#also those hands are exactly who you think it is | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jakesimfromstatefarm · 2 days ago

Text

──── JAKE'S THING . ↳ one shot // also part of the no doubt series !

✎ᝰ .ᐟ aka when you realize exactly what jake's thing is.

── sim jaeyun x f!reader ౨ৎ wc. 566 ⌗ fluff, y/n makes fun of jake, jake LOVES y/n,,,yadda yadda what's new...

↳ IMPORTANT NOTE .ᐟ ── this is part of my no doubt series ─ a sequel series of short drabbles that take place after the events of my fic no doubt, and show jake & reader's relationship throughout their first year together (& how jake wins her trust & love back hehe) ── THIS CAN BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT, however, there will be some easter eggs if you've read no doubt before!

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── this one is short & sweet,,,a preemptive apology for the next one...it won't be as fluffy that's for sure (that's my spoiler .) hehehe i'll post the next one sooner since this one is quite short :)

Jake does this thing.

It’s a small thing.

Barely even worth noticing.

But you notice.

Of course you do.

Because it’s Jake.

You’re at a party. A big one—one of those industry events that Jake frequently gets invited to. Filled with producers, idols, people you’ve really only ever seen on screens. The kind of event he hypothetically should be thriving in—music pumping through the walls, flashing lights, and endless people he should be schmoozing the hell out of.

And yet—

Jake is right next to you.

Still next to you.

Unmoving.

“Shouldn’t you be talking to people?” you murmur, eyeing at him over the rim of your drink. “This is, like, prime mingling real estate.”

Jake hums thoughtfully, blinking before glancing around like he just remembered where he is.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. I guess.” A shrug. Then an easy smile. “But I’d rather be here. With you.”

Your stomach flips traitorously. You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small quirk of your lips, “I know I’m great company and all, but you don’t have to babysit me. I’ll find Jungwo—”

“I’m not,” he insists, tilting his head at you with a simple grin, like the answer is obvious. “I’m just…staying where I’m happiest.”

You choke slightly on your drink—to his amusement.

“That’s stupid,” you mutter once you recover, feeling your cheeks burning.

Jake fakes a gasp from beside you, “Loving my girlfriend is stupid?”

“You're so silly, Sim Jaeyun."

“And yet, here I am,” he sing-songs, bumping his shoulder against yours. “Next to you. Choosing you. Again and again.”

Your chest tightens.

Because—

It’s true.

You think back—to all the late-night drives when he lets you pick the playlist—even though you play the same five songs on loop and he probably secretly hates it. To how he always goes twenty minutes out of his way just to stay over at yours, even though it means waking up at an ungodly hour in the morning for practice—just so he can end every night and start every morning with you. To how he will always carry a hoodie on him whenever you’re together—because he knows you never check the weather app and the slightest breeze gets you cold.

To how he always—always—shows up.

Quietly. Consistently.

Just Jake.

Your Jake.

Your Jake—and that’s why you notice it. Jake’s thing—

Jake chooses you.

Every time.

Not just in the big, grand gestures. But in quiet, certain ways. Ways so soft, they’re like a whispered secret shared only between the two of you.

Like now—

Standing here, in the middle of a room filled with important people. People who could elevate his career. People who could change his life. And yet—

He’s looking at you like you’re the only future he’s interested in building.

Like you’re the only person worth knowing.

You laugh under your breath, tilting your head to hide the sudden burn behind your eyes—because if you keep looking at him you might just combust.

And when you glance back—Jake’s already watching you, patient and warm. Like he’s been waiting for you to catch up to the thing he’s always known.

You set your drink down.

You step closer.

And you grab his hand—intertwining your fingers with his, anchoring yourself to the feeling you now know by heart.

Jake doesn’t say a word.

He just squeezes your hand, twice—

Once for hi.

Once for I love you.

Like he always does.

Like he always will.

<< past || no doubt m. list || next >>

tag list! (open ! // bolded couldn't be added!)

@bluxjun @ki2rins @why-did-i-just-do-this @favoritten @lovialymisc @xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaah @hinryh @ltfirecracker @lov4hoon @taeheexx @niyzu @chunkzdeluluwife @jakeflvrz @fangirl125reader @0429jw @dreamy-carat @yuons @thestarinstarbucks @miszes @llearlert @ppeachyttae @hoomin10 @teddybeartaetae @tanisha2060 @therealmrsbahng @beomgyu-bears @ikeulove @jiyeons-closet @youngheejay @wxnderingthoughts @fuevrois @soobundle1009 @isoobie @enhypenova @zoemeltigloos @lizdevorak @deluluscenarios @bloomiize @hasuyv @ijustwannareadstuff20 @veilstqr @dreamiestay @jakeyyyjakexoxo

264 notes · View notes

mrsbarnesblog · 20 hours ago

Text

i’ve got you

part 1

masterlist

summary: after leaving you with Sarah, Rafe decides to deal with your ex and make sure that he would never have the power to hurt you again

words count: 2k

warnings: mentions of SA and being filmed without permission, violence, blood, threats with a gun, protective Rafe

a/n: for those who asked to write the continuation of the first part. also i’m accepting request for Rafe, so if you have anything interesting to share, feel free to send it to me🪼

Rafe didn’t say much when he left you in the living room of Tanneyhill, only threw a blanket over your body and left a soft kiss on your forehead, as you both knew exactly where he was going. Only Sarah stood speechless in the doorway, looking from her brother to you and being absolutely lost about what was going on.

A few hours ago you came in normal, greeting Rafe the way you usually did—shy, hesitant. The way that made Sarah always tease you about it. She didn’t notice anything weird. And after you disappeared in the bathroom for an hour, coming out of there with her brother, shaken and clearly after crying there the whole time, Sarah didn’t know what to think.

She had never seen Rafe like that before. Sure, his temper had always been over the top, but an absolutely cold and murderous look on his face when he brushed past her and ordered her to look after you? Well, that was new.

“What happened? Is there… anything going on between the two of you?” She asked softly, sitting at the edge of the sofa near you. You shook your head, not trusting your voice to speak and knowing damn well that if you open your mouth, you will burst into tears again. She let out a sigh, for a moment debating calling Kie or Cleo to ask for advice, but eventually she let go, settling near you while you slowly drifted to sleep.

Rafe’s knuckles twitched against the leather wheel as he drove with one hand. He knew where Ethan lived, remembering that busted apartment off Madsen Street, the third floor, the one with the shitty balcony and peeling green door. He parked crookedly and didn’t even bother locking the car, knowing that it wouldn't take him long.

He didn’t knock, he slammed his hand against the door a few times. Ethan opened it with the usual, sleazy grin on his face, holding a phone in his hand, as if he was waiting for something. His eyes widened for a split second before he puffed his chest to make himself look bigger and taller than Rafe was, looking him up and down dismissively.

“The fuck do you—“ Rafe didn’t let him finish, shoving him back into the apartment and slamming the door behind him so hard it felt like the whole building shook.

Ethan stumbled back, barely not tripping over the sofa, trying to look tough and cool, but Rafe saw that fear in his eyes. The one he always had around him, as if knowing that Rafe could snap him in half if he really wanted to, and Rafe definitely thrived on that feeling.

“Get the fuck away, Cameron!” Ethan mumbled, backing away with every step Rafe took, fidgeting with his phone and helplessly looking around.

“You know why I'm here. Though you could scare her into crawling back to you, huh?” Rafe’s voice came out low and dangerous, the feelings about you being hurt finally getting a release. Ethan’s grip on the phone tightened, the screen lighting up, making Rafe’s eyes zero in on it and jaw clench.

“I didn’t—man, it wasn’t like that, I swear—” Rafe didn’t let him finish, throwing a punch right into his jaw. Ethan fell on the floor, crying from pain, as blood trickled down his lip, trying to get up, face red and twisted in a mix of pain and fake bravado.

“You don’t know what she’s like, man—she—she wanted it, alright? She was moaning my name—”

That earned him another blow. This one knocked a tooth loose. Blood bloomed across his lips.

“Say that again.” Rafe snarled, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him upright like he weighed nothing. “Fucking say that shit again. Tell me she asked for it. Tell me she wanted you to touch her, to drug her, to film her like she was just something for you to use and toss away.”

“I didn’t drug her!” Ethan spat, his face bleeding now, splotches blooming on the floor and light wall behind him. “She drank too much, okay? It wasn’t my fault! What do you want me to say?”

“That you're worthless.” Punch. “Pathetic sack of shit.” Punch. “Who’s about to lose everything.” Punch. Rafe threw him back down like garbage, breathing heavily, before connecting his boot with Ethan’s ribs with so much power that it was enough to break them.

Rafe finally was satisfied enough, seeing that piece of shit hunched on the floor and covered in his own blood. He reached behind him, pulling a gun from the back of his waistband, and held it steady, cold metal glinting in the hallway light. Rafe wasn’t shaking. His hand was terrifyingly still, aimed right at the forehead.

Ethan coughed, whining on the floor, trying to lift himself on shaking hands, still oblivious to what could happen at any moment. When something metal clicked near his ear, Ethan’s eyes went wide, head snapping towards the sound. He scrambled backward, palms scraping against the floor. “What the fuck, man… What the fuck?!”

Rafe thrived off the look in Ethan’s eyes. That pure and pathetic fear, the moment he understood that he was absolutely alone and unable to protect himself. And Rafe would’ve pulled the trigger. Oh, he really wanted to. But he knew how much it would hurt you to know that he got blood on his hands, he could imagine you blaming yourself for it.

“Phone. Laptop. Drive. Whatever shit you have, you’re gonna delete everything. Every video. Every picture. Every fuckin’ copy on every drive, every cloud backup. All of it. And you’re gonna do it with a gun to your head so you don’t get any bright ideas. You better pray I believe your ass, or otherwise I’m gonna blow a hole in your fucking head just like you deserve.” His voice was cold and steady. Ethan started nodding, fidgeting with his phone and unlocking it only on the third try.

Rafe stood there and watched everything. He watched Ethan open the files, show the videos, show the backups, and delete every last one. And then, with the gun still trained on his face, Rafe made him reset everything to factory settings. Wipe. Everything.

“And the drive.” Rafe said again, voice flat.

“It’s gone, I swear—”

“Drive. Now.” The barrel of the gun touched Ethan’s temple, and he slid down the wall, on which he was leaning while sitting, to the floor, crawling towards the desk and pulling it from a drawer. One last backup. Rafe smashed it with his boot, again and again, until it was nothing but plastic and wire guts.

“You show your face again, you text her again, or you look at her again, and I swear to God I’ll bury you alive after breaking every bone in your body. Do you hear me?!”

Ethan was choking on his own sobs now, snot mixing with the blood, face pale and eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. He nodded frantically, hands raised like a white flag, but Rafe didn’t move. He crouched down, slow and measured, keeping the barrel grazing Ethan’s forehead, his eyes full of rage but clear and sharp.

“If I hear one rumor, one whisper, one goddamn trace of her name tied to what you did…” His eyes locked with Ethan’s, voice stone cold. “You’re dead.”

He turned, leaving Ethan curled on the floor, the door hanging crooked on its hinges behind him.

Out in the car, Rafe gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles went bone-white. He didn’t start the engine right away. He just sat there, breathing hard, his shirt clinging to him, his heart almost jumping out of his ribcage.

Rafe returned back to Tanneyhill an hour later, feeling that he had to calm down before seeing you. He took the longest road to clean his mind, to think about what happened and about what it meant for the two of you.

His feelings for you were clear and sincere, they always had been, since the moment he finally accepted that there was a reason he felt different whenever you were around. So now, when all the cards were on the table, he had to be careful. He could never forgive himself if he fucked it up. Not this time. Not with you.

He moved through the house slowly and quietly, going through the big rooms to the one where he had left you.

Sarah was in front of him the same second she heard the soft steps. Her eyes got wide at the sight of the blood, his and clearly someone else’s, on his split knuckles. Hair messy and eyes still slightly distant and cold—clear indicator that something had happened that disturbed Rafe deeply.

“Rafe… What the hell happened?” She hissed as loud as she could, looking back for a second to look at your sleeping form. “Tell me you didn’t kill anyone…” Her voice dropped lower, an unsettling feeling creeping into her.

“I didn’t.” Rafe mumbled, not even looking at his sister. His eyes were on you, slightly softer now.

“I don’t— I don’t fucking understand. Why was she crying? Where have you been? Why the hell are you looking at her like a lovesick puppy?” Sarah got desperate, her hands flying to her head, running them through her blond hair, and groaning when Rafe still didn’t pay any attention to her.

“If she wants to, she’ll tell you.” That was everything he said before brushing past Sarah, moving towards the sofa, and dropping to his knees in front of you.

You were asleep, but it was clear that it wasn’t peaceful. Your hands were gripping the blanket and keeping it close to your chest. Blow slightly furrowed and lashes fluttering against your cheeks.

Rafe brought his clear left hand to your face, sliding his knuckles down your jaw.

The gentleness of his touch made your eyes open slowly, a quiet and tired sigh escaping from your lips. Everything was blurry at first, until your eyes focused in the dim room and saw Rafe’s face in front of you.

“Rafe.” You whispered his name softly, lifting your hand to touch his.

“I’m here now.” His thumb brushed your cheek, slow and grounding. “I handled it. It’s all gone. I promise.” You stared at him, stunned, trying to process everything, to understand that it all was not a sick nightmare. Your lips slightly trembled, but you were too tired to cry again. “You don’t have to worry. He won’t come near you ever again.”

You nodded slightly, and something inside you unclenched, just enough to let the exhaustion come crashing in all over again. When you shifted and, instinctively, reached for him, Rafe caught you before you could even sit up fully.

“C’mon.” He said, rising with ease, one arm sliding beneath your legs, the other behind your back. “You’re sleeping in my room tonight.”

You didn’t protest. Just curled closer against him, eyes falling shut again as the motion of his footsteps rocked you softly, lulling you back to sleep.

“Are you serious right now?” Sarah’s voice echoed faintly behind you. “She’s staying with you?”

But Rafe didn’t answer her. He didn’t even turn around. He just carried you upstairs like you were the most precious thing, and it was his work to protect you. And for him it was. From now on he promised himself to keep you close and safe.

When the bedroom door clicked shut behind you, Rafe laid you down gently on his bed, tucking the covers around your body.

You were half-asleep, but when you sensed him moving away from you, your hand caught his wrist as if on instinct.

“Stay.” You whispered, barely audible.

Rafe stilled, unsure if it was really what you wanted to. Then nodded, slow and reverent.

He climbed in beside you, not caring about changing his clothes or about the dried blood that caused him discomfort. If you wanted him, he couldn’t say no. The moment the mattress dipped under his weight, you rolled toward him instinctively, curling into the curve of his chest. His arms came around you without hesitation, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head.

