#and most of the people using it would stop replying after one letter

[rkivefae]

(repost from old acc, it's been a few years since I've been on here)

Okay, so my friend has doodled in my chemistry notebook when I let them borrow it, then I began thinking,,

Steddie high school au

Eddie draws continuously in chemistry class and he has certain things he draws with inspiration from that class and doesn’t want to contaminate it with other classes so he hides the notebook, poorly, in hope that when he comes back, it'll still be there.

Steve comes to his seat, in the back of the class and notices it immediately. His first thought is that someone lost it so he grabs it in hopes of seeing a name but instead sees crazy drawings. Ranging from small sketches of supposed knights to fantasy creatures that Steve never would have thought of seeing.

"If found, leave where it is OR ELSE" It read in thick sharpie letters on the front page.

He felt bad for being nosy and going through it but he couldn't help himself as he continued looking through it. After some heavy overthinking, he decides to draw something back. He wasn't the most talented but he was better than most in his art classes, so hopefully they didn’t laugh too much at his attempt.

He decides to draw a jester, tried his best to shade in all perfectly and portion everything properly. To say the least, he was impressed with his final product because this is better than anything he’s ever done in is classes. Next to it he writes, as if the character was saying it, “You should put this in better places.”

He didn’t even focus in class, AT ALL.

But when he came back to the class, he found the notebook again. Took one look at it and tried to fight back the desire to just crack it open and see if they wrote back. His fingers itched to have the glosses cover turned open. just a peak. He tried to reason and at first he held back. Trying to focus in class but that ended terribly, so he grabbed the notebook after about 5 minutes of spacing out on the teacher and eyeing it.

When he opened the page, there it was. A reply.

It was a king, you could tell by the crown he wore but fangs were prominent in the grinning feature. Black curled hair that fell onto his shoulder that was covered by a dark suit. A hand stretched out with a sword towards the Jester, “There is a trespasser? And a fool? State thy business!”

Steve fucking giggled. Giggled! Of all things he could’ve done, he giggled! King Steve Harrington since freshman year, had all the ladies wooing at him and guys wanting to be him just giggled because the owner of the notebook drewsomething for him.

Steve would never get focus back into that class since he replied. Always waiting for the notebook and it became his priority. He didn’t understand how he was still passing that class with how much he began lacking!

They talked about simple silly things at first before Eddie began picking it up more, talking more about who he was but never stated a name, not yet. They weren’t ready for that.

Steve even helped Eddie decide on what to use as his Hellfire club signature look that was going to be fought to be published as an official club on school record!

But when the last page came along at the ending of the school year, Eddie spoke about it. Said, “It’s the end of the year, the last of this book. Could I finally ask your name?”

Steve’s whole world stopped spinning. He couldn’t even begin to explain the thoughts racing through his head.

When they know, would they stop being friends with him? No one truly liked Steve Harrington, he became popular by default of being a pretty boy and on the basketball team. Most talked about how his group of people were assholes and that he might as well be, too. He wasn’t oblivious, he knew what most people thought. He was a boy of a rich family that was spoiled. That wasn’t a lie, but his life wasn’t pretty, thanks to his father and mother. But could anyone really understand that? Walking through the door of his home in fear of what he’ll walk in and see, what would happen to him if he breathed wrong in the presence of his father?

What if when he says his name and they don’t want nothing to do with him? What if when he says his name, he loses the only honest friendship he has? What if they share the things he told them in the notebook to everyone else withproof as a way to ruin his life because they didn’t like him? Maybe they weren’t like that but Steve couldn’t take that risk. No one with this chance would not take it, right? Tommy would take it. The rest of the boys on the team would take it. Carol would take it and laugh about it. He couldn’t expect different from other people, right?

Steve’s breathing quickened as his chest tightened, tears welling up and he gripped his chest. He rushed out of class with an unsteady balance, the teacher yelling behind him and he didn’t return for that period, the notebook left open and unsigned.

He couldn’t.

That moment was talked about everywhere, how he rushed out of class and didn’t return. No one bothered to question why, just whispered how panicked he was. Poor Steve, they said mockingly in the halls but never to his face.

Eddie knew.

It didn’t take long to piece it all together, the incident, the opened notebook, the fact that it was all too much of a coincidence and the things he said just made sense for it to be Steve Harrington.

He didn’t want to believe it at first, laughing that it was just dumb and there was no way that Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was talking to Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson with passion. But then again, they both didn’t know who each other was.

When Steve talked about dumb moments with his ‘friends’ and how he felt bad for the people they ‘hung’ around, the games he lost and how he beat himself up, even the moments that Steve told him how he hated the social ranking - it all should have made sense. At first, Eddie thought that the person writing back was like him, a freak with nerdy interest. Which, in a different font, Steve was.

However, as the next few years flied by, Eddie just watched Steve from afar. From sucking faces with Nancy Wheeler in the hallway, picking her up and twirling her around, smiling bright because he was happy to the moments that it looked like Steve was seconds away from turning over and dying. The bruises that cascaded over certain parts of his body being a brushed off topic and the fear that was in his eyes when he turned the corner. Like he knew things he shouldn’t.

There was raw fear, hatred, anger and even disgust that Eddie was able to recognize. Part of him wondered where the happiness went and the other was tired of him staying afar, wanting to talk to him because Steve Harrington was more than just a pretty boy from what he knew and the look on his eyes only said more.

Eddie never got to, Steve rushed past every day, ready to get the day over and he couldn’t talk to him. Soon, Steve graduated and Eddie was held-back again and he took that as a sign. A strong one. To just get over it. He was never going to know Steve Harrington and it was stupid for him to even think so. Plus, if he did, it was stupid! The town freak with the most loved boy in town? Not a good duo. So, he stayed afar for good.

Until he didn’t.

Steve Harrington waltzed in with an arguing Dustin Henderson, the club all watching the two before Steve Harrington scoffed. “I’m serious, I’m not playing your nerdy campaign just because you’re missing a person! I don’t understand it,” He said, pushing a bag towards Dustin’s chest. “You know I’m not smart enough to understand that.”

Before Dustin could reply, Eddie took that as his chance to finally greet them. He climbed out of his chair rather loudly, catching both of their attention before walking up to Steve, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning forward.

“Well, Well, if it isn’t the missing Jester.” He said, a cocky tone laced within it

It took only a few seconds before Steve’s eyes widened when it clicked.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

[ruewritesoccasionally]

Shades of Red | Terry Richmond

Pairing: Dark!Toxic!Terry Richmond x Black!Reader

Warnings: dark themes + smut 18+, breaking + entering, jealousy, possessiveness, toxic themes, slight power dynamics, rough sex, choking, light slapping, spitting, overstimulation, oral (f receiving), squirting, breeding kink } everything is consensual but read at your own risk !

Summary: Passion, anger, lust, jealousy—all woven together into one man. Terry is charming, entitled, enticing and dangerous. YN couldn’t have seen his latest move coming….

Word count: 4.7K

a/n: This is my first time writing anything remotely dark and I think I really stepped outside of my little box. I wanted to craft a toxic love letter of sorts and I'd love to hear your thoughts..

Terry Richmond wasn’t the kind of man who stayed anywhere too long. His life was like a shifting tide—here today, gone tomorrow, always pulling away just when you thought you had him figured out. The nomadic way he moved through life suited him. He’d had his fill of staying still, of people poking too closely at the layers of armour he’d carefully crafted. Shelby Springs was just another pit stop, a place he landed when the world got too loud. And it’s where he met YN.

They’d been introduced a couple of years back through a mutual friend who had the bright idea of setting them up. “You two would be perfect for each other,” the friend had said with entirely too much conviction. But what had started as a well-intentioned matchmaking attempt quickly took a detour.

From the jump, Terry and YN decided that dating wasn’t in the cards. He was too restless, too unpredictable. She had her own life, full and vibrant, with no room to babysit someone who disappeared for weeks at a time with no explanation. Still, their chemistry was undeniable, electric in a way neither could ignore. They both wanted something—each other. And so, they reached a compromise: friends with benefits. No strings, no expectations, no hard feelings.

For the most part, it worked. YN respected Terry’s need for space, and he appreciated that she didn’t cling or demand more than he was willing to give. She had her own thing going on—a career she loved, friends who kept her laughing, and a life that was full even without him in it. She’d grown used to his disappearing acts, the way he’d go rogue and vanish for weeks or months at a time. He always came back, though. And when he did, he always found his way to her.

He was good at that—finding her. A text here, a call there, a late-night knock on her door. She’d let him in every time because, for all his flaws, there was something about Terry that drew her in. Maybe it was his charm, that easy confidence that made her roll her eyes even as it made her pulse quicken. Or maybe it was the way he looked at her, like she was the only thing that mattered when he was near. Whatever it was, she couldn’t quite quit him. And truthfully, she didn’t want to.

But this time felt different.

His text came in the middle of the day while her phone was on silent. She didn’t see it until much later, after the rush of meetings and emails had finally died down.

“Be back in town tomorrow night. Clear your schedule for me.”

The audacity of it made her laugh out loud. Terry had never been one to ask—he told. It was part of his charm and part of what made her want to strangle him sometimes. Still, she wasn’t mad. She got as much out of their arrangement as he did, and she’d been known to hit him up with the same kind of energy when the mood struck. They were equals in that way, unapologetic about what they wanted from each other.

But tonight, she couldn’t clear her schedule for him.

She typed out her response quickly, a small smirk on her lips as she imagined his reaction.

“Can’t tomorrow. Got a date.”

The reply came faster than she expected.

“A date, huh?”

That was it. No teasing, no snide comments, no flirty jabs. Just three little words that carried a weight she couldn’t quite place.

She frowned at the screen, re-reading the message as if the meaning would suddenly reveal itself. It was unlike Terry not to have some kind of comeback, some witty remark designed to get under her skin. The lack of it left her unsettled. But she shrugged it off, chalking it up to him being busy or distracted.

On the other side of the phone, though, Terry wasn’t as calm as he seemed.

Sitting in a dingy motel room on the outskirts of God-knows-where, he stared at her message, his jaw tight. A date. Someone else was taking her out, sitting across from her, making her laugh, looking at her the way he looked at her. And worse, someone else might be touching her, staking a claim to what he’d quietly, possessively come to think of as his.

He took a slow, steadying breath, forcing himself to calm the anger bubbling just beneath the surface. She wasn’t his. Not really. They didn’t have that kind of relationship. But the thought of someone else having her, even for one night, made his chest burn with something he couldn’t quite name.

Terry’s fingers hovered over the screen, itching to say something, to tell her to cancel, to remind her who always had her coming back. But he stopped himself. No, he’d let her have her little date. Let her laugh and flirt and pretend that whoever this guy was could give her what she needed. Because when it was all said and done, she’d come back to him.

And when she did, he’d make damn sure she remembered exactly who she belonged to.

Terry Richmond wasn’t an easy man to forget, and that much was evident as YN stood in her bathroom mirror, smoothing on her lipstick for the finishing touch. Tonight was a rare occasion for her—a date with someone who wasn’t him. She tilted her head slightly, assessing her reflection. The soft waves in her hair framed her face just right, the shimmer on her eyelids caught the light, and the dress she’d chosen fit like a second skin. She looked good. She felt good.

Still, a shadow lingered in the back of her mind, one with piercing eyes and an infuriatingly smug smirk. YN had spent the last two hours convincing herself this date was just what she needed: a change, something uncomplicated. Terry was Terry—a storm she willingly walked into time and time again. But tonight? Tonight was about something different, something quieter.

Her phone buzzed on the counter, and her eyes flicked to the screen. A simple text from her date: “Looking forward to tonight. See you soon!”

She smiled faintly, but the expression didn’t quite reach her eyes. YN tucked the phone into her clutch, grabbed her coat, and headed out. It was time to leave Terry Richmond out of her headspace—for now.

The restaurant was cozy and inviting, the kind of place that struck a balance between intimate and casual. Her date, Mark, had chosen well. He was polite, attentive, and easy on the eyes—a charming blend of confidence and warmth. They’d talked about work, travel, books, and even swapped a couple of funny anecdotes about their childhoods. By all accounts, it should’ve been perfect.

But halfway through Mark’s story about his latest hiking trip, YN caught herself tuning out. Not entirely—she was still nodding at the right moments, laughing softly where appropriate—but her mind drifted, unbidden, to another memory. One of Terry.

She could almost hear his voice, teasing and sharp. “Hiking, huh? Bet he’s one of those guys who carries a selfie stick to the summit just to post about it.” The thought was so vivid, so him, that YN nearly laughed aloud. She caught herself, her smile faltering for a moment before she refocused on Mark.

“So, what about you? Do you hike much?” he asked, his tone genuinely curious.

“Not really,” YN replied smoothly, pushing the thought of Terry aside. “But it sounds like you’ve had some incredible adventures.”

Mark beamed, and the conversation continued. YN did her best to stay present, to enjoy the evening for what it was. By the time dessert came around, she’d almost succeeded in compartmentalizing the storm that was Terry Richmond.

Almost.

The date ended as expected—with polite goodbyes and the suggestion that they should “do this again sometime.” Mark walked her to her car like a gentleman, and she thanked him for the lovely evening. As she slipped into the driver’s seat and shut the door, YN let out a small sigh.

It hadn’t been a bad date—not by a long shot. Mark was sweet, thoughtful, and seemed genuinely interested in her. But he wasn’t...well, she refused to finish that thought.

Her hands gripped the steering wheel as she started the engine, the soft purr of the car filling the quiet night. She glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. The lipstick was still perfectly intact, the curls still falling in place. By all accounts, the night had been a success. So why did it feel like something was missing?

Across town, Terry sat in his truck, parked a few blocks from YN’s apartment. His phone screen glowed faintly in the darkness as he scanned the messages she hadn’t yet responded to. His jaw tightened. The thought of her out with someone else wasn’t one he could swallow easily, no matter how cool and composed he pretended to be.

Reaching over to the passenger seat, he grabbed the small black bag he’d brought with him. It contained exactly what he needed—what he’d planned for. With practiced ease, Terry slid out of the truck and moved through the shadows. The street was quiet, the kind of stillness that came late at night when most people were already home.

It didn’t take him long to reach her place. The familiarity of it was almost comforting. Almost. He worked quickly, his movements precise and deliberate, the product of years spent learning how to move unseen, unheard. Within moments, he was inside.

The scent of her perfume—light, floral, undeniably her—lingered in the air. Terry inhaled deeply, a dark smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He made his way to the living room, his boots barely making a sound against the hardwood floors.

There, on the coffee table, was the bottle of whiskey she kept for him. He chuckled softly, pouring himself a glass and settling into the armchair in the corner of the room. The dim light from the streetlamp outside cast long shadows across the walls, and Terry sat there, waiting.

She’d be home soon. And when she walked through that door, she’d find out exactly what happened when you tried to leave Terry Richmond behind.

The hum of her car engine faded into the quiet night as YN pulled into her driveway, the evening’s events still replaying in her mind. The date had been pleasant enough—a nice dinner, polite conversation, and a genuine, if not thrilling, connection. But as she turned off the ignition, an inexplicable sense of unease settled over her, clawing its way into her chest. It had been faint earlier, an odd niggling in the back of her mind, but now it was undeniable. Something was off.

Stepping out of the car, she adjusted her coat and approached her front door, her heels clicking softly against the pavement. As her hand reached for the keys in her bag, she froze. The door wasn’t locked. Her pulse quickened, and she stood there for a moment, staring at the slightly ajar entrance.

No. She distinctly remembered locking it before leaving. Didn’t she?

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, her mind racing. Maybe she had been distracted and forgotten in her rush to leave. But no matter how she tried to rationalise it, the unease only deepened. The air around her felt heavy, charged, as though the house itself was holding its breath.

Pushing the door open, she stepped inside cautiously, her senses on high alert. The room was unnervingly quiet, and yet something wasn’t right. There was an energy in the space that hadn’t been there before, a presence she couldn’t see but could feel. She paused in the doorway, her hand still gripping the doorknob as her eyes scanned the dimly lit room.

Then it hit her—the faintest trace of cologne lingering in the air, mingling with the rich, unmistakable scent of whiskey. Her stomach dropped. It couldn’t be. Could it?

Her voice cut through the silence, firm but edged with trepidation. "Terry?"

No answer. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she took a tentative step further into the house. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing like a drum in her ears. "Terrance Richmond," she called again, louder this time, her tone sharper, more demanding. "If this is some kind of joke, I swear—"

Her words faltered as her eyes adjusted to the low light, finally spotting the shadowed figure seated in the corner of the room. The amber glow of a table lamp barely illuminated his silhouette, but she didn’t need to see his face to know. She would recognise his posture anywhere, relaxed yet commanding, his arm draped over the back of her chair as though he owned the place. The glass in his hand caught the light as he raised it to his lips, the sound of ice clinking faintly breaking the silence.

"Terry," she breathed, her voice a mix of anger and disbelief.

He set the glass down with deliberate slowness, leaning forward just enough for the light to catch his features—a smirk playing on his lips, his eyes glinting with an unsettling mix of amusement and something darker. "Welcome home, Princess."

“You’re home late,” he said, his voice smooth and low.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she snapped, her heart pounding as adrenaline coursed through her veins. “How did you even get in?”

He raised the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip before answering. “You’re not the only one with a key, Princess.”

“I never gave you—”

“You didn’t have to,” he interrupted, setting the glass down with deliberate precision. “I’m a resourceful man.”

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, fury and confusion warring inside her. “You can’t just break into my house, Terry. That’s insane.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze never leaving hers. “What’s insane is you thinking I wouldn’t notice.”

“Notice what?” she demanded, her voice rising.

“You,” he said simply, his tone unnervingly even. “Trying to replace me. With him.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, suffocating and thick. YN stared at him, her mind racing to process what was happening. This wasn’t Terry—at least, not the Terry she thought she knew. The possessiveness in his voice, the casual way he’d invaded her space, it all screamed of something darker, something she wasn’t sure she could handle.

“This isn’t about you,” she said, forcing her voice to steady. “I have a life outside of you, Terry. You don’t get to control that.”

His lips curved into a slow, predatory smile. “I’m not here to control you, YN. Just to remind you who you belong to.”

Terry’s words lingered in the air, heavy with promise and warning, as he took a slow step closer. The air crackled between them, electric, suffocating and sinister. YN felt her pulse thunder in her ears, the thrum of anticipation coursing through her veins like wildfire. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to run, to retreat, to reclaim control of the situation, but her feet refused to move. It wasn’t fear that kept her rooted in place—it was him. The commanding weight of his presence, the way his eyes bore into her with a heat that made her knees tremble.

“Terry,” she began, her voice wavering despite her best efforts to steady it, “I—”

He cut her off with a single step, closing the distance between them until the barest whisper of air separated their bodies. His scent—whiskey, spice, and the faintest trace of cedar—enveloped her senses, dizzying and disarming.

“Don’t,” he growled, tilting his head slightly as if daring her to finish that sentence. “Don’t give me excuses. Don’t feed me lies about him or pretend he’s what you want.” His hand came up, fingers brushing against her jaw, and she flinched—not from fear, but from the raw, undeniable pull between them. “You and I both know that man doesn’t know a damn thing about you.”

Her lips parted, a sharp retort on the tip of her tongue, but he moved faster. His hand slid to the back of her neck, gripping just firm enough to make her gasp. “Say it,” he demanded, his voice a rough rasp against her ear. “Say you thought about me tonight.”

YN’s breath hitched. She wanted to deny it, to tell him he was delusional, but the truth burned hotter in her chest than any denial ever could. She had thought about him. His presence lingered in the back of her mind all night, the ghost of his touch, the memory of his voice. It had tainted every polite smile, every harmless laugh, every fleeting touch from a man who wasn’t him.

“I hate you,” she whispered instead, the words trembling with a mixture of fury and something far more dangerous.

Terry’s mouth twisted into a wolfish grin. “Hate me all you want, Princess,” he drawled, his thumb brushing against her lower lip. “But don’t forget who makes you feel alive.”

Before she could respond, his lips crashed against hers, rough and unyielding. It wasn’t a kiss born of tenderness; it was hunger and frustration, a collision of wills that neither of them intended to lose. YN’s hands pushed against his chest, but it only seemed to fuel him further. He growled low in his throat, his teeth grazing her bottom lip before his tongue swept inside, claiming her in a way that made her knees buckle.

Her defiance melted into something impure, needier. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer even as she cursed herself for it. Terry’s hand slid down her back, gripping her waist and yanking her against him with a force that made her gasp into his mouth.

“You’re a piece of work,” she hissed when they finally broke apart, her chest heaving with shallow breaths.

“And you love every second of it,” he shot back, his voice dripping with arrogance. His hands didn’t stop moving, sliding under the hem of her top to find bare skin. The heat of his touch burned against her, sending shivers cascading down her spine.

“Terry…” Her voice faltered as his fingers dipped lower, tracing the curve of her hip. She hated how easily he unravelled her, how her body betrayed her with every shiver, every hitch of her breath.

“Shh,” he murmured, his lips finding the curve of her neck. He bit down lightly, just enough to make her gasp and clutch at his shoulders. “I told you, I’m not here to control you. But you’re going to remember exactly who you belong to by the time I’m done.”

With one swift motion, he lifted her onto the counter, his hands gripping her thighs with bruising force. YN barely had time to protest before his mouth was on hers again, devouring her in a kiss that left no room for argument. His hands pushed her dress higher, exposing more of her skin to the cool air and his insatiable touch.

She moaned into his mouth as his fingers slid between her thighs, finding her already soaked through. He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against her lips. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. “All night, you were mine. Even when you were with him.”

“Shut up,” she snapped, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of anger and arousal.

“Make me,” he challenged, his voice dripping with smug defiance.

She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down into another kiss, pouring every ounce of frustration and longing into it. But Terry wasn’t content to let her take control for long. His hand slid further up, his fingers pressing against her with a skill that had her crying out despite herself.

“Say it,” he demanded again, his breath hot against her ear as his fingers worked her relentlessly. “Say you’re mine.”

“Terry,” she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as the tension in her body built to an unbearable crescendo.

“Say it,” he growled, his voice taking on an edge that sent a shiver of both fear and excitement racing through her.

“I—I’m yours,” she choked out, the admission torn from her lips as her body betrayed her completely.

He grinned wickedly, his fingers pushing her over the edge with ruthless precision. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her temple as she shattered in his arms, her cries echoing through the room.

