweet treat, Y/N sighed in defeat as their head drooped. "Then again, it seems to be making you pretty happy too."

Rayne gasped as he knelt down by Y/N, who was too distracted by the loss of their cream puff to notice the crimson liquid dripping from their hands. Rayne placed his hands on Y/N's forearms and lifted them up, his cheeks dusting with pink as he felt the muscles under their cloak. "You're hurt, Y/N. Please, let me take you to the infirmary and help bandage your wounds."

Y/N looked down at their hands and blinked. "Oh, looks like I am bleeding, huh? Oopsies." Rayne playfully rolled his eyes at Y/N's unawareness as he helped them to their feet, an arm wrapping protectively around their waist despite Y/N's ability to walk. Y/N's brows furrowed as they looked at Rayne. "Why is your arm around my waist if I can walk?"

"Just a precaution to make sure that you have no underlying injuries," Rayne replied.

"But you can see me walking, Rayne? Are you sure I need assistance?"

The two students finally arrived at the infirmary, and Y/N sat on one of the medical beds while Rayne treated their wounds. He started by cleaning the cuts and applying alcohol to the wounds, causing Y/N to flinch. "Ouchie, that burns a little." Rayne only smiled as his golden eyes remained filled with adoration. Once Y/N was all bandaged up, Rayne laid a kiss on each of their hands. "There, you should be fully healed in a few days."

Y/N tilted their head. "Was that a magic healing spell? Can you teach it to me?"

Rayne smirked as he ruffled his blonde streaked hair. "I could probably teach you the spell over dinner. Would you care to join me?"

"Well I would, but Mash and the others always go to dinner with me on this day of the week. I am making cream puff this evening, if you wanted to join, and the others would be happy to see you." Y/N rambled as they tapped their chin.

"We can bring the cream puff to them when we are finished, but I need your full attention to teach you this spell," Rayne said as he tried to find a way to spend time alone with Y/N. He adored the others yes, especially his brother Finn, but he had longed to ask Y/N on a date for some time now. There was something about them that was charming and adorable, and Rayne could not resist them. Y/N's eyes widened as they absorbed Rayne's words. "Ohh that makes more sense. I will see you then, Rayne." With that, Y/N hopped off the medical bed and left with a brief wave as Rayne started to devise a game plan for tonight.

............................................................................................................................

Rayne arrived at the dorm kitchens around the time Y/N had specified, a bouquet of their favorite flowers in hand. He entered the kitchen and was greeted by Y/N wearing a frilly apron that matched the one that Mash typically wore. They were currently whisking the eggs for the cream puffs with calculated precision. Rayne smiled as he leaned over the counter and presented the flowers to Y/N. "I brought these for you, Y/N, and I hope that you will enjoy them."

Y/N halted their whisking and took the flowers from Rayne, eagerly sniffing the fresh blooms. "These smell like the flowers back home, but I don't know if they will taste good in the cream puffs."

"They won't be going in the cream puffs, you dork. They are for you to look at and admire from afar." Rayne explained as he conjured up a glass vase. Y/N let out an exclamation of excitement as they tapped the vase to see if it was real before going back to whisking. Rayne rested his head in his hand as he watched Y/N make the cream puffs from memory. While the cream puffs were baking, Rayne took this as a sign to make his feelings known. "I am excited to try these delicious cream puffs, but I have no doubt that they will not be as sweet as you are."

"I always put four cups of sugar into the dough, and along with this custard cream, they will be the perfect amount of sweetness." Y/N assured as they plopped down in the seat next to Rayne. They perked up as they remembered the conversation they had with Rayne earlier. "Oh, you said you would teach me that healing spell? Unlike my brother, I can learn things pretty quickly."

An idea materialized in Rayne's head as he pretended to pop his knuckles. "Luckily, this spell does not require a wand like most spells, and I believe that you have the abilities and strength to master this spell in no time. Firstly, you take the hands of the person that you want to heal." Rayne turned to face Y/N as they took their hands in his, the bandages from earlier soft to the touch, but Rayne wished he could feel Y/N's actual hands instead. Y/N continued to absorb the instructions like a sponge as they replied with a "got it".

"Next, you approach the subject closer so you can determine the state of their injuries." Rayne closed the gap between him and Y/N until their face's were inches apart, allowing him to admire all of the amazing features of Y/N's face. He swore that no deity could be more gorgeous than them. Y/N nodded as they maintained eye contact with Rayne and made sure to process each step clearly. "Finally," Rayne started as he placed a hand on Y/N's cheek, "You perform the healing spell." Before Rayne could complete his plan, the loud ding of the oven interrupted him, and Y/N shot up from their seat faster than a lightning strike. "Cream puffs are done!" They shouted excitedly.

Y/N finalized the delicious treats and handed the first ones to Rayne. He bit into the pastry and hummed with delight as Y/N ate their portion of the cream puffs in a few gulps. "These are perfect, Y/N, and I must admit that this would make for a perfect date," Rayne said as he smiled more than he had in months. Y/N was once again confused.

"Isn't that a type of fruit?"

"Yes, you are correct, but it is also the time spent between two individuals that care about each other as a way to show affection for one another. Y/N Burnedead, I care about you more and more each and every day, and I would destroy every evil force in this magical realm if it means that you are safe by my side. I would be yours if that is what you wish, but if you need more time, I understand completely." Rayne blushed as he rubbed the back of his neck, but Y/N still could not see the full picture.

"I could help you beat up the villains instead, but I would need to focus on more bicep training first. Maybe Mash would know-," Y/N's sentence was cut short as Rayne gently pressed his lips against theirs as his hand returned to caress their cheek once again. Y/N did not fully understand what to do, but they did enjoy the feeling of Rayne being so close to them. When Rayne pulled away, the realization of his words and actions finally set in, and Y/N turned as red as the strawberries they used in the cream puffs. Y/N's brain started to short circuit as the affection became to much. "I-I-I guess that t-t-this makes us a, makes us a..."

Rayne kissed Y/N's cheek as a genuine laugh rumbled in his chest. "Yes, this makes us a couple, if that is what you desire. There is no one in all of Easton that would make a better match for a divine visionary."

Y/N could not help but smile as they fiddled with their hands. "I-I would like that very much."

Bonus:

"Did you save some cream puffs for me?"

"Of course, I always save the perfect ones for my favorite little sibling." Y/N handed over the cream puffs to Mash as he excitedly munched on the pastries. Lemon and Finn had just entered the room, and Lemon could not help but squeal as she nudged Y/N with her elbow. "And I heard that Y/N made cream puffs with the Rayne Ames last night!!! So, did anything exciting happen?! I must know!!"

Y/N shrugged as they took a bite from their own cream puff. "Rayne taught me a new spell while I made the cream puffs. We also kissed, and now we are dating. Nothing too exciting though."

Lemon screamed with joy as she nearly fainted at the news, but it was Finn whose jaw dropped as he flailed his arms in the air. "YOU'RE DATING MY BROTHER?! AND YOU KISSED?! I did not need to know that!!" Finn dashed from the room as his face flushed with embarrassment, but Lemon wanted to hear more.

"So, do you want to go over wedding plans with me?"

Tag list: @mayurin17, @thebasicbword, @kemis-world, @sereniteav

[guppybibi]

how they react to artist!reader

✧┊ft: akaashi keiji & kōtarō bokuto

❁ཻུ۪۪♡

❥ akaashi keiji

- thinks everything that you make is an absolute masterpiece, but if you do ask him for critique prepare yourself for his blunt honesty.

- though it isn't obvious from his stoic face, he goes into overthinking mode whenever you ask him for suggestions.

- hurting someone's feelings because he said something wrong is the last thing he wants.

- if you wanted to do some sort of art challenge with him he'll happily comply. i think he'd be pretty good at arts, not the best but definitely not the worst.

- when you compare each other's works, he always lets out a laugh when he sees how much of a downgrade his work is.

“Alright, I’m done! How ‘bout you, Keiji?” You giggle, holding the canvas against your chest secretively. Snooping was for sure, not allowed! “Just a few more finishing touches.” He mumbles, painting a few more brush strokes. His eyes full of pure concentration, laser focused on the piece he was making.

After a few extra minutes of waiting for Akaashi to finish, he places the paintbrush down on the small coffee table. “Okay, on the count of 3! 1, 2, 3!” You counted down, excitedly flipping over your canvas once the count ends. Keiji follows and does the same, both of your paintings being revealed at the same time.

An amazed look comes up on your face, nodding approvingly as you look at Akaashi’s piece. “Wow Keiji! Your art is improving, I see you're following my tips!” You compliment, your eyes filled to the brim with awe. “Yes, I’ve been putting your suggestions into mind. But my work is nothing compared to yours. It's wonderful as usual and expected.” He admired, adoring your creation.

“Well, I don't really care about whose work is better right now. We spent time together, considering your busy schedule, I’m really grateful.” You spoke softly, fingers fiddling around with the bristles of a random paintbrush as a content smile made its way to your lips.

❥ kōtarō bokuto

- basically obsesses over everything you make, it can be a work in progress or a literal fail yet he still has a compliment to say about it.

- a walking ego boost for you to be honest.

- not..the best in arts. though overtime as he practices with you, he's gotten better! practice makes perfect after all. so if you want someone to draw around with, he's just one call away!

“Y/N, I’m done! I’m sure I’ve outdone myself this time yet again, I’m not only an ace in volleyball but in drawing as well!” He brags, his confidence overflowing. While you just laugh in response, still focusing on putting the finishing touches. “I’m sure it's gonna be great Boku, you've been improving recently.” You comment, at this point you were sure his head was growing bigger from the amount of compliments he was receiving..

He patiently waited for you to finish, not rushing you as he started to chat about random things. Like how Keiji won't wear the t-shirts he suggests even though he has worn equally weird t-shirts before and whatnot. You chuckle, despite being pretty stoic; Keiji was probably evenly as weird as Bokuto. Once you are satisfied with your work, you place the pen back to its designated spot. Crossing your legs as you held the sketchbook close to you, you looked up to Bokuto with a smirk.

“Ya ready?” You ask, which you immediately get a nod in reply. After a countdown, the both of you flip your sketchbooks and show each other your work. It took you a moment to realize what who Bokuto drew, it was you in a meadow. It wasn't the best piece in the world, but to you it felt like it surpassed even the Starry Night. “Woah..you're right. You did outdo yourself this time..”

“Of course! An ace like me never fails to disappoint.” He boasts proudly with a grin, throwing the sketchbook aside and pulling you in for a hug..

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Steve Harrington never thought he'd become passionate about photography, but here he was, crouching with a camera in the bushes, slowly waiting for the sun to set.

It was kind of funny - first he was a grade A douchebag in high school, then he got his girlfriend kind of rightfully stolen by Jonathan Byers, but instead of going deeper in to the asshole territory, he really tried to be better. One part of that was hanging out with Nancy and Jonathan sometimes, just drinking, joking and marvelling at how he got two good friends out of a shitty situation.

Jonathan asked him to snap a picture of him and Nancy to send to his mom when the four of them, his best friend Robin included, visited a local fair, and walked him through the very dumbed down basics - how to choose the angle, keep the picture sharp, composition, all of that.