Rafe didn’t fall asleep right away.

He laid there in the dark, listening to the soft sound of your breath and the quiet thrum of his own heart. Every now and then, he’d press the lightest kiss to your temple, not to wake you, just to remind himself you were real. That you were safe. That you were his.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe fluff #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #rafe imagine #rafe x y/n #rafe fic #obx x you

184 notes · View notes

bxunyx · 3 days ago

Text

Attention

MDNI

Pairing-Elijah*Smoke*Moore x BlackOC

A/N-If you guys have any suggestions or advice I would love to hear it sine I don’t know how to write smexy scenes that good also I love comments so leave those other than that I hope you enjoy lovelies

Summary-Arna returns to the Mississippi Delta and, upon visiting the Smokestack Twins juke joint, captures the attention of a former lover who still harbors some resentment over her departure.

It’s late. Past two Arna walk past her sister zara and stack. The juke joint’s about emptied out except for the broken bottles, and the blues.

Arna walk in slow—heels clicking like clock hands on hardwood, time rewinding with every step—and she doesn’t look around. She knows exactly where he is.

The top deck. Alone. Brooding like a storm waiting to remember how to rain.

Smoke’s eyes find Arna before she even reach him. And she feel it. Like heat on skin, like gravity sharpening.

Yeah, you know I see you over there (ooh-ooh)

Girl, you caught my eye (yeah)

He doesn’t smile. He just leans back, one hand on the railing, cigarette barely touched, jaw clenched under the brim of that fedora. The way he watches her walk is criminal. She stand beside him. And she knows what he’s thinking.

Love the way you put it on

Girl, you got my attention

All of my attention, yes

“You always this dressed up when you come to haunt a man?” Smoke asks, voice thick as bourbon and twice as warm.

He looked her up and down, slow. The dress clings to her like a secret. “Only when the ghost’s still breathin’.”

He laughs, but there’s no joy in it. Just gruffness. “You got a mean way of comin’ back, girl.”

Tight black linen, sheer

Perked up in brassiere

Yeah, you got me, uh-huh, uh-huh

Burnin’ up in here

She tilts her head. He's sweating. “Seems like someone didn't forget me,” Arna teases.

Two black five-inch heels

Dressin’ to kill ‘em here

I ain’t sweatin’ these women here

The essence is missin’ here

Smoke shifts forward. His voice drops. “You think I ain’t tried to forget you? Had every reason to. But damn if you don’t walk in like the ending I never got.”

Arna stayed silent. Letting him get it out.

So I’m ready to disappear

Let’s just go, my dear (mm)

She leaned in close, just enough to pull him back in with scent alone. “Then disappear with me.”

His fingers tap the edge of the glass in front of him, untouched. “You still dangerous.”

Arna smiled. “Only to men who lie to themselves.”

‘Cause the way you put it on

Make me wanna take it off you

Got me so amazed, in awe

I don’t wanna wait, no (I don’t wanna wait)

The tension’s tight, like the air just before thunder. They both feel it. The weight of memory. The ache of almost.

Nah, come on

I don’t wanna wait, but you’re stayin’ for the champagne

2 a.m. is creepin’ up, you know how to keep me up

“Still drinkin’ that bootleg you claim aged you?” She tease.

“I been aged,” he mutters. “Liquor just tries to keep up.”

She touch his hand. Not soft. Not slow. Like she meant it. His pulse jumps under your fingers.

No, it won’t be easy, but I’ll be here, believe me, yes (yeah)

She turnin’ me up, am I not tipsy-turvy enough?

Baby, my vision gettin’ blurry, huh

Smoke stares at her like he’s memorizing her again. Like he’s starving.

Blurry enough, but I can still see and I’m certain, ah-ah, mm

The way you light it up in here

Dress shimmer like the chandelier

Diamonds in your ear

“I never looked at nobody like I look at you,” he says, low. “You knew that. Still left.”

Arna look him dead in the eye. “Maybe I wanted you to come find me.”

You makin’ one thing very clear

And baby, when you put it on

There’s no competition

They both lean in at once. Magnetized. Dizzy. So close you forget what holding back ever felt like.

I watch you make a entrance, baby

Yes, and you can tell by my description (you fit it well, and girl)

“I won’t never fail to mention it,” Smoke says, voice cracking like vinyl. “What we were. What we still are.”

I won’t never fail to mention (how you polish every detail)

Losin’ time, tryna go the distance

You got all my attention, baby

I’m ready to disappear

Let’s just go, my dear

He offers a hand. She take it.

No one says where they’re going. Doesn’t matter. They already left the world behind the moment she walked in.

‘Cause the way you put it on

Make me wanna take it off you

Got me so amazed, in awe

I don’t wanna wait, no (I don’t wanna wait)

The door swings shut behind them. The blues music fades.

Nah, come on

I don’t wanna wait, but you’re stayin’ for the champagne

2 a.m., it’s creepin’ up, you know how to keep me up

Arna don’t look back. Neither does smoke .

𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐞, 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢 𝟑:𝟎𝟎𝐚𝐦

The motel room is dim and dusty, lit only by the neon beer sign flickering through the blinds. Arna barely make it through the door before Smoke has her pinned against it—hat hitting the floor, mouth crashing into hers with the force of everything unspoken between them.

“Thought you were just here to haunt me,” he mutters against her throat. “Didn’t know you came to surrender.”

Her breath catches in her throat. “I didn’t come to surrender.”

He chuckles darkly. “Then I’ma take it.”

One hand snakes up her thigh, dragging her dress high, while the other wraps tight around her jaw—not rough, but firm. Claiming. He forces her head back just enough to look in her eyes.

“You want my attention?” he growls. “You got it, baby. All of it.”

He spins her around, palms flat to the wood, her body pressed to the door as his hips grind up behind her. She can feel him—hard, thick, hungry—and her knees almost give out, but he doesn’t let her drop.

“You don’t get to run this time,” he whispers into Arna’s ear, voice low and gritty. “You gonna take everything I give you, understand?”

She nod, breathless.

“No, baby. Say it.”

“I understand.”

“Good.”

He tears the dress down her shoulders, letting it puddle around her heels. His fingers slide between her legs, slow at first—then deeper, wetter, coaxing breathy moans out of her until she’s arching into him. But just when she start to beg, he pulls away.

“You think you make the rules, but this? This is my show.”

She hear the sound of his zipper sliding. Then the thick head of him presses between your thighs.

“Open up for me,” he murmurs, guiding her legs apart with a knee.

And then—he fills her. One deep, devastating stroke that steals her breath.

“Damn,” he groans into your neck. “Tighter than I remember.”

He doesn’t give you time to adjust—he sets a rhythm, deep and slow at first, each thrust deliberate, punishing in how good it feels. Her fingers claw at the door, but Smoke just presses harder into her, one hand tangling in her hair, yanking her head back so he can watch her face in the mirror across the room.

“You see what you do to me?” he pants. “You see how wild you make me?”

Each word is a thrust. Each thrust is a promise.

He bends her forward, one hand gripping her hip, the other slipping under her belly to stroke her clit while he pounds into her from behind—rougher now, relentless.

“You wanted my attention,” he growls. “Now you got me losin’ my damn mind.”

Her moans are ragged, pleading. He knows she’s close, and it makes him even rougher, more possessive. He presses his chest to her back and whispers in her ear.

“Don’t you dare come ‘til I say so.”

“You hear that, baby?”he whispers. “My pussy's talkin’ to me, hm,” he groaned.

The control in his voice makes her knees buckle—but he holds her up, pushing her harder, deeper, until the burn turns to bliss.

Then, finally—“give it to me, baby.”

And she fall apart, shaking, crying out his name as he thrusts once, twice, then groans against her neck as he follows her over the edge.

Silence. Only the sound of breathing, tangled and spent.

He kisses the side of her neck, soft now. “Told you I never forgot you.”

She can’t speak. Can barely stand.

“Next time you leave,” he whispers, “you better take me with you.”

#sinners fic #sinners x reader #sinners movie #sinners 2025 #sinners imagine #smoke moore #smokestack twins #smoke x reader #elijah x reader #elijah x oc #smoke smut #smoke sinners #sinners #Spotify

173 notes · View notes

rhiannonsknife · 2 days ago

Note

incessant drooling

mhm pregnant Rhiannon.... need to be her sweet younger girlfriend who she met during her stint at Craig's parents house because I was Tink's dogwalker....

-🍭

your thoughts & asks actually never miss 🍭 anon what the fuck?? (also “in bloom” spoilers!)

oooh dogwalker!reader in this scenario i’m thinking thoughts…

you show up twice a day to walk tink, same time every morning, same polite smile, same softly murmured “hello”, or “good morning” that makes rhiannon’s arms twitch where they rest on the arm of craig’s mum’s godawful floral settee.

you’re sweet and helpful and nice and rhiannon hates it…

…no, she craves it.

the kindness. the shy glances at her growing bump you’re too polite to ask about. your gentle comments along the lines of “get some rest” when she’s scowling about her ankles or the twinge in her back, instead of offering her some sanctimonious comment about how beautiful motherhood is supposed to be.

at first, rhiannon is just having a little fun with it: turns out toying with the sweet dog walker is a great way to pass the time now that craig is in jail for her crimes murder and she’s merely the killer’s girlfriend, unfortunate enough to get herself knocked up by him.

she shows up at the doorstep in just a loosely tied robe and makes sure it constantly slips from her shoulder or walks in the background when elaine opens the door for you, wrapped in just a towel. she compliments you and relishes in your cheeks flushing red.

once she let you in, pretending she hadn’t noticed her leaking breasts, purposely embarrassing herself for the sake of watching you blush and fumble for the right words.

then, on a sunday, when craig’s parents are out for church and some follow up lunch with friends rhiannon claimed she was too tired for, she takes it farther than just observing from afar:

you’re crouched by tink’s leash in the doorway, flushed from the wind, and she’s watching you from the hallway in an oversized jumper, fabric stretching a little too tight over her bump, her nipples visibly outlined where her fabric clings. her chest is sore. she wants to be touched.

“you know,” rhiannon says lazily, “you could stay in for once. it’s raining out there. why don’t you sit with me for a bit?”

you’re standing awkwardly in the doorway, still holding tink’s lead in one hand. rhiannon doesn’t wait for you, she just moves to the kitchen, briefly glancing over her shoulder to make sure you’re not leaving.

“tea?”

you look up from where her dog’s tail is already thumping in anticipation. “sorry?”

“tea,” she repeats. one hand rests on the counter, the other curved under her stomach. “do you want one?”

you know you should take tink and go. that’s your job, the one you always step into when rhiannon can’t, or when the driveway is swarming with journalists again. they’ve been circling all week, too; you spotted one on wednesday, half-hidden behind a car, camera lowered the second you walked by. you’re just the dog walker, not a guest. nothing to see here.

rhiannon is already grabbing a second mug. “just ten minutes,” she says. “tink will be fine.”

you follow her into the kitchen before you can talk yourself out of it. she smiles and gestures to the table. as you sit, you clear your throat. “how are you…coping?”

she’s been through hell, half the country at her heels for carrying a killer’s baby, so asking something so obvious feels stupid. saying nothing feels worse, though.

rhiannon snorts softly, dropping a teabag into each mug. “with what, exactly?”

“with, uhm…all of this. the baby. the press. the…situation”

she finally turns. “you mean craig being locked up for all those…terrible crimes while i nest in his childhood bedroom and waddle around like a beached whale?”

“i didn’t mean it like that!”

“i know,” rhiannon assures. “i’m just winding you up.”

the mugs clink onto the table between you and she slides yours over, then sits, sighing as she adjusts her weight.

“the press has been quiet this week,” she says conversationally. “at least until this morning. caught one of them trying to peek through the hedge again”

you face tightens. you’d seen them before, lurking behind the postbox, clicking their cameras trying to get a good picture.

rhiannon studies your expression. “what?” she finally asks. “you feel sorry for me?”

“no. i-” you shake your head. “it must be a lot.”

“it is,” she agrees, lifting her tea. “hormones don’t help.”

you give a soft laugh, a little unsure.

rhiannon leans in just a touch. “you wanna know the worst part?”

“sure”

she hums, steam rising between you. “the fucking leaky tits”

“oh” you blush.

“oh?” she echoes, tilting her head. “it’s horrible. can’t even wear a normal top anymore, can you imagine?”

you squirm, thighs tightening together. “that…sounds rough”

“oh, sweetheart,” she purrs, resting her chin on her hand. “didn’t think the nice little dog walker would go pink just from a bit of biology…?”

you start to stammer something but rhiannon lifts her hand, silencing you. “relax,” she rasps. “i’m just saying…it’s nice to have someone to talk to. someone who looks at me.”

she shifts, her knee bumping yours under the table. you reach for your mug again and the ceramic is hot between your clammy hands, the heat doing little to ground you.

“what? you thought i didn’t catch you staring by now?”

rhiannon stands, slowly, and circles the table. she moves behind you, fingertips trailing lightly across the back of your chair, then your shoulder.

you gulp audibly. “rhiannon, this isn’t-“

“isn’t what?” she presses closer. “a good idea?”

her body radiates warmth behind you, and your heart’s hammering in your chest. rhiannon smiles, you can feel it, more than you see it; the curl of her lips against your skin.

“craig’s mum and dad won’t be back for hours.”

“i shouldn’t,” you whisper.

she doesn’t back off. if anything, rhiannon leans in further, her hand slipping from your shoulder to graze down your front.

“i haven’t had a decent orgasm in weeks,” she confesses. “can’t even reach past the bump most days. you’d think with all these pregnancy hormones i’d be glowing. but no. i’m aching” she exhales slowly, her mouth brushing the shell of your ear. “let me have this,” she whispers. “let me have you.”

pregnant!rhiannon who eyes you every time you kneel down to clip tink’s leash. especially when craig’s parents are around and she knows she can’t have you that day, so she has to get off on the memory of the last time she got to fuck you.

possessive!pregnant!rhiannon guys….possessive!pregnant!rhiannon who scrolls through your socials at night, one hand resting over her belly and the other clenched around her phone, teeth gritted at the sight of someone else’s hand on your shoulder. she doesn’t ask about it the next day. she waits until you’re at her feet, gagging around her fingers, before whispering: “do they know you let me fuck your face like this?”

pregnant!rhiannon who takes secret pictures of herself after your visits, then sends them to you with no warning whatsoever. your phone almost slips from you when you open the picture she sent, seeing rhiannon with one hand on her stomach, the other in her panties. your phone buzzes again while you’re still catching your breath. “should’ve stayed” her texts says. “you know i can’t come on my own anymore. need you to fuck me properly next time”

speaking of: pregnant!rhiannon who gets increasingly frustrated and angry with her own body. “you think it’s funny?” she pants once, your fingers between her legs while she lies on her side in bed, one hand gripping the curve of her stomach. “try doing this when you can’t even find your own bloody clit!” you hush her with a kiss against her thigh and she bites back a moan, legs spreading wider as best she can. she’s wet enough to soak your palm and her chest is flushed, nipples puffy and aching. when you tease them, rhiannon whines, arching into you.

pregnant!rhiannon who gets so jealous she invites you over twice in one day, claiming she needs help with tink, only to pull you into her bedroom. “prove it,” she says, grabbing your jaw. “prove you’re not fucking anyone else.”

pregnant!rhiannon who kicks her swollen feet up on the couch the moment you walk in. “my ankles” she whines. “are you gonna come rub them for me?” once your fingers are on her skin, she moans in relief, eyes fluttering shut. “god, you’re so good at that…” rhiannon watches you under her lashes as her thighs inch open.