And he wasn’t done yet.

Terry’s grip on YN’s hips tightened, the pads of his fingers digging into her flesh as he hovered above her. His eyes burned into hers, dark and unrelenting, as if trying to burn every unspoken word into her very soul. He leaned down, his mouth a breath away from hers, his lips brushing against hers as he murmured, “You only ever say my name tonight. Nothing else. No one else.”

Before she could respond, his lips descended on hers with bruising intensity. The kiss was all-consuming, a searing mix of dominance and desperation, his tongue delving into her mouth as though he could taste every word she hadn’t yet spoken. When he pulled back, his gaze swept over her swollen lips, and he smirked like a predator.

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” he muttered, his voice rough, laced with dark amusement. “Always trying to act tough. Always pretending like you don’t need me. But I’ll fix that.”

Without another word, he moved lower, kissing his way down her neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses across her collarbone and between her breasts. His teeth scraped lightly against her skin, eliciting a shiver that had nothing to do with the chill in the air. He paused for a moment, watching her with an almost sadistic level of patience, as if daring her to tell him to stop.

She didn’t. She couldn’t.

His hands roamed lower, pushing her thighs apart with an ease that made her stomach twist with equal parts annoyance and anticipation. She was already dripping wet, the evidence of her arousal glistening in the low light. Terry groaned at the sight, a deep, primal sound that sent a jolt of electricity through her body.

“Look at you,” he said, almost to himself, as he trailed his fingers along her folds. “So fucking perfect. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Before she could muster any sort of response, he lowered his head between her thighs, his tongue swiping a deliberate, teasing stripe through her slickness. Her back arched involuntarily, a strangled gasp escaping her lips. Terry chuckled against her, the vibrations making her toes curl.

“That’s it,” he murmured, before diving in with a newfound ferocity. His tongue worked her clit in relentless circles, alternating between broad strokes and focused flicks that had her gripping the sheets for dear life. He didn’t stop there, though. Two of his fingers slipped inside her, curling upward in a way that made her see stars.

“Oh, fuck—Terry,” she choked out, her voice raw with desperation.

He hummed in approval, his name falling from her lips like a melody he wanted to hear on repeat. Her thighs began to tremble, the pressure building so quickly it almost scared her. She tried to pull away, overwhelmed by the intensity, but his hands clamped down on her hips, anchoring her in place.

“Uh-uh,” he growled, his lips never leaving her clit. “You’re not running from this. You’re taking everything I give you.”

The overstimulation had her head spinning, tears welling up in her eyes as her orgasm tore through her. She screamed his name, her body shaking uncontrollably as she soaked his fingers, his mouth, everything. Terry groaned in satisfaction, lapping up every drop like a man possessed.

When her body finally went limp, he sat back on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes gleamed with something feral as he watched her struggle to catch her breath.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “See? You don’t need anyone else. Just me.”

Before she could recover, he was on her again, positioning himself between her legs. He leaned down, spitting directly into her mouth, his gaze daring her to defy him. She swallowed without hesitation, her body responding to his dominance in ways she couldn’t control.

“That’s what I thought,” he muttered, lining himself up at her entrance. He pushed into her slowly, making her feel every inch of him, until he was buried to the hilt. He stayed there for a moment, letting her adjust, his eyes locked on hers.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice low and possessive. “Say it.”

“Yours,” she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move. His thrusts were deep and deliberate, each one designed to remind her of exactly who she belonged to. The sound of skin against skin filled the room, punctuated by her cries and his grunts.

Her mind was a haze of pleasure and pain, the lines between the two blurring as he pushed her closer to the edge once more. When her responses began to falter, her head lolling to the side, he delivered a sharp slap to her cheek—not enough to hurt, but enough to snap her back into focus.

“Eyes on me,” he commanded, his voice cutting through the fog. “I want to see you come undone for me.”

She obeyed, her gaze locking onto his as her second orgasm ripped through her, even more intense than the first.

The final wave of his dominance surged as Terry pressed her deeper into the mattress, his thrusts growing slow but deliberate, each one hitting with a force that left her breathless. Her legs trembled uncontrollably around his waist, every overstimulated nerve in her body aflame, her cries breaking into fragmented whimpers.

His breathing grew heavier, ragged, the telltale signs of his release building. Still, he didn’t rush—he wanted her to feel it all. Every inch of his claim. His hand tightened around her throat as his lips brushed the shell of her ear, his voice dropping to a rough, guttural growl that sent a shiver down her spine.

"I’m going to cum deep inside you," he rasped, his words slow and deliberate, carrying the weight of his intent. "And you’re not going to let a single drop out. You need to feel me, baby—every part of me."

Her head flung back, her lips parted in a silent gasp, unable to do anything but nod as her body clung to him, every sensation amplified. She didn’t even have time to prepare as he thrust into her one final time, his release hitting her like a brand, searing and unrelenting.

The warmth of him filled her, explored her body like it belonged there, and Terry didn’t move—he stayed there, buried to the hilt, ensuring she took every ounce of him. His hand slid from her throat to her jaw, tilting her head up to meet his intense gaze. The raw satisfaction in his eyes mirrored the shattering chaos within her.

"Mine," he murmured, the word almost reverent, though it carried the weight of a command.

They stayed like that for a moment, tangled together in the aftermath, their breaths mingling as they came down from the high. Terry brushed a stray curl from her face, his touch surprisingly gentle despite everything that had just transpired.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said softly, almost tenderly, though the possessiveness in his tone was unmistakable. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[ambros1an]

Hsr characters in a Soulmate au

warnings: sunday backstory, implied Gopher Wood being a bad father (Sunday), implied stellaron hunter Sunday, discrimination (aventurine, not said by reader), debt (aventurine), firefly backstory, 2.0-2.2 penacony spoilers

characters: Sunday, Aventurine, Firefly

a/n: it's so obvious who's my #1 fav in this

Sunday: writing

Throughout the world, everyone had the ability to communicate to their soulmates through writing on their own skin.

Sunday doesn't remember much about his childhood. His home-world was entrenched in war. The only constant in his life was his own sister, and the strange symbols on his wrists.

After being taken in by Gopher Wood, he would be taught that those symbols were words, and they came from his Soulmate. Excitedly, he'd take to the books to communicate with the person on the other end. At first it was little doodles, then broken sentences, and then full on conversations.

He wrote about his sister, the charmony dove, music and literature. One day, the writing stopped. You'd jot down messages in concern, so worried to the point your hand writing looked like illegible scribbles. He never did tell you his name after all.

After years, finally you got a response.

'Meet me at Dreamflux Reef, here, at 8 pm.' You couldn't help but notice that your soulmate's penmanship had improved after all these years. The once poor excuse for cursive wasn't just printed letters attached to one another, but font-like in it's neatness with broad loops. Despite the brief words written on your skin, your stomach rolled. Was it nerves or excitement?

There was a little hand-drawn map, taking up a portion of your forearm, with an 'X' on the location. You approached the streetlight ahead of you. It was five minutes before 8 pm, at the exact area he told you to be at.

There was somebody there. In the darkness, it was hard to see. The streetlight offered little brightness. Just a faint glow upon whoever it was. They were clearly halovian, a light bounced off their halo, providing a shine in your line of sight. Contrarily, they stood in dark clothes. And seemed to be fidgeting...as if waiting for someone.

As if on cue, the figure straightens up and turns to look at you. Those grey feathers and yellow eyes were unmistakable.

"Mr. Sunday?" The man hasn't been seen since the Order was chased out of Penacony.

"I didn't expect you to show up early," Sunday gives a halfhearted chuckle, then he calls your name, "you are them, right?"

"Yes, but-" You look towards your arm where the writing is located.

He sighs and shakes his head, "I...I'm the one who's been writing to you all these years." Sunday lifts his sleeve, on it is your reply to him, asking where he's been, and saying you'd be there.

Your soulmate was Sunday. The former head of the Oak Family. An MIA criminal. But also your childhood friend, who you never met.

There was so much to say, but the only thing you could think to ask was, "Why? You've been gone for so long..."

"I'm sorry. My fa-the dream master, prevented me from reaching out to you. He wanted me to be 'the chosen one' for The Order. I'm sorry that it took so long for me to-"

Gently, you put your arms around him.

"I was so worried. Please, talk to me. About everything."

He would, but now, all he wanted to do was rest in your embrace.

Aventurine: eye color

Everyone has one of their eyes the same eye color as their soulmate’s, until they meet.

It’s something that’s so arbitrary and meaningless to most people. There are only so many colors in the universe after all. But not yours.

“Sigonian.” Disdain.

“Poor child.” Pity.

“Whoever your soulmate is, you’re better off not meeting them.” Disgust.

Sigonia. A far off planet somewhere in the galaxy. Lightyears away. Where a people known for their unique eyes resides. Or used to reside.

Looking into the mirror, your right eye looks back at you, it’s a purple tinged with blue. You wonder what your soulmate’s would’ve looked like. You’ve long since accepted that any possible soulmate would’ve died years ago. Not even baseless rumors could settle any feelings of loss.

Knock Knock

Debt collectors.

The gentle knocks turn into bangs. The person standing outside takes a full walk around your house, peering inside any windows in search of you. The IPC was relentless when it came to debt. They'd make constant calls, tell your neighbors, blackmail their debtors, tack on more and more money, all to collect as much money as possible.

Just as your nerves calm down your phone rings. It's from a family member.

"Hello?"

"Hello, I'm calling from the IPC." That's not them. The voice is male with a smoothness to his voice. He disguised his number.

Just when you're about to hang up, "Don't hang up yet, I have a proposition for you." He instructs you to open the door.

You follow his instructions. Each step you make, the pit in your stomach gets wider. The door creeks as you turn the knob.

Two purple eyes, with a blue ring around the pupil. Sigonian. His eyes mirror your right one. But, within his reflection you see your own two regular colored eyes. Wait-

The man's mouth drops in shock, but instantly pulls into a grin. He hangs up the call.

"I see what's going on here. This time, the charge is on me," Aventurine insists. He's covered in designer clothing from head to toe, with golden rings lining each finger. You know right then and there that anything you say will get you nowhere. You're just glad he seems to be on your side.

"...Thank you."

"Mmm, but I never said it was without recompense." Shit. "In return, I'll provide you with a better place to live. This place is a bit...run down," he takes a glance around your home, and you can't help but feel embarrassed.

"Thank you, Aventurine, but that just sounds like I'll be in your debt."

He waves you off. "Debt? No, friend. What kind of partner would I be to let my soulmate fend for themselves?"

Firefly : timer

Every person across the galaxy has a timer leading up to the meeting of their soulmate.

4,000 years. Approximately 35,040,000 hours.

That was what Firefly had.

When she first awoke in her incubation chamber, it felt like she could wait forever. Their purpose was to devote their entire being to Glamoth. She did not dream. Not of the warmth of someone’s hands in theirs. Not of someone telling her that she was more. That was not a right of a weapon.

Yet, under the ashen sky and fields of smoke, not a single light shone through. Glamoth would never see the sun again. That was no place for a firefly.

For the last time she broke all protocol.

They unfurled their wings and chased the light. Finally, Unit AR-26710’s heart fluttered for a purpose that wouldn’t destroy.

24 hours = 1,440 minutes = 86,400 seconds.

They’d be landing in Penacony soon. She looked at her wrist, where the countdown was located. 1 day. She could feel her heart beat in her throat; she was so nervous.

Love. Kafka taught her that emotion. She’d never felt it before. Not that way.

Her eyes never left the window.

5 minutes = 300 seconds.

299, 298, 297, 296… Thinking in seconds was faster than minutes. It made time go faster. Minutes felt like eternity.

120, 119, 118, 117… Were they standing in the same area? Could she be looking at them right now? How far apart were they? Would they be tall or short? Would they be the time to put milk before cereal? Would they even like her?

10, 9, 8, 7… She watched the time tick away. She didn’t dare to look up least she burn up from the inside. It felt like her propulsion accidentally activated.

4, 3, 2, 1—

A figure crashed into her from behind. “I’m so sorry!”

0

She turned to look, and there you were. Yet, there was no celebration like she imagined. No hugging. No holding each other in an embrace. Instead, your face was pulled into grimace. Your arm gently interlocking with hers. Your posture was tight and hunched. All the signs of an uneasy person. Two Bloodhound members trailed after you.

“Did we do something wrong?” Firefly moved to stand in front of you

“That’s classified information,” one of the bloodhound guards say, gaze shifting off to look at you.

“I really didn’t do anything.” You look at Firefly with a pleading look.

The girl looks back at you and nods. She grabs your hand, the one the countdown is located on and charges for the alleys.

You hear the slap of their shoes against the concrete. The hurried pants of the guards. The footsteps behind you get louder and closer. In spite of the danger, all you can think about is the girl whose fingers are intertwined with yours. It brings a rush to your cheeks that only a breeze can soothe.

When your soulmate rounds the corner of the alley, her warm hand laced with yours turn a cold metallic. Her other hand placed around the small of your back in support. The suit of the armor is cold against your skin, but there’s a heat that radiates from the chest of the mech. It soothes your nerves. The lack of heat from her hand interlocked with yours may be replaced, but it was welcome.

When she unwraps her wings from behind her suit, a warm air erupts around you. Suddenly, you’re in the sky. The wind ruffles your hair, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when it dawns on you that you’re in your soulmate’s arms.

‘How would the other hunters react if they knew she blew her cover? Kafka was definitely going to tease her."

a/n #2: aven's was so hard to write. he feels like such a sleazebag in this but its only because he's in work mode I promise !! I want to do more of these bc it was fun.

[pankowcrumbs]

More Than This X Mattheo Riddle

MasterList

Harry Potter Universe Masterlist

There were few things in life I enjoyed more than watching boys fall over themselves for me.

It wasn’t arrogance well, not entirely just truth. I was Y/N Black, daughter of Regulus, heir to one of the most revered bloodlines in wizarding Britain. I had the name, the looks, and the kind of effortless charm that made people lean in when I spoke and hold their breath when I walked by.

I was the girl everyone wanted, and I liked it that way.

It gave me power and I never gave that away lightly.

Which was why my current situation with Mattheo Riddle was… complicated.

I wasn’t entirely sure how it started. A party in the Slytherin common room, probably. Some heated glances. A few too many drinks. One smug comment too many from him, and one daring smirk from me.

And then it happened.

Once turned to twice. Then five times. Then too many to count.

We never talked about it. It was just… us.

A secret. A convenience. A habit.

Friends with benefits.

Except Mattheo Riddle didn’t look at me like I was a secret. Not anymore.

And that was becoming a problem.

“Still acting like you don’t like me,” he muttered that evening, voice low against my ear as we stood hidden behind a tapestry on the fourth floor. “After everything I do for you.”

His hand was on my waist, warm and familiar. His lips ghosted over my jaw.

“Don’t get dramatic,” I murmured, shifting to look at him with a lazy smile. “You’re hardly suffering.”

“You only call me when you want something.”

“And you always come, don’t you?” I whispered, lips brushing his. “So really, who's to blame?”

He pulled back, jaw tight. “You know I want more than this.”

I rolled my eyes. “Merlin, not this again.”

“I’m serious, Y/N.”

“And I’m bored.”

That stung him. I saw it in the way his eyes flickered, just briefly. Mattheo was the son of Lord Voldemort unpredictable, dangerous, feared. But around me, he was different. Softer. And I… I took advantage of that more than I cared to admit.

He didn’t scare me. Not the way he scared everyone else.

“I’m not asking you to marry me,” he said, voice low and rough. “I’m just asking you to stop pretending like you don’t feel anything.”

I crossed my arms, giving him a once-over. “What do you want from me, Mattheo? A love letter? A slow dance under the stars?”

“I want you,” he said simply.

I hated how my heart skipped at that. Hated it.

“You already have me,” I replied, shrugging. “On your lap. In your bed. Against that bookshelf in the library”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

He stepped forward, gaze dark, intense.

“You act like you’re doing me a favour, letting me touch you. Like I should be grateful.”

I tilted my chin. “Shouldn’t you be?”

“Y/N”

“No, seriously. I’m the girl every guy in our year would sell their wand to spend a night with. And you get me, regularly. You’re the son of the most feared Dark Lord in history, and still, I’m the prize.”

There was a long silence.

Mattheo looked at me like he was seeing something he didn’t want to.

And I… well. I felt like I’d finally said what we both knew but never dared to say aloud.

He exhaled slowly. “You know what’s funny?”

“What?”

“For all that pride, for all that show… you’re terrified.”

That made me blink. “Excuse me?”

“You’re scared shitless of letting someone love you. Scared that if someone sees past the pretty and the power, they might find a person under all that pride.”

My jaw clenched. “Don’t pretend you know me.”

“But I do know you,” he said, stepping closer. “I know how you hate sleeping alone after a nightmare. I know how you hum when you braid your hair. I know you read the Prophet out loud when you think no one’s listening because you like the sound of your own voice.”

I turned my face, jaw tight.

“And I know,” he said, voice dropping, “that you feel something for me. You do. You just won’t let yourself admit it.”

There was silence again. Tense. Heavy. Tearing me open.

“I told myself I could handle this,” he said. “That being close to you, in any way, was enough. That one day, you’d wake up and realise you wanted me back.”

His voice cracked.

“But I’m done pretending it doesn’t kill me when you pull your robes on and leave without looking back.”

My throat went dry.

He rubbed a hand down his face. “You’ve got me. All of me. Heart, soul, everything. And I get that you’re scared of commitment, of being seen, of losing control. But I’m not asking for your crown, Y/N. I’m just asking for a place beside you.”

My breath caught.

“And if you’re going to throw that away just to keep up your little act of untouchable perfection…” He shook his head. “Then I’ve been a bloody fool.”

He looked at me like he was already expecting the rejection.

Like he’d already mourned it.

And something inside me cracked.

Because I did feel something. Of course I did. How could I not?

Mattheo was chaos wrapped in silk. Fire with hands that knew every part of me, and eyes that softened when I entered the room. He made me feel infuriatingly, completely, dangerously.

But I was Y/N Black.

I couldn’t be someone’s girlfriend. I had a name to protect. A reputation. I was the one who left people breathless not the other way around.

And yet… here he was.

Begging.

The boy with the world at his feet.

Begging me to let him in.

“You know,” I said finally, voice quieter than I meant, “you don’t look very threatening when you’re pouring your heart out.”

He gave a broken laugh. “Don’t care how I look. Only care if you’re listening.”

I was.

Merlin help me, I was.

My eyes traced over his face the curve of his mouth, the storm in his eyes. He looked wrecked. Devastated. Raw.

I should’ve turned him down. Should’ve laughed it off, flipped my hair, and sauntered away like none of this mattered.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I stepped forward. Slowly. Like gravity was pulling me to him.

“I don’t know how to be what you want,” I whispered. “I’ve never been that girl.”

“You don’t have to be anyone but yourself,” he said. “I already want you.”

“I could hurt you.”

“You already do.”

I laughed soft, brittle. “You’re such a mess.”

He smiled faintly. “Only for you.”

I stood there, looking at him the boy who’d haunted my thoughts and filled my nights, who knew me in all the ways I pretended no one did. He could ruin me. He already had.

But maybe… just maybe… I didn’t want to be untouchable anymore.

“Alright,” I said.

His head snapped up. “What?”

I swallowed. “Let’s try. You and me.”

His eyes searched mine. “Are you serious?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

And then he laughed bright and full, like something heavy had been ripped from his chest. He surged forward, arms wrapping around me, lips crashing into mine with a kind of desperation I’d never known.

It wasn’t lust this time. It wasn’t need. It was something deeper. Real.

When we finally broke apart, he pressed his forehead to mine.

“You’ve no idea what this means,” he whispered.

I smirked. “I think I do. You’ve only been begging me for it.”

His cheeks flushed, but he grinned. “Bloody hell. You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance, Riddle.”

But truth be told I didn’t mind being the reason he begged.

Going public with Mattheo Riddle felt a little like lighting a fuse and then sitting back to watch the explosion.

The morning after we decided to try, he turned up outside the Great Hall and waited for me like it was the most normal thing in the world casually leaning against the stone archway, tie loosened, expression unreadable. When I reached him, he offered his hand.

No words. No smirk. Just… his hand.

And I took it.

Just like that.

The hall fell silent when we walked in hand in bloody hand and I swear I felt every head swivel in our direction. Forks dropped. Owls hooted. Someone gasped. Blaise Zabini actually choked on his pumpkin juice.

Mattheo squeezed my fingers like he’d been waiting for this.

Me? I smiled sweetly and carried on, hips swaying, chin high, eyes forward.

Let them stare.

Let them choke on it.

The whispers were immediate and shameless.

“No way Y/N Black? With him?” “Weren’t they just… hooking up?” “Merlin, I thought she’d never settle down” “He must’ve hexed her”

By the time we sat down at the Slytherin table, our names were practically setting fire to the castle gossip chain.

Across the table, Pansy Parkinson grinned like she’d won a bet.

“Told you lot it’d happen,” she said smugly, flicking her fringe. “You don’t sleep with someone that many times without catching feelings. At least one of them was bound to crack.”

“Pretty sure it was him,” Draco muttered.

“Pretty sure it was her,” Theo countered.

They both looked at me.

I just sipped my tea and smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Mattheo snorted, shoulders relaxed for the first time in days. He looked lighter. Looser. Happier.

And I… liked seeing him that way.

Which is probably why I didn’t hex the first idiot who tried to hit on me two days later in the library.

I’d been looking for a Potions text when I felt someone slide up beside me.

“Y/N,” a voice said warm, familiar, and smug.

I turned.

Harry bloody Potter.

Of course.

“Can I help you?” I asked, eyebrow arching.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Er… yeah. I just wanted to say… I mean, you look really nice today.”

I blinked.

“Thanks?”

He cleared his throat. “And I was wondering if you know maybe, sometime, if you’re not busy… we could hang out?”

I actually stared at him for a moment. Was he serious?

“Hang out,” I echoed, deadpan.

“Yeah. Like Hogsmeade. Or dinner. Or just the two of us talking and stuff. I mean, I’ve always thought you were”

“She’s taken, Potter.”

Mattheo’s voice cut cleanly through the stacks like a spell, sharp and low.

He stepped out from the next row, a dark, amused shadow with his arms folded and that dangerous glint in his eye.

Harry blinked. “What?”

Mattheo strode over, all smug confidence and barely-contained possessiveness.