And Steve fell in love.

He started observing Jonathan when he was working, snapping pictures for the local newspaper. And Jonathan was so patient with him, always commenting on what he was doing, even waiting for Steve to take notes.

On his next birthday, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan got him his first camera.

Finally free of his high school persona, Steve began feeling much more at ease just observing, not participating. Unlike Jonathan who found beauty in people and social interactions, Steve decided to focus on the nature.

Several years later, he was a wildlife photographer and he loved his job. He loved the challenge, the wait, the best shots and the worst ones too, with blurry curious animals nibbling on his hair or his shorts.

He was still trying to get out of his comfort zone, always challenging himself. And today, the subject of his shoot were bats, mysterious, misunderstood and absolutely cute.

Steve readied his camera at the flapping of wings. Slow. Patient. Don't rush it.

Two hours in, he was convinced that there was no more adorable thing in this world than a yawning bat. He was about to finish for the night and go home, take a hot shower, but one of the bats was making the cutest poses, almost...winking? Steve couldn't stop taking more and more shots.

He had no idea how it happened, but there was a quiet whoosh and where the bat was, suddenly a slim, pale man stood, with wild long hair and a seductive grin. Also, he was naked. Yep.

"No need to hide. If you wanted a picture, all you had to do was ask, pretty boy," the man said and approached Steve, flashing him a grin...a grin with very sharp, white canines.

Instead of something logical, like running away or fainting, Steve licked his lips and raised his camera. "Um. Consider this me asking?"

The man - Eddie, as he later introduced himself - stared at him blankly, then started laughing and Steve joined him, too loud in the quiet of the night.

In the morning, Steve found himself in a warm bed, with a memory card full of very marketable bat pictures and some private ones too, for his eyes only.

As Eddie nuzzled against his neck and the two tiny wounds there, Steve thought that yep, he definitely loved his job.

[sashi-ya]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟑 DAY 14: BONDAGE Trafalgar Law 𝘹 F! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Requested by: @valval08 ➡ Hi @sashi-ya YESSSSSS IM AO EXCITED TO KINK-TOBER!!!! If it is not already taken. Can I please request Law x Female Reader with print number 14 leather straps / bondage. Can the reader be a brat and trying to distract Law from his work as a challenge. So she will send subtle messages. Cause we all know that man needs a break lols 😂 tw: mdni. can be considered part 2 of day 12 . tied with his belts to a chair. fingered while he has a video call. spanks. oral sex. rough sex. name calling. wc: ~2k 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

That night, when the car turned into your love nest, ended with both of you absolutely tired. A lot more than before.

However, work should be done the next day. So, Law, woke up and turned on the computer. At the moment, he was taking some time off from hospital, so he only arranged videocalls to chat with patients and be able to do a follow-up on their states after cardiac surgery.

You wake up, with your body a little sore. It was easier when younger, even if you are sure Law would have left you in the same state either way.

From his room you hear him chatting with someone, and soon remember it must be one of his patients. Yet, the little giggles of such patient were making you a total mess. You get it, Law is absolutely handsome. His dark aura, how intelligent and amazing surgeon that he is, the sound of his low voice, his silver eyes and those tattoos that antagonize with the stereotypical look of a respected doctor… he is by far different. He is more than attractive…

Would it be bad to pass walking right behind him? To show the giggling patient that indeed a man that hot is already taken?

By the time you ponder how mad he could get, you are already walking by covered in his white sheets, wearing just satin shorts underneath. You act surprised when you see the camera, so do a little jump, cover your mouth with your hand, and run away -not before looking at the camera for the stupid patient to see your “do not come any closer to my man or you will perish” look.

Law opens his eyes wide, and his cheeks turn bright red. His caramel skin does very little to cover his embarrassment. And you are trying not to laugh, as you sit down in the kitchen to look at him while he -tries to- keeps working.

The sheets that were covering are now thrown over the couch, and your bare chest flashes on the corner of his eye.

You calmly open a bottle of water -it was needed- and drink calmly as you listen him ask, now a little out of himself, medical question to his patients.

In between patient and patient, who Law seems to asses quick enough to get rid of them all in less than an hour, he scolds you.

“(Name)-ya?! It wasn’t necessary! Why- why are you half naked?” he asks, as if he wasn’t hard already from the “accident” you just had with the bottle of water and the drops of cold one drizzled on your breasts.

“I didn’t know- you could have woke me up. I was thirsty, I wanted water and I could only find out at the kitchen… I’m sorry ~” you purr a fake excuse, while trying to dry the drops on your skin playing so nonchalantly with your nipples.

“I can’t fuck you right now, I still have two patients left” he grunts, crossing his long legs. It’s obvious he is dying to penetrate you right there and now.

“I wasn’t asking for it, please finish your work… I will just eat a banana for breakfast and then get into the shower. Go on...” you smirk, peeling one of the fruits over the kitchen table.

Law closes his eyes, and his dark circles intensify. His “painful” expression can be interpretated as, one; he is worried for the integrity of his dick, or two; he is hating that last patient before he could be free to fuck you rough, or ultimate the number three: option one and two together.

As he sits back down in front of his laptop and waits for the next video conference, you begin eating the banana… well, eating it’s just a bad way to explain what you were doing to that poor potassium fountain… As if he was his dick, you tempt him while enjoying your sweet breakfast.

You can see his leg anxiously bouncing under the desk, and his hand trying to stop you with desperate shaking. You, however, won’t stop. If you can turn him on to the point of not be able to do anything else but fuck you, you will. No matter what.

And by the moment he finally bids goodbye to that poor old man, whose heart has been patched up by Law several times, he closes the laptop in violent motion.

Law stands up, an aura of invisible fire surrounds him. He is mad, and horny and tired but needy.

“You little shit, come here” he grunts, grabbing you by the hand and pulling for you to stand up.

You laugh and choke with the last piece of banana, but immediately stop even breathing. Law gets his lips closer to yours, almost grazing them. And pulls you towards him, mercilessly.

“You brat, If you are that eager to choke, don’t do it now… choke with my dick instead when I’m done” he growls, softly slapping one of your breasts and then sitting you back down.

You widen your eyes. Law can be rougher; it’s just about pushing the right buttons… And while you expect for him to lower his pants down, he simply orders you to wait sitting there. You fidget your fingers, what is he doing?

A couple of minutes pass and then you see him coming from his bedroom with various belts in his hands and perverse smirk.

“Uh… Law? What are those for?” you ask, worried -not really-

“You can’t keep yourself still, therefore I need to tie you down until I’m done with my last patient” he calmly informs you, while expertly joining to belts to make a longer one.

You smile, excited. But are you sure this is gonna be a soft bondage attempt?

“Turn around, kneel on the chair” he commands, pulling from your hair to “help” you.

You gasp, you are in awe… this is a first time, even for you.

Law proceeds to lower your silky satin shorts down, enough to uncover your core. The shorts get stuck at your knees’ height, and he seems pleased with it.

“Spread your legs, now” he commands, carving his nails in the inner side of your thigs.

You do, thinking of the bruises that will appear on the sides of your legs as the arm rests engrave in your skin.

Your feet hang down, and your ankles quickly feel the cold surface of his leather belts securing them to the chair’s arm rests support.

Law then surround the chair to watch your both confused and amazed façade.

“Your hands. Pass them in between the open spaces of the splat” he orders, pulling from them to tie your wrists together with the belt.

You allow him to move and position as he pleases, as his personal doll. However, you are still confused by the fact there is yet another patient he needs to attend. Did that person cancelled the videocall? Or what is he planning to do?

“Law… wha- what about your last patient?” you ask, but he definitely stays quiet. And suddenly you sense him pulling from the chair until you are left right next to his desk.

“I told you that I had to keep you still somehow, and this, I think, is the best way. If you dare to make any sound while I’m on the videocall, I will leave you there for the rest of the day without fucking you” he informs you. Law isn’t playing, and you wonder if he has always been that kind of sadist. In any case, you are excited to see what’s next -and how to stay silent all throughout the videocall-

You nod and wait.

He sits down, moves the laptop to the side so that the camera won’t be facing you in any way, and proceeds to wait for his patient. He seems to ignore you, until his arm stretches, and his index begins to play with the wetness of your labia. Now you understand why you should keep yourself quiet.

Law seems to be unbothered while he finally starts the consultation with his patient. It is a woman, who seems to be also flirting with him. Your toes curl and imagine in pure jealousy how she might be fluttering her eyelashes to him… however, as if nothing happened, in angle that couldn’t be seen in the web cam, the one being fingered by Law was no other woman but you.

You bite your lip, trying not to moan. Your eyes shut close, praying for the outside noise cancelling microphone would cover your low whimpers when he uses the perfect beckoning motions on you.

All of a sudden, Law laughs with his patient and takes his fingers out of you. You are dying to moan louder, to mark some territory. But you remember his words… staying there all day and above all not getting fucked is enough punishment not to disobey him.

As he has stopped touching you, you keep dripping unstoppable strings of pleasure. Imagery that Law checks in quick side looks towards you. He is probably wanting to end with the meeting as soon as possible… but maybe not. Maybe leaving you needy, as you did with him, sounds better.

Your breasts are squeezed against the backrest of the chair, and with subtle up and down motions you try to reach for some pleasure by grazing them with it. But nothing seems to be enough… you really want Law’s dick inside one of your holes.

When you finally listen to the words “You are doing great, Miss Hancock. I will need you to come to my office next month. Send my salutes to your husband, Luffy” you smirk… now, the moment he closes his laptop, he will be all yours…

Or rather you, will be all his.

“Look at the mess you made, (Name)-ya…” he grunts, giving you a spank on your ass.

You flinch but moan out of pleasure. It felt unexpectedly hot to be slapped so suddenly.

“Will you fuck me now, Law ~? I kept it quiet and still…” you purr, proud of your submissive behaviour.

Law scoffs, standing right in front of you. His pants fall to the ground, and his hard dick flashes its erection close to your lips.

“Not yet, I promise you to choke first. You were hungry, weren’t you?” he smirks, grabbing you by the hair to guide your mouth to his throbbing tip.

You gag, choking as he said with his sex reaching your throat. He is punishing you with deep thrusts, using your mouth until he is satisfied with the tears running from the corner of your eyes to your cheeks.

You fight against your muscles turning weak, and you keep taking his hardness in your mouth like his good girl. Proud surgeon, he felt, to see you looking up at him while getting “orally” abused.

Satisfied with your noises and strings of saliva sprouting from the commissures of your lips, he finally lets you breath and positions at your back.

“Now, (Name)-ya… you deserve to be fucked” he moans in your ear, after bending over your back while grazing your entrance with his saliva coated dick.

“F… fuck me, please… Law… my knees…” you plead, with your knees already in pain from holding your weight, but eager to get penetrated by his extra horny self.