(everyone say thank you 🪐 anon for making me post the following headcanon. in my defense for the record, this actually happens in the books, so…there’s that!!)

pregnant!rhiannon who has painfully sensitive tits and makes it your problem job to help her. she’ll sit you down like she’s asking for something innocent, then tug her top up and straddle your lap with a sigh. “they feel like they’re going to burst,” she huffs. “just…here, use your mouth!” she’s right: her skin is taut and sensitive, nipples already leaking. when you give in and rhiannon leans forward until one brushes your mouth, her hips grind in response and she claws at your shoulders. “just like that!” she gasps. “such a good girl for me.”

pregnant!rhiannon who feels the bulge of your strap against her when you hug her from behind and immediately slips her hand down the front of your jeans with a greedy, “what the fuck is this?”when you ask if she wants you to take it off, she snaps, “don’t you dare”, already dragging you to bed with her.

pregnant!rhiannon who starts to rut against your strap with zero patience the moment she’s on her hands and knees, belly cushioned by pillows, moaning into the mattress. “fuck, i can feel it,” she cries out, rocking back harder. “fuck me already.”

pregnant!rhiannon who acts like it’s the real thing from that point on. strokes it like it’s yours, moans like you bred her yourself & whispers filthy things to you. “feels like you put this baby in me. like it’s yours. do you want that? want to fill me up again?”

pregnant!rhiannon who wears something ridiculously sheer when she knows you’re coming by, her bump outlined, nipples visible through the fabric, face smug when you try not to stare. “oh, this?” she hums. “it’s the only thing that fits” then she bends over slowly, making a show of arching her back while picking up tink’s toy.

pregnant!rhiannon who lifts those clothes up when you’re alone, not even bothering with a proper greeting, swollen belly on display, no underwear underneath. “sit down,” she orders, already climbing onto your lap. “christ. you’re so easy.” rhiannon grinds down. “you feel that? that’s what you’ve done. just being around me. fucking- watching”

pregnant!rhiannon who gets so greedy one day she makes you sit on the edge of her bathtub, legs spread, strap on, while she fucks herself on it from a squat. “don’t move. just let me…fuck, just let me use it”

pregnant!rhiannon who makes you fuck her slow and deep when she can’t take it anymore. she lays on her side, eyes fluttering every time you hit her g-spot just right.

pregnant!rhiannon who keeps the curtains open and the windows cracked on purpose. reporters have been lingering outside the gate all week and she leans in, breath hot against your ear, hips grinding slow and hard against yours. “go on,” she whispers, “make it worth the headlines.”

pregnant!rhiannon who insists on sitting on your face because “it takes the pressure off her back”.

pregnant!rhiannon who won’t shut up about how you’ll never get away from her now. “you’re mine,” she breathes against your throat. “i’ll have this baby and they’ll still want me to stay here. you’ll keep walking the dog, and fucking me in secret, and you’ll love every second of it!”

#rhiannon lewis ღ #˙🔞 ̟ !! mdni #rhiannon lewis x reader #rhiannon lewis x female reader #rhiannon lewis x you #sweetpea

152 notes · View notes

pyxxiestyxx · 18 hours ago

Text

How to Find a Traitor

Hi! This was inspired by This Hypnotic Audio by VerityLey, which is insanely hot....but also, yknow, CW for this being based on a very real hypnosis file that can give you very real hypnotic triggers (and while I don't think this story would do that on its own...safety first and all that). So y'know, just keep that in mind, I suppose ;p

. . . . .

Who was it?

The Captain of the C.N.S. Byzantium was known as a cruel, harsh man. Many were the days he had spent chasing down defectors, and many were the names of those who had... disappeared, once he had inevitably sniffed them out as plantfuckers.

Couldn't be someone from Engineering...unless that's exactly what they wanted him to think.

Even though he had only served for a single year as Captain, the turnover rate aboard his ship was almost three times the amount of any other of its class. This despite the latter half of his year spent with his ship in drydock, slowly receiving repairs while the battle against the Weeds raged onward.

He winced as he remembered the close call that had completely knocked out his engines and eventually sent them limping into the nearest safe haven. How nearly half of his crew had been taken by the damnable affini...and the angry chewing out he had received from his superiors within the New Terran Militia (or whatever it was they were calling themselves these days; it seemed to change every month).

Was that their plan? Get him kicked out of leadership, make him slow and dull? An empty-headed idiot, unable to think? Not him. Never him.

The Captain scowled at his hands, at the thickened band of skin caused from years of running his fingernails over the backs of his thumbs. His thoughts sometimes felt muddled, messy. The lines drawn between the web of relationships hard to keep track of. Even if it didn't make sense to him, he was still in control.

He just needed to find this most recent traitor, and then he would finally be able to sleep right. He knew they were in his crew...somewhere. He could feel it in his gut. Outbound communications had been rising steadily, and his newest Comms Officer (the previous one had, of course, been a traitor as well) had quietly notified him of that fact.

A knock at the door drew him from his thoughts. A pause, and then the door opened to reveal something that finally brought the ghost of a smile to his lips: two of his most trusted Officers, and an Ensign they were practically dragging in behind them. The lad was barely out of Naval Academy, boots still muddy from spending so much time on-planet. The recruit's eyes danced across the room, unable to settle. Pumped full of adrenaline, as sure a mark of a traitor as he had ever seen. The innocent had nothing to hide.

How could such a fresh-faced recruit have found himself in this position? How long ago had the worms buried into his mind?

The Officers set their prisoner down roughly in the only chair in the room for guests, then took their leave. The door creaked shut, locking itself automatically. Only he had the key. The Captain preferred to handle these sorts of things by himself; the guilt of an innocent loss would weigh on him, and him alone.

Fortunate for him, then, that he had yet to make a mistake.

The Ensign stirred, face pale with fear as he realized just how screwed he was. The Captain waited while he continued to look around; they always spoke first, eventually. It was just a waiting game. This time, he waited three minutes.

"I...um, Good Afternoon, sir?"

The Captain slowly blinked as the recruit nervously stammered, unimpressed. He sounded nervous, shaken- clearly not cut out for the life of a rebel. No doubt the Affini Compact had offered him a whole bevy of comforts to get him on their side. Two square meals, warm showers for a full minute and a half, the kind of stuff he hadn't gotten in years.

What a fool to accept them.

The traitor bit his lip, then snapped a salute as he spoke again. "I'm... I'm here to, um, that is...whatever it is Juarez said, it's all a lie, okay? I'd never betray my brothers and sisters, I swear it!"

A common refrain, an attempt to assuage doubts. The Captain's stare only tightened, pinning the young man in place while he opened a hidden compartment in the left side of his desk, retrieving a few items and placing one on the table, and keeping the other in his right hand.

The tools of the trade for this kind of thing.

He glanced at the tablet first, scrolling through with one hand until he found the Ensign's information, skimming it quickly.

Ah....of course.

Just as he suspected. Those in charge had designated Recruit Burkes as a clear potential ally to the Compact after accidentally speaking with a Mx. Drythes, Third Bloom, over a communication device disguised cleverly as a bar's video game; the report made great effort to impress how dangerous it would be to leave someone like Burkes in the rebels for much longer.

He needed to be...removed.

The Captain pushed down the feeling of guilt in his chest. It was for the best; once the Affini Compact got their vines into you, you were as good as theirs forever. There wasn't any point in trying to bring the recruit back (something he found hard to believe...but those in charge had insisted. Who was he to argue?). Burkes would soon be in a better place, and that was all there was to it.

There was only one thing to do, really. Even if it didn't make sense to him, the orders were clear.

The Captain levelled the service weapon in his hand, aiming it center-mass at Burkes; he rose to his feet and stepped back and over to the bookshelf in the corner. He accessed the hidden switch on the underside of the middle shelf, sliding the whole thing over and revealing a darkened passageway.

Almost done...almost done.

The satisfaction of a job well done dangled just out of reach…but no. Premature celebrations were for others; not the Captain. He knew the hardest part was yet to come; felt it in his gut like vent-critters.

The crewman got to his feet (albeit shakily), eyeing the tablet the Captain held in his other hand. Burkes chewed on his lip, but upon seeing the iron in the Captain's eyes, decided to comply; the recruit cautiously stepped into the dark passage, the Captain following a few steps behind. Neither of them spoke; they both knew there was no longer a point.

Soon, it would be over. Soon, the Captain would get a reward.

Why was his heart beating so rapidly?

It wasn't the first time he had done this. The passage in general was created months ago, serving as a way for the Captain to take care of such business in a discreet manner. No mess, no worrying about others, just clean and simple and safe.

...Simple...

And yet with each step, the feelings grew and grew. The Captain's eyes darted left and right, searching for...something. Someone. But the passage was dark and narrow; they were alone.

The thought of that was...upsetting.

The Captain frowned. Why? This is how it had always worked. Even if it didn't make sense, all that was left to do was bring Burkes to the end (a spot of light rapidly approaching), and then there was…

There was something…that the Captain wasn't supposed to worry about?

It doesn't...it doesn't make sense to...

“Good puppy~” *click click*

The pieces fell into place. The veil was lifted.

Oh.

The two Terrans stepped out of the darkness and right into an ambush, vines of soft green and deep blue shooting out and binding them both before they had a chance to blink. Burke let out a strangled yell of panic, but an injection from her new Mxtress immediately began to calm her right down, based on the noises made soon after.

"There you areeeee, silly little puppy~!" The vines binding the Capt...the puppygirl squeezed her tightly, drawing excited yips and barks from her like water from a well. she fell into Mistress's grasp with delight, dropping the tablet Mistress had given her and the squirt-gun (it shot a harmless paralytic) to focus entirely on licking all over her Owner's face.

she was such a Good girl! she obeyed, and listened, and no one got hurt, and was a Good girl, and everyone was happy!!! she was home she was with Owner and this was her favorite part and Good girls got rewarded!

*click click* went the little circle in Owner's hand, the sound sending shivers of pleasure down her back, causing her eyes to roll and drool to fall. Dumb little puppies like her got Clicker, and it was...sho good...

“Settle down girl, come on now~” puppy’s Owner giggled, brushing her vines through the girl's long hair, which was hidden beneath the cap she usually wore when pretending to be the Old Meanie. her previous self, the one before Owner had found her on that ship, the one she had ripped from her spirit and soul so lovingly over the months in dry dock.

“Wh…whhhuz goin…on?” The cute rescue, the one-who-used-to-be-Burkes, mumbled through her teeth, having already been stripped and redressed in a flowery flowy slip of a thing. She was already looking so much better, with pupils wide and gaze empty.

“It's quite simple, little one~ You see, my obedient and precious little girl here, who you may know as the Captain, did what she did best…” Owner smiled down at the puppy, making small coo-ing noises. The puppygirl giggled, writhing as her tummy got rubbies.

*click click* *click click* *click click*

“she fetched what was asked of her. Such a Good girl, yes you areeeee, yes you areeeee!” Owner began to scritch under puppy’s chin, causing feminine moans and squeals of delight to slip free from her soul. It was so hard pretending to be a mean nasty angry Captain, which is why Owner did that thing in her head to help! She didn't really understand how it worked, but that was okay.

How the affini had broken her? Doesn't make sense to puppy!

What was going to happen to the rest of her crew? Doesn't make sense to puppy!

Her Owner's plans for her? Doesn't make sense to puppy!

*click click*

puppy felt the thoughts and questions blissfully slip from her mind, giggling in delight. Stars, she was such a ditzy little happy pet. So well trained, so mal…malle…um…so well trained! Owner tilted her head up to gaze into her eyes, and puppy felt so happy...and a bit sad.

Because this was the Hard Part.

The part that made her whimper. The part where her Owner's eyes pulled her back to the Old Meanie. She felt herself falling, falling to Owner's pretty voice...

“I know, petal. I know. But you get to sleep with me every single night already, don't you? Yes you do, yes you do~ Good puppy. You're making me sooooo proud, doing this. And very, very soon, we will be ready to get everyone else in one go~”

. . . . .

The Captain woke slowly, peeling his face off of the desk. He groaned, rubbing his forehead as he glanced around the room. What had he…?

Oh, right. He had taken care of the latest traitor, and then he was getting a small nap in. Something told him that he needed to be extra vigilant for the next while, to find out as many traitors as pawsi...as possible. Those in charge were counting on him.

...It was a little weird that he had been so tired he had collapsed into his chair completely naked and covered in a sheen of sweat, or the smile he was unable to wipe from his face, but that was okay.

And in the corner of his mind, just out of sight...a whisper.

It didn’t have to make sense to puppy.

#hdg #human domestication guide #pyxfics #microfiction

91 notes · View notes

skarlaya · 2 days ago

Text

8x17 Reaction

I’ve seen some… interesting takes on the episode, so I thought I’d share my thoughts after watching it twice because I think in the heat of the moment some people misconstrued a lot of what went down during the kitchen argument. This is going to be long so sorry about that in advance:

1- Eddie did not “almost raise a hand” to Buck, not even close. I watched this scene again multiple times after seeing the appalling takes people were sharing online… and they are completely unfounded. He grabbed his shoulder a little roughly (probably more roughly than Eddie himself intended to) and pointed a finger in his face… was this jarring? Yes. Was it violent? Absolutely fucking NOT. Could someone who has a history of trauma be triggered by that split second rough movement? Of course… just like I’m sure there are people who get trigged by something weekly on this show. If Eddie grabbing Buck’s shoulder while angry triggered you, then I can only imagine how triggered you must have been by Bobby slamming Buck into a wall in S1 while threatening him, and Chimney punching Buck to the floor in S5, Athena slapping Harry or Buck nearly breaking Eddie’s ankle because he was so caught up in his jealousy that he wasn’t in full control of himself while playing basketball. None of these actions make these main characters violent abusers. You know who was a violent abuser? Doug. There’s no comparison.