“She’s got a boyfriend,” he said, slipping a hand around my waist like he was staking claim. “Me.”

The silence that followed was almost painful.

Harry looked between us, stunned. “You two are?”

“Yes,” I said sweetly. “Surprised?”

He hesitated. “Well… yeah.”

Mattheo grinned darkly. “Better luck next time, Chosen One.”

I tried not to laugh. Honestly.

Harry mumbled something about heading to Herbology and all but ran.

Mattheo turned to me, smug as sin. “You know, I thought Potter might be stupid enough to try something.”

“He wasn’t being that inappropriate.”

Mattheo gave me a look.

I shrugged, amused. “You didn’t have to scare him off like that.”

“I like scaring them off,” he said simply. “Especially when they forget you’re already mine.”

The rumour mill, naturally, exploded.

By dinner, the whispers had mutated.

“Did you hear she turned down Harry Potter?” “Mattheo Riddle threatened someone in the library again.” “Apparently she only dates Dark Heirs now.”

Some people were stunned. Some were supportive. And some mostly Hufflepuff boys were devastated.

One of them even approached me in the corridor.

“I just need to know,” he said dramatically, hand on heart, “if there’s any chance for someone else. You were my wallpaper for two years, Y/N.”

I grinned. “I’m flattered.”

“But?”

“But my boyfriend might kill you if I even answer that seriously.”

Mattheo, of course, appeared at the end of the corridor not two seconds later arms crossed, expression lethal.

The Hufflepuff legged it.

Later, Mattheo leaned against the wall beside me, smirking. “Still think I overreact?”

I glanced up at him. “You're enjoying this a bit too much.”

He tilted his head, brushing a thumb down my jaw. “Of course I am. Do you know how many nights I’ve dreamt of holding your hand in public?”

“I assumed you were more focused on my legs.”

“Well. Those too.”

We both laughed.

It was easier now. Effortless. Real.

People kept talking, of course. They always would. They gossiped and speculated and whispered behind scrolls.

But we didn’t care.

Theo gave Mattheo a smug handshake. Draco muttered something about finally “taming the lioness.” Pansy and Daphne both hugged me, squealing, “Finally!” like this had been in the works since second year.

Even Blaise smirked and said, “Honestly thought you’d kill him before you kissed him.”

“Still might,” I replied.

Mattheo grinned beside me. “Kinky.”

There were still glances. Still whispers. Still boys who tried.

But they didn’t get far.

Because every time someone looked at me like I was a prize to be won, Mattheo Riddle looked at me like I was the whole damn world.

And for the first time in my life, I didn’t mind belonging to someone.

Not if that someone looked at me like he’d set the world on fire just to keep me warm.

Let them talk.

Let them wonder.

We were Y/N Black and Mattheo Riddle.

And we were no one’s rumour we were a bloody reckoning.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hey! Can we get vergil leaving love letters and maybe small gifts for someone he really likes and eventually confesses after getting caught by dante leaving them and gets a pep talk from him ^_^

this is long, but i promise it goes somewhere.

Vergil felt he should be above this, standing outside just outside your door, love note held tightly between his fingers along with a pristine blue rose he had picked out earlier. This wasn't the first time he had found himself in this exact position -it was the fith time in fact- not that he was counting but it was ridiculous enough for him to remeber each and every time he slipped you a love note and a small meaningful gift.

The first time he claimed was coincidental, thinking nothing of the way he'd weave words of admiration and affection on a piece of paper, solely because he remebered how you found poetry to be the most beautiful form of expression of deeper emotions.

The second time Vergil felt that with the rough expression you worse upon your face for the day made him feel compelled to aquire a small plush of a blue bear with button eyes and nose, both coincidentally in the shape of a heart.

The third time Vergil found himself at your doorstep was because you were hurt on a mission and he felt anger, both at who hurt you and at himself for tursting you when you told him that you would be fine on your own, only for him to return and see you bleeding out as he worked quickly to rush you to medical aid within his arms. No one had ever seen Vergil look as dishevled and firghtened as he did as he held out your bleeding and broekn form in his arms, a demanding 'help them' escaping his lips as he watched over your healing journey excrutiatingly close, almost guard dog like.

The fourth time was when Vergil had soon come to realise that what he felt for you was more than what he could fully comprehend, more deeper, more raw than he original thought as him tolerating you more then most. It was the moment where Vergil realised that his vison of you was always inherently romatic in most of your interactions with one another, whether he was stopping himself from acknowleding it or not, but it didn't stop the factual truth was that vergil felt something deep towards you.

After reflecting upon the previous times he had given you something, a voice called out to him. 'Vergil?' A glance from the corner of his eye and Vergil could see that it was Dante and let out a disgruntled sigh.

'what.' He replied back sharply, this was the last thing he needed right now as if he knew his twin well as he knew his ownself, then he knew that Dante would use this againt him for his own convienience.

Dante shrugs as he leans against the wall, eyes flickering over the note and blue rose within his twin's hand, and then finally over at your door as the pieces came together before his eyes and soon enough he was looking at Vergil with a knowing smile. 'im not the one attempting a love confession at (name)'s doorstep in the middle of the night, how's that going by the way?' he asks as he could see clearly that Vergil wasn't in the mood in having the piss taken out of him, not that Dante was trying to take the piss, if anything he was happy that his brother had found someone he could be painfully human with.

'im doing no such thing.' Vergil spits out like venom but he knew it was fruitless, for despite the persona his brother puts up on a daily basis, Dante was extremely perceptive. 'i'm just-'

'Attemtping to confess to (name).' Dante cuts him off as he moves closer to Vergil despite the looks that he was giving him-skeptical and weary- as he then placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling. 'nobody stnads outside someone's door holding a love note and a blue rose and expect people to think it's anything but a love confession. im happy for you brother.' He adds as Vergil only narrowed his eyes further at him before looking down at the gidt he was going to leave for you to find in the morning.

'Happy for me? How is me confessing to (name) in anyway a potential benefit for you?' Vergil asks, casting his gaze towards your door as though he had expected you to be standing there, half asleep from being awoken by their conversation, but thankfully for you weren't for he'd rather not be futher humilated for his current predicament. It was almost enough for Vergil to let out a sigh of relief before remembering that his brother was still very much present next to him, and still very much had his hand on his shoulder.

'i'm just happy that (name) makes you feel so in love-'

'it's not love.' Vergil responds quickly, yet he knew he wasn't fooling Dante, he wasn't even fooling himslef anymore.

'it is. it is love because i still remeber how scared you were to loose them Vergil. I still remeber the look within your eyes, that primal look that took over you that even had me a little scared.' Dante let's out a lighthearted laugh before his face became sombre and serious. 'I even remeber seeing you hold their hand tightly within your own, fingers resting on the pulsepoint of their wrist, as though you were trying to reasure yourself that you wern't going to lpose another great love of your life.' Both brothers were silent for a moment or two as the memory washed over them.

For Vergil it was the helplessness and the fear of not knowing whether he had gotten to you in time, wanting to know your heart still worked, as his calloused hands clasped yours in desperation. For Dante it was seeing his brother so conflicted and torn with wanting revenge and wanting to stay near you, to prevent anything worse from happening should he stray too far from you. It was finally seeing the humanity shine through his brother, the very humanity he tried to hide and discard of, only for it to strenghthen tenfold when you were brought into harms way.

Dante could see the hesitence, the frustraition, the fright within his twins eyes, but he could also see that he was so close to getting Vergil to stop disappearing when dropping of your gifts and finally allow himself to be happy. He knew his brother hated being cornered nor confronted with emotions he's not familiar with, which often tends to him either lashing out or withdrawing himself in hopes that the feelings would go away, fade into obscurity.

And as cliche as it might be to admit but it only takes one moment to realise that while Vergil wants the human feelings to leave his heart, he's forced into a standstill on whether that is what he truly wants when you were put in a dangerous situaiton; which was clearly a no as Vergil became more protective over you ever since with how he acted like your second shadow at times.

'No one is standing in your way Vergil, only you and whether you are strong enough to cross the line into uncharted terratory.' Dante tells him, thankful when Vergil didn't go on the offensive like he usually did, as he continued. 'You have more then enough reason to withdraw yourslef but are you really willing to withdraw yourself from them, knowing that life would be far sweeter by their side? knowing that the internal battle within you wasn't for nothing?'

Vergil's eyes were firmly locked onto your door now as he allowed his twins words to sink in, for him to truly digest it as he weighed his pros and cons within his head, only to come to an anwser that would be benifical for the both of you in the form of a relationship. He would allow himself the forbiden fruit that was you, allow himself to be encased in your love and embrace, allowing himself to be happy as Dante heavily insited for him. For once in his life he had to thank his brother for being the voice of wisdom, the voice that pushed him to do the unimaginable, for being his brother when he needed him to be.

'leave.' Vergil said and Dante's smile fades from his lips.

'what?' he asked.

'i can't confess if your here observing us like were in a zoo enclosure.' Vergil explained and Dante -relieved- only ruffles his brothers hair and wishes him goodluck before leaving down the hallway, though he didn't stray too far in hopes of overhearing it all. Having watched his brother's back as he left, Vergil now felt a rush of confidence overcome him as instead of leaving his gifts as orignally planned, he instead knocked on your door and waited with what felt like infinity as the air left his lungs when it opened to reveal a half asleep you.

'Vergil?' you say with a voice full of sleep, rubbing your eyes and the first thing they noticed was the pristine blue rose that seemed to glow in the drak and the love note within his hands. Now you had noticed recently that you had a secrete admirer from the gifts you were given the past week, however you noticed a theme with the gfts in partiuclar as all of them would be the same shade of deep blue. The first person that popped into your mind upon seeing the colour was Vergil and how could it not? Blue was pretty much associated with him in more then his clothes and personality and you had to say it made him look all the more beautiful to you.

A small smile graced your lips as you were proven right, even if you did had some hesitance in beliving it's him given his adversion to anything remotely human, yet you weren't agaisnt being wrong in this moment as it was all you could even think of. 'So it was you. the gifts i mean.'

'yes it was me, i apologise if i am not the person you were expecting such a display from.' Vergil says, suddenly feeling that enclosed feeling within his chest, the need to dissapear as his grip on the note and rose tightned. You smiled softly as you reached for the note and the rose, gently prying them from his grip, your touch far gentler on Vergil's scarred and caloused hands as he could only watch as you hold them both to your chest as though they were the most precious things you ever recived; which Vergil found perposterous as you deserved more then what he could ever give you tenfold.

'Not at all,' you start, 'i was actually hoping it was you. so if anything im happy that it is you.'

Vergil's brows raised, unconvinced. 'your happy?'

'very.' you replied, smiling a little wider as you saw just how out of his element when it comes to confessions, it was almost cute in a way. 'very happy.'

Vergil felt as though a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders as well as his chest and found himself stepping towards you, placing his slightly chilled hands over your own, before resting his forhead gently against your own. The uncertain rage within his chest and mind had settled into a peaceful dormant period, bringing forth a moment of peace and serenity over him as the words seem to flow from his mouth more freely then they would've moments ago.

'im glad to hear words of certainty from your mouth, to know that my feelings aren't missplaced and unreciprocated.' Vergil began. 'for the past week i have been fighting my heart in being with you, having only ever viewed my human side a disgrace, an weakness to forever be concealed in favour of my demoic side that gifted me power beyond imagination. Yet now i crave a different form of power, love, unity and the mutal alinment of our souls, for the moment i was confronted with the idea that you too would slip from my grasp i decided to cling onto you tighter so that you may never slip from my grasp ever again. i will not allow it.' He finished, somehow feeling more lighter and at peace then before, it was an addictive feeling that he could naturally only assosiate with you.

'im not going anywhere Vergil, it's hard to be anywhere else when being by your side is where i want to be most.' You admitted as you felt Vergil's hands tighten their hold on yours in silent reassurance. 'i didn't say anything becuase i was sure it if was something you wanted, so i decided to lie in wait until you were ready to come to me on your own terms.' you finished as you tested the waters by kissing his nose, finding his little jolt at the affection adorable from the powerful half devil infront of you.

'you have me now my dear, you have me now until you tire of me.' Vergil replied, placing a featherlight kiss to your nose, mimicing your prior actions.

'i don't think i could tire of you Vergil, not when i have waited for you this long, so i plan on holding you tightly until forever fades away.' you confess as you and Vergil stayed in your position as though dedicating it to memory, using it as the starting point of which your relationship shifted for the good.

Dante, having watched the entire thing, wiped a tear from his eye as he could alredy see the shift in Vergil only you could bring out of him. 'It's your time to be happy Verg, it's your time to be happy.' he siad to himself as he actually decided to go to bed this time, his mind already planning on how he could tease his twin for being such a sappy romantic knowing he'll get stabbed. It'll be worth it though, it'll be all worth it.

[meanderingwistera]

The Empress

< Previous chapter - Masterlist - Next chapter >

Summary - You have prepared for years to take over your Father’s kingdom. You have studied everything from politics to mathematics to philosophy for your future role as Queen.

But when a proposal too good to pass up crosses your Father’s desk your wishes are pushed aside. You are sent off to marry a King from a larger neighbouring kingdom, despite your protests.

Now you have to navigate a new land, people and a Husband who keeps his secrets far from your reach.

Pairing - King!Satoru Gojo x Queen!Reader

Content - Fluff, a tiny bit of angst, comedy, pinning, talk of sex, misogyny, a more Gojo centric chapter, ultimatums, actual communication, sleeping together (literally)

Word Count - 4.1k

A/N - friendship in marriage is very important

Chapter 4 - Heir

Satoru hates meeting with the nobles. Not that he doesn’t want to meet with his people and hear their problems but most nobles don’t talk about that. 

Every single noble except a select few either try to curry favor with him or try to use their age to sway his decisions their way. It is tedious and he is bored out of his mind as Marquis Zenin drowns on and on about his trade plans. 

He looks to his right to see Suguru shuffling his papers for the fifth time in the last thirty minutes. His face is the perfect picture of neutrality but Satoru can tell that Suguru wants to get out of here as much as he does.

In a rare turn of events Marquis Itadori is present. He is a rather reserved man and doesn’t make appearances often so this is rare for him. His presence reminds him that he has yet to reply to Lady Itadori’s letters. He wonders when she will be back from her studies abroad. 

Satoru didn’t grow up with the man so he may not be able to read him well but he can tell that everyone is tired of Naobito’s soliloquy.

“What a fascinating story Naobito,” Yuki says from her spot to his left, a fake smile on her face. “But I need to attend to my people and will take my leave first.”

Yuki has never been one for social norms so her leaving is not anything new but it does give Satoru the opportunity to end the meeting a little early.

“I believe that we can stop our meeting for today. We will resume where we left off tomorrow, Marquis Zenin.” Satoru says and stands up.

The rest of the nobles follow suit. They all leave in small groups who trade comments back and forth. Suguru stays, his mask slips just for a moment as he sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly.

“Do we have anything else on the agenda today?” Satoru asks, stretching his arms above his head to make his muscles less stiff.

Suguru flips through the pages and responds, “You don’t have anything for the next thirty minutes, then you have your next meeting.”

A whole thirty minutes to himself- whatever shall he do with so much time on his hands?

Satoru decides to just wander around the halls until his next meeting. He lets his feet carry him out of the meeting room and into the open hall. The cold air feels nice on his skin as he walks.

The interior of the castle has always been adorned in blue and silver. A rather cold combination but one that always reminded him of his mother who was partial to both colors. She was the one who decorated the castle and Satoru has never changed it.

Satoru wonders how you would decorate it. That always fell to the Queen to do so he wonders if you would change the colors. The soft emerald of your homeland and the icy silver of Satoru’s intertwined would be a beautiful sight. 

Maybe one day that could be a reality but Satoru won’t push his luck.

In his wanderings he finds himself at the doors of the library. The left door is slightly ajar so he walks in. He hears faint talking from the back of the library and quietly paces over. Satoru recognizes your voice soon after hearing it.

Your voice guides him back to where you are. He has always been drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Your calm demour grounds him. Your searching eyes see through his many layers have always made him feel seen in a way not many have accomplished before.

Satoru comes to a stop behind a shelf of books just one row before the one you are in. He knows that he is hiding from you but despite his draw to you he wants to respect the strict boundaries you have set for him. 

So he will just listen to you and Riko talk about history books. 

“Gojo?” You ask him from the end of the row he was hiding in. 

Satoru practically jumps at the sound of your voice. While he was up in his head he hadn’t heard you walk around the corner with Riko. He whips around to grab a random book from the shelf to pretend that he was looking at it.

“Yes?” He responds, the picture of innocence, hoping you can’t see the panic in his eyes.

“I didn’t know that you read romance novels.” You say with a sparkle of amusement in your eyes as you walk closer.

Satoru looks down at the book in his hand, it is a soft green color with a rusty gold color on the edges. He has never personally read it but you don’t know that.

“Just occasionally.” He says vaguely.

“This one isn’t my favorite but it is good.” You tell him and take the book from his hands, studying the cover.

“Which one is your favorite?” Satoru asks. 

He is interested in your preferences. Satoru wants to learn more about you and anything to do with you is leagues more interesting than his paperwork or boring meetings.

“I have read so many books that it would be impossible to choose one favorite.” You look up at him and Satoru forgets to breathe for a second. “But there is one I read a while back about a noble falling for their aid. It was quite romantic but probably not to your taste.”

He doesn’t think he would ever dislike what you hold dear to your heart. 

“I will be on the lookout for that one- I may end up enjoying it.” Satoru says, regaining some of his confidence.

“I hope so but what brings you here to the library at this time?” You ask him.

“Suguru found a thirty minute gap in my schedule so I was just wandering to fill the time.” Satoru explains and puts the book back to where he pulled it from.

“Your schedule is much busier than mine, but-” He sees your eyes turn a bit conspiratorial as you speak. “I might be able to help if you let me.”

Satoru, taken aback by your offer, gapes at your offer.

“I thought you-” He pauses on the word hate because he feels responsible for what he knows is your misery.

You pick up where he paused, “I know but the people don’t need me to take it out on them. They deserve a Queen who will take care of them just as much as my own people.”

You look wistful. Satoru can see you going back in through your memories to your homeland. He can see the longing in your unguarded expression and it pains him to have locked you in this gilded cage. But maybe in keeping you in just your traditional role as Queen he has been restricting then he thought. 

Traditionally the role of Queen is very limited in politics. It was really only his mother who stepped out into politics that were deemed not for women. She actually helped pass the laws that made it so women could inherit their father’s titles if they were named heir.

Satoru wonders what change you can bring, what life can you breathe into his court? He is more than ready to find out.

“I will talk to my council tomorrow about it-” Satoru grins wide, “-but I am sure that they would let my beloved wife help out.”

For the first time since his coronation he watches your face shine with joy. It makes his heart flutter in his chest to see you look this radiant. You are always perfect but Satoru believes that your smile is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

“Thank you Gojo.” You thank him softly with a smile.

“It’s really no-“ Satoru is cut off again as Suguru rounds the corner.

“Satoru!” Suguru catches his breath only to see you and bow deeply at the waist. “I did not know you were here- I apologize for my actions.”

Satoru watches you blink in surprise then shake your head at Suguru’s apology.

“There is no need for that, my husband’s time is precious and I will let you two go to the next meeting.” You say graciously.

“You are most kind, Your Majesty.” Suguru says and rights himself.

Satoru is practically dragged away from you by Suguru. He gives you a small wave which you return with a genuine smile. As he watches you smile he is sure that this is the right choice because that is the happiest he has seen you since your wedding day.

Satoru will make sure to provide what you need to thrive here, no matter the cost.

“Absolutely not! Your Majesty!” Baron Kamo exclaims and slams his hand on the table.

“A woman talking to us about affairs of state? She must have truly sunk her claws into you.” Marquis Zenin says, rather lazily, reclining in his chair. 

Satoru should have him hanged for his comment about you but he can’t cross the Zenin’s and Nobaito is smug about his immunity. Instead Satoru takes a deep breath so he doesn’t do anything he may regret later.

“The Queen is more than knowledgeable about anything you may bring up. She has been given the same education as I.” Satoru looks directly at Marquis Zenin who is undeniably the ringleader. “And over the course of these last five months has studied our history and the land.” 

“If she is so knowledgeable then she must know that to secure her position she needs to bear an heir.” Nobaito smirks, “Can her knowledge produce an heir Your Majesty?”

It really shows his restraint that he doesn’t act on any of the ways he has thought about murdering Marquis Zenin. Satoru really should be given some type of award for it.

Clenching his jaw, Satoru switches course, “What compromise would please you all?”

The other nobles besides Zenin and Kamo look anywhere but at Satoru, not daring to make any demands of him. Only these two would have the gall to make demands. 

“An heir by winter would suffice.” Naobito says with a light air to his voice. 

“You have three months, which should be plenty of time.” Baron Kamo says, his face serious.

Satoru wants to put his head in his hands. You have only just warmed up to him slightly and now he somehow has to tell you about this. He would rather jump out the nearest window; his death would be swift since they are on the third floor of the castle.

“I will talk with the Queen about the arrangements.” Satoru agrees, trying to remember all the diplomacy he was taught when he was younger.

Naobito has a triumphant look on his face as he resumes his story from yesterday. Suguru glances occasionally at Satoru in concern.

Only a select few people truly know what happened on your wedding night. Suguru knows the full extent of it and knows as well as Satoru does that this puts the both of you in a bind. Satoru would never force you and you probably don’t think of him in that way.

It looks like your shaky alliance will be tested.

A light summer breeze blows in through your office window. It gently ruffles the papers on your desk but not enough for them to go flying. The breeze brushes over your face, the warmth spreading over you.

Despite completing your work a few minutes ago you haven’t gotten up yet. You are comfortable here and you also want to stay in one place in case Gojo comes to tell you what the nobles said. 

Gojo’s offer almost made your well practiced calm break for just a moment. It was a small start but a start nonetheless on what you want to do. You will have to think of something to repay him with. Leaving him without something in return feels wrong. 

Accepting gifts has never been your strong suit. It has always been uncomfortable since you were young. You don’t want to owe anyone a favor or hinder them in any way. Repayment is always on your mind as soon as a gift or something of the sort comes to you.

Gojo is not without. The royal volt is full, the castle is a fortress and his people love him. So what could you give to Gojo that he doesn’t already have? 