He carves his fingers on your left ass cheek, pulling up and to the side to spread you enough for him to go deep. He guides his sex with his free hand, and his goatee graces your nape. “Get ready to be wrecked. You played too much with me, and I’m specially hard in the mornings”

You tremble, his voice right in your ear… his scent, the weight of his body on yours, how open you are, the tip slipping inside…

“Fuck, Law!!” you whine louder than ever, and now that he is inside you his hand lands on your mouth. Slipping his thumb on your mouth as he starts to pound, violently, hard, mercilessly…

“Be a good girl and take it well… I hope this is what you were looking for…” “I… it… is even better, Law ~”

taglist: @stephisokay @henrioo @shuzuiikoii @bullbonez @fengxinwifutobecalled @i-started-reading-fanfics-at12 @crimsonlikeshellsing @weebare808 @thestarwasborn @bookandyarndragon @cyberdazetragedy @uzxotic @fushiguroshotwife 💖🙆‍♀️

[holdmymallowsweet]

What are you doing here? 04

Ominis Gaunt x f!MC Word count: 5584, properly tagged on AO3

Chapter summary: The promised second meeting at the library never happened. But something else would.

a/n: I’m sorry this is out later than I’d said it would be, but I’ve been struggling with this chapter for what feels like an eternity. That said, I think I’ve managed to finally write it in a way that feels right to me, I hope it does for you too. And many thanks to everyone who’s been waiting patiently and left me sweet, encouraging comments, it really means a lot to me!

Warnings: this is the scriptorium chapter, so there’s torture, panic attacks and just a lot of angst in general

Chapter 03 || Masterlist || Chapter 05 (coming soon)

Chapter 04 - From out the dark door

“I can’t agree, and I’ll not say a word more. I’m sorry.” Ominis left the great Hall before Sebastian could finish his answer. He was tired of arguing, and this was not something he liked to discuss just out of earshot of their classmates having lunch.

They didn’t have any more classes today, but he still decided to head back to the Defence Against the Dark Arts tower. He loved Sebastian like a brother, but right now, he cursed having no place to go to get away from him.

They shared a common room and dormitory, the Undercroft felt more like Sebastian’s secret hideout than his own lately, and the only place Ominis cared to call home- other than Hogwarts- was Sebastian’s bloody house.

Finding a place to be that didn’t allow Sebastian to corner him and inquire about the scriptorium again was becoming a challenge, and so far the best solution he’d come up with was to hide in plain sight- of curious onlookers, that was, because for all his faults, at least Sebastian cared about being secretive.

If he’d been an impartial observer, he might have found it funny, in the saddest way possible.

Ominis had been so annoyed with Sebastian’s odd fascination with the new fifth year, and now that he’d finally given in and admitted to himself that he could understand the appeal, and even made a first tentative step towards some sort of friendship, the damned scriptorium had replaced her as the topic that inevitably came up whenever they had a conversation, threatening to rip his and Sebastian’s friendship apart at the seams. 

Was that it? Had he been granted four years of borrowed happiness, which he’d now have to return like a stack of overdue books from the library? A brief respite, rather than a release, and after losing Anne, Sebastian and eventually Hogwarts, he’d find himself standing in his room at Gaunt Manor again, the house elves and the screams his only company. If he was lucky.

Perhaps this was a form of divine punishment. For thinking he could pretend to lead an ordinary life, for hoping he could leave what had happened at his family’s home there.

It was a relief to feel the cold autumn air on his face as he pushed the doors of the entrance hall open. A soft breeze brought the smell of the lake and pumpkins with it, and he inhaled deeply, as if it was his last breath on earth. 

Ominis loved the time around Halloween, or at least he used to, as the stabbing pain in his heart reminded him. He’d spent this time last year with a healthy Anne and a cheerful Sebastian whom he could actually stand to be around. Who wouldn’t constantly pester him about his family’s secrets, bringing back fears he had previously locked away. If only he could throw away the key.

The walk in the fresh air unfortunately gave him plenty of time to cast his mind back to the circumstances leading up to their most recent argument. 

“Have you ever read anything about a ‘scriptorium’? A secret study of Salazar Slytherin’s?”

If his father’s letter hadn’t mentioned it in the same sentence as Noctua’s name, he wouldn’t have asked. He’d been thinking with his heart, not his mind. And if he could have guessed the effect this simple question had on Sebastian, he would have let it go up in flames, along with the letter.

The second it had slipped out, it had taken root in Sebastians mind, growing into an obsession, and that’s when the constant nagging and questioning had begun.

“A ‘scriptorium’? Do you know where it is? Any idea what could be in there?”

“I know it might be full of dark magic, but Anne was cursed by dark magic, so we might find out what happened to her and reverse it.”

“If it looks dangerous, we could just leave. If it’s protected by powerful dark magic, or something else, we might not even get in there but we should at least try. Don’t you want to help Anne?”

“Do you think I can’t be responsible with what we might find? Don’t you trust me? Is that it?”

Ominis wouldn’t budge. Of course he wanted to help Anne. Of course he trusted Sebastian, or at least he thought he did. But the more Sebastian pushed for it, the more Ominis recoiled from the very idea. 

Sebastian didn’t know what they were like, not really. 

The Slytherins. The Gaunts.

Sebastian didn’t have to grow up with them, hadn’t experienced how cruel and entitled they were, how convinced it was their birthright to mistreat and abuse anyone they perceived to be beneath them because in their inbred minds, their ancestry made them inherently superior.

But Ominis knew. He’d heard it countless times from their own mouths and from the portraits of his ancestors that lined the walls of his family home, how their views of blood purity and status were passed down by generations of like minded fanatics like grotesque heirlooms, originating from Salazar Slytherin himself.

And he shuddered to think what else they might have in common, a complete disregard for any and all kindness and compassion, a proclivity for casual cruelty, revelling in violence, even towards their own flesh and blood-

His chest tightened uncomfortably at the thought. He’d felt it, until it was etched into his very bones, and it was his duty to protect Sebastian from it.

If those traits originated from Salazar Slytherin as well, there was no telling what might lie in wait for them, what price they’d have to pay for the dubious honour of gaining access to his ancestors' secrets. He was not likely to experience Slytherin’s hospitality merely because he was a descendant- only one in his family had ever thought differently, but he couldn’t bring himself to hope she was right.

Ominis shuddered and took another deep breath. If he kept dwelling on it, he knew what he would hear at night, after he fell asleep.

As much as he’d appreciated the fresh air just a few moments ago, he was glad to enter the warmth of the Defence tower. Perhaps wandering around a bit, listening to the others' idle chit chat and the soothing sounds of the string quartet would help take his mind of Sebastian and the blasted scriptorium- and perhaps he secretly hoped he’d recognise the footsteps of a certain new classmate that occupied many of his thoughts lately.

Perhaps he’d compliment her on her latest performance in Crossed Wands and get a small laugh or a “thank you” in return, and if she wasn’t too busy, she might even stop for a brief conversation.

And perhaps then he might have some nice dreams tonight after all.

She hadn’t come to the Defence Against the Dark Arts tower that day.

In hindsight, Ominis wasn’t sure what he’d expected, considering they hadn’t had a real conversation since that day in the library. It had been only a few days later when Sebastian had started to press the matter of the scriptorium, and now that he was avoiding his best friend it felt wrong to reach out to her instead. After all, wanting to repair his friendship with Sebastian was the only reason he’d wanted to get to know her in the first place.

As for her, she was as busy as ever, always running around, being everyone’s favourite errant girl, trying to keep up with her schoolwork on top of everything else she was up to. It was hard to imagine she’d somehow long for his company.

Merlin, if he were told she simply had no time for him, he’d believe it in a heartbeat. And why should she try to squeeze him into her already absurdly packed schedule? To her, Ominis was at best a friend of a friend. And perhaps soon not even that, if Sebastian didn’t change his tune.

And so the promised second attempt at a study session had been quietly forgotten, postponed indefinitely.

Perhaps it was for the best.

Between Anne not getting better and Sebastian’s constant nagging about the Scriptorium, not to mention his friend coming back from his latest visit to Feldcroft in a very strange and secretive mood, it had been easier to be by himself. It gave him time to sort out his thoughts and feelings, without the added stress and worries a new friendship would bring. 

Especially with her. 

And their last meeting had more or less accomplished what he’d wanted- they’d established that there was no animosity between them, that they could engage in polite conversation if need be.

Or perhaps that was what he wanted to believe, because it made the loneliness easier to bear.

Ominis was sitting in the Slytherin common room, the evening of the day after their argument in the great hall, and if Sebastian wouldn’t be standing there, asking about the scriptorium yet again, he would have been working on the essay about common uses for the Edurus potion Professor Sharp was expecting them to hand in tomorrow.

“You don’t have to come with me. Just tell me where the entrance is, I’ll figure everything else out by myself. Please, Ominis, for Anne.”

The desperation in his voice made listening almost unbearable.

“The answer is still no, Sebastian. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. We talked about this earlier today, and yesterday, and the day before- I’m tired of trying to reason with you. I’m tired of everything.” Ominis responded, pleading, knowing that his expression and the way he held his head in his hands gave away just how much Sebastian was wearing him down. 

And of course, ever the opportunist, Sebastian didn’t miss his chance to strike. “Then tell me- just tell me and I’ll leave you alone,” Sebastian urged him.

“Sebastian-”

“I told you, I won’t give up.”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, leave it be,” Ominis hissed angrily. He stood up, not caring that he tipped over his inkwell in the process, ruining his half-finished homework.

Sebastian was left behind as Ominis fled the common room, calling his name and no doubt vexed at his supposed best friend’s reaction, but Ominis didn’t have it in him to care. The only thing he cared about at the moment was to get away, to find some respite and peace and not feel like he was suffocating. 

He hurried through the corridors, not paying attention to where he went beyond making sure not to run into anything or anyone. His tired headache, gratefully dormant since the library, reared its ugly head again. Perhaps someday, it would be his permanent companion. Perhaps his only one.

Finally he stopped, pocketed his wand and took a deep breath. Pacing had always been his favourite way to clear his mind. 

Listening to the sound of his steps on the floor, reverberating through the empty passage, the dulled distant chatter of the other students, it did wonders to calm him down.

Breathing in the cool air of the dungeons, he could faintly make out the smell of Black Lake, even through the thick stone, although that might have been his imagination.

Ominis didn’t know how much time had passed when he distantly heard a second pair of footsteps keep his own company. Only they were faster, not hurried, but excited, eager. And familiar.

“What are you doing here?” he asked wearily.  

“Hello, Ominis. Do you have a moment?” she asked, her voice playful and melodic, as usual.

Ominis wasn’t sure if he should be glad or angry that she’d approached him now, and here, of all places. More importantly, he didn’t know why. He would have liked to hope that she’d make for a welcome distraction, but then again- “What is it? What have you and Sebastian been up to now?”

“I owe you an apology, Ominis. I wasn’t honest with you before about the Undercroft. Sebastian did show it to me.”

Oh. 

In truth, he had long since ceased to care, because he’d finally realised that she’d never been the problem to begin with. It had been Sebastian who had changed, slowly at first, but perceptibly and her being there or not wouldn’t have made any difference.

They hadn’t even spent as much time together as Ominis had first thought, although that made their apparent closeness even stranger.

“He wanted me to have a safe place to practise some spells – to try and catch up to the other fifth-years. He didn’t think you’d mind.”