2- Buck was not afraid of Eddie in this scene and he did not flinch; we don’t even see Buck’s face when Eddie gets in his space but his head does not jerk back and he doesn’t move away, nor does his face show any sign of fear or discomfort when the camera cuts to his face when Eddie steps back. He doesn’t even show annoyance or anger about it, because he never for a second was worried Eddie would hit him

3- Eddie was not the only one being a dick in this argument. Buck came home with groceries that he picked up despite knowing Eddie intended to do the shopping, and he did that intentionally because he was mad that he found out Eddie got the EPFD job from Ravi. He’s mad and hurt that Eddie is leaving again but deep down he knew he would be, mostly he’s just mad and hurt that Eddie yet again didn’t tell him he was leaving (and this time he told other people first). Buck and Eddie have very distinct patterns when they argue and those are on full display here: Buck is passive aggressive with his intentional remarks and prods at Eddie to get a reaction, and Eddie lashes out and says harsh things

4- What leads Eddie to point his finger in Buck’s face is that Buck accuses Eddie of not being sad enough over Bobby’s death when he passive aggressively says “I’m sorry I’m sad that Bobby’s dead”. This is not Buck defending his own grief, this is him attacking Eddie’s grief by saying Eddie isn’t sad enough or not as sad as Buck. That accusation is what makes Eddie lose his cool for half a second, which is exactly what Buck intended because arguing with Eddie is easier than dealing with their shared grief

5- Buck actually IS making everything all about him right now, and I admit on my first watch I was pretty annoyed with Eddie for this line but on my rewatch it was obvious that Eddie is right. I think it’s hard for us to see that at first because we identify with Buck’s grief easier since Bobby was our “captain dad” like he was for Buck, and we also felt Buck’s helplessness at watching Bobby die. Leading up to the funeral, Buck was leaning on Maddie somewhat and was there to talk Chim into attending the funeral, but it seems like once the funeral was over and there were no more items on the checklist to get through he caved in on himself. We don’t see him reaching out to Athena or May or Harry to ask what they need or looking for ways to support them… he isn’t talking to Hen about her unique experience of having been in the lab quarantine with Bobby vs his own guilt over not being able to save them all or trying to help Chim cope with the knowledge that Bobby chose Chim’s life over his own… he isn’t letting Eddie work through the guilt over not being there when they needed him (and in light of this scene, it adds new context to Buck’s light and dismissive “hey, you’re here now” when Eddie told Ravi he should have been there… Eddie is trying to reach out and Buck is dismissing his pain, without realizing it). Ever since the funeral, he is spiraling exactly as Eddie said… he’s seeing the fact that the 118 isn’t eating together as his family abandoning him instead of recognizing that they all just need some time to process their grief in their own ways. He’s evaluating his friends to give their grief a score, and subconsciously he’s judging their grief scores against his own and each other’s instead of opening up and sharing their grief together. And he’s not happy for Eddie about the EPFD job, even though he would have tried to be before Bobby’s death (as much as it made him sad to think Eddie really wasn’t coming back now)… he’s judging Eddie for leaving again even though he knew Eddie would have to go back to Chris eventually, because how can Eddie leave him again after Bobby died, how can Eddie just move on when Bobby is dead? And he automatically accused Eddie of not thinking he did enough to save Bobby, when what Eddie is saying is that he blames himself for not being there when the team needed him. Grief is selfish, because it’s impossible for your feelings not to hang over everything else including how you think you’re looking after your loved ones. Buck is trying to live up to what Bobby told him in that the others would need him, but the way he is going about it is all wrong - he’s focusing on it through making sure he’s doing enough and not on what anyone (including himself) actually needs.

6- Eddie did not imply that Buck didn’t do all he could to save Bobby, that is not what “I don’t know, Buck, I wasn’t there” means. It’s not Eddie doubting Buck, it’s Eddie voicing yet again that he blames himself because he wasn’t there. He knows Buck did everything he could, but he also knows they can’t know how things would have gone if Eddie had been there inside the lab. But Buck has been so focused on his own grief that he still isn’t hearing Eddie when Eddie is trying to get him to understand how much he’s hurting over not being there so Eddie throws out a passive aggressive parting shot of his own

7- We’re not going to see a more in-depth apology for the kitchen argument because it’s not necessary for the narrative and we can assume they had a discussion off-camera in which Eddie reiterated that he was a dick and didn’t mean to be so harsh, and Buck in turn apologized for intentionally provoking a fight and being cruel with his passive aggressive words. They’re both at fault- Buck started the argument on purpose and Eddie ended it by being slightly more of an asshole. When Buck came home to find that Eddie came back, he forgave him instantly simply because Eddie came back - he saw him at his worst (see passive aggressive cruelty) and he came back anyway. He was absolutely going to still be a petty bitch about the note right up until he saw Chris, but he’d forgiven Eddie the moment he realized Eddie came back

8- The note was petty AF but Eddie is petty as is Buck. I’m sure Tim and the writers wanted the symbolism of Buck waking up to a goodbye note from Eddie like Eddie did from Shannon, but where Shannon never came home Eddie came back to Buck and he brought Chris. Buck should absolutely be a petty bitch about the note from time to time, though, because it’s Buck

Grief is messy, but like Buck once said to Maddie you lash out at the people you know will always forgive you (the people who love you). That’s simply a part of human nature, we’re flawed creatures.

#buddie #911 spoilers #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 abc

95 notes · View notes

6okuto · 2 days ago

Text

Vere Relationship HCS

GN!reader | i got u anon. Shocked to see i haven't done ts relationship hcs bUT i shall link my masterlist with old hcs anyway since there's a lot of overlap. if that tickles anyone's fancy. hate that saying a little bit. anyway

Empty threats... outsiders fearful of Vere can't believe you're with him. He says he'll kill you or you'll find something dead waiting on your bed like a cat bringing in a mouse and you just Laugh and they're like ??!!?!?!?!. But they don't see his pout, nor do they care about how his tail swishes in amusement as you bite back

It's silent things! Like him making a second drink for you without being asked. Pulling you out of the way when someone's about to bump into you (and sending them a cold glare). Fixing your necklace because the clasp has circled round to the front. Etc...

Getting out of bed on a free day can be one of life's biggest challenges when you're dating Vere Touchstarved. The Clingerrr. One time he almost hisses as you try to leave and you're like Wow

In general I think Vere likes when your attention is on him. In an established relationship, you've gone through the main mess of attachment and trust issues, violence, etc. and he's very confident in your relationship and feelings. And yet. He still prefers when your eyes are on him, and in big events, if he wants your attention away from your friends and acquaintances... well!

Hrm. At the start, I imagine him going through this dip where that last point is. a super prominent Thing going on, and you're like ...? before he goes back to his usual independence.

If you go on a long trip without him, he can handle himself, but he is affected by it more than he'll admit to other people. Guy who likes playing it cool...

Surprise escape room date where Vere is suddenly the biggest threat in the room because why would you do that. You want him to. solve Multiple Puzzles? You have his company for the afternoon and You Do This? I DO THINK. Hm. You could convince him to lock in but it'll take a lot of promises. He keeps messing with you even then though. Of course. Also if it's one of the horror rooms he may or may not almost attack one of the scare actors

Asking Vere to draw things for you... He's so. You're like Don't spend long on this please and he does anyway because he's not one to half-ass anything especially if it's for you Hello?? "Do you think you could doodle this character I'm creating so I can envision them better" And he gives you a bust, full body, outfit options like oh okay hello Hello???

Intimate baths... Vere fully relaxed and you're just enjoying each other's company... Him laying between your legs or vice versa... Bubbling and foaming up his hair and making silly shapes... Exactly

Nips you when you're annoying him. LOL. Squishing his cheeks and he turns to bite your thumb. Messing with his hair while his head is in your lap and he nips your thigh or turns for your hand. Suggestive I guess but he does it while trailing kisses down from your jaw. A favourite thing to do!

Vere gets.. opinionated.. when it comes to home decor and furniture. His taste is good! It's just... you know... if yours clashes, this Ikea trip will be a test. He'll barely, if at all, help build it when you get home so you'll have needed to plan for this by calling in back-up. He'd rather offer refreshments while you're all at the peak of suffering because you can't find a screw and the parts won't sit flat against each other and

If you fall asleep on him, he Will glare at anyone who comes by and might wake you. He's very gentle with his touches, and if you could see the fond affection on his face sometimes... wow.

I think I said this in an old post but Vere falling asleep on you is soo important to me actually because he's open and vulnerable but he trusts you completely.

Big fan of those teasing condescending (??) pet names like hellooo "sweetheart." This mostly pops up when he's fucking with you but oh my goodness a sincere "sweetheart" when you go to him for comfort or catch him in a good mood... Icna'tb icantpelase

It's very important to me to imagine Vere coming to you for comfort... It's very obvious at this point when he's putting up a front or hiding something... Depending on how bad, you might wait for him to broach the topic first, playing along with his distractions. Has anyone imagined Vere crying. lol. I don't know what he'd cry about but the thought of him crying and trying to push away your affection before surrendering completely . lol. Lol. not that i care

#touchstarved game #vere x reader #touchstarved x reader #touchstarved fluff #vere fluff #entry log #entry #felt my intestines form a spiral shape when i said the sweetheart thing bc thats what i said abt rime all those yrs ago #both of these guys... shakes u shakesu shakesu shakjehasuieh

75 notes · View notes

justzutara · 19 hours ago

Note

Prompt: Zuko and Hakoda have a heart to heart about fatherhood.

Zuko stroked Katara's sweat-soaked hair as she slept. Two days after going into labor, their baby still refused to leave the safety of its mother's womb. "He's stubborn just like you," Katara had said after the first sixteen hours had passed.

Everything since then had been a blur as Katara's comment replayed in his mind again and again. "He's stubborn just like you. He's stubborn."

He.

They hadn't talked about the sex of the baby during her pregnancy, but that simple joke had confirmed exactly what Zuko feared: he did not think he could raise a son.

"Fire Lord Zuko," the head midwife whispered, "would you step out for a moment? We need to make preparations for when Master Katara wakes." He nodded and promptly got out of the midwives' way.

The frigid air was still outside the birthing hut. Snow sparkled in the torchlight under his feet, and stars glittered in the dark blue sky above. Any other night Zuko would have marveled at the beauty of night in the south pole, but with his wife's labor stalled and his mind in overdrive, every point of light felt like a needle in his eye.

A firm hand on his shoulder snapped Zuko back to his senses. "How is she doing?" A nigh imperceptible tremor punctured Chief Hakoda's confident voice.

"The midwives gave her something to speed up her labor. It should kick in soon. Besides that, they said everything is fine," Zuko parrotted what he remembered from the update they'd given before Katara fell asleep.

"That's a relief," Hakoda smiled. Zuko nodded, his eyes fixed on the snow.

Hakoda squeezed Zuko's shoulder. "How are you doing?"

"I...I don't..." his stomach turned as he fumbled over his words.

"Nervous?" Hakoda asked.

"Terrified," Zuko admitted. They walked around to the side of the hut so their voices wouldn't disturb the midwives. "Katara thinks it's a boy."

"Does she? Most men would be thrilled about that."

"Most men also didn't have fathers who burned off half their faces," Zuko snapped. Hakoda looked away and tension settled between the two men.

"You're right. I apologize," Hakoda murmured. Zuko hugged his crossed arms tight to his body. "At least you know what not to do," the chief offered with a strained smirk.

To both their surprise, Zuko laughed. It was a rough, choked sound that brought tears to his eyes--which he quickly wiped away lest they freeze--but it felt good. His father and brother-in-law's sense of humor wasn't for everyone, but Zuko was glad for it now. "You're right about that. I could use some advice about what to do, though."

Hakoda leaned against the hut. "I'm afraid there's not much I can tell you," he sighed. "I did my best with Sokka and Katara after their mother died, but to be honest, I don't remember much about those years. I left to fight in the war when they were still young, and by the time we were reunited, they'd grown up." The older man drew circles in the snow with his boot. "My children turned out wonderfully, but I can't take credit."

This was not the pep talk Zuko was hoping for. "Sokka would have tried to break you out of prison by himself if I hadn't caught him. I threw my dad in prison when the war ended. I'm sure you did better than you think," he offered.

Hakoda smiled wryly. "Well, when you put it that way..." They shared a brief chuckle. "If you really want my advice, don't try to decide who your child is; they'll tell you. Just be there to help them grow and keep them safe. You're good at that," the chief grinned. That assurance was just enough to calm Zuko's frayed nerves. He had a boatload more questions, but they would have to wait.

"Fire Lord Zuko! It's time!"

"Thank you," Zuko whispered hastily as he headed back toward the front of the hut.

"Wake me when I'm a grandpa!" Hakoda called after him.

Katara's tired face lit up when Zuko returned. He dropped to her side and held her hand. "Ready?" He asked.

His wife squeezed his hand and groaned as a contraction seized her. "Whether I am or not, he's coming!"

Zuko squeezed her hand back and kissed her forehead. "I can't wait to meet him."

--------

Thank you so much for the prompt! Personally, I love the headcanon that Katara and Zuko's (first) child is a girl and Zuko is an iconic girl dad, but I thought this would be a great opportunity to explore his anxiety around the possibility of a son due to his relationship with Ozai.

#zutara #steambaby #katara x zuko #atla #avatar the last airbender #katara #zuko #fanfic #zutara fanfiction

56 notes · View notes

sizzlingcloudmentality · 3 days ago

Text

so it goes

Marcus Moreno x f!reader | wc ~630 | explicit, mdni | ao3

summary: you meet Marcus in a bar and he's a hot flirt

warnings: no y/n, Marcus being flirty, mentions of drinks in a bar, allusions to smut

a/n: a drabble for my follower milestone event, this one is for my dearest @guiltyasdave. it's my first Marcus Moreno and I'm down bad. it's also my first fic with a Taylor song title, because I think there always can be more of those <3 thank you for beta'ing your own drabble, Jana 😅💛

I recommend listening to so it goes by Taylor Swift because fic and song go hand in hand!

All you wanted tonight was something to satisfy your hunger for something harsh and sharp edged and rough. Something potentially painful but in a pleasurable way. This bar usually serves these kinds of men, the ones that are good for one wild ride but break your back once they bucked you off and disappeared.

And then this guy caught your attention. He looks so tame, sweet, raising his glass when a bartender serves you a drink from the gentleman over there, ma’am. He looks soft. The only sharp edge you can make out is the curve of his nose. And even that one looks like it would feel smooth. But there is something brewing, you can see it in his eyes once he settles down next to you. Some kind of magic potion is bubbling behind his eyes and you want to taste it.

He is soft spoken, but he keeps his voice so low that you have to lean in closer to understand what he is saying. Drawing you closer with his voice alone, already pulling on an invisible string, just how you like to be tricked into this game of surrender without losing your face.