As if blown in by the summer wind Gojo strides in. His face shows no sign of nerves but you see a mechanical movement to his steps that betray him. You wonder if the meeting didn’t go well. Standing up you incline your head in a bow to him. 

“Can I speak with you in private?” Gojo asks, his voice is calm but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Riko, Nanami and Haibara leave the room quickly after Gojo finishes his sentence. You watch as Nanami pulls the door closed behind him, leaving you alone with Gojo.

His shoulders slump a little as he nears your desk. The nervous energy that Gojo brought with him fills the room and you. 

“What’s wrong?” Your voice comes out softer than you meant it too. 

“I talked with the nobles about you helping me-” He takes a deep breath, adding to the suspense building up. “-at first they said no then they came up with a compromise, they want a heir before winter.”

You suck in a deep breath.

Before you even suggested that you could help with matters of state you had known that it would be hard to get the nobles to agree but this is a lot harder than you expected. 

You have been prepared your whole life to have an heir whether it was for your country or now Gojo’s and now you have a deadline. Looking back a Gojo you see that he is also not too keen on the idea of producing an heir so soon.

There has to be a loophole of some kind.

“We don’t have to do that.” Gojo tries to fill the silence of your pondering. “I will attempt to find another way-”

An idea strikes you as he speaks. You interrupt him- your eyes alight with an epiphany.

“They only said that we need an heir by winter, they didn’t say that I couldn’t help while we try for a child. We will just have to convince them that we are in fact…”

Your voice trails off as you feel your face heat up imagining what would happen if you two genuinely were to be together. Gojo is handsome and you would be blind if you didn’t acknowledge that. Images of him plague your mind. 

His hands holding your hips as his lips meet your neck- you blink that away from your sight.

“…trying to produce an heir.” You finish trying to sound calm.

“Right, do you think if I stay in your chambers once a week it would be convincing?” Gojo asks, not noticing your slightly flustered state.

“I believe that would be sufficient.” You clear your throat and get your traitorous mind back on track. 

“I will come by tonight then.” He tells you. His anxiety has left his posture and he looks more relaxed. 

“That will work for me.” You respond.

For a moment the two of you just stare at each other. Gojo is the first to break the eye contact you two have been making and walk out of your office. You watch his retreating back as the doors open.

Riko walks back in, throwing a glance behind her to watch Gojo leave. Her eyes blink owlishly at you as she tries to decipher what just happened. You just smile and walk around the desk to the door.

“I am done with my work for the day.” You tell her as you pass, she follows you as you walk out. “Please call the maids, I need to get ready for tonight.”

“Y-yes! Your Majesty!” Riko stutters out as she rushes in the other direction to get the maids for you.

This will definitely send waves through the castle rumor mill.

Satoru paces back and forth outside your door. Every so often there is a faint noise from inside your room. He still hasn’t gotten up the courage to knock. The memory of your wedding night, despite the five months between then and now, is still in his mind vividly. 

Your tear stained rage still haunts him no matter how many times he tries to forget. 

After five minutes of pacing he knocks softly on your door. Footsteps fall softly as he can imagine you walking to open the door for him. Would you be apprehensive to let him in? Or maybe you are just as nervous as he is to see you.

“Gojo.” You say quietly and open the door.

You are a vision in blue. He is sure your maids put you in blue to give him a heart attack when he sees you. 

Your nightgown is not revealing as it was on your wedding night, it is still beautiful with long pleated fabric falling from the seam around your waist. The gown is akin to a waterfall flowing down your body. Satoru almost forgets to speak as your face goes from neutral to concerned. 

“Are you alright?” You question him gently reaching up a hand to his forehead. “Do you have a fever? You are flushed.”

Satoru is sure that your touch will only increase his flushed face but he lets you touch his forehead in concern. When you retract your hand you look perplexed. And Satoru hopes to keep you in the dark about his heart's desire for you.

“I am fine, just a little tired is all.” He explains. You don’t look the least bit convinced by that but let him in anyway.

You have always seemed to know when he isn’t telling the full truth. He feels your eyes looking at him in a way that is so different from everyone else and he craves that like air. 

When Satoru is in your room you shut the door. He looks around at the room and sees touches of you everywhere. The hints of green in the curtains and bed remind him of the colors of your home. But the silver is surprising. 

The two colors intertwine together in the way he thought they would. 

You walk over to the bed and sit down. He watches you rub your shoulder and he wonders if it’s sore from being at your desk so long. But your body relaxes as you look over at him.

“Are you going to sleep?” You ask him with confusion and a hint of amusement.

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to sleep with you or somewhere else.” Satoru says.

“It will be more convincing if you sleep in the bed with me.” You tell him. “Unless you are uncomfortable with that?”

“Whatever my wife wants she will get.” He grins and walks over to the other side of the bed.

Your bed is softer than his. He isn’t upset about it, quite the opposite since he wants you to have the best of everything. Satoru’s bed is rarely slept in because of the amount of work he has everyday. Most of the time he just sleeps in his office on the couch in the corner of the room.

He swings his legs over the bed and lays down on top of the comforter so you have room without him being too close. After not hearing any movement from your side he looks up to see you holding back laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Satoru raises an eyebrow.

“You can sleep normally,” You lower your hand from your mouth to talk to him. “I will not bite you Gojo.”

“I- just-” Satoru tries to speak but gives up with a huff and gets under the comforter. As he looks up at the ceiling he feels your probing eyes looking at him. “I know that you are not fond of me so I want to give you as much space as I can.”

He doesn’t look at you. Satoru is not one for vulnerability, he hides his heart behind a lot of walls.

It has been the way he has moved through the world since he was young, he needs to hide the vulnerable parts of himself so he doesn’t get hurt. Satoru has a kingdom of people who rely on him and as a ruler you help your people first then act for yourself second.

As he waits for a laugh or a dismissal you do something he doesn’t expect. You don’t say anything- just grab his hand and squeeze it a little. Satoru looks over to see a sad little smile on your face. He wonders if you have been isolated by his actions to help you.

“It is lonely here sometimes,” You admit softly, “I fill my time with books and budgets but I miss my home that is filled with laughter. There was always something going on there that you could get carried away by. Here is very different- it is just you and me in a very large castle.”

Satoru inhales deeply, watching you open yourself up slowly to him.

“At first I was angry. My whole plan for my life was thrown off track and you were the closest thing that I deemed worthy of my rage. But now it has fizzled out into a sense of loneliness. I was not fond before but now I-“ You pause looking for the right words. “I long for companionship, I long for an ally or maybe even a friend.”

He blinks over in surprise at your words. Satoru can see tears threatening to spill over in your eyes. His heart aches at your pain and knowing that he caused it.

“I can be that for you.” Satoru says and it is your turn to look surprised. “Whatever you need, a companion, an ally or a friend.”

“I would like that.” You say with a bright smile despite the tears near the corners of your eyes.

“What do normal friends do? Suguru and I just fight over my unfinished paperwork or fall asleep in the same room.” Satoru asks you to lighten the mood.

You laugh. It is a bit choked by tears but it is the most beautiful sound that has ever graced his ears. If it was a symphony he would listen to it on repeat. Satoru’s idea of how beautiful it would sound is not even close to its beauty.

“I think dinner is a good start and maybe a walk through the gardens here and there?” You suggest, trying to sound serious but he can see the laughter in your eyes as you speak.

“I concur, my Queen.” Satoru agrees with a grin.

“You can call me by my name,” you suddenly sound a bit embarrassed, “that is what friends do.”

Satoru pauses before letting your name leave his lips. It rolls off his tongue like it is the only word he should ever say.

“Call me Satoru then.”

“Satoru-” You say his name in a way he has never heard before- maybe that is the right way it is supposed to be spoken and he has never heard it before. “That’s a good name.”

“My mother gave it to me.” Satoru says and that captures your interest.

“Tell me about her?”

“Of course.”

The morning sun has somehow managed to get through the dark green curtains in your bedroom. You groan a bit at the light and how sluggish you feel. Actually, you feel weighed down by something.

Opening your eyes you see Satoru has fallen asleep with his head on your chest.

You see his white lashes flutter with sleep. His lips are slightly parted as he exhales deeply. As you stare you can help but feel warm, not because of his body heat, but because of what happened last night and waking up to this.

In all your plans for the future you had never thought about love.

You had planned for everything but that. In the back of your mind you had known that you had to carry on your bloodline but you had been focusing on getting the crown first. So now as your heart beats wildly in your chest you are now at a loss for a plan or a mask to hide behind.

Without meaning to you run your fingers through his hair. It is as soft as you imagined it to be last night. While Satoru sleeps you feel a bit bolder than when he is awake.

This is either going to mess up your careful planning or possibly add something new to them.

Taglist- @hyori2 @tenaciousavenueavenue @joyfulweaselbananapanda @miakxn @lovystar @moonz33 @linny-bloggs @straykeeks @vi0let-writes @procastinatingbitch @ughhmenna @sassylav @sugurusladyknightt @kitkatq05

[undressrehearsal]

a bite of luxury

part 1

summary: you decide to look for a sugar mommy and stumble across this strange girl that seems to have more to hide

tags: sugarmommy!ellie, rich!ellie, vampire!ellie (yep, we got it all) alcohol, reader is poor lmao, reader uses she/her and is referred to as a girl once or twice, no smut in this one sorry gotta establish the world first

word count: ~8k

a/n: it's been so long since i posted a fic lol working full time and trying to finish my book is killing my schedule BUT i hope y'all like this this was my fiancee's idea and i'm running with it i got a LOT of plans for this one - plans i think y'all are gonna love

also the drawing in the cover is made by @nramv seriously go check out their work they're so talented!!

if you wanna be added to my tag list just lmk!

part 2

You hadn’t been searching for a sugar mommy. 

Truthfully, when your best friend had sent you the link, you had dismissed it immediately. She had been joking about it for months, talking about how much easier it would be if you just found a nice older woman to take care of you. You hadn’t even opened the link - you only rolled your eyes, replied with a middle finger emoji, and left it at that. 

And yet things kept piling up. The stack of bills on your kitchen counter was growing to a concerning height, a mountain of unanswered responsibilities that was getting harder to ignore. Your landlord kept calling you - you no longer answered, just watched the phone ring until it finally stopped and ignored the increasingly angrier voicemails. Your apartment was an absolute disaster; you could never be bothered to clean it, because by the time you got home from working both of your jobs, you only had enough energy to eat a bowl of leftovers and promptly pass out in bed. 

The link kept popping up in your mind, each bill in your mailbox a gentle reminder. You found yourself scrolling all the way up the text chain to find it again during sleepless nights. So many times you would only stare at it, your thumb hovering over the blue letters, before you closed the chat and threw your phone down. 

It was stupid, of course. But as time went on, the idea of letting yourself get buried alive under a mountain of debt - of getting evicted from your apartment and having to crash on your friend’s couch - seemed all the more stupid. 

So, late on a Thursday night, after you had had another anxiety attack staring down at your bank account, you went back up the text chain, and you clicked the link. 

www.seeking.com

It didn't take long for the messages to start coming in. You should have been flattered, honestly - you had at least a handful of people in your messages practically begging you for the honor of paying your fucking rent - but you really just felt like you were playing a part that you hadn't even read the script for. You had curated your profile with all the things that made you appear more cultured than you actually were: going to museums and pondering over Baroque art and reading poetry over a pretentious cup of coffee. Sure, these were all things you had done - you had photo proof, after all - but somehow you didn't recognize yourself. It felt like you were looking at pictures of a stranger living a life you wanted but couldn't reach. 

Most people were fine - charming, even. You got maybe one or two that felt like they would lure you into their sex dungeon to murder you, but that was expected with any dating site. You even went on a few dates, scrounging up the nicest dress you owned and getting pampered at a five-star restaurant or going for a ride on an older woman’s personal yacht. One person even took you for a helicopter ride, which was fun but she was a little too handsy on the first date to warrant a second. 

One name kept popping up though, a name that was becoming far too familiar in your notifications. 

ellie: meet me at 8 <3 

When she first messaged you, you had thought she was like you: somebody searching for a partner to pay their bills. Her pictures didn't exactly scream sugar mommy material. Her first picture was just a normal selfie taken outside; she wore a worn out leather jacket, her short hair tangled from the wind and green eyes squinting in the sunlight. She had stupid pictures of mushrooms and candid shots of her browsing a science museum, looking far too excited in front of a t-rex skeleton. Hell, in most of her pictures she looked like she was wearing clothes she had found at a thrift store.

You had thought she was like you, until she sent you a picture inside her fucking Rolls-Royce. 

“Fuck,” you audibly cursed into the quiet of your room. You had been talking for a few days, and she had begun to do that - sending you small selfies throughout the day. In the last one, she had taken a picture in front of the mirror at the gym, flicking off the camera, her lean muscles glistening with sweat. Before that, it had been a blurry picture of her dog, Riley - a huge German Shephard - splayed on her back at a park, leaves stuck in her fur. 

So, yeah, when you found out Ellie was not only rich, but rich enough to casually have a Royce, you were more than a little surprised. 

The selfie was cute, you couldn’t deny that. Her hair was wind-swept, catching in those long ass eyelashes. Ellie’s nose was scrunched up, freckles popping against her cheeks, holding up a peace sign. 

She was fucking adorable and you already knew it. But seeing her worn out leather jacket and messy hair against black and white leather seats that looked like they, alone, cost more than your entire apartment complex combined - it was a little jarring. 

And when she asked you out on a date soon after - after finding out she wasn’t Iike you but rather searching for someone like you - how could you say no? 

Ellie offered to pick you up - like a gentleman, she had said - but frankly, you weren’t quite convinced yet that she wasn’t some blood-thirsty pervert trying to lure you into her dungeon, so you politely declined. Instead, in your nicest dress and heels you hardly wore because they pinched your toes, you called an Uber. 

You had never been to this side of town. You had plugged in the address Ellie gave you - had double and triple checked it while your awkwardly chatty Uber driver tried asking you about what you do for a living - but the streets here were so unfamiliar you may as well have been in another city. You looked at the foreign buildings rising up around you, large windows giving you a glimpse of the life inside them. People were sitting outside in the chilly air, laughing over wine and dinner. Looking at them - with perfectly sculpted hair and clothes you would have to spend several entire paychecks on - you felt like a cheap impersonator dressed up in a costume. 

The Uber pulled up in front of a hotel, and your heart stopped. Surely, this wasn’t where Ellie had sent you - leading you to some fucking hotel room when you hadn’t even met yet? 

You turned to the driver, your home address at the edge of your tongue, when the car door opened. 

You had practically been leaning against the door to peer out the window, and nearly lost your balance when it was suddenly gone without warning. You looked up, ready to yell at whatever pretentious prick in Prada was trying to fuck with you - but your voice died in your throat. 

Ellie was shorter than you thought she'd be, honestly. In all her pictures, she had this commanding energy, like she would tower over you in person. 

Which, to be fair, she was. She had her arm propped on the doorframe above your head, leaning over so she could meet your eyes. Her hair was pushed back from her face, a few stray strands falling over her forehead, and she was looking at you with an intensity that hadn't quite translated through her pictures.

Ellie smiled - that adorably crooked smile you had seen in all her selfies - and said, “Hi.” 

And the only word you were able to get your mouth to form was, “Fuck.” 

Ellie blinked at you for a moment - long enough that you could feel the flush creeping up your neck and were ready to walk home if you had to - before she finally laughed. That wasn’t like what you had expected either; she had this deep, rough laugh, almost like she was trying to hold it in. 

She looked up at you through her lashes - you tried to ignore the way your heart inexplicably skipped - and said, “I’ll take that as a compliment?” Her voice tilted up at the end like it was a question. Ellie ducked her head down further, looking past you to meet the driver’s eyes, and pulled cash from her back pocket. With her most charming smile, she handed it to the driver and said, “Thanks for getting her here safe.” 

You didn’t see how much money she gave him, but after she took your hand and guided you out of the car, you turned back just in time to see his grin before he sped off. 

“Thanks for coming out.” You looked back at Ellie and found yourself speechless once again. (You, thankfully, were able to hold in the expletive this time.) The worn out jacket that had featured in just about all of her pictures was missing, replaced instead by a pristine, white satin shirt, the top few buttons undone to expose a sliver of collarbone and a gold chain beneath. Despite the chill in the air, she had a classy black jacket hanging from her arm as though it were an accessory. Ellie smiled and looked down, licking her lips before saying, “You’re quite the sight for sore eyes.”

You tried to smile at her but found that your eyes kept flitting behind her, looking at the looming monstrosity of the hotel. It was a nice hotel - the kind that had a huge fountain right in front of it and a chandelier in the lobby that sparkled through the window - but it was a hotel nonetheless. Despite the set in your jaw, traitorous tears stung the corners of your eyes; you wanted to kick yourself for actually thinking that Ellie might be different. 

Ellie followed your gaze over her shoulder, her smile dropping, before she quickly turned back to you with panic in her eyes. She stumbled over her words as though her tongue weren’t cooperating: “Shit, I’m sorry, this looks really bad doesn't it?” She grimaced and squeezed your hand she was still holding, scratching awkwardly at the back of her head with the other. “Fuck, this isn’t the first impression I wanted. I could promise it's not what it looks like, but maybe it'd be better if I just showed you?”

You honestly did think about telling her to fuck off. She was a complete fucking stranger that you only really knew from a dating app, and she was trying to lure you into a hotel in a part of town you were unfamiliar with - really, only an idiot would follow her. 

But she was looking at you with wide green eyes, the lights around you shining back like stars. While searching for the constellations, you found yourself saying, “Okay.” You blinked, pulled from a trance, and added, “But you should know, I do have a taser in my bag.” 

That pulled a shocked laugh from Ellie’s lips. She gently tugged on your hand, pulling you towards the door, and said, “Smart girl.” 

You knew that the hotel was outside of your price range because a perfectly groomed doorman opened the door for you, waving you inside with a gloved hand. You didn’t take much time to process the interior - the chandelier was just as grand as it had seemed from outside and elaborate columns rose to the ceiling - because Elllie was pulling you towards the elevators. It was like she wanted to ignore the fact that she had brought you to a hotel at all. You couldn’t decide if that was reassuring. 

In the empty elevator, you gently drew your hand back and leaned against the wall opposite her. You tried to ignore looking at the way her pinstripe slacks hugged the curves of her thighs, the fabric straining when she propped one booted foot on the wall behind her. 

“So,” you started in a desperate attempt to fill the awkward silence, “if you’re not leading me into a seedy hotel room on the first date, then what are we doing?” 

“Okay, one,” Ellie said, chuckling, “this is anything but a seedy hotel. And two, what kind of a date would it be if I ruined the surprise?” 

“And what if I don’t like surprises?” you countered. 

Ellie grinned. “I think you’ll like this one.” 

When the elevator doors opened, Ellie held her hand out to you as though it were a question. You hesitated for only a moment before placing your hand back in hers and letting her lead you out into open air. 

You nearly choked on a gasp. 

The bar itself was beautiful - fairy lights stretched above your head, twinkling like stars and casting the rooftop in a warm glow. Wooden tables and plush couches were spread artfully around the space, far enough apart to provide the patrons scattered about with some privacy. 

The bar was beautiful - but the view was fucking breathtaking. 

The city stretched out beyond the railings, open in a way you had never seen before. The skyline rose around you, each building shining like its own little galaxy amidst a sea of stars. The city lights blocked out the actual stars - a fact that never failed to piss you off - but you could see the crescent of the moon rising over the city, casting a quiet glow like a veil. 

You looked back at Ellie, and whatever your face held made her grin. She leaned in just enough so that her murmur was for your ears only: “So, was I right?” 

You blinked, momentarily distracted by her proximity - she smelled intoxicating, spicy and warm with a hint of tobacco beneath - before you finally said, “What?” 

Ellie snorted, breaking whatever spell she had put you under. “The surprise,” she said, leaning away enough for your head to clear. “Was I right?” 

You bit the inside of your cheek, pursing your lips as though you had to think about it. You couldn’t take your eyes away from the skyline stretched before you. 

You finally said, “That depends on how good the drinks are.” 

When Ellie laughed, her eyes crinkled in the corners, her nose scrunching. It was a full, rich sound, hanging in the air above your head like helium. It made something in your chest tighten, and you wanted nothing more than to hear it again. 

She squeezed your hand, a twinkle in her eye, and said, “The old-fashioned's to die for.” 

You pursed your lips again to hide your smile.

Ellie didn’t bother checking in with the host, simply shot her a smile and a wave as you walked by - you tried to bite back a giggle when you saw the host’s face turn red, her eyes tracking Ellie as she led you to a table right along the edge of the railing. She pulled the chair out for you - “Such a gentleman,” you laughed - before taking the seat opposite you.

As she waved over a waiter, you took a moment to lean your head over the railing. It was made entirely of glass, giving you a clear view of the city below. You could hear the distant sound of traffic, cars racing below you like shiny beetles, but it was like it was coming from a different world altogether. Everything seemed impossibly, wonderfully small from up here. 

You looked up at the sound of your name to find a groomed waiter wearing a fucking waistcoat standing before you. Ellie was looking at you with laughter in her eyes, her lips twitching. 

“Shit, sorry,” you said, immediately flinching at your own curse. You suddenly couldn’t remember the proper etiquette in a fancy bar, feeling out of place and underdressed even in your nicest outfit. You looked between Ellie and the waiter, wracking your brain for any kind of drink that wasn’t a trashy cocktail you’d find at a dive bar. 

Seeing you floundering, Ellie gave you a reassuring smile and said, “Do you like wine?” 

Relief washed over you as you nodded. Turning back to the waiter, Ellie ordered something that you couldn’t even hope to pronounce, charm lifting the corner of her mouth. She spoke to the waiter with the steady ease of familiarity, laughing at some inside joke; you briefly wondered just how often Ellie came to this bar. Surely, a nice place like this - at the very precipice of the world, looking down at the stars - wouldn’t be a regular stop on anyone’s schedule, but Ellie and the staff spoke like old friends. 

When the waiter left, tussling Ellie’s hair playfully, she turned back to you and the awkwardness of a first date finally set in. Sure, you had been texting Ellie every day for a week now, but you still hardly knew the girl. You knew she liked mushrooms and hiking. You knew that most of her clothes were from the thrift store even though she could afford any designer brand she wanted. You knew her favorite video game was Dishonored. But nothing you knew was enough for a relationship. 

But you weren't exactly looking for love, were you? 

After a moment of silence, Ellie cleared her throat, looking out over the city. “It's nice out here.” 