Genuinely apologetic, with a sweetness in her voice, one he heard before, but never when she’d spoken to him. Did she think this was why he’d kept his distance, why he’d not been more openly friendly towards her, even after their little chat in the library? Because he was the one waiting for an apology?

Well, at least it had finally come up, he might as well lay it to rest. And it wouldn’t be right to still let her think she’d wronged him somehow, when he himself had long let go of that particular grudge.

Ominis sighed. “I suppose that makes sense. It’s just – Sebastian’s been pestering me lately about something and I’m frustrated with him.”

“Don’t tell me he’s still going on about – what was it – a ‘scriptorium’?”

“Dark, ominous corridors. My favourite.”

Ominis groaned. “No comment.”

“Come on, that was a good one.”

Somewhere behind them, she laughed. At least she was having fun.

The moment she’d mentioned the scriptorium, he’d known she hadn’t really sought him out to apologise about the Undercroft, and it hadn’t been hard to guess what she- or rather, Sebastian- had hoped to get out of the conversation instead. 

And yet, he’d agreed to it in the end. He wasn’t stupid, he knew how she’d done it.

“You don’t know that history will repeat itself. Besides, you said your aunt thought like you. This could honour her memory- get you answers about Slytherin, and Sebastian answers for Anne. Your aunt pursued this alone. We could do it together.”

It seemed he was entirely unable to think clearly as soon as Aunt Noctua entered the equation.

He hoped she was right. He wanted to believe her, desperately. But whatever they’d find, whatever was waiting for them- he was still convinced it couldn’t be anything good. The sort of help Anne wouldn’t want, or worse.

If he was honest with himself, he’d rather they found nothing at all. A room with an empty desk and books too old and mouldy to still be legible.

… But at least it would be over. Sebastian’s curiosity would finally be satisfied, perhaps they could go back to how they were before. Perhaps he could find out what happened to Aunt Noctua, traces of it, at least.

Did he really want to?

The creeping sense of dread he’d felt since the stone entryway let them in intensified. He’d hoped it would be a fleeting sensation, but it seemed to spread, starting at his neck and slowly shrouding his entire body. He tried to take deep, calming breaths, but the stale and ancient air made it worse. Now he could feel it on the inside. 

Her footsteps behind him drew nearer, he felt her brush ever so slightly against his arm as she walked past. It was a small comfort. She was the one everyone turned to, the one who got things done. And given Sebastian’s fondness for her, her presence might keep him from doing anything too foolish or reckless, perhaps. 

They found themselves in a corridor, pieces of stone and rubble scraping along the edges of his shoes as he carefully walked through, and he wondered if the ceiling or the wall had broken down over time, or what it was that scurried almost inaudibly along the floor-

Rats, probably.

“Looks like a locked door. We may want to look around,” Sebastian announced.

Of course, she was the first to find anything.

“A journal entry. Signed by Noctua Gaunt.” 

He’d known. He’d known she’d been here, he’d hoped they’d find traces of her, but he hadn’t anticipated the rush of emotions, the dread and the sorrow and the relief that came with it.

“Gaunt? Ominis- your family was here,” Sebastian said excitedly.

“I know. She was my aunt.” It wasn’t enough to convey how much she meant to him- he wanted Sebastian and her to know, but speaking of her in the past tense brought more grief with it than he was willing to deal with right now.

“You knew? And didn’t tell me?” 

Ominis ignored the accusation- he’d ignored Sebastian a lot lately. When had it started? With the scriptorium, or before? And more importantly, why didn’t he feel as guilty about it as he should?

“Ominis- the journal mentions many challenges ahead,” she chimed in, saving him from owing Sebastian an answer.

Ominis frowned. “That’s why I said this could be dangerous. Aunt Noctua kept my father informed until she vanished.”

He held onto his wand, trying to sense what he could while leaving the search for clues up to the two of them. Hands kept tightly to himself, fighting against the instinct to run them over the locked door. 

Thoughtlessly touching, feeling around places and objects associated with Dark Magic was a good way to lose a hand or worse. It was a lesson he’d been taught early in life, the reason he’d always been banned from entering his father’s study, why he’d scarcely been allowed to wander around the house without one of the House Elves keeping an eye on him.

He knew he wouldn’t be of much use, staying out of their way was the best help he could offer. So he waited for them, patiently, the massive doorway looming behind him. ‘Ominously’, as Sebastian would put it. The corners of his mouth twitched. In spite of their circumstances, he almost made himself laugh.

It lasted right until they’d repaired the relief on the wall.

“Speak to me”

For a second, he thought he’d imagined it. He wanted to.

“The rubble formed a relief of a person facing a snake,” Sebastian said.

Ominis knew it was for his benefit, a habit Sebastian developed sometime during their years of friendship. It should feel comforting that he maintained it even now, it should-

“Speak to me”

-but the voice kept every other emotion away. Every one except fear. 

“That must be the voice I hear.” He’d answered without thinking.

It felt as if someone had cast a freezing charm on his spine. Laced with malice, demanding and yet so cold and languid, the parseltongue whispers seemed to slither right under his skin, seeping into the memories within.

He’d already heard too much of it, enough to last him a lifetime and more. Naturally, being ever so proud of their special ‘gift’, the Gaunts hardly ever bothered to speak in English when they were amongst themselves, unless it was to address the House Elf.

“Speak to me”

“You hear a voice?” she asked cautiously, stepping closer.

He had the sudden urge to take a step back in turn, to put more distance between them. Her proximity suddenly made him feel uneasy. “It started when you repaired that relief. I hear a whisper saying ‘speak to me’.”

The uneasy feeling intensified, and he finally noticed what it was.

Fear of rejection, again. Fear that she would look at him differently, just as he had started to open up to her. Parseltongue sounded eerie, inhuman. It wasn’t how he wanted her to think of him.

Aunt Noctua had urged him to be cautious about showing it off; it had lost her a friendship, once. He knew his brother made use of it to intimidate the muggleborns. He remembered the vivid, gleeful descriptions of the fear in their eyes, even if he could never quite grasp what it meant.

Sebastian and Anne were kind enough when he told them. 

“It’s all right, don’t worry about it” 

“Of course that doesn’t mean you’re bad”

They’re his friends, what else were they going to say? He’d never spoken it in front of them, even when they’d asked.

“Speak to me”

But it was too late to turn around now. Sebastian wouldn’t agree to leave because Ominis was afraid the girl in front of him would recoil in horror once he started hissing.

“I’m a Parselmouth.” His voice cracked slightly from nerves. “I can hear and speak to snakes. Nearly all known Parselmouths are descended from Salazar Slytherin.”

“I wish I could talk to snakes,” she said excitedly.

Oh, that was sweet of her to say. Thoughtless, but sweet.

“You might not want the ability to speak Parseltongue. It’s often associated with Dark wizards. I haven’t spoken it in ages, but I’d wager if I speak it now, the door will open.” Ominis paused. “I’m hoping you’re having second thoughts.”

“Speak to me”

“Believe me, I am having thoughts-”

He didn’t.

“-but I’m still convinced we should go ahead,” she said, perhaps slightly apprehensive, but still confident.

“It’s ironic. When I left home, I vowed to leave the Dark Arts behind, and yet, here I am. Stand back.” He swallowed, but it didn’t get rid of the lump in his throat. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” 

Once he’d hoped that if only he stopped speaking Parseltongue, it would eventually make him lose the ability entirely. But as if to taunt him, the magical language flowed through his lips as naturally as breathing. 

“I’m speaking to you,”  Ominis hissed impassively. He’d never be rid of it.

It likely didn’t matter what he said, as long as it was in Parseltongue and therefore proved his descent from the Hogwarts founder. And he’d rather bite his own tongue off than make any sort of grand, pompous statement.

The metallic, slithering noises coming from the door's locking mechanism proved him right. 

“It worked! Ominis, you have a rare ability indeed.” There was something in her breathy, melodic voice bordering on reverence, and it rendered him speechless for a moment. He wasn’t sure how to reply- 

Thank you?

You’re certain you don’t mind?

“Between the two of you, I’m starting to feel left out,” Sebastian chimed in, trying his best to sound light-hearted, but there was an unmistakable tinge of jealousy in his remark.

“Between the two of us?”

“I- nevermind.”

…Sebastian felt left out, why, because she’d offered him a compliment? A few weeks ago in the Undercroft, he’d told Ominis he wanted the three of them to be friends, but now that they were actually getting along, he was jealous?

So much for ‘You know it’s not like that’.

Ominis tried not to let it get to him, as they continued their way through the maze-like corridors. The two of them eagerly figured out how to proceed, she was the one fiddling with the contraptions that opened the gates, letting them find their way deeper into the entrails beneath the castle.

Bizarrely, it felt easier to breathe now. Once this was over, could it always be like this? The three of them together, with no more secrecy and lies in between?

“Another dial solved!” she announced proudly.

In spite of himself, his face softened. “Nice work.” 

She didn’t answer, but he could have sworn she had a spring in her step when she hurried towards the next gate. She found more notes from his aunt, summarising each one instead of reading them aloud in their entirety.

It should have annoyed him, but in a way, he was thankful. Noctua’s last thoughts and feelings, as much as he didn’t mind the two of them knowing, he wanted to read them by himself. Somewhere he wouldn’t feel embarrassed if they made him cry.

He’d ask her for the notes later, once they were done here. Surely she would understand.

More puzzles, more notes, more of Sebastian’s lighthearted quips that felt so wrong and yet so reassuring in these sinister depths.

Another gate, and his heart beat faster, his hand felt clammy around his wand. Next to him, he heard her steady breaths. The faint smell of blood from when she hadn’t been quick enough with one of the dials still hung in the air. Ominis knew they must be getting close now.

Sebastian was the one who confirmed it. “I spotted something ahead. Looks troubling.” 

“This whole place is troubling, but for my aunt’s sake, we cannot stop now.” 

His words would still haunt him hours later.

“You and Sebastian will need to sort out another solution.” He expected her to shout at him, to cry like he wanted to, begging him to reconsider.

They both knew there was no other solution.

But he couldn’t do it, even if he wanted to- no, that’s where the issue lay, he could never bring himself to want it again. 

There was no shouting, no begging as she walked back to Sebastian. Perhaps she hadn’t yet realised what his refusal meant for her.

And for their budding friendship as well. Minutes ago, he’d thought perhaps it might be going somewhere. The only place it would go now was an executioner’s block, because it would be beyond foolish to believe she’d ever forgive him for this.

He gripped his wand so tightly, his fingers started to become numb.

It was all his fault. Regardless of how much the two of them wanted to go there, how determined they’d been, they couldn’t possibly have known what to expect.

Not Sebastian, whose experience with curses extended to reading about them in the safety and comfort of the library or the common room. Maybe he’d tried some of them on the dummies in the Undercroft, but that was not the same as experiencing the effects they had on living, breathing humans.

And certainly not her.

Ominis should have known better, he shouldn’t have let himself be swept away by their enthusiasm, by her sweet, reassuring words. It was his fault. He should have known better.

The worst part was, he’d gotten what he came for.

He found Noctua. 