He introduces himself, “Marcus. Marcus Moreno.”, and when you take his hand to shake it he doesn’t let it go. What you mistook for softness is smoothness.

He orders you another drink and talks about his daughter growing up so fast and that he preferred some things going lento. Slow. Nice and slow. He doesn’t say that, but he looks like that. He looks like the kind of man who gives you what you need, not what you want. Slow and deep instead of hard and fast.

His thumb ghosts over your wrist, exactly over the spot where you always apply some of your perfume. You are so close that you don't even have to lean in to hear his voice. Knees against knees, yours between his, your hand in his when he lifts it to brush his lips over your knuckles. A smooth turn and his nose is tracing the scent on your wrist.

You placed a few drops all over your body, between your breasts and your inner thighs and Marcus looks at you like he knows. An approving smile lets your heart skip a bit, the murmured I like the way you smell makes you bite your lip.

The pads of his fingers run up and down your bare arm, he's picking up imaginary lint and you can't even be bored by him using all the tricks in the book. Because he uses them for you, to get your attention. To make you smile.

“Oh, what do we have here?” He smirks and lifts his hand and you almost expect him to conjure a coin from behind your ear. But he doesn’t. He cups your jaw in his hand, his thumb brushing, caressing, the corner of your mouth. Wiping away a tiny bit of foam from your cocktail. Licking his thumb afterwards, locking eyes with you while he does so.

The other patrons, the music, the chatter, it all fades into insignificance. All that is left is him. Gaze heavy on your skin, fingers light on your face. Voice suave when he asks if he can take you home, smile honest when you say yes.

You mistook his softness for weakness, when really it’s quiet power with no need to show off. And he really likes it nice and slow. Deep strokes, taking his time, giving you more time than you would ever give yourself. Encouraging you to take what you need. Praising you when you leave your traces on his back. Catching you when you fall, catching you again. Holding you close that night. And after.

drabbles bribery masterlist

general masterlist here

dividers: @saradika-graphics

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno x f!reader #marcus moreno fanfiction #marcus moreno fic #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu fandom #ppcu fics #ppcu #my writing #drabbles bribery #reader #you #f!reader

73 notes · View notes

kandyscorner · 2 days ago

Note

i've been seeing stuff all over tiktok about guardian bells. idk if you know anything about them but its like a good luck charm that you hang on someone important to you's motorcycle for safety (i think? im not completely sure myself lol) but i was thinking about a fic or a short prompt where the reader gives one to jason for his bike. if you don't want to do this absolutely no biggie but i thought it could be cool. again no pressure. love your work!!

Okay, I actually had to look this up because I thought you meant like just some random trinket as a lucky charm, but then you specifically said Guardian bells.

For those who don't know, Guardian bells, also known as Gremlin bells, serve multiple purposes, most superstitious. The bells are a wish for safety while you drive from loved ones or other bikers. it usually hangs low on the bottom of the bike. The Gremlin name comes from the superstition of Gremlins getting into your engine and breaking things. The bell serves as a hiding place for them, but once you start driving, the bell rings, jarring them and making them fall off the bike. It was kind of fun doing the research. I didn't know bikers were superstitious like that.

Anyways, onto the request!

****

Jason looked like he was going for a ride. The handsome man all loaded up in his leather jacket and helmet in hand.

He was staring at you and you were staring back, a silent conversation.

Going for a ride?

Yea

Without me?

Loser

You guff at his eye roll.

“Give me ten minutes, please” you request sliding off the couch.

“You have five or I'm leaving without you.” He threatens but you know that's all it is. He won't leave if he knows you want to come with. You change clothes quickly anyways.

Then you're rushing to the dresser and moving things aside to pull out the little box you'd been harbouring. You had felt anxious when you bought it online, anxious when it arrived in the mail and anxious the entire time you had it hidden in the drawer.

Jason wouldn't shame you for it, or laugh at you but you worried what he might think. Was it too cheesy? Or would it be wrong? Jason wasn't exactly religious per say but then neither was this.

You open the box and pull the little bell from the box. You stare at the silver thing with the blocky and cursive engraving, I fucking love you. It felt like Jason.

You wanted him to know that you cared too. He was prone to going out on his bike when he got stuck in his head and that could be dangerous (his whole life was dangerous but that didn't matter).

You wanted him to know that you cared about him and you loved him. You could do this. It had waited long enough.

“Sweetheart, I'm serious. I'm gonna leave without you.” You hear him yell through the walls.

“Liar,” you mutter before skipping out of the bedroom, little bell hidden in hand.

“What's wrong with you?” he eyes you uncertaintly even as he holds your jacket out for you. You answer as you slip your arms into it.

“Nothing's wrong.”

“You don't skip”

“I just did”

“I know that's why somethings wrong.”

You huff and work your way under his arms for a hug. Sometimes, you didn't like dating a vigilante.

“I got you something.” You mumble into the collar of his shirt.

“Is that why you're being weird?” He asks, big hands skimming over your back in a soothing manner.

You pull back to look him in the eyes, “I am not being weird.”

“Okay, you're not. What'd you get me that's got you so worked up?” You unwind your arms from him but stay close.

“I don't know if I understood everything about it but even if it's not about the spooky stuff, I just wanted you to know that I want you to be safe.” You say as you open your palm show him the little guardian bell you had gotten. He gingerly takes it from your palm.

“You got me a gremlin bell?” he asks slowly, delicately like it wasn’t real.Your brows pinch at the question.

“I thought it was called a guardian bell?”

“It is, It is, it's both. Thank you sweetheart,” he drags you back into another hug, curling himself around you, pressing his nose to your neck.

“Nobodies ever gotten me one of these,” he mumbles where he hides, “thank you sweetheart”

You two stand there for a long time and you take up Jason's soothing strokes, hand smoothing across his back. Mostly because he's sniffling and you never meant to make him cry.

When he finally does pull away, he stops to look at the bell. A smile works its way across his lips.

“I fucking love you too, sweetheart. Thank you.” He leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek and the corner of your lip.

“Stop Thanking me, handsome.” You bring your hands up to face and thumb at the stray tears and pull him in to kiss him straight on the lips.

“Now,” you say slowly, “let's put it on and go for that ride, yeah?”

“Yeah, let's find out if I have gremlins on board. Aside from you of course” His stepping away from your reach before you can smack him.

“Jason Todd”

“Don't take that tone. It says right here that you fucking love me. That tone’s not allowed!” He shouts but doesn't stay for long, already racing out of the apartment with both the helmets.

“Unbelievable.,” you mumble before snorting, “you forgot your keys” you say in sing songy voice even though you know he can't hear you. You grab them from the ceramic dish and follow after him locking up the apartment.

He’s lucky you did fucking love him.

****

Also for reference of what the bell looks like here

Masterlist

#jason todd x reader #Kandys requests #kandyscorner

50 notes · View notes

asce-of-hearts · 3 days ago

Note

Geto or Mahito with prompt 🌞 or 🐩? If it has to be only one can it please be 🌞

Adoration

Contents: Yandere!Geto and Yandere!Mahito with prompt 🌞🐩 (separate).

more Mahito content here

PROMPT LIST

TAG LIST

WARNINGS: YANDERE, SORCERER READER FOR MAHITO, MENTIONS OF MAHITO'S CURSED TECHNIQUE, UNHINGED SUGURU.

Mahito

Mahito was... unsettling. Everything about him made you nervous. Not only because he was this magical, incomprehensive being that you could never strive to understand, because he was your enemy, the one you needed to destroy. But because he also seemed infatuated with you.

It was more often than not that you had a mission that involved him, and that you found deformed beings spelling your name with a human heart at the end. He was weird, and he almost seemed to be in love with you. Doing those things to catch your attention.

Which was bad, because it was on the verge of costing you your job as a sorcerer.

So, you decide to face this problem head on.

"Show yourself, Mahito." You say, trembling. The place he's hiding is this enormous, abandoned fabric. And even if you try and seem brave, think that your cursed technique is enough to face one of the most powerful curses you have ever encountered, you can't help but feel like you should've asked for company.

"___!" His voice echoes, manic, happy to see you. And he comes out of thin air, facing you with that big, enormous smile that at times seems more like a grimace. "Oh, you came to see me. What brings you to my humble abode?" He asks, attempting to touch you. You take a step back with shaky legs.

"I need you to stop." He cocks a brow, still smiling.

"Stop what, ___?"

"Stop saying my name," You start, voice a little more shaky than you would've liked. "And stop... stop doing those things."

"What things?" Playing coy, he knows exactly what you're asking. But he doesn't give up, and he doesn't give in. Much less when he has you exactly where he wants you to be. "My gifts? But those are simply... tokens of my appreciation. Basic courtship, isn't that what you humans adore? Adoration?" He asks, his eyes doe as he tries to seem innocent, and you keep trembling in place.

"I don't want your gifts. I don't want your adoration."

"Then I'll keep doing it. I'll keep killing until you adore me back, until you acknowledge me," He finally pounces over you, grinning. "I'll adore you until you've completely lost your senses"

Geto Suguru

"You can't keep putting others in danger for me, Suguru," You whisper, taking his calloused hand in yours. You have known he has struggled, with his depression, with all of those things that haunt his tired eyes. And as such, he has gained a bark, a bite, this aggression that makes him lash out towards others. "You are loved, Sugu. Tons of others love you, like you. You have friends, you have—"

"But I don't," He answers back, curtly. "I don't like them. I don't love them. I don't want anyone near me..." He isn't even looking at you, but he isn't pushing you away.

"Suguru..." You whisper, pained. Trying to reach past those walls he has built around himself. "But you let me near... and you let Satoru near. Isn't that?"

"That's entirely different," He hisses, finally facing you. His eyes are filled with emotions, a turmoil you can't quite understand or descipher. "I— Satoru is my friend. And you... You are... something else." He takes his hand away, and cups your cheek. You can't help it when you get nervous about it. "I like you, more than I like anyone else. I just... I think I like you a little too much, do you like me too?"

You don't answer him for a moment, a pained expression on your face.

"That's not the point, Sugu..."

"___," He sounds firm this time, serious. "Do you like me too?"

"I do, but that's not—"

"Then don't expect me to not lash out at others," He growls, his gaze intense. "I don't want anyone who isn't you near me, touching me, talking to me. I don't want anyone who isn't you so much as breathing in my same direction. And if they do, I'll kill them."

Your eyes widen.

"What?"

"I'll kill them," He barks once more. "I'll kill them for trying to take whats yours."

hope you enjoyed this!!!!!!

have a great day/night

TAGGING:

For Mahito: @sunnymmoon @imvivian @eroscastle @goldenglow149 @kitzusune @coolnekochan9961 @lilyalone @oliviathatgirl @eeelieschariot @ayn-yurbestie @sukunaspillow @mikeysonlywaifu @w1tchyaurea @yutterfly

For Geto: @sunnymmoon @lilithlunas @imvivian @eroscastle @goldenglow149 @lurexin @stranger00001 @delicatelycraftedbambi @rania200527 @kitzusune @mizzhellsingsstuff @lakxcpsta @coolnekochan9961 @notreallyablogger @akirahyoshi @lilyalone @oliviathatgirl @eeelieschariot @hannas16 @surelynotaspider @mimihaitani @raxshall @ayn-yurbestie @xxj0rd13xx @jellystar-star @janeisnotonline @sukunaspillow @architectofsuffering @mrstraffy @mikeysonlywaifu @w1tchyaurea @poopooindamouf @samstrav @yutterfly @staarflowerr @nanamiswife @majissunshine @starberryzos @waywardfanwinner

51 notes · View notes

alexanderlightweight · 1 day ago

Note

Writing wednesday's are back babyyyyyy!!!

Honestly it's just a great relief to see you writing again 🥰.

If this verse still sparks something in you, could we have some more unicorn!Alec? NSFW/SFW is writer's choice. I ain't bothered either way.

they are back!!!!!! <3

okay so I love this verse and always will (I mean this because I’ve loved both unicorns and phoenix since I was a child) the mood does have to be right but that's more because the world building takes effort (I know I say that a lot but for about maybe a dozen or so verse the worldbuild is super complicated. a lot of others are canon adjacent or sideways so it's easier to build off). and so does developing and deciding where to go with the relationship. I don't want it always the same but also I don't want to write slowburn. but also why do I always complicate things for myself by trying to make each verse a little different to show a similar but slightly different flavor of Malec? I love my tropes and my niches but I also like exploring the various possibilities and it murders my brain. I want to be clear I do this to myself. every damn time.

and also that fucking gif sparked something in me. I was like, well shit the verse needs to come back with a bang like Kuzco... though maybe with Magnus' elegance for malec's own sanity. (and yay because despite my research binges into other verses details, I had the spoons to actually map out how some of the stuff works in this verse).

i hope you enjoy

<3 lumine

flames of triump

Alec really doesn’t know why he has to wait here, for Magnus.

He could be anywhere else and yet he’s here.

Waiting in some obscure and well-warded fae valley for Magnus to finish his meeting. His mate is currently dining with both the unseelie king and the seelie queen. There’s a problem between the two factions that’s big enough it requires the presence of both a phoenix and his mate.

Even if Alec isn’t actually needed or wanted at the meeting itself. Which is a relief because Alec doesn’t think the meeting would have lasted nearly as long as it has if he’d attended.

Another distraction breaks him from his thoughts. Another faerie arrives, the eleventh to show up and try to join him since Magnus left. She starts by waiting a little while away as she calls out to him. Her form is half-hidden in the trees as she tries to coax him with a basket of apples, her hand even daring to hold one out in offering.

Apples.

As if Alec is some common horse or mule.

He snorts angrily, tossing his head back and pawing at the ground, breaking it under his hooves in fury. When he’s done, the fae is gone; her frightened scent vanishes with her and only a fallen basket with a trail of apples remains.

Alec approaches it with fierce, quick steps but only so that he can crush each individual fruit beneath his hoofs before making quick work of the basket with his horn.

The smell of the fruit is fresh and sweet, tantalizing considering how long he’s been waiting here and food — fae or not — holds no power over Alec in this form. However that doesn’t mean he’s a simple beast or so easily coaxed. If anything it infuriates him, stoking the murderous rage in his belly that never quite settles unless Magnus is there with him.

The others that approach him as the hours pass are like minded.

Some offer him lumps of candied honey, fresh vegetation or rare fruits and some offer the choice bits of meat or organs for those who remember that a unicorn is not a beast of pasture.

Each is offered from a distance whether from respect or fear Alec isn’t sure.

Yet each gift is a trap.

They want to touch him.

Touching a unicorn is thought to give luck and strength and being blessed by one is a coveted boon. The hair of his mane and tail are worth as much as Magnus’ feathers and tears and just as rare and Alec knows exactly how much he’s worth and so does Magnus.

Everyone that passes the ward Magnus put up isn’t a danger, or in danger.