You snorted before you could stop yourself, covering your mouth; it didn't cover the laughter in your eyes. You said, “You're really talking to me about the weather?”

Ellie opened her mouth, an indignant sparkle to her eye, before shutting it again. It was like she was malfunctioning, opening and closing her mouth yet no sound came out. She furrowed her brows, looking at you as though you were something new and interesting, before finally chuckling, looking away. “Yeah, I-I guess I am.” When she looked back up at you, her eyes were surprisingly sheepish. “Not making a great first impression, am I?”

You couldn't stop the smile that crept up to your eyes. You leaned closer, propping your chin in your hand, and said, “I think you're doing okay so far.” 

Ellie laughed that wondrous laugh again, her nose scrunching up, and the cord in your shoulders loosened. 

“Okay,” she sighed, her eyes still alight with residual laughter. “Okay, damn. Tell me about yourself.” 

���Well now this just sounds like a job interview.” 

Ellie threw her hands up in mock frustration, trying to stifle her own grin. “Okay, fuck, knock me down again! You're obviously an expert, so show me how it's done.” 

She leaned back and crossed her arms, looking at you expectantly, and it was the perfect moment for your drinks to arrive. Ellie did, in fact, order an old-fashioned. The waiter set two wine glasses on the table, producing a bottle seemingly from thin air. He held it out, explaining to you in rehearsed prose the year, acidity, and complexity in words that passed straight through you. You nodded along even as you didn't process a single word he said. 

When he left, you turned back to Ellie and said, “How did you find this place?” 

Ellie took a sip of her drink. The lights of the city danced in the amber glass. “Just an old haunt of mine, I guess.” 

You took a sip of the wine, taking the distraction. It was warm on your tongue, tasting of wood and fruit and something spicy just underneath. The wine you usually drank was the stuff you could find in your nearest grocery store, often tasting concerningly like bug spray and bought with whatever tips you had managed to scrape together from work. It was usually shared with a friend on your kitchen floor, the walls and thoughts spinning over your head. 

You much preferred wine like this: The taste of warmth and fire on your tongue, the cool air brushing your shoulders at the edge of the sky, and a beautiful person sitting across from you.

When Ellie lowered her glass, you could see amber droplets of whiskey clinging to her lips before her tongue darted out to catch them. You tore your eyes away, but her smile said that she had caught you staring. A chill ran up your spine that you were sure was just from the cold. 

Seeing you shiver, Ellie wordless reached behind her where she had tossed her jacket over the back of her chair. Standing, she rounded the table only for a moment, only long enough to place the coat over your shoulders. Her hands lingered there for a second too long before she retreated, sliding back into her seat as though she had never moved. 

“So, why are you here?” she finally said. 

You pulled the jacket around your shoulders, distracted by the smell of it. The same smell that must be her perfume clung to it, spiced and warm like an open fire, but something else clung to the fabric too. It was strangely metallic, sharp and intoxicating, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was shockingly warm against your skin. 

“I’m here,” you said, raising a brow and ignoring her real question, “because you sent me this address and told me to meet you here at eight wearing my nicest dress.” 

The corner of Ellie’s lips quirked, a grin she was trying to hide. She clasped her hands, leaning across the table so you could smell the whiskey on her breath. “And you agreed to meet a stranger at a seedy hotel,” she murmured, mocking your remark from earlier. Her grin revealed itself when your cheeks flushed. “But why are you here - what are you seeking?” 

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. “That’s kind of a dumb question, don’t you think? It’s pretty obvious why I’m on the app.” You cocked your head, leaning across the table, feeling a strange thrill when her eyes flashed. Your heart fluttered at the proximity, and you couldn’t remember when you had become so easily starstruck. “The real question, Ellie, is why are you?“ 

Ellie’s eyes darkened, and you weren’t sure if you just imagined her eyes flicking down to your lips. She looked back up at you through her lashes, her voice rough when she said, “That’s a third date kind of question.” 

Your eyebrows shot up. “What makes you so sure you’ll get a third date?” 

Ellie tilted her head, a slow smile pulling at her lips, and said, “Call it a hunch.” 

The waiter came to check on you, appearing at your shoulder like a ghost. You hastily retreated, leaning back in your chair as though the electricity in the air had shocked you, and took a sip of wine that was more than a little overzealous. You tried to choke it down as Ellie waved the waiter away with that heartstopping crooked smile. What happened to you? Since when were you so easily charmed by freckles, green eyes, and smart-ass comments? You couldn't remember the last time you had been so infatuated during a normal date, let alone one with these kinds of strings attached. 

“So you don't want to be in an interview,” Ellie said once the waiter was out of earshot. “I guess all my typical getting to know you conversations are out of the question.” 

“I didn't say that,” you countered, your throat still burning from your accidental wine waterboarding. “But come on - what girl are you going to impress by asking her questions like ‘Tell me about yourself,’ or ‘Why are you here?’ or ‘Why are you more qualified for this position?’”

“Okay, okay, goddamn,” she said, laughing. Grabbing the wine bottle, she looked at you for permission before pouring you another glass.

You brought the glass up to your lips, taking a sip to hide your smile. The flush in your cheeks was surely from the wine and nothing else. “What about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“I hardly know you.” On one hand, that felt entirely untrue - but especially after this recent discovery, you really knew nothing about this girl. “Tell me about you.” 

Ellie laughed that same rough laugh and your heart jumped. “Oh, so you're allowed to be the interviewer.” 

You nodded, twirling the glass between your fingers and looking at her expectantly. 

After a moment, Ellie rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her hair, but you could see the humor in her eyes. She downed the last of her old-fashioned and, like a good sport, said, “What do you want to know?”

Turns out, there was a lot to know - more than a simple dating app would tell you. Ellie had an older sister, Sarah, who lived in Dallas. Her dog was named after her childhood best friend. Her jacket wasn't thrifted after all, but had been her dad's. Speaking of which, she used to go hunting with him every season (“I haven't been in years, though,” she said, her eyes distant). On the weekends, she'd go to antique stores to look for art and trinkets to fill her house - her favorite antiques were from the 17th century. She hated horror movies and was a sucker for a good romance. 

In return, you caved and answered her pressing questions. You told her about your best friend - Ellie laughed when you told her that your friend had sent you the link to the app in the first place. You told her about your favorite show that you binge-watched whenever you felt like you were spiraling. You did not tell her about your apartment that was probably the size of her closet or the fact that you'd have to watch your budget after taking the Uber tonight, not to mention the extra $30 Uber to get home later. You did tell her about your family, and a strange, unexplained sadness crept into the creases around her mouth. You did tell her about your job, but didn't mention the second one you worked to afford groceries. You told her you were hoping for a real, human connection, yet didn't mention that you couldn’t imagine finding it in a fucking sugar mommy. 

All too soon, the wine bottle was empty and your chest was comfortingly warm. The lights strung across the bar danced above your head like fuzzy stars, and Ellie's smile was the brightest amongst them. Her glass was still empty, her wine glass dry, and yet her eyes told you she was intoxicated by something far stronger. 

“Sorry,” you said, giggling despite yourself. “I didn't mean to drink it all.” 

“Don't worry about it, darling,” she said, her voice silky smooth, reminding you of melted chocolate sliding down your throat. She tilted her glass, letting the remnants of melting ice clink against the side. “I wanted to make sure I could drive home okay.” 

The waiter arrived then, pulling the bill from his pocket and handing it to Ellie. You couldn't read the number upside down, not through the haze of the wine, but the number of digits made your stomach clench. Ellie dropped a black card into the folder and handed it back to the waiter. 

“How much do you want me to Venmo you?” you asked when she turned back to you. You clenched your hands in the hem of your dress, already calculating the extra shift you'd have to pick up to afford it. 

Ellie tilted her head, her brows furrowed. “Nothing,” she said, as though it were obvious. 

“That wasn't exactly a cheap bottle, Ellie,” you laughed. “Let me give you something.” 

Ellie hummed, propping her chin in her hand and looking at you with those same intense eyes; it sent a dangerous shiver down your spine. “I like when you say my name.”

You blinked at her. “Excuse me.” 

“I want to hear it again. That's how you can repay me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ellie, I-” 

“Okay, now we're even,” she interrupted, smiling that crooked grin that you had started to crave. The waiter returned with her card and Ellie produced cash from her pocket, handing it to the waiter directly. He thanked her profusely before making his exit, grinning. When Ellie looked at you again, you were still watching her expectantly, dumbfounded. She finally rolled her eyes. “Seriously, what kind of date would I be if I made you pay?”

“You're not making me, I'm offering.” 

“And I'm saying no.” Ellie stood, straightening her shirt; when she tugged at it, the collar fell a bit, exposing sharp collarbones beneath. 

Rounding the table, she offered a hand to you, pulling you gently to your feet. You pulled her jacket tighter around yourself, knowing you needed to give it back yet unwilling to part with it just yet. 

Taking your arm, Ellie leaned in close enough that your breath caught in your throat and said, “I know why I found you on Seeking, okay? So, if it's alright with you, let me spoil you. Even if that just means one bottle of wine.” 

You laughed, but it sounded breathy even to your own ringing ears. “One very expensive bottle of wine.”

Ellie shrugged, a sparkle in her eye. “It's a small price to pay for your company.”

You were silent in the elevator, but you held on to her arm as though afraid to let go. You couldn't figure out why, but something in you urgently wanted nothing more than to be close to her. You couldn't remember the last time you had felt such a pull from somebody. 

Back on the street, the lights of the city seemed so much brighter than they had before. Ellie released your arm, turning to face you, and there was a strange pinch between her brows that you couldn't translate. 

“Do you want me to call you an Uber, or do you want me to take you home?” she asked, and your brain short-circuited. When you could do nothing but stammer, tripping over your own tongue, Ellie laughed. There was no mockery behind it, only quiet, bright amusement. “I meant I can drive you to your apartment so you don't have to drunkenly sit in an awkward Uber that smells sickeningly sweet and the driver tries to make mind-numbing small talk.” 

Your sigh of relief came out more like a laugh. 

Ellie tilted her head and stepped closer to you, her hand reaching out to graze your fingers, and that sigh was sucked right back into your lungs. Being so close to her made your head spin. Her breath fanned against your cheeks, smelling of warm whiskey, when she said, “Unless you want to come to my place?”

It had the uncertain tilt of a question, and Ellie wouldn't quite meet your eyes. 

“We don't have to do anything,” she continued in a rush. She scratched anxiously at the back of her head, a nervous laugh slipping between her lips. “We can just sit and talk more. Or watch a movie - my dad had this huge collection. I'm not gonna - You know, I'm not going to do anything you don't want.” She finally interrupted herself with a groan, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “Fuck, sorry, I wanted it to sound more suave than this.” 

And you would be a fucking idiot to go home with this impossible stranger. You had been taught better - never get into a stranger's car, and for the love of God, never let them take you to a second location. You could let her take you back to your apartment at least - you were admittedly incredibly tipsy and didn't particularly want to endure another ride with an annoyingly talkative Uber driver. You could go home, back to your claustrophobic, quiet apartment, and maybe - maybe - text  Ellie about setting up a second date. 

You were not stupid enough to go home with somebody on the first date. 

Except clearly you were, because you took the hand that was still grazing your fingers and looked up at Ellie - the contours of her face were shockingly etched with insecurity. And your dumb mouth said, of its own volition, “Okay.”

You had expected something flashy, like what a wealthy person would own in a movie - like a penthouse overlooking the city with too-white walls and electric guitars hanging, unused, on the walls. Maybe she had walls completely made of windows so it felt like you were on a pedestal overlooking the world. 

You hadn't expected a house that was older than your great-grandparents. 

When Ellie pulled into the driveway, you were sure she was just pulling in someplace to turn around, that she had missed her turn somewhere. But she put her stupidly-expensive car into park and killed the engine, shooting you an awkward glance. 

“Sorry,” she said, chuckling. “I know it’s not much.” 

You could only look at her incredulously, speechless, before looking back up at the house before you. You couldn’t even call it a house really - estate would be more fitting. Maybe mansion. Fuck, her house was the size of your apartment complex. It towered over you, three stories of intricate woodwork, warm brown beams wrapping around the structure like an elaborate skeleton. With beautiful eaves winding around the roof and an entire turret reaching for the moon, it looked like something that had stepped right out of some 1800s southern gothic novel. 

Ellie cleared her throat, startling you from a trance. You looked back at her and, for some reason, couldn’t stop yourself from laughing.

”Shit, sorry,” you said, covering your mouth with your hand. “I just - I’ve just never seen anything like it.” When Ellie’s eyes clouded over with uncertainty, you added softly, “It’s beautiful. Besides, Ellie,” you added, laughing again, “‘not much’ doesn’t really suit you.” 

Ellie opened and closed her mouth and yet no words came out. She was looking at you again as though you were something interesting - something new and exciting. Nobody had ever looked at you that way before, and the way your heart clenched at the sight was more than a little dangerous. 

Ellie finally smiled, huffing out a laugh - your heart was pretty satisfied with how often you were able to make her laugh - and said, “Do you still want to come inside?” 

And, surprisingly, you said, “Yeah, I do.” 

As Ellie got out, rounding the car to open your door for you, you discreetly checked that the taser was still in your bag. Sure, you had agreed to go home with a practical stranger, but you couldn't be too careful. 

The porch steps creaked as she led you to the door - double doors (of course), with stained glass and twisting vines carved into the wood. When Ellie opened them, it felt like you were transported to a different time on an entirely different world. 

The grand staircase caught your eye first - how could it not? Warm wooden steps covered in a blood red runner, a white banister winding up, those same vines that seemed to be the house’s signature carved into it. You could see a large, stained-glass window at the landing before it curved to disappear to the second floor. Moonlight splintered through the window in broken relief. 

As though in a trance, you wandered further into the house, walking to the fireplace situated right beneath the stairs. The wood stacked neatly inside was cold, untouched by a flame. There was a large mirror set atop the mantle, its gold frame a work of art alone. In the reflection, you could see the flush to your cheeks, and tried to convince yourself it was only from the cold. You still wore Ellie’s jacket, and you pulled it tight around your shoulders, as though it were a shield. 

You watched Ellie’s reflection as she walked slowly towards you, a small smile gracing her lips. She came close enough to touch - close enough that you could feel her cool breath against the back of your neck - and yet she didn’t put a hand on you. 

“There’s a lot more to see than the foyer,” she murmured, the words brushing your skin. “If you still want.” 

And you couldn’t stop your own smile as you turned back to her, your heart skipping at her proximity. “Show me.” 

She took your hand, her fingers shockingly cold, and led you into what must have been her living room - sitting room? Despite the fact that the house felt more like a museum - like you would get scolded for touching anything - the room was surprisingly cozy. A large, plush sectional was situated in front of another fireplace- this one also unblemished. Blankets and quilts were thrown over the couch and the accompanying chairs, leaving this time capsule looking strangely welcoming. 

“Okay, I have to ask,” you said, turning back to Ellie. She was watching you carefully, gauging your reaction with soft eyes, and you lost your train of thought. You opened your mouth but no sound came out; you weren’t sure if that was more or less embarrassing than the several curses you had said earlier in the night. 

Ellie hummed, raising her hand as though she wanted to touch you. She stopped only inches away from your cheek and dropped her hand, saying, “I’m an open book.” 

You had to turn away to collect your thoughts, wandering across the room if just to catch your breath. The opposite wall was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. You ran your fingers along the spines of vintage classics, an array of science books, and comics, enjoying the irony of seeing Savage Starlight in the middle of all this history. You picked up a copy to keep your hands busy. 

“How, um,” you started, stumbling over your words, “how did you end up here?” 

Ellie hummed again, and you heard her footsteps following you. “Here as in this town, this country, this world? You gotta be a little more specific.” 

You sighed, giving in and turning to look at her. She kept a careful distance, standing a few feet away from you with her hands in her pockets. “You know what I mean, smartass.”

Ellie chuckled, but her eyes had grown distant, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. She took a few more steps closer to you, looking at the comic book in your hands. On the app, she hadn’t struck you as the type to get easily bashful, and yet she had proven you wrong a few times already. 

“My family lived here,” she finally said, quiet as a secret. You watched her carefully, jumping at the opportunity to stare at her without those intense eyes looking back at you. Her brow furrowed and she pressed her lips together as though she was in pain, her green eyes shining. “It was just… passed down, I guess? It’s kind of always been here ever since I can remember. I’m not entirely sure when it became mine.” 

You tucked the comic book back into its spot between The Iliad and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. You said absently, “How old is this place anyway?”

”It was built in 1816,” she said automatically, as though it were memorized. 

“It’s an awfully big house for just one person.” You looked up at her through your lashes as she stepped closer - close enough that you could smell that same metallic warmth that seemed to cling to her. 

“It is,” Ellie murmured, smiling. She reached out again, and this time she allowed herself to touch you. Her cold fingers brushed against your cheek before she gently cupped your jaw, tilting your head so you’d look at her properly. Her green eyes were downright intimidating. “But I keep good company.” 

You rolled your eyes, yet you couldn’t convince yourself to look away. “Is that what you say to all the girls?” 

Ellie hummed, bracing her other hand on the bookshelf behind your head, and murmured, “No, I don’t.” She pressed in closer, her gaze dropping to your mouth, and you felt like your heart was going to leap from your throat. Ellie huffed out a laugh as though she could hear it pounding against your chest. When her thumb brushed your bottom lip, your lips parted on instinct. She didn’t look away, transfixed on the point where her skin touched your mouth, and you almost didn’t hear her when she said, “Can I?” 

And you had never been the kind of person to kiss on the first date, but she was looking at you with eyes hooded with want, her breath fanning against your cheeks. When she licked her lips, you couldn’t stop your eyes from following the motion. Her lips glistened, parted and plump, looking so impossibly soft. Somehow, past your haze, you heard yourself say, “Yes.” 

Ellie took her time in kissing you. She pressed you back gently, your shoulders pressing into the bookshelf behind you, and touched her nose to yours. She took a deep breath, breathing you in. Her hand was soft against your cheek, tilting your jaw up, and you hardly had to move to finally kiss her. 

Ellie tasted just like she smelled - spicy and metallic, the old-fashioned still hanging on her tongue. Despite the cold of her hand on your cheek, her mouth was impossibly warm, her breath slipping between your lips; it was intoxicating in a way that the wine couldn’t compare to. Her mouth moved against yours, soft and slow as a dance. 

Your hands reached out as though of their own accord, circling her waist and gripping at the slippery silk of her shirt. She pressed in close, crowding you against the bookshelf; you could feel her chest pressing against you, her hips on yours, the line of her body against yours making your head spin. And when Ellie’s tongue pressed against your lips, a gentle request for access, you felt like you’d faint altogether. 

Her tongue slipped between your teeth and you couldn’t stop the breathy sound it pulled from your throat. You could feel that infuriating smile against your lips and suddenly wanted nothing more than to wipe it away. You balled her ridiculously expensive shirt in your hands and pulled her impossibly closer, nipping at her bottom lip, and you wanted to swallow her gasp. 

Ellie pulled away, chuckling, but she didn’t go far. She pressed a kiss to your cheek, her lips trailing down to your jaw, and she could probably feel your pulse jump beneath her tongue. You could hear the smile in her voice when she said, “Do you do this often?” 

Her teeth grazed the sensitive spot below your ear, and it took you a few moments before you could respond. “Do what?” Despite yourself - despite the way your fingers gripped her shirt, your head swimming and an unexplainable want burning in your veins - you couldn’t help but laugh. “Go on a date with somebody I met on an app for sugar babies and go back to their ridiculously old mansion on the first date and-“ 

You cut yourself off. You weren’t sure exactly what was happening, and you were afraid that voicing it would break whatever spell you were under - whatever spell made this impossible woman’s touch feel like lightning. 

But Ellie only laughed, biting at the spot where your neck met your shoulder. “Yeah, that.” 

You shivered against her touch. “No, I’ve never really done this.” 

“Guess I’m just lucky.” 

Ellie kissed you again, only briefly, before she finally pulled away. She was grinning, her eyes sparkling with those same constellations; her face wasn’t even flushed, making you feel embarrassed about your burning cheeks. You were panting, intoxicated from the night and wine and Ellie. Her absence felt like an ache, your body craving the feeling of her lips, her teeth, her hands. You were close to tugging her back in, your hands still gripping her shirt, but she gently untangled herself from you with a laugh. 

“I want to keep going.” She paused, and then emphasized, “I really want to keep going. But you drank an entire bottle of wine, and I’d be kind of a shitty host if I didn’t offer you something to drink at least. Or are you hungry?” 

You were hungry, but it was the kind of hunger that food wouldn’t satiate. Still, you let your hands drop back to your sides, feeling your senses return to you now that they weren’t so tuned into Ellie - how she smelled, tasted, felt. When you laughed, it sounded breathy even to your own ears. “Some water would be nice.” 

“I can do that,” she said with a smile. “Stay here.” She kissed you again, lingering for a few moments longer than needed, before she turned and disappeared down the hall, leaving you alone in this ridiculously old mansion. 

With nothing else to keep yourself entertained, you did a slow lap around the room, eyeing the ironic blend of elegant antiques and silly trinkets that were so obviously Ellie. A cracked ivory trinket box sat on a shelf, intricate flowers engraved into the lid, set right next to a small figurine of an astronaut. Beautiful paintings lined the walls, signatures dating back to 1830 in elaborate script at the bottom, but there were also a few posters littered here and there - bands and video games. 

You walked over to the mantle, your fingers grazing over the marble top. The logs inside were untouched, and you briefly wondered if she’d light a fire soon to chase out the chill of autumn. A small jar filled with guitar picks sat at the corner, and you wondered if she really did have an electric guitar collection hidden around here somewhere. Your foot kicked an empty dog bowl, and yet Riley was nowhere to be found. Maybe Ellie took her to daycare when she knew she’d bring a girl home. You nearly laughed at the idea. 

Atop the mantle, hidden behind pictures of what must have been friends or family - hiking or traveling or laughing in somebody’s backyard - there was another picture frame. It must have fallen, face down so that the picture inside was covered. You reached out, careful to not disturb any of the other frames, and picked it up. You were just going to fix it, set it up next to the others, but something in the image caught your eye. You plucked it from its home, bringing it closer, holding it up to the light to get a better look. For a long time, you couldn’t figure out what you were looking at. Your heart hammered against your chest, your ears ringing, as though your body had figured it out before your brain did. 