A pile of cold, dead bones on the ground. Ominis wanted to cry, to scream. He wanted to cradle her remains in his arms, tell her how sorry he was, beg her for forgiveness, because if she hadn’t loved him, she would be alive. He’d long known that she was dead, otherwise she would have come back for him- and he could almost feel her, the ghost of her touch as she sweetly ran her fingers through his hair to comfort him.

The fear made it impossible to form a clear thought.

Aunt Noctua was dead, and he and two of the only living humans he cared about might soon share her fate. How would Anne cope if Sebastian never came back? And their uncle Solomon?

What would Professor Fig think if she suddenly vanished? He’d mocked her for it when he found her leaving the Undercroft, but he knew there was a genuine, tender friendship between them. If anything happened to her, it would break the man’s heart. And what about all the new friends she’d made? Her roommates, in their Hufflepuff dormitory, when would they worry about her empty bed?

Sebastian’s voice broke through the fog in his brain. “I can teach you crucio, or I can cast it on you.”

Ominis wasn’t even surprised. He’d known what kind of books Sebastian usually stole from the restricted section, but it had been easy, comfortable to pretend he didn’t.  

But she wasn’t supposed to be involved in this. Regardless of the decision she’d make, something innocent inside her would die. And it would all be his fault.

“I want to learn the curse, but I won’t cast it on you. You need to cast it on me.”

Of course, facing two horrible choices, she somehow managed to find the worst possible combination of both of them.

He turned away. He knew there was nothing he could do to block out the sounds, even if he crawled into the furthest corner away from them. And he’d lost every right to speak up when he sent her away. 

“Crucio”

He flinched, even knowing the curse wasn’t aimed at him. All the air suddenly left the room, he couldn’t breathe, he tried but his lungs wouldn’t work. He felt faint.

She fell- why in Merlin’s name hadn’t she sat down, she’d known what was going to happen, what if she hit her head, why hadn’t Sebastian said something-

Gasping for breath, convulsing under the curse that made her feel as if everything inside her was trying to be on the outside, splitting her open everywhere, all at once.

The ground seemed to come closer, and yet he was somehow still standing upright, his insides twisting, writhing, he was going to be sick.

“Well done, my dear. I am proud of you.”

It was his mother’s voice, and for a horrible moment, he thought he was still there, the years since nothing but an illusion his mind had come up with in an instant to distract himself, screams that sounded like they couldn’t possibly come from a human throat filling his ears, mirroring his own.

Sebastian said something- he couldn’t hear what, and suddenly, it was over.  

Ominis opened his mouth, but all that came out was a strangled sob. Then he suddenly noticed his cheeks were wet. Pain shot from his fingers through his hand still holding his wand, and he forced himself to relax his grip. “Are you all right?” He finally managed to squeeze out, in a voice he hardly recognised as his own. 

The next moment he cursed himself, because of course she wasn’t, and he should know better than anyone.

“The pain- it was excruciating, but I’ll survive. Let’s keep moving.”

Lying again. But he knew it was for Sebastian’s benefit, so he said nothing.

Ominis made himself move, made his hands come up and wipe away the tears, made his legs carry him through the doorway. When he walked past Noctua’s remains, something inside of him broke. 

“We made it. We found Salazar Slytherin’s scriptorium,” Sebastian said, without a hint of remorse.

This was where she should break down, stop putting on a brave face, make Sebastian realise what he’d done.

But of course she didn’t, she went ahead, crossed the room. Announced she found a book. Every step she took made his heart sink further. They didn’t sound like they usually would, her footsteps. Neither did her voice. She did her best not to show it, but he knew she felt miserable. 

 “You two go ahead, let me know what’s in it. I’ll wander around a bit.” They were empty words, more an excuse to give them space than anything. He didn’t trust himself to touch a single thing in there, even accidentally, lest Salazar’s madness seeped into him through his fingertips, afflicting him like every other living Gaunt.

…but it was already there, wasn’t it? Sleeping, dormant. He’d done it again, letting his Slytherin sense of self-preservation take over and made another suffer, so that he’d remain unharmed and his hands clean. Not that they were to begin with.

The two of them stood upstairs, talking. How she had the strength, he couldn’t fathom. He couldn’t hear them clearly either, his head felt as if it was wrapped in cotton. Something about the book. Sebastian seemed satisfied enough. 

Ominis slowly followed them up the stairs. He couldn’t stand being there anymore, the room itself seemed to crawl under his skin, ready to embed itself into his flesh and stay there forever.

And she still hadn’t spoken to him, face to face.

“I’ve been getting an uneasy feeling about this place. We shouldn’t linger here. Let’s find a way out, please.” He hated how broken his voice sounded, he had no right to be this pitiful, when he was the one left unscathed.

Sebastian’s answer made Ominis want to wring his neck. “I don’t want to leave, but I owe you- both of you. Without both of you, we’d never have made it this far.” No remorse. None.

Stay here, then.

“We were lucky-” No, don’t say that, she can hear you- “We could have died. We must swear never to do this again.” Ominis wished she would say something, agree or shout back, he wished either of them would. 

“I see a way out.”

“Best news I heard all day.”

She was the first one to leave, and Ominis let Sebastian follow her through the passage that spewed them out right in front of their common room. 

She still didn’t say anything, and he couldn’t bring himself to ask how she was feeling, or apologise. He’d never before heard an ounce of contempt in her voice, but he surely would now, if she answered him. 

“Ominis, about your aunt-” Sebastian started.

“Please, Sebastian.” Not now. “I meant what I said before. We swear right now never to engage in anything to do with Dark Magic again.”

“Understood.I’m truly sorry about your aunt, Ominis,” Sebastian said, almost too quickly.

“I suppose after all this, I am grateful to know what happened to her. Thank you.”

The silence stretched. Surely, now she’d be saying something, anything, if not to him, then to Sebastian. 

She left without a word, and along with her footsteps, he could hear the promise of something important disappear.

a/n: So this chapter had all the hurt, the next one has the comfort (and yes, those two were also originally one chapter that was getting monstrous in length, so I split it again), let me know if I overdid it with the angst.  There was once a lot I wanted to put in the a/n for this chapter, but now I’m just exhausted and glad it’s done, I was struggling a lot with this one and I honestly don't think it's the best. So let me just say, I’m 100% convinced Ominis would blame himself for what happened, he was the only one who had any actual experience with the dark arts and what his family is capable of, he went in there completely willingly and he still thinks he’s a horrible person for what he had to do as a child, even though I’m sure we all agree that he shouldn’t. As for Sebastian and Mc, I actually have no problem at all with how the crucio scene went down, to me it’s a classic case of dumb teenagers doing a thoughtless, reckless thing and being in denial about it immediately afterwards, until it comes back to haunt them once they’re alone with their thoughts for a bit, so that’s gonna be the next chapter (and I promise you won’t have to wait as long for that one, it’s already halfway done)

[backtothefanfiction]

tasm!Peter x Nurse Reader

You cannot tell me post everything with Gwen when he felt able to date again (when May talks him into it), that Peter Parker wouldn’t end up with a nurse. Someone who knows the pressures of saving lives. Able to patch him up when his wounds are a little too deep and gonna take longer to heal. Someone who also works late nights so wouldn’t be bothered if he was out late on patrol…

Imagine this…

It’s Christmas a couple years after the incident. After completing her training Aunt May now puts in shifts at the hospital. She’s gone out with a few other Nurses for Christmas drinks. Peter comes to collect her as it’s late. That is when he gets introduced to you.

You are politely waiting with May until her Nephew turns up so you have your own peace of mind she will get home safe. From the way she talks about him when you work the ward together, you are expecting some nerdy guy who couldn’t get out of his parents basement, not… well, Peter.

You make polite introductions, May introducing you to each other. “Y/N this is my nephew Peter, Peter this is Y/N they work on the ward with me.”

Peter is enamoured by you immediately. Not only does he find you attractive but you also care for his Aunt and he assumes you provide the same care for your patients.

You part ways, but that won’t be the last time you see each other.

Peter keeps an eye out for you now, whenever he goes to meet May from work. You exchange small talk. He realises you work the late shift often, meaning you’re only just starting as his Aunt is finishing.

He starts spending his nights thinking of you working at the same time he is. Wonders if you’ve ever had to patch up any of the guys he’s ended up sending to the hospital over the years.

It doesn’t take May long to recognise that Peter likes you. “Ask her out already?” “What no?”

He ends up running back inside the hospital to ask you out.

You end up having a coffee date and a walk around Central Park. Conversation is easy and Peter is starting to think Gwen may have sent you to him from the great beyond because all of this felt so easy, it had to be fate.

You’ve been dating a couple months when he shows up on your doorstep with a massive gash in the side of his arm. He’d managed to get caught around a metal cable and the wound was too deep for him to heal without a little help but he knew he couldn’t just walk into the nearest hospital.

You patched him up, minimal questions asked, until you woke up next to him the following morning and his arm was almost healed. He had to come clean.

You were accepting at first. You had always admired Spider-Man and how he helped the people of the city. Protected them from the big bads and the little ones. But when Peter starts getting too comfortable around you and showing up with one too many careless injuries you start to become more and more guarded.

You find yourself checking the news app on your phone way too often. You walk into patients rooms when the news is on to watch and make sure he’s being safe.

When he comes home with 3 bullet wounds for you to patch up, one of the bullets still in his body, you realise enough is enough. “I can’t do this any more Peter.” It’s the hardest things you’ve had to do. You promise to keep his secret but dating him is too hard and for your own sanity you need to go your separate ways.

Peter reluctantly agrees to your wishes but it kills him inside. He realises he got to comfortable. Too attached to this idea you were his angel sent by Gwen that you’d put up with anything and always be there. When you’re not, Peter struggles.

He goes out looking for more fights to punish himself. Looking for bigger bads to battle hoping the victories and admiration from the crowds will fill the void inside him.

That is until he comes up against the biggest bad and his most challenging fight yet. And somehow there you are. As if by magic. As if you really are sent by Gwen, placed in the right place at the right time.

He’s so broken, on the verge of death. The bad guy got away while he lay broken in the street. Crowds gather around him. Their beloved Spider-Man is bleeding out and practically dying on the street in front of them and they have no idea what to do.

You had seen everything. It was awful. All you could do was watch on helplessly as if Peter was a dogs play thing. The man, or was it a creature, picked him up like he weighed nothing and threw his body down the street. The roof of a car caved in with the force of it as he landed on top of it, the windows crushed with the force.

Peter had managed to roll himself off the car but he staggered and stumbled, his arm wrapped protectively around his side as he stumbled down a side street. You saw the crowd begin to gather around him as you raced down the street to get to him.

You pushed your way through bodies to get to his unconscious body. You give him a quick check over as you fall to your knees. “Give them some space” you hear someone call out, ushering the crowd back a bit as you realise you’re gonna need to do CPR. You begin doing chest compressions, your hands folding over the spider emblem now torn across his chest. “Come on Pete.” You mumble as you push down, your head counting out the beats on autopilot as your training took over. You lift his mask just enough to reveal his mouth and nose as you begin to give him mouth to mouth. You don’t even know how long you keep doing that, back and forth between the two when he suddenly takes a deep breath in.