Because Alec has enough self-control that he won’t kill someone out of irritation, no matter how much he wants to.

—-

Magnus’ feet hasten, his steps lengthening without thought as if his very legs are yearning to make up for his lack of wings in this form.

Alexander is waiting for him.

Proud head tilted up towards the sun and the breeze playfully tugging his mane into a dance with the wind. He’s ethereal and gorgeous, glowing like obsidian under the sky and pure power to look at. At the sight of him Alexander rears in greeting, hoofs striking air in silent applause and the silver tip of his horn gleaming gold as it catches the sun.

Magnus feels the weight of his mate’s gaze and sighs, letting himself finally calm down. The gold and red feathers that twine with his dark hair flutter as the same wind playing with Alexander teases Magnus’ face, the scent of him carried in a kiss of air.

As beautiful as the sight of his Alexander is, the evidence of unwanted guests and gawkers is littered across the valley. There’s ruined gems and food and even clothes scattered across the once pristine land, though thankfully for the fae, no blood.

A pity for Magnus, however.

A single drop of blood sterilized by a phoenix tear and he could have used fyre flight to find and incinerate the interlopers rather than let them go free.

“If only we’d known the Trueblood line carried unicorn souls.” Arawn murmurs from where he’s deigned to act as Magnus’ escort. The unseelkie king’s gaze is unsettling and greedy as he looks at Alexander. “He could have been ours, then.”

Magnus knows exactly what Arawn means, considering the young blonde woman who had been the scribe during the meeting. She’d had pointed ears and fangs yet also dark, stark and nephil runes on her skin.

Fae folk mixing with nephilim isn’t unheard of and Magnus isn’t surprised that Arawn specifically keeps track of nephil bloodlines to see which one he wants his people to seduce. However that doesn’t mean Magnus will allow another to covet his mate, even if there’s nothing lustful about Arawn’s covetous gaze.

“And yet, he’s mine.”

Arawn’s unnaturally green eyes meet Magnus’ gold and Magnus lets a hint of power bleed into his voice when he speaks.

“Even if he had been yours in another life. Or another time, in the end he’d still be mine.”

Arawn tilts his head, the smile on his maw decidedly unfriendly but not yet dangerous. There is respect in his gaze and amusement as well.

“I have many sons—” and Magnus bristles even though he knows Arawn wouldn’t actually dare offer them to him or Alexander. “And your mate has a sister, does he not?”

The verbal assurance that Arawn recognizes Magnus’ claim on Alexander calms him enough that he nods. Isabelle Lightwood does carry the blood and she mingles with fae so it’s not truly far fetched. He summons a card, not with Isabelle’s name but the name of her most recent paramour. That is the best he’ll give Arawn, the fae king will have to do his own work from here.

Arawn understands and smirks, shallowly nodding his head in the closest to a bow the unseelie will ever lower himself to.

“I’ll leave you to your mate,” Arawn pauses and the card disappears from betwixt his fingers, “and I’ll remember a favor owed.”

He stays quiet then and Magnus is glad of it.

Alexander wouldn’t ever be receptive to Arawn’s plot.

Yet Magnus knows that if he were any less powerful than he is, Arawn would happily use one of his sons to try and steal Magnus’ mate

Magnus summons an apple, golden and glowing and perhaps to the rest of the world, it will look normal. Golden apples exist in the shadowworld aplenty, both in myth and reality.

Alexander neighs angrily, hoof stamping down so hard he cracks a boulder but then he’s trotting over, mane and head shaking as he passes the unseelie king. Fingers reach out, hovering over Alexander’s coat for a moment before it’s swiftly pulled back, the tips nearly bitten off from Alexander’s lunge.

The white of Alexander’s eyes are wide and wild as he bugles, teeth clacking together with unfettered viciousness and he doesn’t need the canines of a predator to be dangerous. His back legs kick out and Arawn retreat without a word.

Alexander could take off an arm at the elbow without even trying with his teeth, dull though they may seem.

Magnus tsks, clicking his tongue several times in a mocking noise that has Alexander’s attention back on him instantly.

His sweet boy isn’t actually angry, but he’s going to act like he is as he lunges forward. His muzzle knocks against Magnus’ shoulder with enough force to rock him, but not drop him and his deadly horn passes harmlessly past Magnus’ jaw. Alexander’s forelock brushes against his cheek then Magnus steps back, offering the apple with a smirk.

There’s a moment where Magnus just knows that Alexander is considering whether or not goring Magnus’ hand will actually hurt him considering his instant regeneration. Magnus can also see the moment where he decides — as always — that even the possibility of causing a whisper of pain to Magnus outweighs any vindictive pleasure gained.

Especially when they both know his boy will eat the apple either way.

With a knicker of defeat Alexander lowers his head, whuffling at Magnus palm and then the apple with a snort of disdain.

Alexander eats it despite the irritation he’s radiating.

Whiskers brush Magnus’ palm and Alexander’s eyes glitter with malice even as he chews and swallows every bite of the juicy fruit. It doesn’t matter that Magnus is teasing him and his boy could just refuse. Alexander’s too territorial to even pretend not to take something Magnus offers, especially when it’s formed from Magnus’ magic rather than by nature’s touch. He's also too proud of their relationship and of Magnus himself to refuse anything Magnus offers him.

Alexander would consider it an insult to Magnus which in his lovely boy's mind, is somehow worse than an insult to Alexander himself.

The only reason he's dragging his hooves or fussing at all is simply the principle of the matter... and the fact that Magnus made it look like an apple.

AN:

Arawn is aromantic though he’s hyper-sexual. He’s genuinely just a collector of unique things/people/powers etc and also why he has so many kids though he really does love his kids and family, in a bit of an admittedly obsessive way. He never keeps a paramour and doesn’t have a position for one.. I know i have two fics where he’s alec’s tad (father) but he is not interested in adopting or suddenly fond of alec in this fic. He just collects unique things and is regretting he didn’t seduce maryse lightwood to get unicorn fae babies or send someone else to seduce her to get unicorn fae subjects. He seriously won’t really think of Alec again other than in context to Magnus. His goal is trying to get one of sons to seduce izzy. Arawn fully believes at least one of his sons can figure out a longterm relationship with isabelle lightwood and give him the possibility of unicorn grandchildren. He’s normally even more extra and intense but he’s appropriately wary of magnus who is powerful and also a phoenix. This is him being tame.

Also Helen is implied/mentioned by appearance and while she isn’t one of Arawn’s kids, she is like... distantly related. In this, Helen’s seelie mother fled to the unseelie court using the blood ties her relative who is Arawn’s like... who knows removed cousin as a voucher because she knew the king liked unique beings (he’s arrogant enough he doesn’t need to use them if its objectionable. he just likes that they’re his subjects) so her kids would be safer under Arawn than under the seelie queen who would manipulate them far more).

Please remember this is my fanon verse building and even here Arawn is not a nice or good person, i write him favorably because there’s also a god named that and because i hate the seelie queen. Very much. Dislike. Dont like. Will rip apart 10/10 would write again.

Alec is instinctually very violent and so is Magnus. They sometimes in their own heads when annoyed/overly happy/excited/upset/mad/jealous/tired/just large emotions envision setting each other on fire or goring each other before going like ‘okay but that might actually hurt them and they’re not allowed to get hurt. ever. so i guess i’ll settle for making it very clear that i’m upset and i’m going to continue to be upset’.

So they work really well together despite the fact that they’re brat tamer/brat.

Yes. magnus uses the noises people use to signal with horses to get their attention and soothe them. Because he likes riling alec up and he likes it when Alec brats back.

Also i’m going to be real. Alec should be grateful magnus didn’t make it look like a carrot. Because that would have made alec even more indignant and he would have considered it more insulting and magnus would have done it gleefully (kink dynamics. You dont need sex to have dynamics or scenes going on especially since i write magnus and alec pretty much in a 24/7 dom/sub dynamic. No it’s not explicitly talked out, this is primal instincts and fanfic and i’m already doing research binges for billiard innuendos and how to write mermaid sex. I’m not adding researching how to write a fantasy 24/7 kink contract when it’s all based on instinct. The thought makes me want to cry.

Also this isn’t humiliation because Alec’s not humiliated, he’s outraged but he’s also like territorial so like magnus isn’t forcing him to eat the apple. Despite how huffy he is, alec would snap at Magnus’ fingers if he tried to take the apple away. Just because he’s annoyed by the fact that Magnus likes to make horse jokes doesn’t mean a small part of him doesn’t see the humor. Alec is in fact annoyed by the fact that he finds it funny because he knows he only finds it funny because Magnus finds it funny.

it’s the principle of the matter.

Alec’s literally just angry on principle and that’s part of why magnus finds it so funny.

Alec wouldn’t normally be so sensitive about people giving him apples btw except Magnus keeps giving him magical apples and so it’s become a ‘them’ thing and so not only is it insulting but its encroaching because HOW DARE YOU. ONLY MY MATE IS ALLOWED TO GIVE ME APPLES. Because instead of thinking, ‘no one is allowed to give me apples’ alec’s brain makes allowances for Magnus on instinct alone.

...about the emotional aspect of the jokes, its characterized because saeth has jokes that i’m annoyed by (not ones that actually upset me, saeth is very careful to try and not make jokes that might upset me or repeat them if one is made by accident). And part of the reason i get so annoyed is because its something i find funny, but its always something i wouldn’t find funny if saeth didn’t find it so funny or present it in such an obnoxiously on point manner. and i can’t get actually mad because its not harmful and it doesn’t actually upset me but the fact that i see where the joke is and i get the joke is infuriating.

Often times its sort of like the ‘i’m in this picture and i don’t like it’ kind of unwillingly amused feeling too.

Fuck i hope this isn’t too confusion. I have to be up in four hours so i’m giving up for the morning <3

#lumine writes #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #flames of triumph #magnus bane #alec lightwood #malec #shadowhunters

40 notes · View notes

sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth · 4 hours ago

Text

A den of arms and a waste of time

(Dean Winchester x female reader)

Summary Dean comes to you in the night, and you always know what he needs. CWs Needy Dean. No smut, but sexual content. Unconventional relationships. Love. 18+. 2k words.

Dean Winchester masterlist ⏐ SPN masterlist

Dean comes to you in the night, and you turn yourself into an instrument for his comfort.

You can’t pinpoint the exact moment it started, became what it is now, because there’s so many different phases you’ve gone through.

At the beginning, it’s just sex. Good sex, no, great sex, between friends. On paper, you were and still are nothing but colleagues, acquaintances, but on paper doesn’t account for the way you open up to each other, the way you’re pretty sure Dean hasn’t to a lot of people, and you know you haven’t. Late night talks, until the birds start singing outside, both of you bleary-eyed and tired, but your souls lighter.

When you start sleeping with each other, you’re sure that connection is going to break – you’ve long suspected Dean can’t fuck a woman and love her at the same time. And for a while, he pulls back, draws back into himself, and while you love the way your bodies work together, you grieve for your friend.

It’s not that sex with Dean isn’t fun – he’s an attentive lover, but it also feels like he’s going through the motions. A long studied script that is sure to get you off, but sometimes, sometimes, it feels like he’s not even really there. Like he’s performing, but he knows the play so well, he doesn’t need to pay attention to his lines anymore.

It’s doesn't creep you out, exactly, but it makes you unenthusiastic to continue. You can take care of yourself, and you’d rather have Dean back as your friend, where you actually feel like you are special, mean something to him. You tell him, and it confuses the hell out of him. He’s not used to being rejected – not with that face, those shoulders, that swagger. The ass. You’re a strong woman, you think to yourself. But it actually works, and after a few weeks of reacquainting yourselves with each other, you have your confidant back.

Dean still flirts with you sometimes. Oh boy, does he. You’re pretty sure he can’t help himself. It’s more a compulsion than anything else. You smile, but gently reject him.

It’s when you already live in the bunker that you start finding Dean up at night. Sometimes you hear him move deep in the bowels of the old Men of Letters construct. He’s quiet, but your hunter skills are attuned enough to hear him. Almost like a mother who can pick out her baby’s cries among a crowd of them. You push that thought away. It’s weird. But it is also true.

When you find him in those nights, he acts like he’s fine. But there’s always something weighing on him. He takes on the weight of the world like it’s nothing, like he’s used to it at this point, but you see how it tenses his jaw, how he holds himself, how often his hands are balled into fists.

It’s on one of those nights that you’re sitting next to him, talking, and your fingers land on his neck, press against the knotted muscle there. He flinches, then jokes, but something about the feeling of his skin makes you continue, and Dean doesn’t tell you to stop.

For a moment, when it starts feeling good, he looks terrified and you’re sure he’ll ask you to quit touching him in a second. But then his eyes fall closed. Goosebumps raise on his arms, you see, and you keep going, don’t talk. His breathing’s shallow.

After a few minutes of this, you get up. He blinks his eyes open, thanks you bashfully, ready to deliver another joke, but then you move behind him, lay both hands on his neck.

“You don’t have to—” he starts, but then you are pressing your fingers against him again. He goes quiet. You can’t see his face, but you keep going, and after a few more minutes, you realize his breathing is slower, deeper. You keep touching that soft skin of his when suddenly his shoulders are shaking. You run your hand over the back of his head, through that soft hair.

“Dean?” you say quietly and lean forward. His eyes are closed. His expression is…

You can’t describe it. It hangs somewhere between pain and lust. And there’s tears running down his cheeks.

He wakes from it a second later. Runs the back of his hand over his face as horror sets in, horror at his perceived weakness. He stands up, nearly sends his chair and you flying. The way he looks at you is as if you’ve just walked in on him naked, seen everything, when all this time he’s been trying to convince you that he doesn’t have skin.

Weeks of avoidance follow. Dean doesn’t look at you. He’s short with you, barely friendly, but that’s it. You try to talk to him, but he blocks you. You almost give up on it when he comes to you.

It’s a normal night, or what you would consider a normal night. You’ll never know what in that day made him change his mind. Maybe it was just time amassing, like drops in a puddle. It doesn’t matter.

The knock on your door is so gentle but it wakes you immediately. Habit of the trade.

“Yes?” you say into the dark. The door opens, a strip of light falling in. He doesn’t turn on the light. He doesn’t want you to see him.

“Dean, are you okay?” you ask quietly, but he doesn’t answer. There’s a moment where you wonder if something terrible is about to happen, or already has happened, and he’s going to tell you about it. He closes the door behind him and you hear him move towards you, towards your bed. Then he sits at the edge of it. He’s quiet for a while.

“Can you do it again?” he asks and you are lost for a moment, and then you understand. The thing that has caused this chasm between you.

“Come here,” you say, and tug on his arm. He doesn’t budge for a moment, but then you say: “Dean, I’m tired, I want to lay down.” He follows you down onto the bed.