It was an old photograph, grainy and sepia, faded and frayed around the edges with age. It was the house, looking just like it did today - the huge windows shining in the sunlight, the intricate eaves and wrap-around porch perfectly polished and new. A family stood on the lawn in front of the house, looking awkward and stiff. Back then, cameras took several minutes to actually capture a photo, so people tended to look a little awkward from trying to hold the same expression for so long. But that’s not what had caught your eye. 

It was a small family - a weary looking dad and his two daughters, looking just a few years younger than you. 

She looked a little different. Her hair was longer, falling in waves around her shoulders. She was definitely a few years younger, and she wore a sweet, full-length gown instead of a worn leather jacket. 

You checked the date in the bottom corner at least five times, but there was no mistaking it. The person in the photo was undeniably Ellie, standing in front of this house in 1816. 

tag list: @macaroni676 @ellstronaut @elliewilliamsmiller0 @elliescoolerwife @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @peejayurple @liliflowers-blog @filtered-sunlight @hobbybound

[fandoms-x-reader]

Teenage! MC

Requested By: @opiopal

Headcannons

Summary: How the brothers' would act around you if you were a teenager that got sent to the Devildom. The brothers x MC platonically / sibling relationship

Lucifer felt a bit guilty when it came to you. He was the one who was in charge of picking the human for the exchange student program. So, by default, he was the reason you got ripped from your life and brought down to the human world.

He was surprised by how well you had adjusted to life there. You did your best to be respectful, did your homework, and had great manners.

Lucifer dared to say you behaved better than his brothers who were centuries years old.

But, you still had your moments that baffled Lucifer and made him mentally face-palm.

You were in a student council meeting with Lord Diavolo and the others; and, you dared to call Lord Diavolo “dude”. 

A collection of gaps broke out across the room when the word left your lips. You called the future King of the Devildom “dude”! You could see some of the brothers - mostly Belphie - stifling their laughter at the situation.

But, Lucifer was completely mortified. His eyes were wide and his expression looked flushed. He couldn’t believe your audacity.

Luckily, Diavolo laughed the whole situation off. He found it amusing.

But that didn’t stop Lucifer from giving you a long lecture on how you were to never do that again.

And the next time you came face-to-face with Diavolo, Lucifer was on high alert, ready to clasp his hand over your mouth every time you said any word that started with the letter ‘D’. Just to make sure that never happened again.

Lucifer was used to being the head of the household and making sure everyone did their daily chores and kept up with their studies.

And you were no exception to that, so Lucifer didn’t think twice about it when he asked you to do a simple chore.

But you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, it was very early in the morning, and you weren’t in the mood. All you wanted was to eat your breakfast in peace. You just wanted a moment of silence before you had to go to school.

“Y/N, you need to clean your bedroom after you get home from RAD today,” Lucifer stated simply, continuing to eat his breakfast. It was a simple request that certainly didn’t warrant a sassy response. But it was the straw that broke the camel’s back and a sassy response is exactly what he got.

You had a stoic expression on your face, barely missing a beat before you replied with, “And you and Lord Diavolo need to kiss already but neither of those things are going to happen so let’s not talk about it at 6 am.”

You hadn’t looked up from your plate yet, but you could imagine the shocked expressions on everyone’s faces. Especially Lucifer’s.

“Well, we’ve gotta get to RAD,” Mammon stated, practically pulling you up from your chair. He had seen that look on Lucifer’s face too many times and he knew exactly what followed afterwards. 

The other brothers quickly joined the two of you. Lucifer was not used to being defied and he was most certainly not going to be happy with the way you talked back to him.

The brothers found it amusing nonetheless. A teenager standing up to Lucifer of all people. And you didn’t even have a look of fear in your eyes!

Lucifer loved having you around. You were a welcome addition to the family. But he definitely got the brunt of your witty remarks and side comments.

And he had no idea how to handle it. It’s not like he could punish you like he did his brothers. You would barely survive half of them.

For once in his life Lucifer felt defeated…by a teenager.

Mammon still tries to impress you as a teenager. But not in the same way. He wants to come off as the “cool” brother. The one that will let you stay out later than you’re supposed to, and take you for rides in his car, blasting music. 

Mammon loved it. Having you around made him want to be a good role model despite his spending tendencies.

He would still be a bit possessive of you. Only because he doesn’t want his brothers influencing you. Only he was allowed to show you things around the Devildom.

He wanted you to like everything he liked and hate everything he did. Movies? You liked the classic Devildom action movies, right? You didn’t like horror movies, right?!

And you loved going gambling with him, right? Didn’t you think it was so fun watching him win? Of course, he had to lie about your age to get you through the doors of the casino. But that just added to the fun of it.

And please don’t ever mention anything about witches to either of you. You both hated them with a passion. At least, Mammon will say that if someone ever did bring up the “w” word.

The truth is, that Mammon felt guilty about leaving that little girl he had found with the witches. It was for the best that she stayed up there in the human world. But, he couldn’t help but wonder if he would have been able to take care of her himself. 

And although you were more like another sibling than a child to Mammon, he wanted the chance to start redeeming himself. For the first time in his life, he wanted to be responsible for someone. Please be his mini-me.

But being responsible meant that sometimes he had to be more assertive than fun. Especially if you were putting yourself in danger.

You didn’t think you were. You thought that going out with Simeon and Solomon would be fine. You were just hanging out around town for a bit before heading back to the House of Lamentation.

But, you forgot to text the brothers that you were with them and when you hadn’t gotten home in time, Mammon snapped.

Worry filled his heart and directed his mind.

When he finally found you in town with Simeon and Solomon, relief came in waves. 

He took you back to the House of Lamentation, despite your protests. And, as soon as you were back, Mammon decided to give you a lecture. He had learned how to do it from the best, after all.

“What do ya think you were doing? You almost gave me a heart attack,” Mammon stated as you began walking to your room.

“We were just walking around town. Don’t you trust Solomon and Simeon?” you questioned, crossing your arms over your chest as you stood outside your bedroom door.

“I don’t trust ya out there by yourself without one of us to protect ya,” Mammon countered.

He didn’t mean it to come out the way it did. He was just worried about you. But, you were angry with his words. You were frustrated that he was treating you like a child so you replied with the first thing that came to your mind.

“Your whole thing is being a crow in a flesh suit. I really don’t want to listen to someone who would stop everything that’s happening in their life to pick up something shiny from off the ground.”

You entered your room before he could respond and closed the door on his face. Mammon stood there in shock while Levi and Asmo began snickering in the background. They couldn’t deny the truth in your words.

Mammon was stubborn when he wanted to be and that left the two of you giving each other the silent treatment. Just like he would do with any of his other siblings.

But, eventually, he apologized. Especially when he saw you growing closer to his other brothers in his absence.

Please forgive him. All of his other brothers have told them they wished he wasn’t their brother or part of their family. He can’t handle hearing that from you too.

If you were a teenager who liked going out and doing things on a regular basis, you and Levi probably wouldn’t have a lot in common. And it would be hard to spend time with him.

But, if you were a teenager who liked watching anime and playing video games, you and Levi would be best friends. 

He was still wary of you at first. After all, you were a normie. And even if you were a teenage normie, he could never be too careful.

He’ll slowly open up to you though. If you impress him with your own otaku skills, the process will be even faster. Deep down, Levi just wants a friend who likes the same things he likes.

He wanted someone he could talk to. Someone who wouldn’t brush him off or tell them that he wasn’t making any sense.

Levi will invite you over to play games with him often. He enjoys playing with someone who is actually competent.

But even he isn’t safe from how sassy you could be. And if you and Levi played a game against each other, your competitive side came out and so did the sassy comments on both sides.

Levi had heard of a fighting game that was very popular up in the human world and he was dying to try it. He wanted to know how it compared to the fighting games that they have in the Devildom.

Let the trash-talking commence.

You’ll surprise Levi with the first couple of things you say. But he’ll quickly begin to fight back with his own remarks. Both of you fight diligently with both your words and the controllers.

And, when you start winning, Levi’s jealousy starts getting the better of him. He’ll tell you things like “You’re cheating” or “It’s because it’s a game from the human world.”

“Come on, Levi, just admit you’re not as skilled as me in video games,” you retorted. His eyes were now glowing as his fingers were pushing the buttons on the controller rapidly. He had to win.

“I won!” you exclaimed with a proud smile. That smile faltered though when you saw Levi’s expression. A dark aura surrounded him as he stated in a low voice, “I want a rematch.”

“Yeah, and I want a million dollars. But right now I don’t feel like beating an old man who’s lost his reaction time at a videogame…again,” you replied, before getting up and leaving.

Levi let out a small gasp as you left the room. Old man?! I mean, he technically was considering he was at least a few centuries old. But he has not lost his reaction time!! How could you say something so rude to him? He just needed practice, that was all.

Levi will pester you for the next few days, begging you to play with him. He’ll tell you his reaction time is better and that he won’t lose. He won’t give up until you either tell him that you think he’s a great gamer or until he beats you in the game. 

Satan will take it upon himself to be the one who helps you with all of your studies. He usually won’t be the one who encourages you to neglect your education in favor of having some fun.

He would rather ensure your success. He wants you to be at the top of the class, with his help. He just wanted the best for you. And he wanted to rub it in Lucifer’s face later.

He’ll always suggest the two of you have tutoring sessions where he can help make sure you understand the lessons that are being taught.

He’ll stay late after class or show up early. He’ll meet you at the library or at the cafe. Wherever you would agree to meet him.

And although you appreciated him trying to help you, sometimes it was a bit much. Especially when it was early in the morning.

Which is exactly when Satan decided to have your latest study session. You were barely awake and hadn’t had any food or coffee yet.

You were sitting at a table, your books opened in front of you as Satan went on a rant about one of the lessons. Your mind was barely keeping up with what he was saying.

All you wanted to do was go back to bed, but Satan’s rant was never-ending as he tried explaining all the intricacies of the subject you were studying. 

You finally had enough when you had to catch yourself from falling out of your chair after you had accidentally fallen asleep.

“Okay, Satan, look I love you, but I hardly remember the difference between a verb and a noun so I have no idea what the actual fuck you are saying with your mouth and your face right now,” you stated.

Satan was taken aback at your sudden outburst. His eyes were wide as he suddenly took in your tired look. Normally, he would argue that it’s important to study. But, today he responded with, “We can pick this up later.”

You were thankful that you were finally able to return to your room and Satan was more careful about planning your study sessions. He’ll do his best not to overwhelm you again. 

Also, don’t think Satan was only serious around you. Satan had a very playful nature, especially when it came to Lucifer. And you were the perfect vessel for some of his pranks.

Satan knew that Lucifer couldn’t do anything towards you so he would beg you to be part of his pranks that he and Belphie would play on Lucifer. You were an integral part of the Anti-Lucifer league after all.

Sometimes you were bait, luring Lucifer into staying in a specific spot for too long. Sometimes, you were the one who actually set off the prank while Satan or Belphie distracted the eldest.

It hardly ever worked. Lucifer almost always knew what the three of you were up to. But it didn’t stop any of you from trying.

Satan thoroughly enjoyed having you there to help him. He believed you fit in with the family perfectly. 

He also related to you the most as you were both considered “late-comers” to the party. Neither of you had been angels, and although you weren’t a demon, Satan still felt like he connected with you.

You never made him feel like you were better than him or like he wasn’t his own person and he was thankful to have a sibling like that.

Asmo thinks you are the most adorable thing in the world. He was the first one to dote on you out of all his brothers. How could he not?

Asmo is very accepting of you from the start and thinks of you as family almost right away.

He’s like Mammon in the sense that he wants to be the one to show you around the Devildom and teach you all the tricks he knows.

He wants to show you how to charm people and get them under your spell. Of course, he has to approve of the person you’re trying to charm and he’ll only let it go so far.

He’s the Avatar of Lust - but NO PDA. You were too young for that and these were demons after all. He didn’t trust a single one of them.

He’ll only let you try your charm on age-appropriate people and only until you have them hooked so that you know how to do it. Then, he’ll charm the person to go away himself. 

You better believe he also wanted to dress you up in all of the outfits in the Devildom. He loved taking pictures of you and posting them on Devilgram with captions like “Look at my lovely sibling! Aren’t they cutest?!”

But it could be overwhelming sometimes. The constant shopping trips and photo ops. The constant fashion shows and meeting new people all the time.

Adjusting to the Devildom was a task on its own and there were times when you just needed to be alone and recharge your social battery. Times when you just needed some peace and quiet.

You were trying on the sixth outfit of the night in Asmo’s bedroom. You had asked if you could be done on outfit number three. All you wanted to do was go to your room and relax.

Asmo promised the two of you would be done soon, but you saw no end in sight.

“Only a few more,” Asmo told you, shoving his arms full of clothes.

You let out a groan and Asmo turned to face you. You finally let the words you’d been holding back fly out of your mouth.

“Asmo, I know you’re too glam to give a damn, but I’m not your personal mannequin and all I want to do is lay down and relax!” you shouted, feeling relieved as you finally spoke the truth that was weighing you down.

Asmo isn’t used to you snapping at him like this, so he’ll give you some time to calm down. He doesn’t want to keep pushing your buttons.

Once you start talking to him again, he’ll want to do a spa day with you instead of going shopping. He’ll pay more attention to your needs and he won’t force you into doing anything you don’t want to do.

At the end of the day, Asmo is a very caring sibling and only wants the best for his family.

The first time Beel saw you, he couldn’t help but think about how much you reminded him of Lilith.

It was simple things. Things he noticed just from where he was standing in the assembly hall when you first came to the Devildom.

Your big and innocent eyes. Your gentle and loving smile. You were so full of life, just like she was.

It didn’t take long for Beel to take you under his wing and decide to protect you. He acted like an older sibling and he was always there for you.

If you were upset, he’d find a way to cheer you up. If you were bored, he’d try to entertain you. If you were hungry - he knew just the cure!

When he found out that you had a connection to Lilith, Beel was ecstatic. It wasn’t your connection to Lilith that made Beel love you more. You were your own person and he’d never compare you to his little sister.

It was the fact that your connection to Lilith meant that you truly were part of the family. That you belonged no matter what obstacles stood in the way. It didn’t matter if you were human - he would always think of you as family.

When Belphie attacked you and killed you, Beel really thought he failed. He was plagued with images of Lilith dying. Belphie didn’t understand what he was doing - how Beel felt about you.

He didn’t understand how badly it hurt Beel to watch someone he thought of as a younger sibling die in front of him - again. 

When he saw that you were alive he had never felt more relieved. He promised you he would never let anything happen to you again. That he would protect you like any good big brother would.

And he was the perfect older sibling - for the most part. 

Lucifer had taken you up to the human world for a task. While you were up there, he allowed you to get whatever you wanted and bring it back down to Devildom.

You shopped around for a bit until you saw a supply of food that you used to eat all of the time. Food that reminded you of your childhood.

You immediately got it and brought it back with you.

You wanted to shower before you ate it because it had been a long day but when you returned to the kitchen, you were heartbroken at the sight in front of you.

Beel had eaten all of it! You didn’t even get to have a single bite of it. You could feel the emotions building up in you. Mostly because of the nostalgia that came with the food.

“Beel,” you stated, pausing for a moment to stabilize your wavering voice. “How could you?” you asked.

Beel looked up innocently from the food, a questioning look. He didn’t have the slightest clue what he did wrong.

“I get that you're a bottomless pit and that you're practically Kirby on steroids. But can't you just for once think about what you're eating before you eat it!” you stated before storming off.

The next day, Beel made sure to get the same food for you and brought it to your room as an apology.

He would do his best to never eat your food without asking again because he realized teenagers could be scary when they were hangry.

Belphie obviously doesn’t have a good first impression of you. You had never done anything to him, he just innately hated you because of the fact that you were human.

He attacked you with no remorse until he saw how it affected his brothers. They were so upset about losing you and he couldn’t comprehend why.

He saw the way they embraced you when they found out you were alive and the scene triggered something in his brain. A memory of someone he loved the same way.

Belphie didn’t attack you again, despite his instincts telling him to do so. He was curious to see what all the fuss was about. 

Things between you and Belphie were tense for a while. You knew that he hated you because you were a human. But it’s not like you could do anything about it. There was no way for you to change your race, and even if there was, you wouldn’t do it just to appease Belphie.

Like Beel, the more time he spent around you, the more he saw you as a younger sibling.

He would protect you like an older brother, but he was the least serious out of all the demon brothers.

Your carefree nature was one of the things he adored. He enjoyed watching you be improper in front of Diavolo and the way it made Lucifer look like he was going to pop a blood vessel.

The way you talked back to Lucifer also entertained him. It was something all of the brothers wanted to do at one point or another, but they didn’t have the luxury to do so.

Yet you were just a teenage human and you dared to stand up to the Morningstar himself.

The first time you did it, Belphie immediately deemed you a worthy member of the Anti-Lucifer League. 

He had so much fun pranking Lucifer with you and Satan and he was thankful that you had brought him closer to the fourth-eldest.

He never once judged you for your sass or asked you to tone it down. He loved it because he could be just as witty when he wanted to be.

He also never thought that your sass would be directed towards him.

That was until you got caught in the crossfires of one of their pranks. 

Satan and Belphie had neglected to tell you that they had placed a cursed object in the living room, expecting Lucifer to pick it up. You found it first though.

The second you touched it, your entire body immediately froze and you were unable to move or speak.

Belphie and Satan came in with proud smiles on their faces until they saw that the person they had cursed was you.

They immediately rushed to your aid and Satan began saying spell after spell to try and undo the magic. 

Lucifer had entered the scene at some point and was holding back his scolding until after Satan had remedied the situation.

As soon as you were free you turned to all three men and stated, “I know this was your idea, Belphegor. I’ve had it with all the pranks. They’re silly, they take a ton of time to prepare and they never even actually hit Lucifer! It always fails or hits whoever else happens to fall for it.”

“Satan, I know that you don’t like Lucifer because you were born from him, but the only one who actually makes a big deal out of it is you! And Belphie, you are the youngest brother! Everyone dotes on you so stop acting like Carrie at the prom because you fit in just fine. And Lucifer, for the love of all things would it kill you to tell your brothers that you love them at least once in a while so that I don’t have to suffer through pranks like these anymore!”

At some point, your rant had attracted the other members of the House of Lamentation who were all looking at you with wide eyes.

You were a sassy human, but you were their human. You were part of their family and you did fit right in. They were proud to call you their human.

Especially Belphie who was somewhat glad that not even he was safe from your rants when you had been pushed to your limit.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 20: written but never sent

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

Spencer greatly enjoyed handwriting. Electronic devices irritated him to no end, as he felt that typing on them was so impersonal and trivial. Handwriting required careful thought, reflecting desires and passions in the shape of the letters, and capturing feelings in the prose... everything written by hand represented something intimate, at least to him.

That’s why, when he got a pen pal, it was inevitable that he would start developing feelings. He had contacted you as part of a school assignment, as both of you were studying the same Ph.D. in linguistics, and one of the tasks was to analyze how different people express themselves in writing.

All he had was your name and address, the strictly necessary information to send a letter. He was the first to send one, sharing some details about himself, why he was pursuing the degree, the work he did, and how he would apply the knowledge he was acquiring.

He patiently waited for your response, which arrived a week later in a small brown paper envelope with a maroon stamp. Your letter didn’t seem like just a required response to fulfill the assignment. You sounded genuinely interested in what he had shared, and you addressed every point he had mentioned.

What surprised him the most was that at the end, you talked about books he had mentioned and ended with a question:

Have you read The Resilience of Language? It's a great book that could help you a lot. I highly recommend it! Best regards, nice to meet you.

There was a question at the end. The answer was no, Spencer hadn’t read that book. He could have simply stopped there, taking your recommendation and using your letter to complete his assignment. But something inside him wasn’t content to just end the communication there; he thought it would be rude not to offer a reply. So, as soon as he received your letter, he took one of his notebooks to write back.

Spencer used one of his gel pens with a fine tip and deep pigmentation. If someone were observing him, they could say that all these actions reflected a sense of importance: selecting the paper, his best pen, carefully crafting his handwriting—all of this added weight to the act.

He sent the letter, still unsure, but hopeful nonetheless. He was amazed when he arrived at the building and found another letter in his mailbox, with the same characteristics as the previous week.

A year had passed since then.

Every week, without fail, you exchanged letters. By now, he knew you better than he had ever known anyone, as the semi-anonymity provided an extra layer of trust for sharing everything that had happened during your week. You started by exchanging generalities, talking about books, and discussing the Ph.D. classes. Slowly, you began to share less trivial things: how the place where you lived was, your job, elements of your identity.

In recent months, you were writing to each other as if you were close friends.

My migraines have improved, in case you’re wondering, and this week at work has been less demanding than usual. We only handled a fairly light case (if you can even call it that in my line of work), and I had time to analyze some of the works you recommended. How’s everything going with that guy at work?

When Spencer finished, he hesitated about how to sign the letter. At first, he would send you his regards, write some polite expression, or simply wish you a good day. But now, he felt the need to sign off differently.

Affectionately, Spencer.

He didn’t think you would notice, just a gesture of the growing trust between you. He patiently waited for the postman to deliver your reply, and after several days, he eagerly read your words on the paper.

I’m disappointed about the guy. Turns out he’s a jerk, you know? Sometimes I wish I could meet someone who can genuinely love me, without focusing solely on the physical. Maybe it’s bold of me to say that, but I think you understand. I want a connection that comes from appreciating who I am, with someone who shares my interests, someone respectful, intelligent... but I won’t bore you with my romantic nonsense. The point is, I’m not dating anyone at the moment. I’m focusing on our Ph.D., haha. I hope you’re doing well, and I look forward to your reply!

However, he was quite surprised when he read the signature that followed your name.

Yours sincerely…

Had you signed that way in response to the dedication in his letter? Something felt strange within him, and his chest warmed with an unfamiliar feeling.

For a moment, he wondered if there was any possibility that he could meet the expectations of the special person you described, and when he realized he was imagining himself with you in that kind of scenario, he felt embarrassed.

It was ridiculous to think about. You didn’t even know each other, and you lived miles away, you were just friends who had taken a school assignment too far.

Time passed, and the signatures grew more affectionate, more personal… just like the content of the letters. It got to the point where he couldn’t deny it anymore: he was in love.

Though after realizing it, he spent a long time wondering what he should do with that feeling. Weeks passed before he came to a decision.