The crowd cheers around you but you are only focused on one another. And just like that it’s like the last few weeks of your break up never happened.

After resting in your bed a couple days, Peter is better equipped and healed enough to finish what he started. After that he promises to stick solely to friendly neighbourhood stuff as much as possible. And he’s good to his word for the most part.

You fall into a good routine together. When you work nights, he goes on patrol. On your nights off, you both stay in watching movies in your small apartment whilst eating ice cream and pizza.

A year later Peter is asking for Aunt May’s ring to ask you to marry him. It’s a simple engagement story. He swung you both up to the top of the Empire State Building and did the Spider-Man equivalent of getting down on one knee. He slowly lowered himself down upside down with the ring in hand before you. He’d barely gotten the words out before you were crying and shouting “Yes, Yes, YES!”

[mochegato]

Whiplash

Roy surveyed the bar before making his way in.  It had a good size crowd, active but not boisterous, amiable but not overly friendly.  Definitely the kind of place he could drink in without having to worry about getting pulled into an unwelcome conversation, or a fight.  More importantly, there was an open spot at the bar… next to a beautiful woman.

He moved to take the spot quickly before anyone else realized their mistake at not taking it and ordered a drink.  Again, the universe seemed to have blessed him because the bartender hadn’t been paying attention and had set his drink down so close to the woman’s drink it was almost touching hers.  He waited a beat then reached for his drink at the same time as the woman, which he may or may not have been, but totally was, intentional.  She yanked her hand back like she was afraid he’d snap at her.  “Sorry.”

He shot her his most charming, winning smile.  “No, it’s completely my fault.  I should have been watching where I was reaching.”  He took a sip of his drink to give her a chance to do the same or turn away if she had absolutely no interest, he couldn’t be the only one who had hoped to avoid conversation that night.  He had changed his mind as soon as he saw her, but that didn’t mean she had.

When she continued to smile in his direction, he took it as an invitation to continue.  “My name is Roy,” he started, leaving a lull for her to fill in.

Instead, she hummed and held her drink up to toast him.  “Roy, what a beautiful name.”

He snorted.  Not the response he was expecting, but he had always appreciated a bit of snark.  “Right.  Something I hear all the time.  How beautiful and completely not red neck my name is.”

She smirked at him but quickly schooled her expression into faux seriousness.  “That’s good to hear.  You should hear it often.  Everyone should be told they’re special.”

“I would love to say that about your name,” he coaxed gently.

She shrugged; her eyes darted away as she took another sip.  “I’ve heard it before.  I don’t need to hear it again.  I’d rather hear about something I control, that I did.”

He nodded, pulling back slightly.  That was a feeling he could understand.  He wasn’t a fan of false flattery either… okay, maybe he was a fan of it from women he wanted to hook up with, but not from people he wanted a real relationship with and clearly, this woman wasn’t interested in sycophancy.  “That’s fair.” So, tell me what it is that you do.”

She snorted and raised a disbelieving eyebrow.  “Really?”

“Absolutely,” he nodded confidently.  He turned toward her to prove she had his full attention and waited patiently until she responded.

She looked him over appraisingly, like she wasn’t quite sure if he was worth the distraction from her drink.  “You first.”

Her voice held a hint of challenge that Roy simply could not back down from.  Well, he could, but where would the fun be in that.  “I’m a CIA agent,” he announced dramatically.

She rolled her eyes but then leaned closer.  “Ooohhh, an overt agent.”

He grinned and waved his hand dismissively while he took another sip.  “Secret agents are so Cold War.”

“Tore down the walls and the secrets,” she hummed.

His smile widened impossibly broader and clinked his glass to hers.  “Exactly!  How about you.  What do you do?”

She narrowed her eyes as she thought how to respond, but her lips quirked up in amusement and he knew she wouldn’t refuse.  “Create art,” she finally answered.  Roy nodded as he took in her response.  Again, not the response he’d been expecting.  He’d been expecting something snarky, but he couldn’t be upset about the honesty.  He started to respond but she continued before he could get a sound out.  “… and chaos.  More chaos than art if I’m being honest.”

He barked out a laugh and watched as she tipped her glass up to finish the last of her drink, her lips still quirked up, evidence that she was entirely too entertained with herself, which just made him want to draw her out more.  But when she turned back to face him, he could see it on her face, that she was going to end their time together.  He wasn’t willing to let her do that though.  Not yet.  Talking with her was the most fun he’d had in quite a while, and he really wanted to continue it.  “Let me buy you a drink.”

She eyed him amusedly then hummed and leaned back in her chair, eyes darting away an almost guilty look flashing across her face.  “I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Why not?” he asked.  His voice was kept intentionally light, non-accusatory, non-demanding.  He was having fun and he wanted to keep having fun not pressure her.

She kept her eyes on her glass as she responded, but her body continued to face him.  “Might give you the wrong idea.”

“Oh?  What idea is that?”  Again, his tone teasing and light.

She continued to watch the glass in her hand as if it might answer the question for her.  When no answer came forth after a full minute, she finally spoke up.  “That I'm looking for a relationship.”  He took a beat to register what she said.  He had loved their interaction so far and would love to try for a relationship, but he was also willing to take whatever she was willing to give him.

He opened his mouth to offer something less serious, but she cut in before he could.  “Or a situationship,” she continued, as if she could read his mind.  He bobbed his head to the side and opened his mouth again, but she cut in yet again.  “Or a one-night stand.”

He chuckled and nodded.  Message received crystal clear.  She was not interested in him.  But he still wanted to give one last push.  “And you're not?”

“I'm not. Not right now. Not yet,” she answered quietly.

He nodded and looked away to mask his disappointment.  When he looked back, any remaining disappointment dissolved.  Her eyes had unfocused, a flash of something close to the haunted look he was all too familiar with appeared and was gone almost instantaneously.  It was that look that convinced him she really did mean what she’d said.  It wasn’t him.  She was working through something on her own, but damn if he didn’t want to help her get through it and lose that haunted look.  “How about a non-committal drink?  No expectations, not even to talk.  Just to make your night better.  I'll even walk away while you drink it.”

“No.  I'm not ready for that either,” she finally returned her sad eyes to his.  “But thank you, sincerely.  You should stay.  I’ll walk away.  I wasn’t planning on being out long tonight anyway.”

Seeing the troubled look full on was harder than he expected, doubling his desire to make her smile.  “I didn’t mean to scare you off.  I’m sorry if I came on too strong.  I tend to talk without thinking… if I’m being honest, I do a lot of things without thinking.  It’s not uncommon,” he joked.

If nothing else, he could walk away feeling like he’d taken a step toward his goal, because her mirthless look dissolved into giggles.  “You absolutely did not… scare me off that is,” she assured him genuinely.  She took a moment to think about it, cocking her head to the side as she studied him.  “Or come on too strong.  In fact, you have been the highlight of my night, month… past few actually.  I’ve really enjoyed talking with you.”

“I’d give you my number for when you are ready… but I get the feeling you’re not ready for that either,” he offered.  There was a bit of hope in his gaze, her giggles earlier had been a good sign, but likely not enough.  Healing was never easy even for the healthiest people.

Her smile dampened, but she kept her eye contact, not shrinking from him this time.  “No.  But I do hope you have a good night.”

He reached out like he was going to pat her arm but pulled back at the last moment and patted the bar instead with a mirroring smile.  “You too, beautiful.”

He shifted his eyes to his glass to remove any pressure or make her leaving awkward.  And yes, he knew he should have shifted his body from facing her as well, but he didn’t want her to think he was dismissing her, leaving him in this awkward position, body open and face diverted.  If Oliver could see him, he’d be appalled at his lack of vigilance while leaving himself so open.  To be clear, he could still track movement around him, in fact, better than if he had fully turned to the bar, but Oliver never lost a chance to lecture him.

He didn’t regret the decision though, because from his periphery he could see her stand then hesitate, almost sitting back down, which got his heart racing at the possibility, but ultimately she pushed away from the bar only to pause so a crowd of people could pass.  He consciously forced himself to stop registering her movements and ordered another drink, giving himself a second to recover his pride.

Typically, he wouldn’t have let the rejection affect him, especially from a random woman in a random bar when he hadn’t been looking for anything anyway, and especially when she’d let him down so graciously, making it incredibly clear it wasn’t about him.  But he’d thought there was a connection and a spark and for a moment he’d had hope.

Suddenly, his world was rocked by a force colliding with him, pressing flush against his body and wrapping their arms around his middle in a tight hug before he could even react.  “Mon amor!  I missed you.”

Roy blinked down at the figure, his arms wrapping loosely around her before his conscious mind registered that it was the French Fire Flower who had launched herself into his arms.  Once his brain fully caught up with the situation, he smirked down at her.  “Not that I’m objecting, but I’m getting a bit of whiplash here.”

It was only then that he noted the alarm in her eyes.  “Please,” she pleaded quietly.

His arms tightened around her automatically, like a Pavlovian response to that combination of her wide eyes and anxious tone.  His eyes flicked over her shoulder and instantly spotted someone shoving people out of the way on their way toward them.  He kept his body and face pointed toward her but carefully tracked the man’s movements.  “That asshole the reason you’re not ready to date yet?”

She nodded so minutely he wouldn’t have picked up on it if he hadn’t also heard a whispered, “Yes.”

He leaned down like he was whispering sweet nothings to his long-missed lover, only partially pretending to be lost in her touch, as he tenderly ran his hands through her hair.  “How long ago was the breakup?”

She swallowed heavily and took a moment before she answered.  “A few months.  Um… like four.”

He grunted and leaned close enough for his lips to ghost over her ear.  “And he’s crawling back?”

“More like creeping back like Jason Voorhes,” she grumbled.  “Just keeps coming back no matter how many times I shut him out and more aggressively each time.”

“Hey, fucker!  Get your hands off my girlfriend!” the man roared the instant he broke through the last of the groups around them.

The moment the words started coming out of his mouth Roy could feel the woman freeze and almost cower away from his anger.  Roy eyed him up and down, an icy hardness in his gaze as he stood and pushed her slightly behind him, but still keeping her hugged up against his side.  The man was smaller than Roy, not in height, but in breadth.  Where the man was lithe and fit, Roy was muscular and solid.  The comparison became more apparent when Roy turned to face off against the man.  “Excuse me?” he growled.

To his credit, the man only slightly faltered, almost imperceptibly and seemed to recover quickly.  “I said,” he reiterated, standing up even taller to glare back at Roy, “Get.  Your.  Hands.  Off.  My.  Girlfriend.”

Roy could feel her groan more than hear it.  She opened her mouth to bite back but Roy interrupted before she could.  “I’ll touch my wife however and whenever I want to.  That’s why I married her in the first place.”

Her eyes widened and her body stiffened for just a moment, but thankfully she appeared to recover quickly, pasting on a smile and pretended to melt into his side.  It was convincing enough the tension could easily be written off as due to the confrontation, not an unexpected lie.

“You got fucking married?” He demanded glaring at her.  He tried to shove into her space, but Roy moved again moving in his path and stepping forward, forcing him to retreat a step, which only seemed to infuriate the man further.  He tried to peer around Roy to get close to her, but no matter how far he leaned, Roy met his movement.