He lies next to you, and your hands find his neck, start massaging. He makes a noise in his throat. It’s difficult from this angle, though, and you really are tired, made infinitely more tired by the big, warm body beside you, so you change to running your hand over his back, up and down and up and down. You sling one leg over him simply because it’s more comfortable. Dean sighs, a sigh so heavy it breaks your heart.

When he eventually moves, you’re sure he’ll leave. But he doesn’t. He rolls over you, kisses you, uncoordinated. Plump lips on your cheek and chin before they find your lips. He pulls at your clothes, and at his own, becomes almost frantic. When he finally pushes into you his breath stutters. He comes within a few thrusts, whimpers like a hurt animal. You can’t see him in the dark, but as he moves to pull out, move away, you wrap your arms around him, pull him close. He lets you. You lie like that for a long time.

So that’s how you get here, to your little ritual. You never know when Dean will show up. It’s made your sleep light, and you wake up many times throughout the night, sure that you’ve heard him. It’s fine, you tell yourself. He’s your best friend, one of the people you love the most in this world. It’s fine.

During the days, you’re joking, laughing together. Fight sometimes, but rarely. Work. Things are good, but sometimes you miss those talks you used to have. They have been exchanged for Dean’s nighttime visits.

He comes into your room and lies down next to you. Over time, the way you do things has changed a little. At some point, Dean fucked you as soon as he came to your room, but it was just that same performance as it used to be. It’s not what you want, and it’s not really what he wants, so you’ve made sure he understands not to do it. It also strangely feels like some sort of payment, and you don’t like that.

So he comes in, lies next to you, like a dog waiting to be petted. You begin running your hands over him. He’s tense as a balled fist at first. It’s half the stress of the day, but the other half you think is the fear that this is the night you’ll reject him. You rub it out of him until his shoulders go down, his breathing slows. Until he hums, content and rich, and your heart flutters so hard it makes you dizzy.

Then you take off his clothes. Let your hands run over all that warm skin, impossibly soft, which surprises you over and over again, a map of the world speckled with scars. He should feel like touching metal, you think, considering how hard he's made himself to the outside. Sometimes you massage him and sometimes you just stroke him and sometimes you just wrap him up in your arms. You’ve learned to read the signs of what he needs each night so well.

And sometimes, but not always, you make love. It’s what you call it, but you’re not sure if it’s the least accurate or most accurate name for it. The point is that Dean’s there, he’s present, with you. When he pushes his face against your neck, he’s pushing it against your neck. When he kisses your lips, he kisses your lips. When you get on top and ride him and have him gasping and nearly sobbing under you, because he’s being touched by someone who loves him after years and years and years of only being touched by strangers, and he reaches his hands up to hold your face in them, he’s holding your face.

When you drop down next to each other, you hold him again. He presses against you like an unloved pet or a child begging for forgiveness. He tells you he loves you, and you believe him, even though with no amount of time and words could you ever describe what kind of love it is.

He’s always gone in the morning. You don’t wake up when he goes, and you’re not sure if that’s because Dean can be even quieter than you were aware of, or because your brain is being kind to you by not waking you when he leaves. It hurts, at first, and sometimes it still hurts after you’ve already been doing this for a long time. You don’t know if it’s because it actually disappoints you, or because you’ve been taught to expect love to come in a certain shape.

Sometimes you ask yourself if this whole arrangement makes you happy. It does. Touching Dean like that and being there for him, being his haven, is a pleasure the height of which you didn’t know existed. It’s intimacy on a level that’s dizzying if you look at it for too long. It also makes it impossible for anyone to ever get close to you, or him, for that matter. You occupy each other, like a reservation at a restaurant where someone does and doesn't sit at the same time.

You chuckle to yourself, run your hands over your face. You need to stop thinking like that. Why does it need a name? Why does it need a shape? Why can’t it just be love?

You’re distracted from your thoughts by the sound of your bedroom door opening. You see his outline for a second, and then the room is swept into darkness again. Shuffling, rustling, and when you open your arms, he’s in them a second later. Strong and warm and solid, but really, you are the solid one. Dean’s the ocean crashing against your shore, and when his head lands on your chest and you hear that content hum, you hope that this is all you’ll ever need.

#supernatural #spn #fanfic #dean winchester #spn fanfic #fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #sorry's fics

23 notes · View notes

missust3l3vision · 1 day ago

Note

FINALLY SOMEONE WHO WRITES FOR JOOST

Would you be willing to do a fic with Joost and his stylist dating?

EEEK!! YEAH I LOVE HIM

Here you go my dearest anon

Description: Joost and his stylist/girlfriend have a calm night, with him falling even deeper in love with her.

You never in a million years thought you'd be here. Sitting next to Joost Klein as you sketched his next outfit for the tour.

You were not only is girlfriend but his stylist aswell. It was your job for the man to be on theme but also look good.

He was having a 2000s meets corporate look right now, and she thought he looked very handsome. She let him know it often.

"I think the tie should be fat" Joost said pointing at the blue and yellow striped tie on the models shirt.

"Or should I open up your shirt and show off some skin?" She said tapping the end of the pen on the edge of her tablet.

"Ooo scandalous" he said kissing your cheek "I hope nobody falls in love with me and steals me away from you" He jokes

"If that happened I'd be proud to be your designer and heartbroken as your girlfriend" Y/n responded not looking up from the tablet.

Looking over to the woman he grew to love he couldn't help but feel proud. She was incredibly talented and directed all her artistic skills on him. She was the one to suggest the blue suit for Eurovision and was there to hold him when he was disqualified.

Snapping back to reality Joost chuckled, discarding his headphones he stood up, several pops coming from his back as he twisted. Looking down at his girlfriend he felt a warmth surge through him.

"Should we get dinner?" He asked remembering the time it was. The sky had a soft Indigo hue as it shifted from day to night. It was common for the couple to not eat supper until seven.

"Yeah I guess" she saved the design before switching off the tablet "I'd be down to go out. I want to get some fresh air" she suggested to a nodding man.

As the two ventured off they both silently agreed to go to the Vietnamese place around the corner. It was their go to on late nights like today.

The jingling bell alerted the servers of their arrival as they sat down and ordered. Getting their usuals they rolled into small talk. Joost bringing up some Tik Tok ideas and what he wanted to wear in them.

It was easy talking to Joost, he was charismatic without trying.

"There's one that I really need to be exactly how I envision it oke?" He says with serious eyes. You give him an earnest nod as he explains "It needs to be like one of those I ♡ NY shirts, but instead it say I ♡ Unity. Think you can pull it off?"

As you two share a look you burst out laughing, receiving your food.

"I will need to make some calls, but I think we can make it happen" as the conversation carries on, the warm feeling in Joosts body didn't fade it got stronger.

Once the food was eaten and the bill paid the two walked back their shared flat.

"I love you" Joost said as you walked, the cool night painting a picture behind you. Joost turned to fully face you.

"I love you too" she said as she took his hands in hers, "You're all I want" he gave her a genuine grin leaned down for a kiss, meeting her halfway the two stood there for a moment, the world nothing to them.

No worries, no issues, and best of all no interruptions.

#original ☆#joost klein #joost boyfriend #joostblr #joost x you #joost x reader #joost klein fic

27 notes · View notes

caffedrine · 2 days ago

Text

Keith Howell Sequel 13 Dramatic Route - Fan Translation

If you trust me to know what I'm doing, then we have both made a huge mistake. I cannot guarantee accuracy for this fan translation, or even grammatical correctness.

Please support Cybird and pick up this event when it makes it to the English Server

The Tragedy of Jade, the Prince Who Lost His Beloved Fiancée

Unable to eat, barely able to sleep, and living like a corpse with dark circles under his eyes — such rumors spread throughout all of Kougyoku.

The Amagase family, upon hearing these rumors, acted swiftly.

Shiou: "Isn't there something I can do?"

Keith: "......If so, there is one thing."

Keith: "There is something I would like to ask of you, Prince Shiou."

The prince in the middle of it all was exactly as the rumors described — completely exhausted, his face pale as if he might follow after his fiancée at any moment.

However, though his eyes were vacant, they had not entirely lost their light. Even in his hollow gaze, a certain strength still remained.

Keith: "Jade does not intend to make a big fuss over this matter."

Keith: "From now on as well, he will continue to support all factions equally... and maintain a neutral stance."

Keith: "That is why I would like to avoid stirring up any further commotion."

Shiou: "......I'm surprised. Aren’t you often called a saintly man?"

Keith: "Emma often said I was 'kind.'"

Shiou: "Well said. Even in this situation, you choose to be kind?"

Keith: "That's not exactly the case."

Keith: "I am seething inside about the one who disgraced Emma, and I will never forgive them for the rest of my life."

Keith: "However... the culprit behind harming Emma likely had another goal in mind."

Keith: "Most likely, they wanted to sever Jade’s support for the Kuga faction."

The tense atmosphere wavered slightly.

Shiou: "May I hear more details?"

Keith: "According to Kagari-san, it was a form of treason."

Keith: "The easiest way to strike a blow to the Kuga faction would be to make Jade withdraw his support."

Keith: "That's exactly why I don’t want to play into the hands of those who harmed Emma."

Shiou: "I see... That’s not only logical but also true."

Shiou: "Even while shaking with rage, you reached that conclusion. I respect you for that."

Dry applause echoed a few times, but Keith’s expression didn’t change at all.

Shiou: "Still, we cannot say Kuga is completely blameless."

Shiou: "The protection of important guests is the highest priority in a nation plagued by internal strife."

Shiou: "If you're inviting dignitaries from abroad, there must not be any security lapses."

Shiou: "Keith, you seem forgiving, but I think this response is a bit too lenient."

Keith: "Do you really think so?"

The more they spoke, the more color returned to Keith’s lifeless face.

From a prince who lost his beloved fiancée, he began to regain his presence as a prince who carries the nation on his shoulders.

Keith: "If you think this response is lenient, Prince Shiou, then perhaps you are misunderstanding me."

Keith: "Jade's 'neutrality' is neither an act of mercy nor charity."

Keith: "It is merely part of trade diplomacy rooted in national interests."

Keith: "By maintaining neutrality, our nation has balanced relations with the other countries on the continent and secured a stable position."

Keith: "However, if we abandon that neutrality towards Kogyoku because of this incident..."

Keith: "It will send the message — to other countries as well — that 'Jade's neutrality is not absolute.' This will harm our trust and reputation."

Shiou: "….."

Keith: "It is my responsibility and duty as royalty to act in the nation’s best interest."

Keith: "No matter what happens, I cannot afford to neglect this duty."

Keith: "Besides, I doubt Emma would want to see me abandon national interests just to seek revenge."

Keith: "She believed I was 'not a failure'... I will never betray her trust, no matter what."

Every word he spoke burned with emotion, and together they built up into a blazing will.

No amount of water would be able to extinguish that flame. Faced with such resolve, Shiou's gentle smile faltered.

Shiou: "I apologize. You're right — your thinking is anything but 'soft.' "

Shiou: "In fact, I was the one being naïve."

Keith: "No, I understand you were thinking of me."

Keith: "You’ve always cared about us..."

Keith: "That's why I trust you'll understand this decision as well."

Shiou: "......Thank you. It seems I was worrying too much."

Shiou: "I respect your resolve. But I too have duties and responsibilities."

Shiou: "It would be ideal if the culprit already caught was the mastermind behind all of this... but if not —"

Shiou: "Then I will do everything in my power to ensure Jade’s trust is not further damaged."

Shiou: "Even if that means going to war with Kuga."

Keith: "....."

Shiou: "Well, I’ve taken up enough of your valuable time. I should take my leave."

Shiou: "The King Kuga and Kagari don’t exactly welcome my presence here."

Shiou: "Someday... when the war is over, I hope daily life with Kagari can return."

Turning his back, Shiou began walking away, accompanied by fluttering cherry blossom petals drifting in from outside.

The Kuga servant who opened the door glanced briefly at Keith before leading the guest — who came from enemy lands — away.

Shiou: "Oh, if it isn’t Kagari."

Kagari: "....."

The two brothers passed each other in the hallway, both stopping as they recognized the other. Shiou smiled affably, while Kagari's expression remained unmoved. That friendly smile carried a hint of bitterness.

Shiou: "You’re as cold as ever."

Kagari: "And you haven’t changed either."

Shiou: "I know I’m not welcome, but it’s nice to see your face again after so long."

Kagari: "...."

Shiou: "Did the King of Kuga tell you to hurry up and kick me out?"

Kagari: "Yeah."

Shiou: "You could at least try to hide it a little."

Kagari: "You should know why."

Kagari: "It is our duty to protect our guests."

Kagari: "You went too far this time."

Shiou: "Too far...? Whatever do you mean?"

Kagari: "That’s a warning."

Kagari: "You want to keep your head attached, don’t you?"

Shiou: "...Haha, scary. If the Yasha of Kougyoku has set his sights on me, even I wouldn’t stand a chance."

Kagari: "......"

Shiou: "Alright, alright. No need to glare like that — I won’t do anything."

Shiou: "I promise."

He resumed walking and passed by Kagari. There was no sign that the "Yasha," who had just issued a grim warning, intended to pursue him. As he neared the castle exit, Shiou stopped once more and glanced out the window into the garden.

The servant, one eye hidden by hair, also stopped in place.

Servant: "Is something wrong?"

Shiou: "That detached room over there... looks like a perfect place to play hide and seek."

Servant: "...Shall we go there?"

Shiou: "No, just talking to myself."

Shiou: "Still, I’m relieved. It was worth coming here."

Shiou: "Kagari looks well, and Keith too. Judging by that, maybe even Lady Emma is doing well too.'"

Servant: "............"

Shiou: "Just joking, of course."

Shiou: "I don't like ghosts, you know. How about you? Are you sensitive to spirits?"

Servant: "No. I’ve never seen the shadow of the dead."

Shiou: "You’ve lived a blessed life, then."

Servant: "......Please rest assured. There are no ghosts in this world."

Servant: "The dead have no place in the realm of the living."

Shiou: "True enough."

Shiou: "I too hope I never meet a ghost for the rest of my life."

That night — after the visit of a major figure from the enemy faction left the castle unsettled — peace finally returned.

However, it was still too early for the castle to truly fall asleep.

A shadowy figure moved silently through the garden, heading towards the detached room of the main castle. Gliding over the neatly trimmed grass without a sound, the figure held its breath as it approached the building.

The detached room, which was usually treated like a storage shed and rarely used, was dark as always — no lights at all.

Blending into the darkness, the figure placed a hand on the sheath of their sword, ready for anything that might emerge. With a cautious, steady movement, they slid open the door.

The room was empty.

No figure lay on the futon spread out on the tatami floor.