Spencer was returning from Maine when he decided to finally write to you. He was sitting on the plane, with his notebook in front of him, and his mind as blank as the page.

“What are you struggling to write, Reid?” Emily asked, sitting beside him “You’ve been staring at that notebook for ten minutes without the pen touching the paper.”

“It’s nothing,” he murmured, trying to downplay it. He didn’t want to talk about it, not with Emily, not with anyone.

A couple of hours later, with a pile of crumpled-up drafts beside him, he finally managed to write something:

I can’t start this letter without first telling you how much I’ve come to value our correspondence. For over a year, our written conversations have become one of the most important constants in my life. Each week, I eagerly await your letters, and every one of them brings me a pause in the middle of my routine: a space of calm where our words connect in ways I never imagined possible. I’ve read and reread your letters so many times that, sometimes, I feel like I know them by heart. Even so, I always discover something new in your words: an idea that eluded me before, an emotion that makes more sense over time, or a reflection that sheds new light on my own experience. Although we’ve never met in person, I feel like I know you better than many people I speak to face-to-face. Is that strange? Maybe it is, but the truth is that there’s something about the depth of our conversations that transcends physical distance. All this time, I’ve tried to rationalize what you mean to me, but there are things that can’t be measured or analyzed logically, no matter how hard I try. What I want to tell you —and what has taken me so long to write—is that I’ve fallen in love with you. At first, I wasn’t sure what this feeling was. I thought it was just admiration or gratitude for the friendship we’ve cultivated, but with each letter, with each shared thought, I realized it was something deeper. I love you, not just for what you share with me, but for who you are. For the way you see the world, with such clarity and empathy. For your insatiable curiosity, for your unique way of finding beauty in the smallest details. I don’t want this confession to make you uncomfortable or push you away. I’ll understand if you don’t feel the same, and I’ll consider myself lucky just to have known you in this way. But I couldn’t go on without being honest with you. I hope that, whatever your response may be, we can remain the same two friends who have shared so much through these pages. With all my love, and praying to be able to be yours, Spencer.

He kept the written words as if they were a treasure, feeling his heart race every time he thought about that secret tucked away in an envelope on his desk. Unfortunately, that letter never saw the light of day, all because of his fear of losing who might have been the best friend he had ever had in his life.

[tinydefector]

Any chance we are going to get that Ratchet x Ambassador x Drift nsfw in the human effects series? 👀

First contact fifth kind - Human effects

Warnings: NSFW, smut, fingerings, blowjob, sex, threesome

Word count: 2.9k

Human effects Masterlist

Prev

Next

Request are open read pinned post for rules.

__________________

It's only a cycle later when Ratchet runs I to the Ambassador, they had stopped by for a mandatory check up as normal. But one thing is for sure Ratchet can't take his optics off them after everything Drift has said. Not to mention he now knew where his old servos had been carted off too.

Ratchet cycled a ventilation, fixing the Ambassador with an intent stare as he scanned their vitals. Never before had this routine check-up held such.. layered intrigue.

"So tell me, Ambassador - enjoying your new accessories?" He inquired casually, fighting a smirk as he read over their hearts beats per minute.

They tense up slightly at the question, eyes shooting around. "Who told you?" They ask rather hushed and panicked, not really expecting to get caught out so soon over the pin-up photos. They don't see First Aid or Ambulon but doesn't mean they aren't around listening in.

Ratchet's optics glinted knowingly. "Let's just say a certain wandering conjunx of mine knows these old servos better than most," he replied with a chuckle. "No need for alarm - your secret's safe with us. In fact..."

Trailing off, he leaned down slightly dropping his vocalizer to an intimate growl. "Drift and I found your... artistic pursuits rather inspiring."

They sit there stunned, almost baffled at how bold Ratchet is in his flirtation. "Shit Ratchet im sorry, i didn't mean to cause any issues between you and Drift!" They stammer out in panic. Ratchet shakes his head with a smile. "Calm yourself ambassador, Let's just say Drift is as enthusiastic about said photos."

His digit tip their chin softly, ghosting feather-light over delicate flesh. "And while I try to maintain propriety in my official duties, shall we say your photoshoot piqued the interests of more... intimate nature."

Venting softly, his optics roamed the Ambassador's flustered face. "Although Drift brought up a proposition that I doubt he has the courage to ask you, and I'm less prone to the detection of rejection. So I'd like to ask if you would be interested in spending a night with us " His words are smooth with each letter as he inquires. "I fully understand if you're not interested but it never hurts To ask?"

They go quiet for a moment, thoughts rushing as they take in his proposal, Ratchet was rather bold but they had never known the medic to dance around anything. " I don't know if I can," they start. "I'm the human liaison for your people with earth with supplies not to mention your also CMO plus..." they trail off only for Ratchet to stop them.

"I understand your reservations, Ambassador," he soothed, "Such fraternisation could complicate matters, were it to become public knowledge."

His thumb stroked soothing circles on their thigh. Venting softly, his optics flickering back to their eyes. "I simply wished to extend the offer, given your... artistic interests seemed to mirror ours, i can promise that if you wish it to me a one time thing we understand you're not obligated to anything you do not wish. And as your medic I would rather know that you're at least safe, there are a rather large number of mechs on ship who are very hung up over you."

They bit their thinking, they were interested, hell Ratchet had been the first to actually ask and be sincere about it and understand the risk, he was most likely the best choice in case something went wrong. "If.. if I agree, it has to stay on the down low I can't have it getting back to my superiors" they reply softly. "I value my job here on the Lost Light with cordoning deals between different outpost and my team"

Ratchet inclined his helm respectfully. "Your position and duties, of course, take priority. You have my word - whatever transpires between us will remain strictly confidential. If I may. Would it help if I sent Drift a comm to let him know so we can keep it a confidential matter?" It earns him a nod from them.

//The Ambassador has agreed to our proposition, though with utmost discretion//

Drift's reply came swift which had Ratchet nearly chuckling. //understood, no discussion no different to Rodimus’ visits// he replies.

"Would after your shift suit you? We would make certain your visit is kept on the down low, and see you safely back with no one the wiser." It was a rather warm invitation, the promise of easing tension

"You make a rather tempting offer Ratchet, you do understand there's probably a lot of stuff you won't be able to do with me due to our size and differences?" They inquire, making sure he knew just what he was getting into. Ratchet chuckled softly. " Drift and I are no strangers to creative interfacing, whatever the partner, we are happy to take things at your pace so that you feel comfortable."

He stroked their shoulder reassuringly. "But your limits and comfort take priority. We'll set rules later. Join us after your shift, just knock and one of us will answer."

"I'll see you later then" they state softly finishing up their appointment and walk off rather jittery, not knowing if they would be able to handle the rest of their shift after the feeling of Ratchet’s digits against their body. They give him a quick glance before disappearing down the halls.

//You are a terrible influence, you know,// Ratchet shoots back at Drift which earns him another chipped comm message.

//What can I say? I know your appetites as well as my own, my love. And don't think you're so innocent party sirens// it earns a small chuckle from Ratchet and he busies himself with reading the ambassadors charts and taking down the information.

It's much later that they had planned when they found themself standing outside Ratchet and Drift's Hab suite, nervously looking up and down the hall, they felt like a teenager about to get in trouble sneaking out. Eventually they work up the courage to knock quickly.

Ratchet opens the door quickly ushering them in. “Hello my dear.” he said softly

"Hi," they state nervously. Looking around again to make sure no one was around as they quickly darted into the room. Drift looks up with a smile as he sees them, "Have a seat, make yourself comfortable," Ratchet encouraged. "Can I offer you anything - energon?" Drift slipped close.

"I'd say a strong alcohol drink but I doubt either of you have anything like that here" they state while moving into the hab, eyes flicking around to see the different stuff around the place, it felt homey compared to what they were expecting. "Could you help me up so I can sit?" Drift stooped, gathering their considerably smaller form into his arms with utmost care. Rising slowly, Drift turned and took a seated position on the berth's edge, settling the Ambassador comfortably down.

Beside them, Ratchet grumbles softly to himself “forgive me i completely forgot” he states, he knew he was forgetting something. “No, no it's all good” they call out quickly while trying to make it not a big deal.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm making this Awkward. I don't really know where to start, I don't know if you do things differently compared to humans so I don't really know what to do" they finally admit. And it makes both Drift and Ratchet look at each other for a moment.

"Then allow us to guide you," Drift rumbled reassuringly. Gently cupping their face in his servo, he met their eyes with caring intent. "A kiss requires no special skills" he leaned closer, aiming not to overwhelm as he soft pressed his metallic lips to theirs. Pulling back slightly after a moment, he searched their expression for any sign of discomfort.

They lean into the kiss, the tension in their body fading as their lips move against Drift's. When they pull away they look half dazed from the kiss. "Um woah, I wasn't expecting that" they nearly whisper. Drift let out a low, pleased hum. His optics glowed softly in the low lighting.

"A good kiss often has that effect," he chuckled warmly. Beside them, Ratchet let out an approving hum, servos tracing teasing patterns against them The berth seemed to dip slightly as the two mech made themself comfortable. They shutter softly as the two sets of servos move against their body pressing them back on the berth. “Let us know if you want to stop at any point, just say the word” Ratchet purred as he moves closer.

"I will. I didn't think Cybertronians kissed" they hummed softly. "Mm, kissing is not a typical Cybertronian act, but we do tend to adopt practices from other species" Drift admitted, servo gliding soothing presses down their stomach. Ratchet teasingly brushes along their inner arms. "And it seems we've discovered a particularly enjoyable adaptation."

They gasp softly as Ratchet tilts their chin up and gently pulls them into a kiss, a soft moan leaves them as Drift presses a kiss to the side of their throat. Their hands shooting up to Ratchet's face plate tracing along the ridges. Ratchet purred softly in approval as they melted into his kiss.

Drift vented hot against their skin, satisfied at drawing such sweet sound from their lips He crooned soft encouragement, servos gliding light as breath across heated skin. Pulling back slowly, Ratchet met their eyes with the kind of heat that forged stars. "What lovely music you make."

His digits found divots of their hips, rubbing soft circles into them. Drift nibbled teasing kisses along their shoulder as he began removing their clothing. They slowly melt into each touch, little whines leaving them. The feeling of the two sets of servos against their body. "Mm didn't take either of you for being into this" they try to joke to not feel as flustered.

Ratchet huffed a laugh against their neck as he pressed a kiss to it. "When one lives as long as we, you develop a lot of interests sweetpark."

"Few would guess how creative we get, we tend to keep it on the downl ow," the former monk mused silkily against their ear.

His servo caressed down their flank as he slowly discarded their pants, thumb tracing the seam between thigh and hip. Drift nibbled their jaw, playfully making sure not to hurt them.

Another gasp leaves them as cold servos trace warm skin as Drift traces their body. They melt into each touch. "Mmm" they whine softly, letting the two mechs admire and inspect their frame.

Ratchet crooned approval, his own servos following the curves and lines of their upper body. "So beautiful," the medic praised against parted lips, Ratchet let out a keenly interested noise at their sprawled beauty, the Ambassador's scents flooded his sensor net. His optics roved hungrily over bared flesh, mapping each dip and swell.

Drift's fans whirred loudly beside him. "Fascinating," Ratchet purred, digits dipping to explore secret crevices and sensitive areas with clinical precision. He met his conjunx's hungry optics, understanding all too well.

A loud moan leaves them as their back arches, when Ratchet's digits brush against their sex, they pressing back against the digits "fuck... that feels good, Ratchet, Drift " they call out.

Ratchet hums in delight, servo moving further down for a moment. His optics flicker for a moment before he lifts his servos for Drift. The other Cybertronian without even needing to be asked slowly takes Ratchet's digits into his mouth, slowly lathering them with lubricant, pulling back after running his glossa over them.

A squeal nearly leaves the Ambassador when Ratchet presses them back between their thighs running back down to their sex. "Exquisite," Drift praised, moving down to suck a mark into their side. Ratchet rumbled again, optics blown wide and fiery as he stroked them open expertly. "Our species may share more in common that anticipated, it seems."

He pressed his digit very slowly into them. Stilling for a moment before thrusting with curling precision. “Is this alright, nothing hurts?” he inquired, still being wary of the differences.

“Yes, feels really good” they stutter, eyes falling closed as their hand moves to guild Ratchet. It isn't long before ratchet presses a second into them, scissoring and opening them up.

"Would you like more?" he purred against their panting mouth. "Mmmm yes, please!" They nearly beg, with each thrust of Ratchet's digits, hips moving to grind back against them. "Fuck... Ratchet " they whine.

Drift lets out a keen growl, his plating swelling as his spike pressurised under his panel, finally giving way. One of his servos wraps around his spike as he quickly strokes it, moaning loudly as he pleasures himself to the view in front of him.

Ratchet groaned near incoherent static, as he withdrew his soaked digits, enjoying their bereft mewl. “Drift” he calls moving back enough to pull his conjunx into a kiss. The Ambassador sits up to watch the two as Ratchet runs his glossa down Drift's frame as he drops to his knee plating. Grabbing Drift's Hips and pulling him forward until his intake is wrapped around Drift's spike.

Drift's knee joints nearly buckle as he grabs Ratchet's helm. The medic curved one servo around its hot girth as both his mouth and servo moved in Sync. He pulls back after a moment, wiping his mouth before looking at the Ambassador. “Is this still alright?” He asked, earning an eager nod from them.

Drift moves stationing himself on the berth between their legs, spike resting against their stomach. “You'll let us know if it hurts or feels off, we don't want to hurt you” Drift checks again. “I'll let you know if it gets too much” they confirm.

They arch and moan out loudly as Drift slowly presses into them, hips shuttering and bucking as the ex con holds them still trying to take it slow. “Fuck! Drift!” They whine, trying desperately to grind back against him. “Just wait sweetspark” he coos softly as Ratchet slowly slinks around Drift.

His servos grip Drift's hips as his spike presses into Drift's valve, the moment the have all adjusted Ratchet begins softly thrusting, in turn making drift grind into the Ambassador. Sounds of strained venting and rhythmic pistoning hydraulics filled the room. Drift held them close, murmuring quiet praises and encouragement as Ratchet steadily plundered his valve from behind.

"Frag, you're so soft and tight?" Drift vented roughly almost whining to the Ambassador. Rolling his hips in subtle counterpoint to Ratchet's merciless pace. Ratchet nipped a warning at his neck cables, grinning fiercely.

It doesn't take long for the ambassador to orgasm, the sheer size and texture of drift has their body shuttering and clenching on drifts spike as they cry out loudly, bucking and keening as they grab onto anything they can. Drift’s sensory net sang with the echoes of their mingled ecstasy. He's quick to pull away before his overload hits, sagging on the berth above them as his fans blast air as his frame tries to cool down.

Above, Ratchet rolled his shoulder wheels in a sated stretch before glancing down at their joined frames. His field swept with warm waves of affection and approval at the sight of his conjunx so blissed out. His optics shift to the Ambassador laying there panting.

"Does anything hurt, dizziness, nausea" Ratchet asked, vocalizer hoarse but tone mellow. As the two mechs slowly untangle themselves from each other and the ambassador, Ratchet is quick to fetch water for them while Drift begins pulling up a blanket for the ambassador. "I'm alright, Where did you get this?" They ask with a sly smile.

Ratchet vented a soft chuckle as he passed them the water. "always stock essential supplies," he told them warmly. Catching Drift's amused field, he quipped "Though this one seems to collect oddities even I've never seen."

Drift huffed a mock grumble, tucking a warm sheet around the ambassador's frame with utmost care. "Keeps things interesting, at least. Can't fault a mech for having hobbies." Drift mumbles as he crawls onto the berth beside the ambassador, lightly tracing their face.

Ratchet joins them on the broad berth, settling with relaxed poise. His servo found Drift's, squeezing firmly. The Ambassador pulls the blanket around them, gasping softly as Ratchet lifts them gently to settle them on his Chassis as Drift curls up against Ratchet's side.

"Thank you, this was different, not what I was expecting when experiencing my first ever fifth stage contact " they chuckle softly while snuggling in. Before a light bulb goes off in their head. "Holy shit am I the first human to umm have sexual intercourse with a Cybertronian?"

Ratchet's chassis rumbled a soft laugh beneath them. "Records of encounters between humans and our kind are scarce" he noted clinically. "It's quite possible you've made history tonight, Ambassador." Drift vented softly against their back. Soft whirs and clicks filled the berth as the two mech’s frames slowly reset. the ambassador drifted into a peaceful rest. Ratchet vented softly,"Never thought I'd see the orn a human slept in my berth," he mumbles lightly, Drift draping his frame halfway atop Ratchet's broader one. He brushed a thumb softly over the ambassador's face.

"Glad you brought 'em, all the same." Drift ex vented, relaxing into his partner's embrace. Ratchet squeezed back gently in wordless reply, as his systems slowly shut down into recharge.

_________________

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[cocostyles]

Let her go — Naruto Uzumaki

pairing: Naruto Uzumaki x fem uchiha reader!

word count: 1457 k

summary: You decide to leave Konoha

warnings; angst, english is not my first language.

part one

The days following Naruto's betrayal were a torture. You couldn't leave your house, yet you hated it. You hated that your bed smelled like him, and that every corner of the house held memories of when you were happy, haunting you. You hadn’t spoken to anyone else, not even Sakura, your childhood friend, who you thought was one of the few people who understood the weight of what you were facing. After all, you needed space, a break from everything that reminded you of him and the relationship with the man you thought would become your husband—one that ended when you least expected it.

That’s when you decided to leave the village. Not as an escape, but as an act of self-love. You needed to rest from everything, and most importantly, from him. So, without giving yourself time to regret it, you packed the essentials and left a note for the few who needed to know, including Kakashi, who had always been a father figure and wise mentor in your life. The idea of visiting Temari, an old friend from the Shinobi Alliance, seemed perfect. You knew she would welcome you with open arms in the Hidden Sand Village.

You left the village in the middle of the night, with no turning back.

The weight of guilt began to consume Naruto the moment he heard you were gone. He didn’t understand how it had gotten to this point. He had spent countless nights thinking about how to fix things between you, but always putting it off for tomorrow, for later. And now, "later" didn’t exist, because you were already gone.

That morning, when he entered his office with dark circles under his eyes and red-rimmed lids, the first thing he saw was the note you had left. A couple of lines sealing the goodbye, and between them, a deep pain that pierced his chest like a dagger. "I need some time, Naruto. I need to heal."

The Hokage stared at the letter, his hands trembling as he held it, but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stay still while you were slipping away. Rage and pain merged into one feeling: desperation. He had to find you. It didn’t matter at what cost.

Without a second thought, he gave orders to use the village’s resources for an urgent mission. Sasuke, Sakura, and Kakashi would be sent to find you and bring you back—no matter what it took, he thought. He couldn’t lose you.

Before he could act, his three friends arrived at his office. All three looked at him seriously, their faces reflecting the same concern, though the tone of their words was something Naruto didn’t expect.

"Naruto, what are you doing?" Sasuke said firmly, crossing his arms as he approached, letting him know it was one of the stupidest ideas he had ever had, and that was saying a lot.

He wasn’t going to interfere because you had asked him not to, but the fury was boiling in his chest, ready to explode against his best friend. How dare he hurt his sister?

"What are you talking about, Sasuke? She’s gone, your sister! I need to find her!" Naruto replied, his voice shaking with frustration.

Kakashi intervened calmly, seeing Sasuke start to approach Naruto, as he always did, but this time his tone was more serious. He wasn’t happy with his student; you were like a daughter to him, and Naruto had messed up.

"You can’t use the village’s resources like this, Naruto. This isn’t an emergency mission. You need to think carefully before you act. I know lately you seem to be thinking with another head, but calm down and stop acting like a child. Face the consequences of your actions."

Sakura, seeing the chaos in Naruto’s eyes, put a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him. But her words were harsh, and Naruto felt them like a direct blow, as did all his friends.

"Naruto, you know. You’ve failed, and what she needs isn’t for you to chase her. She asked for space, and you have to respect that. You can’t force her to come back. Sometimes, love isn’t enough to heal what’s been broken. And that’s something you need to understand."

The Hokage was exhausted, emotionally overwhelmed. In his mind, he couldn’t stop thinking about you, about what he had done wrong, about how he had failed you time and again. But those words, as harsh as they were necessary, made him think, even though he didn’t like them. Sasuke, Sakura, and Kakashi weren’t wrong.

"You can’t make her come back to your side just because you want it, Naruto" Kakashi continued, his voice calmer than before but still direct. "She left because she needed space to heal. And if there’s even an ounce of affection for her in you, you’ll have to give her that space, even though it hurts."

Naruto looked at his friends, his face filled with frustration and regret. For so long, he had been so focused on his role as Hokage that he had lost sight of what really mattered. He had taken for granted that the love of his life would always be there, waiting for him. And now that he needed her, he didn’t know how to reach her.

"So, what am I supposed to do?" he asked, his voice broken. "Just let her go? Let her leave without doing anything?"

Sasuke stepped forward, his face impassive, but there was a harshness in his words that left no room for doubt.

"It’s not that you have to do "nothing." But you need to learn to listen, Naruto. Sometimes, being the best ninja in the world doesn’t make you the best man, and it certainly doesn’t make you smart. You have to understand that what she needs now is time, and you’re not going to win her back by pressuring her. You failed yourself by not being there for her when she needed you most. Now, give my sister the respect she deserves at last"

Sakura nodded firmly, looking at Naruto with a bit of sadness in her eyes.

"Do whatever it takes to show you’re capable of changing, Naruto. But don’t do it at her expense. If you really want to get her back, start by being the man she deserves, not the one you’ve been until now."

Kakashi closed the conversation with a serious but conciliatory tone.

"You have to let her go, for now. And when the right time comes, when she’s healed, that will be when you can fight for her again. But not with urgency, nor desperation, but with the maturity you’ve lacked until now."

Naruto stayed silent. He didn’t know if he could bear to wait, but he understood what his friends were telling him. He had to be strong in a different way, a way he had never considered before. And maybe that was the hardest part of all.

With a deep sigh, Naruto nodded slowly.

"Alright. I won’t look for her... but I’m not giving up. I’m going to be better, not just for her, but for me."

Sasuke, Sakura, and Kakashi looked at him without saying anything more, knowing this was the first step. But they also knew that, in the end, only time would tell if Naruto could truly change enough to heal the wound he had caused himself.