“I did,” Roy answered with a cutting smile.

His eyes snapped to Roy’s.  It was almost comical how red his face got from those two words.  Roy’s smile got sharper at the reaction.  If there was one thing he’d always been good at, it was knowing how to piss someone else off.  “I wasn’t talking to you, asshole!”

At that comment, she refused to let Roy respond and piped up before he could.  “Do not call my husband an asshole,” she hissed.  Roy’s smile turned genuine and pulled her back into his side before dropped a kiss on the crown of her head.

“What the fuck!?!  Marinette, baby.  What is going on?  You… we were going to get married, have a family!  What about our five kids?  Baby, I still want them with you.”  His voice was velvety smooth, his eyes pleading and contrite.

Roy braced himself for Marinette to fall for it.  He wouldn’t blame her, really.  If Roy hadn’t seen ploys like it from spies trying to secure information and women trying to lure Dick into a relationship, he might have believed it was authentic as well.  But he was praying to whatever deity existed out there that she didn’t fall for it.  He didn’t know her well, but even if he hadn’t been able to tell she was creative, funny, kind, and sweet, nobody should end up with a dirtbag like that guy.

But even from their short interaction so far, he knew that she was all those things and more and deserved someone better.  She’d clearly known that at some point because she’d dropped his loser ass, but he knew from personal experience how easy it was to fall back into toxic relationships.  He squeezed her, hoping to transfer some strength, because if she fell for it, he had no idea how he was going to talk her out of it.

By some miracle, his effort seemed to have an effect.  Marinette stiffened in his arms and leaned into him for a second before lashing out at her ex, pushing into his space with all five foot four inches of her ready to fight.  “You wanted five kids, and if you still want them, I’d suggest trying for them with Sarah or Sandra, or whatever her name was.  I’m afraid I didn’t catch her name before she rushed out of the room to get dressed.”

Roy barely controlled his reaction, somehow managing to keep it to a rough exhale when he wanted to guffaw loud enough for the bouncer outside to hear him.  He squeezed her hip again, this time in a show of support and approval of her cheek and hoped she understood the message despite not knowing him well enough to have learned the difference in touches.

“Baby, I love you,” the ex cooed.  He reached out for Marinette to graze his fingers along her jaw but Marinette jerked her head back, inadvertently burrowing further into Roy’s chest.  The ex’s eyes narrowed at the action, but he quickly covered it with a penitent expression.  “It was just a mistake.  She was a mistake.  She meant nothing to me.”

“She clearly meant more to you than our relationship,” Marinette scoffed.  She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, which again brought her further into Roy’s embrace.

His lips thinned and his jaw tightened, but this time he was a few beats slower to mask it before responding.  “Baby, I…”

“Cheating on someone as amazing as her?” Roy cut in, drawing the ex’s attention to him instead of Marinette.  She wasn��t in this alone and he wasn’t going to let her face his ire alone.  “How stupid do you have to be?  I’ve been self-destructive before, and I mean self-destructive, but even at rock bottom, I wouldn’t have been that dumb.  But I guess there are just some guys that would cheat and some that wouldn’t.”

“You can stay the fuck out of this.  You don’t know me!” the ex roared at Roy, completely losing is composure and not even bothering to try to mask his anger and frustration like he had before.

“And I never will,” Roy granted with a slight taunt in his voice.

“And I wish I never did,” Marinette agreed.  She sighed heavily and lost the rigidity in her stance, slumping slightly and shifting some of her weight onto Roy, who shouldered it effortlessly.  “Leave, Noah.  This,” she motioned between them without meeting his eyes which were now wide in mock supplication, “is never happening.  We aren’t some star-crossed love story, riddled with misunderstandings and miscommunications.  You aren’t the romantic lead.  You’re the asshole I leave before my life gets better.”

His eyes instantly went from pleading to hard and hateful.  “Gets better,” he spit.  “You won’t be able to find better than what I gave you.  You were always a bitch I had to put up with.  I was only with you out of pity because nobody else would want you, not for more than a cheap fuck.  In two months, you’ll be alone again and crawling back because nobody else would ever really want you.”

“Okay, that’s it,” Roy growled.  He pushed Marinette behind him and punched Noah in one smooth motion, not giving Noah the chance to anticipate the action.  He hit him hard enough to lay him out on the floor with one punch.  “Nobody speaks like that to my wife,” he roared over Noah’s prone body.

“Mon dieu!  Are you okay?” Marinette exclaimed.  She rushed around Roy to survey the damage and Roy felt his heart sink as he saw her panicked expression.  He’d not only given her a front row seat to him being violent, an aspect of himself he tried to save for when he was suited up, he’d hit someone who had been important to her.  They hadn’t had enough time for him to show her he was more than just some crazy, aggressive neanderthal.

He almost definitely just completely destroyed any chance he had.  But regardless, he refused to regret it.  That man was the worst kind of filth.  The kind that thought they were allowed to treat the people around them like they were disposable.  The kind that thought they were inherently better than everyone else while the only evidence of that they could provide was their own bad behavior.  The kind that were destined to be miserable and spread that misery to everyone around them.

He almost jumped when he felt delicate hands gently grasp his hand and lift it closer to her face so she could examine it, close enough, he could feel her breath on his skin.  She tenderly brushed her fingers along the back of his hand and over his fingers only to turn it over and continue the pattern on the other side as well.  Her fingers barely pressed hard enough for him to feel them, but they still electrified his skin, shooting jolts through him and stealing his breath.  He managed to tear his gaze from tracing her fingers to meet her eyes.

“You're asking him?” Noah screeched as he attempted to get back up, swaying slightly, still reeling from the punch.

Roy flexed his hand a few times to stretch out the muscles, never removing his hand or gaze from hers.  “I’ll be fine,” he assured her.  “I know how to throw a punch.”

Marinette dropped her eyes to his hand again, a concerned wrinkle developing the longer she examined it.  “Wait just a second!” she exclaimed then turned to the bar.

Roy followed her movements, not noticing the small, sappy smile tugging up the corners of his lips, but he did notice Noah finally managing to raise up to his feet.  He managed to tear his eyes from Marinette to fix him with a withering glare threatening enough to make Noah falter almost tripping over a chair behind him, only managing to catch himself at the last minute.

“Ever disrespect my wife like that again and it’ll be a year before you can walk out of the hospital, if you even ever can use your legs again.  In fact, I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself if I ever even see you around her at all.  So, I would highly recommend you just disappear from her life.  Assholes like you are a dime a dozen and that’s after inflation and still overpriced.”

Noah glared back but Roy straightened up even further and flexed his fist.  The movement didn’t go unnoticed.  He held his ground for just a few seconds before scoffing.  “She’s not even worth the time I spent on her anyway.”  Roy jerked toward him and Noah scattered like a cat seeing a cucumber.

Marinette returned just as Noah had disappeared into the crowd.  She didn’t even seem to notice he was gone, let alone look for him, just focused on Roy’s hand.  She ushered him back to his seat and gently lifted his hand onto the bar and delicately set the ice on it not meeting his gaze.  “I’m so sorry for that!  I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.  If I’d known you might be in danger, I never would have…”

“Hey,” he dipped down until he could meet her eyes and smiled, “I’m fine.  Thank you for the ice.  It was sweet of you to take care of me.”  He motioned to the chair she’d been sitting in earlier for her and helped ease her into it.  “Are you okay?”

“You're the one that's bloody!” she exclaimed, almost getting back up to drive home her point.

“But you're the one that he was trying to hurt,” he pointed out.  He intentionally kept his voice smooth and calm hoping to sooth her nerves, as though his tranquility could be absorbed like osmosis.

She still wouldn’t meet his eyes, instead unnecessarily adjusting the bag of ice to better cover his knuckles.  He used the distraction to motion to the bartender for another round of drinks. “Yeah, it happens,” she finally shrugged.  “Not the worst I’ve heard.”

“That's a goddamned tragedy,” he hooked a finger under her chin to urge her face up to meet his gaze, “because you're amazing and he’s nothing more than an asshole.  And, not to scare you but after hearing that, I kind of wish I’d hit him harder…” he winced thinking about how hard the man had gone down.  He wasn’t looking to go to prison.  How was he supposed to convince this amazing woman to date him from prison.  “…maybe not harder.  But a few more times with the same force if it would make you feel safe and erase your frown.”

She scoffed and turned to focus on the glass that just appeared before her, but after a beat glanced up through her lashes and offered a weak smile.  “Thanks.  But to be honest, his words don’t really hurt anymore.”

He nodded and pushed her drink toward her.  “Good.  I’d say you’re a hundred times him, but at best he’s worthless, and any number times zero is zero, so that wouldn’t be accurate.”

She snorted and took a drink.  She stared at the drink for a second before glancing at him from the side and smirking.  “They teach you math like that at spy camp?”

For the first time since Noah had appeared, Roy smiled, a full, toothy, joyous smile.  He nodded.  “It’s day two.  Right after how to punch assholes and use those little cigarette lighter camera things they used to have.”

Her laugh permeated through him straight to his core and warmed his entire body like stoking the hearth.  She tipped up her glass to finish off the drink and took a fortifying breath before turning to him.  “I think I’m ready to take your number… and give you mine.”  Her voice wavered slightly, but there was still a determined chord running through it.

He blinked at her comment, a bit caught off guard, but a slow smile spread across his lips.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.  I think I should have my husband’s number after all,” she added shyly.

His smile turned into a full-on grin.  “Not to push my luck, but can I have my wife’s name as well?”  He’d heard her name from her ex yelling it, but he wanted it to come from her.  He wanted her to entrust him with that part of herself.  “Or should I just give you mine to take.”

“It’ll get a bit confusing if we both are called Roy,” she observed overly innocently.  He rolled his eyes, but his lips stuck in their amused slant.  “I better stick with Marinette,” she shrugged.  He inhaled like he was going to start speaking but let it out silently instead.  She raised an eyebrow at him.  “No witty comment?  Have I dumbfounded you with my name?”

He shook his head slowly.  “I know better than to tell you how beautiful your name is, but I do think it could be better.”

“You don’t like my name?” she asked.  The uncertainty in her voice cut directly into Roy’s heart.

“I do,” he granted quickly, before she could ruminate too long in her misperception.  He shifted closer, crowding into her space, his knees brushing on either side of hers, his eyes intently focused.  “It’s beautiful, just like you, I just think Marinette Harper sounds even more beautiful,” he smirked.

Her heart stuttered at the low, confidence in his voice.  She took a breath before returning his smirk and leaning toward him.  “And what makes you think I’ll take your name?”

“You won’t tell me your last name, so…” he inhaled dramatically through gritted teeth and shrugged helplessly, “we’re going to have to use mine.  No choice.”

“Oh, so tragic,” she commiserated.

“It truly is,” he agreed sadly.

The smile that had spread at his comment eventually eased into a quieter one.  She straightened up and held her phone out for him.  “I really do have to get going, but I really would like to get your number.”  Roy looked from the phone to her a few times before entering the number and standing as he returned it.  Marinette glanced down at the phone and smiled.  “Sexy Husband?” she asked.