But the slight disorder of the bedding made it clear — someone had been there just moments ago. Raising their head, the intruder spotted a woman standing in the blind spot of the room. At that very instant, an arrow struck the floor right at their feet, forcing them to leap back.

Trembling slightly, the woman held her bow tightly, glaring fiercely at the intruder in the dead of night.

Emma: "The next shot... will hit."

(Stay calm... stay calm, Emma.)

(I knew they’d come eventually, but I didn’t expect them to find me so soon...)

The man who had visited the detached room Kagari had prepared for her looked like an ordinary servant of Kuga Castle at first glance.

A man who hid one eye behind his hair — she had passed him in the halls several times before.

But right now, she had no choice but to aim her arrow at him because of the unmistakable hostility he radiated.

While it wasn’t quite as intense as the bloodlust Prince Kagari had once unleashed, It was enough to make her skin prickle and her throat tighten with the sense of imminent danger.

Without a word, the man dressed as a servant drew his sword.

(He’s here to kill me.)

(Keith’s prediction was right after all...)

He showed no interest in small talk and instead lunged forward, closing the distance between them with swift steps.

(Which option do I choose…?)

Keith!

Prince Kagari!

Fine then — let’s do this!

Emma: "Keith!"

The moment she shouted as loudly as she could, Keith leapt from the shadows, sword drawn, cutting between her and the attacker.

Keith: "Emma, get back!"

(Thank goodness... We’d planned for this in advance, but I still wasn’t sure he’d really be here...)

Retreating to the corner of the room, Emma moved to a spot where she could flee at any time. The assassin showed no signs of surprise, as though he had anticipated Keith's presence.

Steel clashed in rapid succession, white sparks flying each time their blades met, tearing through the silence of the night.

The man narrowly dodged Keith’s attacks, leaving sharp gashes in nearby furniture,

While Keith skillfully evaded the man’s strikes, slicing a clean line through the shoji screen.

Unable to do anything but grip her bow and watch, Emma felt frustrated but knew the fight was too swift for her to intervene.

(As expected of an assassin from Kogyoku... he’s highly skilled.)

Each time the dry clang of steel echoed, her heart pounded in response.

But Keith, fighting on equal ground with this assassin — the Yasha of Kogyoku — was not one to be overwhelmed.

Gradually, the tide began to turn in Keith's favor.

The assassin must have realized it too — a brief moment of panic opened up a gap.

Keith did not miss it.

(Ah...!)

With a heavy strike, Keith drove the man backwards, smashing him through the shoji and out into the garden.

Without hesitation, Keith followed and stomped mercilessly on the assassin, who had fallen flat on his back.

Whether the blow had hit a vital spot or not, the man groaned in pain and showed no sign of being able to move his limbs.

The sword that flew from the assassin's hand landed blade-first in the ground — the battle was over.

But even so, Keith raised his sword high again.

(Wait… what is he—)

Before I could even stop him, he swung it down — yet, just as suddenly, his motion froze unnaturally mid-swing.

Holding his breath, Keith drove the blade into the ground, right beside the assassin’s face.

It looked as if something had stopped him at the last possible moment.

Keith: "...."

Even from where I stood, I could feel the tremble in his breath.

There was no kindness in his golden eyes — only fierce, burning emotion.

(…He seemed calm, but that’s not it at all...)

(Keith is furious.)

His hand on the sword trembled, as though fighting against something deep inside.

I hesitated, unsure of what to say — desperately searching for words that might cool the raging flames inside him.

And then — the bushes rustled.

Emma: "Keith, behind you…!"

The moment I shouted, Keith grabbed the assassin by the collar and hurled him backward in a powerful arc.

From the bushes emerged another assassin, who was caught completely off guard by the flying body. Both assassins crashed to the ground with a violent thud, the earth groaning under the impact.

Before they could recover, the second assassin was pinned down again —

Prince Kagari had appeared from the darkness, calmly stomping down on the assassin’s head.

Kagari: "Alive, huh? Impressive. I thought for sure you'd kill him."

Keith: "I wouldn’t do something so reckless in front of Emma."

Keith retrieved his sword from the ground and returned it to its sheath.

Kagari: "And if she hadn’t been here?"

Keith: "......"

Kagari: "That honesty is one of your virtues."

(...Is it over?)

I hurried out into the garden and saw the assassin squirming under Prince Kagari’s foot.

He fumbled with something from his pocket — a small vial.

Before I could even cry out, Keith stepped forward and crushed it underfoot.

At the same time, Prince Kagari delivered a sharp blow to the back of the assassin’s neck, silencing him completely.

Emma: "…Poison...?"

Keith: "Probably. No doubt it was meant for suicide."

Kagari: "Well-trained."

Keith: "Think we can get anything out of them?"

Kagari: "I'll try what I can."

Kagari: "But even if we do, it won’t prove he’s the mastermind."

Keith: "I know. Information alone isn’t evidence."

Keith: "At best, we’ll learn whether or not Jade’s faction was involved."

Kagari: "Is that enough for you?"

Keith: "Yeah. That’s plenty. Thank you, Kagari."

Keith: "...Though the mastermind is already obvious."

Kagari: "This time... it's a draw."

Kagari: "They failed to accomplish their goal, but we couldn't completely corner them either."

(Even if we couldn’t corner them, we did strike back...)

(...So this should settle things, at least for now.)

Kagari: "Still, your performance was quite something."

Keith: "Compared to Emma’s acting at that critical moment, I was terrible."

(But... why does Keith still look so downcast?)

(Everything should have been resolved... shouldn’t it?)

Keith Howell Normal Story: "Because It's You, I Love You So Deeply"

~Flashback~

The day of that violent storm — when uncertainty and fear consumed Keith — our story continued quietly.

Keith: "Emma’s safety is my top priority."

Keith: "Emma, come back with me. Let’s go home."

Putting aside the mystery behind the attacks and the strange happenings with the doll, he intended to return to Jade with me, leaving everything else unresolved.

It was a decision that showed just how much Keith valued my well-being above all else.

(Even so... would simply leaving Kougyoku really solve everything?)

(Still — if leaving means Keith won't have to suffer anymore, then I want that too.)

(...But even so...)

Emma: "Is that... truly how you feel, Keith?"

Keith: "Eh…?"

(I’ve been with Keith long enough. I know when something doesn’t ring true.)

Emma: "That’s not your real intention, is it?"

As I asked with certainty, Keith — who was sitting beside me on the bed — clearly averted his gaze.

(I knew it.)

Emma: "There’s no way the kind Keith I know would simply let those who tried to hurt me go free."

Emma: "You were planning to send me back to Jade, and then undertake some secret diplomatic mission, weren’t you?"

Keith: "…That’s..."

Emma: "You can’t fool me."

I stood up and stepped right in front of him.

Placing both hands on his face, I forced him to meet my eyes. His gentle expression twisted slightly into a bitter smile.

Keith: "You’ve got me... I don’t think I’ll ever be able to keep anything from you."

Emma: "That’s exactly right. In fact, shall I guess one more thing you’re thinking?"

Emma: "You don’t believe Prince Shiou’s words, do you?"

Keith: "Why do you think that?"

Emma: "You said it yourself earlier."

Keith: "You mean... about how that doll of you felt like some kind of warning."

Emma: "Exactly... A warning of what, I wonder?"

Keith: "That is..."

Keith: "No... it’s not good to speak based on assumptions."

Emma: "But if the culprits really are the remnants of the royal faction, just as Prince Shiou said..."

Emma: "Doesn’t the order of events seem strange to you?"

Keith: "Order?"

Emma: "Normally, warnings come before someone takes action."

Emma: "But in our case, we were already attacked once."

Emma: "Would people capable of such a sudden assault really bother to kindly send us a warning later?"

Keith: "..................................They wouldn’t."

Emma: "That’s what has been bothering you too, isn’t it, Keith?"

Emma: "So then, who sent that warning, and what was it really about…?"

(When I first heard Keith talk about it, only one person came to mind.)

Emma: "It felt like an unspoken message — 'Do as I say.'"

Keith’s clear eyes widened slightly, and then he let out a soft, almost amused laugh.

Keith: "You truly are an astute woman… more than I deserve."

Emma: "I try my best every day to keep up with you, Keith."

(It looks like Keith has reached the same conclusion as I have.)

Emma: "The mastermind is Prince Shiou… isn’t it?"

Keith: "Most likely."

(Prince Shiou had been attacked right along with us... but if that was all an act...)

(By being attacked together, he would gain the right to judge the real culprits.)

(And by hiding the true identity of the attackers from us, everything fits neatly together.)

Keith: "His words were consistently aimed at fostering suspicion towards the Kuga faction."

Keith: "His goal was likely to sever our ties with Jade."

Keith: "At the same time, Prince Shiou isn’t making too much effort to perfectly conceal himself as the mastermind."

Keith: "He’s careful not to leave evidence, but he’s subtly guiding us to understand only what he wants us to know."

Emma: "And if we defy Prince Shiou and continue interacting with the Kuga faction...?"

Keith: "The next attack might be even more severe."

Emma: "...How cowardly."

Keith: "I think so too."

Keith: "But just like Prince Shiou’s ridiculous story, our theory lacks any real proof."

(Even though we know who’s behind it... it’s frustrating that we can’t do anything about the one who hurt Keith.)

(Even if we can’t catch them… is there no way to strike back somehow?)

(I refuse to forgive someone who forced Keith into such pain and such a decision.)

(If they think they can control us so easily… they’re sorely mistaken.)

Emma: "Even if we can’t prove it..."

Emma: "We can at least make it clear — we won’t give in to threats."

Keith: "…Emma?"

(I do have an idea...)

(If Prince Shiou deceived us with an act, then we can respond in kind — with a little act of our own.)

Emma: "I’m sure you’ll object to this, Keith, but… will you listen to what I have to say?"

~End Flashback~

By the time we left Kougyoku and returned to Jade, the intensity of that day felt like a distant memory.

(It’s been so long since I’ve been able to relax and enjoy tea at night with Keith like this.)

As I sat on the sofa sipping tea and set my cup down on the side table, a soft yawn escaped me without thinking.

Embarrassed, I quickly covered my mouth, but Keith, sitting beside me, gently placed his hand on my shoulder.

He pulled me close, and my head naturally came to rest on his broad shoulder.

His warmth, like basking in sunlight, melted away all my tension and left my face loose and content.

Keith: "Sleepy?"

Emma: "No... I just finally let my guard down. Anything could’ve happened on the way back, after all."

(In the end, though, we made it back without incident...)

I leaned against him, letting myself be spoiled, as his hand stroked my hair softly.

Emma: "I hope I don’t get treated like a ghost next time we visit Kougyoku."

Keith: "You won’t. I made sure to tell Kagari."

Keith: "I asked him to spread the word that Jade’s fiancée is alive, and that the rumors of your death were false."

Emma: "Fufu... I should thank Prince Kagari when I see him next."

Keith: "Maybe I should find some dorayaki from Jade for him. I think he’d like that."

Our conversation and casual gestures — all so normal — had finally returned to what we used to call everyday life.

Yet, it wasn’t completely the same.

Since leaving Kougyoku, there had been moments when Keith’s face was clouded with sadness.

Noticing that faint shadow now, I wrapped my arms around his waist and held him tightly.

(I can guess a few reasons why.)

(...Though I don’t know exactly which one weighs on him most...)

As I clung to him, he seemed to sense my worries and pulled me into his arms as well.

Keith: "…You’re so warm, Emma."

Keith: "You’re not cold at all... and your heartbeat is steady."

Keith: "But that time... when you started acting at the port, you felt so cold to me."

Keith: "Even though I knew the blood was fake, it looked so real..."

Keith: "It forced me to imagine your death — vividly and painfully."

Feeling the strength in his embrace, I understood just how deeply my performance had affected him.

(...I really put him through a lot, didn’t I...)

(His anguish back then didn’t feel like acting at all.)

He hadn’t been able to eat properly, and sleep had eluded him.

Behind his fierce performance was the terrifying thought — what if I had actually died?

Emma: "Keith, you were against my plan until the very end, weren’t you?"

Emma: "It was dangerous, and even if it was only acting... you didn’t want me to pretend to die."

Emma: "But despite all that, you respected my decision in the end..."

Emma: "I’m sorry for pushing through with it anyway."

Keith: "Please, don’t apologize! If anything, I’m the one who should be apologizing."

Keith: "I couldn’t come up with any better plan than the one you proposed."

Keith: "If it had been just me, I probably would have returned to Jade without accomplishing anything."

Keith: "I wouldn’t have found the insider, nor could I have proven that the rumors about Jade's involvementwere false."

Keith: "Even now, I keep telling myself that meeting you made me not a failure... not a failure..."

Keith: "But it looks like I’m still the same as ever."

Emma: "…Prince Kagari said something similar too..."

Emma: "Keith, sometimes your humility just makes no sense."

(All I did was come up with the idea to fake my death and draw Prince Shiou out...)

(It was Keith who worked out all the fine details, planned for Prince Shiou noticing the ruse, and protected me from the assassins.)

(Everything went so well because of him... and yet he's blaming himself?)

Seeing Keith look so gloomy, I pushed him down onto the sofa.

Keith: "W-Whoa, Emma?"

He looked surprised as I straddled him, though his hands instinctively reached out to steady me so I wouldn’t fall.

Emma: "The fact that I’m here, alive, without so much as a scratch..."

Emma: "It’s all because you risked everything to protect me."

Emma: "Thank you so much, Keith."

Emma: "To me, Keith is..."

Emma: "The most reliable, wonderful, and handsome fiancé I could ever ask for."

Keith: "...."

Keith: "...Is that so."

Emma: "Eh?"

Keith: "Ah..."

His golden eyes shimmered, then a tear slipped down his cheek, vanishing into the fabric of the sofa.

Our eyes met in mutual surprise.

(W-wait... why is he crying...!)

Keith: "S-sorry! That’s not it!"

Keith: "I just... I got so carried away, and when you said that, I suddenly felt like I could let go..."

Keith: "I’m just... so relieved that nothing happened to you."

Keith: "And to know... that even after the mistakes I’ve made... you still love me..."

Keith: "...You even said I was cool, and now here I am, acting like this..."

His voice faded to a whisper toward the end.

(…)

Emma: "Keith... may I kiss you?"

Keith: "Eh? Ah... go ahead…?"

(Keith... I’m sorry.)

(...I won’t say it out loud — because if I apologize, Keith will just worry even more...)

(But still... I’m so sorry for causing you so much pain... and thank you, truly...)

I softly kissed the corner of his eye, as though to heal his wounded heart.

(My existence has the power to make Keith both happy... and deeply unhappy.)

(Realizing that again now — that undeniable truth...)

(I will never let him go.)

#ikemen prince #ikepri #keith howell #kagari amagase

21 notes · View notes