He grinned brilliantly and held his hand out for her.  “So you don’t get confused.  And for the record, I have no intention of letting my wife go home alone.”  When she hesitated, he quickly clarified, “not while your ex might be waiting outside the bar or your place to ambush you.  But I will if you want.”

Her smile returned, content and genuine and she took his outstretched hand.  “Thank you.  I’d like that very much.”

@maribat-calendar-events

[anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek]

A Streamer Companion (BBC Mycroft Holmes x Gender Neutral!Streamer Reader)

I've started writing again. Don't ask how I came up with this content; honestly, I have no idea where this plot for a oneshot came from. But here it is—enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2

Masterlist

(work count: 2142)

Mycroft Holmes returned home late, the weight of the day's demands evident in his weary steps. He loosened his tie as he made his way through the dimly lit halls of their home, the echo of his polished shoes on the hardwood floor the only sound in the quiet night. His thoughts were already drifting towards the solace of his bed and the comforting presence of his spouse.

When he entered their bedroom, he was surprised to find it empty. The covers were neatly turned down, and the room was silent save for the distant hum of electronics. He knew exactly where his partner was. With a soft sigh, Mycroft made his way to their gaming room.

He pushed open the door to find Y/n seated in front of their setup, their face illuminated by the colorful lights of their monitors. They were engrossed in their stream, chatting animatedly with their followers as they played. Mycroft had grown accustomed to their passion for streaming, understanding it was an integral part of their life, even if the hours sometimes stretched late into the night.

He stepped into the room, unaware that they were still live. His broad chest, clad in his tailored suit, appeared in the camera's view, though his face remained just out of frame. The chat exploded with comments as soon as the viewers caught sight of him.

"Who's that?"

"OMG, hot person alert!"

Y/n glanced over their shoulder, realizing with a start that Mycroft had entered the frame. They gave him a quick smile, which he returned with a raised eyebrow, silently asking them to wrap things up.

"Love, it's quite late," he said, his voice low and rich, carrying a note of gentle reprimand. "Perhaps it's time to finish your stream and get some rest."

The chat went wild, the comments flooding in even faster.

"That voice!! 😍"

"Marry me, mystery person!"

"Is he your partner??"

"Guys, calm down," Y/n said with a laugh, trying to maintain their composure. "I guess that’s my cue to end the stream for tonight. Thanks so much for watching, everyone. I’ll see you all tomorrow."

They began to sign off, their viewers expressing their reluctant goodbyes mixed with curiosity about the unknown person. As they ended the stream, they turned to Mycroft, who was patiently waiting by the door.

"Sorry about that," they said, standing and stretching. "I lost track of time."

He stepped forward, wrapping an arm around their waist and pulling them close. "I understand," he replied, pressing a kiss to their forehead. "But you do need your rest."

They smiled up at him, their eyes sparkling with affection. "I know. Let's go to bed."

They made their way back to their bedroom, the house now completely silent. As they settled into bed, Mycroft turned to them, his expression softening in the gentle glow of the bedside lamp.

"How was your day?" he asked, his hand reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from their face.

"It was good," they replied, snuggling closer to him. "I had a great stream, and I made some progress in the game I was playing. The fans were really engaged tonight."

He nodded, his thumb tracing soothing circles on their back. "That's wonderful. I'm glad to hear it."

"And you?" they asked, looking up at him. "How was your day?"

He sighed, the weight of his responsibilities momentarily lifting as he shared the details of his day with them. "It was long and challenging, but we made some significant strides on a few important matters. I’m just glad to be home now."

They listened attentively, their presence a balm to his tired soul. They continued their nightly ritual, sharing the highs and lows of their respective days, finding comfort in each other’s company.

Eventually, the conversation dwindled, and they lay in contented silence, the rhythm of their breathing synchronizing. Mycroft pressed a final kiss to their forehead, his arms holding them securely as they drifted off to sleep.

In the quiet of the night, with his spouse nestled close, Mycroft found a rare and precious tranquility, a reminder that even amidst the weight of his world, there were moments of pure, unadulterated joy and love.

The following afternoon, Y/n was lounging on the couch, casually scrolling through TikTok when they stumbled upon an edit from last night’s stream. The video had already gained an impressive number of views and comments, showing the moment Mycroft had entered their gaming room. The editor had added dramatic music and heart emojis, focusing on Mycroft’s suit-clad chest and his smooth, commanding voice.

"Who's that mystery person?" the overlay text read, followed by a flood of comments from viewers simping over Mycroft.

Y/n couldn't help but laugh, their cheeks flushing as they watched the edit. Mycroft truly was hot, and seeing the fan reactions only made them blush more.

As the afternoon gave way to evening, Y/n prepared for their next stream. They couldn’t help but wonder how their fans and co-streamers would react tonight. They set up their equipment, mentally preparing for the inevitable onslaught of questions.

Once they were live, the chat immediately exploded with comments about Mycroft.

"Tell us about the mystery person!"

"Is that person your partner?"

"Marry me, mystery person!"

Their co-streamers were no different, jumping right into the teasing. "So, who was that last night? Your bodyguard or something?" one joked.

Y/n laughed, trying to deflect. "Oh, just someone very special to me," they said with a smile. "Let's focus on the game, okay?"

But the curiosity and teasing didn’t stop. The stream went on, with occasional questions about Mycroft popping up, making Y/n blush and laugh.

About halfway through their stream, Mycroft arrived home. He entered their gaming room, looking as composed as ever. The chat erupted once again as his suited figure came into view, his voice as commanding as the night before.

"Y/n, are you almost done? We have reservations for dinner," he said, his eyes softening as they met theirs.

The chat went wild, and their co-streamers didn’t miss a beat. "Dinner date? Fancy! Who's the lucky person?" one teased, while another added, "Is this the mystery person from last night?"

Y/n blushed deeply, trying to keep their composure. "Alright, everyone," they said, laughing. "I guess that's my cue to wrap things up. Thanks for watching, and I’ll see you all tomorrow."

As they signed off, Mycroft watched them with a raised eyebrow, curious about their flushed cheeks and the playful looks from their co-streamers. Once the stream ended, he helped them stand up, his hand resting on their waist.

"Why are you blushing so much?" he asked, genuinely curious. "What were they teasing you about?"

They giggled, shaking their head. "Oh, just some playful banter. I’ll explain everything over dinner."

Mycroft nodded, accepting their answer for now. "Alright, then. Let's get ready."

Y/n quickly changed into something suitable for their dinner date, their excitement growing. As they left the house, they couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation, knowing they had a lot to share with Mycroft about the amusing reactions of their fans.

At the restaurant, as they settled into their seats and ordered their meals, Y/n recounted the day’s events to Mycroft. He listened intently, a smile tugging at his lips as they described the TikTok edits and the fans’ reactions.

"It seems I've become quite the internet sensation," he said with a chuckle, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Y/n laughed. "Yes, you have. They’re all so curious about you. They think you’re some kind of mysterious, handsome figure."

Mycroft smirked, leaning closer. "Well, I am rather mysterious," he said playfully.

They rolled their eyes affectionately. "And handsome," they added, blushing again.

They enjoyed their dinner, the conversation flowing easily. Mycroft’s presence, his calm and composed demeanor, was a perfect counterbalance to Y/n’s lively spirit. The evening was filled with laughter and shared stories, a reminder of the unique bond they shared.

As they walked home, hand in hand, Y/n felt a deep sense of contentment. Despite the chaotic world they navigated, moments like these, filled with love and laughter, made everything worthwhile.

●～●～●～●～●

Y/n was excited for the lunch get-together with their co-streamers. After all the teasing and curiosity about Mycroft, it was time to spend some quality time with their friends outside the digital realm. They decided to meet at a trendy café in the city, known for its cozy ambiance and delicious food.

As Y/n arrived at the café, their friends were already there, waving them over. Y/n joined them at the table, exchanging hugs and pleasantries.

"Finally, some real-life interaction," one of their friends, Emma, said with a grin. "And maybe some more gossip about your mystery person."

Y/n laughed, shaking their head. "I knew you wouldn't let that go."

The lunch started with light-hearted conversations about recent games, funny stream moments, and upcoming plans. However, the topic inevitably shifted to Mycroft.

"So, Y/n," another friend, Mike, began with a teasing tone, "are you ever going to tell us about the person from your stream? The fans are still buzzing about them."

Y/n rolled their eyes playfully. "They’re just someone very special to me, that’s all."

"Special, huh?" Emma nudged Y/n. "Come on, we need details! Are they a secret agent or something? That voice... and that suit!"

Before Y/n could respond, their phone rang. It was Mycroft.

"Excuse me for a moment," Y/n said, answering the call. "Hey, love."

"My dear, I’m on my way to pick you up," Mycroft's smooth voice came through. "I should be there in about ten minutes."

"Alright, see you soon," Y/n replied, a smile on their lips.

As they hung up, their friends looked at Y/n expectantly. "Was that him?" Mike asked eagerly.

"Yes," Y/n admitted. "He's coming to pick me up."

Their friends exchanged excited glances, their curiosity reaching its peak. They continued their lunch, but it was clear that they were all anticipating Mycroft’s arrival.

Ten minutes later, a sleek, expensive car pulled up outside the café. Mycroft stepped out, his presence immediately drawing attention. His tailored suit was immaculate, exuding an air of sophistication and elegance. He walked into the café, his eyes scanning the room until they found Y/n.

Her friends’ jaws dropped. The man before them was the very embodiment of refinement and grace. It wasn’t just his appearance; it was the way he carried himself, with an air of confidence and authority.

Mycroft approached their table, his gaze softening as he looked at Y/n. "Ready to go, darling?"

Y/n stood up, smiling at him. "Yes, just a moment." They turned to their friends, who were still staring in awe. "Everyone, this is Mycroft."

Their friends were momentarily speechless, then Emma finally found her voice. "Wow, Y/n, you didn’t tell us you were married to a James Bond character!"

Y/n laughed, glancing at Mycroft who raised an eyebrow in amusement. "He's not a secret agent, just very good at his job."

Mike leaned in, still looking stunned. "Why do you even stream, Y/n? You could just be living the high life with Mr. Posh here!"

Y/n shook their head, chuckling. "Streaming is just something I do for fun. It’s a hobby, and I love interacting with you guys and the fans. Mycroft supports me because he knows it makes me happy."

Mycroft nodded, a small smile on his lips. "Indeed. Y/n's passion for streaming is something I admire. It brings them joy, and that’s all that matters."

Their friends exchanged looks of respect and understanding, finally seeing the full picture.

Emma grinned. "Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Mycroft. You’ve definitely made an impression."

Mycroft inclined his head politely. "The pleasure is mine. I’ve heard much about all of you."

As Y/n said their goodbyes to their friends, they felt a sense of relief and happiness. The teasing and curiosity had been fun, but they were glad to finally introduce Mycroft to their friends.

Walking back to the car with Mycroft, they looked up at him with a smile. "Thank you for coming to get me."

He smiled back, opening the car door for them. "Always, my dear. Now, shall we head home?"

As they drove away, Y/n couldn’t help but feel grateful for the balance in their life – the excitement of streaming, the love of their friends, and the unwavering support of their extraordinary husband.