And as they walked away, Naruto stayed alone in his office again, staring at the note in his hands. The road to redemption wouldn’t be easy, but at least now he knew he wasn’t alone on this journey.

The desert was vast and silent, but there was something comforting in its immensity. When you arrived in Suna, Temari was waiting for you at the main entrance. Her serious expression softened when she saw you, and without needing words, she hugged you tightly.

"Looks like you need more than just a change of air, huh?" Temari said with a touch of humor, trying to lighten the mood.

"Something like that" you replied with a faint smile, grateful that she wasn’t asking too many questions right away.

Temari took you to her home and, as always, was the perfect host. For the first few days, she let you rest and adapt to the peaceful, hot rhythm of the village. It wasn’t until the third night that you began to open up. You told her what had happened with Naruto, the pain of seeing him distance himself, and finally, the betrayal. Temari listened attentively, and while she wasn’t the emotional type, her presence was a balm for your wound.

"You’re stronger than you think" Temari said in the end. "This doesn’t define you. But you need time to find yourself."

It was then that she suggested you talk to her brother, Gaara. At first, you hesitated, but you remembered that he had always had a unique perspective on life and pain. His own story was a testament to how the deepest wounds could be transformed into something powerful.

Maybe you should try it...

[kennedycore]

I was wondering if you had any lesser known stories or tidbit about Jack and Kick? They’re my fav Kennedy duo and had such a sweet relationship but I feel like we get so little about them.

*cracks knuckles* well well well... you've come to the right place! jack and kick are my favorite duo out of the kennedy siblings.

unfortunately, we get too little about kick in general, mostly because she wasn't a public figure like the rest of the kennedys and that she died so young. i'll try to list some stories/tidbits most people don't know about them (some funny and some sad):

(im sorry about how long this is lmao i just couldn't stop):

Joe Jr., Jack and Kick were Joe Sr.'s "Golden Trio", but Jack and Kick were closer because Joe Jr. could be an intimidating older brother figure who wanted to live up to his status as Joe Sr.'s "golden boy" whereas Jack and Kick were the rebels of the family.

As kids, Jack and Kick were quite rebellious (especially against Rose). Jack would call out for Kick using Rose's heavy Boston accent and he'd always exaggeratively call her Kathleen like their mother did. Rose had a habit of installing clocks everywhere around the house so people wouldn't miss important times of the day like mealtimes. Jack and Kick would take turns persuading the cook if they missed mealtime.

As teenagers, they would sneak out of the house together to go dancing at clubs or the movies once JFK got his driving license. Rose would actually get in her car and come looking for them, so they learned to recognize her car headlights and they'd drive back to the house quickly, close the doors and take off their shoes quietly and sneak into their beds pretending to be asleep. They got caught once and Rose pinned a note on Kick's pillow about it: "The next time be sure to be in on time".

Their relationship was really mostly based on jokes and banter. They rarely were serious together and this mostly happened towards the end of Kick's life - after Joe Jr., and her husband Billy were dead.

Kathleen and Jack were both incredibly messy and disorganized, and left clothes, music records, books, etc. all over their bedroom floors.

Kick's nickname for Jack was "Twinkle-toes" because he'd take her dancing at nightclubs all the time.

They'd also call each other "Kid". When Jack got mad at Kick for flirting with all his friends, Kick replied "Gosh Kid, that's too close to a knuckle".

Jack and Kick would often drink together at said nightclubs, and their parents would not be happy about it because they frowned upon alcohol (pretty ironic considering what Joe Sr. was doing).

Jack (especially early in his life) dated girls that were mostly set up for him by Kick. The most prominent was Charlotte McDonnell and Inga Arvad. If Kick didn't like one of Jack's girlfriends, he'd actually break up with them.

Kick wrote to her parents: "Tell Jack not to get married for a long time. I'll keep house for him".

Kick hated attending Convent school and was super depressed about it, and in her letters she always talked about how she looked forward to spending the summer with Jack (and Lem) the most because she found him the most fun out of her siblings.

Jack would write Kick "amusing letters" to cheer her up at Convent school because he knew she was sad and needed cheering up. Joe Sr. wrote this letter to Jack about it: "She really thinks you are a great fellow. She has a love and devotion to you that you should be very proud to have deserved. She thinks you are quite the grandest fellow that ever lived and your letters furnish her most of her laughs in the Convent"

He'd also send her gifts all the time, like jigsaw puzzles while she was at the Convent

When Kick lived in Washington, her, Jack, Inga and other friends would have the same dinner every day: steak, peas, carrots, and ice cream. Inga also said they'd play touch football in Kick's apartment's living room.

When Jack and Lem came back from their Europe trip in 1937, they were met at the ship dock by Kick. Jack wrote about a funny incident that happened when they came back with a bunch of grouse that they'd brought back from shooting in England: "We carefully turned our grouse over to [Kathleen] for safe keeping while we went through customs—I remember they weren’t looking too good. When we next saw Kathleen, she didn’t have the grouse. She said the odor was more than she could stand and had thrown them off the dock.” The boys were furious.

When Jack got very ill and was sent to Florida to recover, Kick tried cheering him up by telling him that all the girls were asking about him and that they'd called him "Jack Kennedy the cutest thing"

Kick actually gave JFK his leather bound journal which he used to document his 1937 trip to Europe (and it went up for auction a couple of years ago)

In 1936, Kick went to "The Cotton Club" in New York with Jack and Lem, and Joe Sr. was furious about it when he found out because it was a shady nightclub that allegedly had mafia connections.

When they moved to England, Kick's friends noticed that all she did was talk about Jack. When she introduced her friends to him, they actually called Jack and Kick "the Kennedy twins" because of how similar they looked/acted and they practically finished each others sentences.

They apparently had a habit of saying "terrific" a lot for some reason lol. One of their friends who was at dinner with both of them wrote that their conversation was basically "a terrific day, a terrific movie, terrific this, terrific that, everything was terrific."

When Jack wrote "Why England Slept", Kick helped him with sending out signed copies of his book.

Both Jack and Kick were described as emotionally cold, which they believed was a result of their upbringing. However, after Billy (Kick's husband) was killed in the war, Jack met Kick at the airport (after not seeing each other for 2 years) and she "ran into his arms and wept".

Jack stayed awake the entire night with Kick while she talked to him about Billy. He later described it as the worst night of his life.

When Kick died in a plane crash, Jack asked if the body was confirmed to be hers. Once his father had confirmed it, Jack openly wept which was incredibly rare for him.

Jack couldn't attend Kick's funeral. He got all the way to the airport and at the last minute turned back.

He made sure to visit her grave during his 1963 trip to Europe as president, despite having a very busy schedule. He visited her grave in June of 1963, just 5 months before his death.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

The Family Disappointments

modern!aegon x fem!reader 

Summary: Drinks with a stranger at an unconventional time brings you some unexpected happiness. Sharing the same feelings and struggles allow you to connect on a deeper level that neither of you were expecting. 

Warnings: 18+ swearing, group therapy, mentions of addiction, drinking, smoking, drug use, oral(f receiving), p in v, unprotected 

Authors Note: i fear i’m projecting my want for a cig, sunfyre the cat? sobbing fr

Word Count: 5.6k 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

I shift my car into park and sigh as I look at the brick building in front of me. I push my seat back and throw my head against the rest. I take a long drag of my cigarette before tossing it out the window and rolling it back up. I rummage through my purse trying to find the first perfume bottle I can. After a couple spritz I toss it haphazardly back into the bag.

I pull the visor down and look over myself rolling my eyes. My hair is slightly frizzed from the day and my eyes have bags that have been residing there for at least a decade now. I grab my phone and start to climb out of my car. I look up at the building with resentment towards everyone and everything. 

I push the door open and eucalyptus and mint flood my nose. The lights are soft and there are candles lit on the receptionists desk. No matter how much I hate this place I can’t deny that it does offer me some semblance of comfort. The receptionist named Nora smiles at me as I walk up to the desk.

“Lovely as ever to see you, Y/n. How are you doing today?” her soft voice hugs my ears. 

“Wonderful, Nora. Thank you.” I wait for her to finish checking me into the system. 

“Please feel free to grab a snack and drink on your way to the room.” she offers me another smile.

I nod my head and walk down the hall. I stop in a brightly lit room to grab a water before I drag my feet in the direction of the elevators. As I wait for the elevator I wonder if my parents would truly disown me if I were to leave this building and never come back. One on one therapy is one thing but sending me to a group is fucking annoying. I would think they wouldn’t want me to divulge their shitty parenting to a room full of strangers. 

“Well are you getting in?” I shake my head clearing my thoughts and see a man with bright silver hair staring at me from inside the elevator. 

“Yeah, sorry.” I mumble stepping into the elevator. 

“What floor?” his hands hover over the buttons and I see he’s going to the same floor as me. 

“Same as you it seems.” I turn to him and look him over trying to see if I remember him from any past meetings and I do not.

The elevator shoots us up and a sigh leaves my lips once it opens on our floor. I step out and the man continues to walk next to me. I turn the corner and walk into the meeting room. Most of the chairs are still empty and I internally groan wishing I could be one of the people not attending today. I claim a seat near the windows and look out at the busy city below us. 

“I’m Aegon.” the man sits next to me and I turn to him and see he’s looking at me expectantly. 

“Y/n.” I say pulling out my phone not really wanting to have a conversation. 

I hear him sigh next to me and pull out his phone. I’m absentmindedly scrolling through some mind melting social media site and squint when I receive an airdrop. I click it to see what it says and roll my eyes as I see it’s a picture of him smiling and it says “Hi.” in bold lettering. I shake my head trying to hide my smile at his ridiculousness as I turn to him. 

“Seems as if someone craves attention.” I hum with a soft smirk. 

“Is that your official diagnosis?” his smile widens. 

“Maybe some need for validation as well.” I raise my eyebrows and he bursts out laughing causing his eyes to squint. 

“Want to know what I think of you?” he calms his laughter as I see the rest of the room glaring at us. 

“I’m sure you’ll tell me regardless of my answer.” I look at him waiting for his reply. 

“I think-“ 

“Welcome back everyone. We have a new member this week.” Meredith, the therapist, walks into the room silencing us. “Phones away, please.” she smiles sitting down as we all settle and turn our attention to her. 

“Why don’t you introduce yourself to the group and tell us a little about yourself.” Meredith gestures her hand for Aegon to stand. 

“I’m Aegon,” his voice slightly wavers and I tilt my head curious at what happened to the confident man next to me. “Um, I’m here because my parents seem to think I’m struggling and never cease to remind me how I’m the family disgrace. It was either this or a facility.” he shrugs before sinking back down to his seat seeming to find his fingernails more interesting than anything else. 

“That was a good start. We can discuss that more in depth.” his eyes snap up to hers worried. “When you’re ready. For now we will show you how our group flows and if you feel comfortable enough you can join in.” she smiles reassuringly to him. 

The man next to her starts spouting off about his week and I drown out his words. I’ve never felt that this group ever really helped me. I don’t want to sit in a circle telling them my issues as they look at me with sorrow. I don’t want to relate to anyone. I don’t need help. 

Aegon catches my attention as he starts to shake his leg. I look over him and see that his entire demeanor has changed. I scold myself for wanting to know more about him and why he closed in on himself so quickly. I turn my attention back to the group and see Meredith staring at me expectantly. Fuck, it must be my turn to share. 

“I’m sorry?” I tilt my head embarrassed to Meredith. 

“I asked how your week went.” she smiles to me softly. 

“It was fine.” I nod my head. I never share much in here, just enough to not get me kicked out or reprimanded. 

“Anything you struggled with this week?” she prompts me to open up and keep talking. 

“I’m still not sober, my parents are trying to push me into a career or a marriage to get me off their hands.” I sigh shrugging hoping this will be enough. 

“How does that make you feel?” I fucking hate the tone she uses. It always makes me feel so broken and weak. 

“Angry, frustrated,” I shake my head not wanting to speak anymore. 

“How do you think your parents feel?” she pries even more and my temper spikes as I have to steel myself to the chair and not get up and leave the building. 

“I don’t care.” I grit out through my teeth. “Why does what I do matter?” I snap and she looks to me sadly. 

“We can discuss this in our one on one later this week.” she scribbles something out on her  notepad which infuriates me even more. 

I pull my legs up into the chair and stare into the circle zoning out. These are my least favorite days of the week. I hate when people look at me with pity. It’s not what I want. I don’t understand why it’s so fucking bad if I smoke and drink. Sure I can see why the pills were concerning, but I realized that myself and not with the help of any group. 

“I don’t want to share more today. If that’s okay?” Aegons voice pulls me out of bubble. 

“Yes that’s fine, Aegon.” she smiles at him. “I will see you all next week. Hopefully some more of you are willing to share.” she looks at all of us before leaving the room. 

“Do you still want to know what I think?” Aegon turns to me as I place my feet back on the ground. 

“Not really.” I stretch out my legs and stand. 

“I thought we were having fun with our game.” he looks at me with puppy eyes and pouts his lip. 

“I must’ve gotten bored.” I toss over my shoulder as I walk to the elevator and push the button.

“Let me take you out for a drink. There’s a place a couple blocks away.” he says before the doors open and I laugh at the question given our setting. 

“Yeah, fuck it,” I look him over. “Let me just stop at my car.” I say as we make our way out the main doors. 

I sigh looking up at the cloudy day before me. I had no plans today but I didn’t think I would end up day drinking with a man I just met. I’ve been in worse situations so I make my way to my car with no care. I grab my purse and my cigarettes and turn to him. I pull one out for myself and offer him one. 

“Thank you.” he smiles resting it between his teeth before fishing in his pocket and pulling out a lighter. “Here.” he hovers the flame near me and lights my cigarette for me. 

“How chivalrous, Aegon.” I chuckle throwing my pack back into my purse. 

We start down the city street and take in the life around us. The silence isn’t awkward between us but more of us settling down. I always feel so worked up and angsty after group. I feel like I have to mend my brain and emotions back together and I turn to Aegon who seems to be doing the same. We finish our cigarettes as our pace starts to slow. He brings us to a stop in front of large glass doors and I chuckle shaking my head. 

“Are you taking us to the rooftop bar?” he tilts his head at my words. 

“How’d you know?” he holds the door open for me and I walk in. 

“Y/n.” the doorman smiles as I enter. “and Aegon?” he looks next to me and I roll my eyes at the fact that he knows him as well while we walk to the elevator.

“Do you come here often?” he presses the button. 

“Starting with shitty pick up lines now?” I can’t help the laugh the bubbles out of me. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” his smile matches mine as his eyes light up. 

“I usually come here after group every week. And long before that as well I suppose.” The elevator dings and we step in. “You?” I turn to him before I turn to look out the glass elevator as we shoot into the sky. 

“I’ve been drinking here since I was a teen. Some habits never die.” he shrugs as he looks out the glass with me. 

My ears pop as we continue to rise and the city shrinks below us. We walk out into the dim hallway and he walks us to the outer doors. I inhale deeply once we step out into the breeze. The waitress smiles at both of us and leads us to my usual table on the edge of the rails. 

“The normal? For both of you?” she raises her eyebrows with a smile and I can tell the staff members of the building are absolutely reeling at their two regulars finally coming together. 

“Yes.” we both reply at once and we all laugh before she disappears back inside to get our drinks. 

We lean back in our chairs and study each other. I narrow my eyes at him and he offers me a lopsided smile. The waitress comes back with a tray with two bottles and two glasses. It seems as if we both like to indulge. She sets my glass of wine on the table in front of me and leaves the bottle before doing the same for Aegon who apparently has also gotten the same bottle of wine. She sets a crystal ashtray between us and leaves us once more. 

“I didn’t take you as a wine person.” I hum grabbing my glass by the stem and bringing it to my lips. 

“This is one of the only bars in the city that carry this.” he smiles sipping from his glass. 

“That’s why I try to come here at least once a week. Gods I could drink this place dry.” I moan as I take another sip. 

“If the two of us have been trying with that goal in mind for a while now it shouldn’t be too far off.” he chuckles shaking his head. 

“Let’s hear your diagnosis for me.” he turns his head back to me looking me over. 

“Let me guess your past instead.” he takes a long sip of wine. 

“Mm so now you’re a fortune teller?” I chuckle as he shushes me.

“Let’s see. Large family, well off, high expectations, you never seem to be enough, drugs and alcohol offer you the escape you need but when you finally crawl into bed for the night you think about everything that’s ever happened to you.” his joking tone long gone as I take another sip of wine. 

“Am I that easy to read?” I sigh settling back into my chair. “I had hoped I was more mysterious.” I shake my head smiling. 

“You have the same dead eyes I see in the mirror everyday.” our eyes lock. “And the same expensive taste in wine.” he grabs my bottle to refill my glass. 

“Well then, cheers to being the family disappointments.” I raise my glass. 

“To being the family disappointments, but still looking good while we do it.” he smiles clinking his glass to mine. 

I let out a laugh and finally allow myself to look over him more in depth. His blue eyes are piercing but they fill with light every time he laughs. His cheeks have become slightly flushed from the wine and breeze and I make the mistake of looking at his perfect lips which turn into a smirk as he sees me shamelessly checking him out. I’ve never been a fan of men with longer hair but his messy silver locks that almost reach his shoulders is doing something to me. 

“Do you like what you see?” he leans forward resting his head in his hands. 

“Do you dye your hair?” my eyes continue to look at his head of silver. 

“No this is all me.” his smile grows bigger. 

“I suppose you are handsome.” I hum bringing my lips to my glass once more. 

“I thought it would take more coaxing to get a compliment out of you.” he smiles proudly. 

“It seems as if I’ll have to fish for one from you.” I go to pull my cigarettes out. 

“Oh no, you’re absolute perfection. The second I saw you,” he shakes his head and holds his hand out for a cigarette. 

“Finish the sentence and I’ll see if you deserve one.” a smirk plays at my lips. 

“I wanted to drag you into the closest unoccupied room and fuck the sad out of you.” I can feel my cheeks redden at his brazen words and I hand him a cigarette. 

“Trust that I’ve tried to have the sad fucked out of me.” I shake my head as he leans over to light my cigarette again. 

“Mm, not by me though.” he takes a long drag of his as he licks his lips looking at me. 

“Someone thinks highly of themselves.” I raise my eyebrow looking him over. 

“Ten minutes with my tongue and you’ll forget everything.” I roll my eyes at his words. 

“I’ve been with you and your tongue for the past two hours and all you seem to do is talk.” he laughs loudly at my words. 

“Come to a party with me later.” he looks to me expectantly as we put out our cigarettes on the crystal. 

“Another bottle for you both?” the waitress walks up with a smile. 

“No we’re gunna head out. Charge them both to my room.” he nods at her before turning back to me. 

“Your room?” I tilt my head. 

“I live here. Well my family. We kind of own it.” he shrugs as he finishes off his glass. 

“How is it that I’m only now being graced with your presence.” I look into the sky as I finish the sweet wine. 

“Hearing my doorman call you by name had me thinking the same thing.” he rises and offers me his hand.

“I didn’t say if I was going to the party with you.” I look at his outstretched hand and then up to him. 

“Then at least let me get you a car to drive you back to your place.” he keeps holding his hand out. 

“Fine.” I huff placing my hand in his. 

“Do you wanna smoke first?” he tugs me to the elevator with him. 

“Absolutely.” I nod my head as he presses the button to a couple floors beneath us. 

When the doors open I take in the clean entryway. Ornate decorations and art scatter across the walls to accentuate the chandelier that drips from the ceiling. He keeps pulling me along and slipping us up the main staircase until he’s pulling me into another room. This room is completely different from what I walked into. It’s dim and cluttered. He has posters hung all over the walls and on the far left side there are floor to ceiling windows that offer the only semblance of light. Something brushes against my leg and I yelp looking down. 

“Come to daddy. My golden little beast.” he coos scooping up the cat from my feet. “Oh daddy’s little boy.” he hums kissing the cat in his arms. 

“Daddy?” I try to stifle my giggles. 

“This is Sunfyre, my sweet and perfect son.” he brings him near me and I pet his head affectionately as he purrs between us. 

“He’s absolutely adorable.” my voice soft as he starts to push the cat into my arms. “A handsome little boy.” I scratch behind his ears. 

My eyes squint as Aegon starts to turn on some of the lights. I see that half of this clutter is cat toys and towers and this is more of the cat’s room than it is his. I look around for a place to sit and cuddle the orange cat and settle for his massive bed. We curl up in the center as he purrs kneading the soft blankets. 

“Are you two comfortable?” he asks sprawling on the bed next to us.

“Very.” I hum looking up to his smile. “You could’ve gotten me to your room much faster if you told me you had a cat.” we both shower the cat between us with love. 

“We have more.” his eyes light up. 

“Well don’t hide them from me.” I giggle as he pulls me up from the bed. 

We walk down the hall and stop in front of a set of doors. He knocks and when we don’t get an answer he sighs out in relief. He pushes the door open and peers in and tugs me in behind him. He flicks the lights on and begins calling for the cat. 

“Vhagar, come out you fossil.” I hear a rumble from underneath the bed and out comes an angry looking Maine Coon who stretches before looking over us judgmentally and taking a seat.

“Come here Vhagar.” I squat down to her level and hold my hand out. She sniffs my hand then hisses and darts back under the bed. 

“She’s just old and angry at the world.” he pulls me up and I follow him out of the room. 

“Where are we going now?” I ask trying not to think about how well our hands fit together. 

“We have one more cat.” he knocks on this door and we’re greeted by silence once more and he pushes us into the light room. “Dream come out someone wants to meet you.” his voice soft. 

There’s a chirp and the most beautiful white Persian cat uncurls from the center of the bed. She stretches and walks to us and I melt looking at her beautiful blue eyes. I walk over to her and her coat feels like silk between my fingers. 

“Aren’t you the most beautiful gorgeous girl.” she leans into me and plops back onto the bed. I shower her with attention and turn and see Aegon staring at me. 

“That’s how I feel when I look at you.” I roll my eyes and shush him. 

He reaches for my hand once again and leads me back to his room. I take a seat on his bed and Sunfyre immediately jumps into my lap. I rub his belly as he playfully nips at my fingers. Aegon stands at the end of the bed pouting at me. 

“What’s wrong?” I tilt my head with a soft smile. 

“I want that kind of attention from you.” I chuckle at his words. 

“Get over yourself you baby.” he smiles as I pull him on the bed with us. 

“Here you can spark it.” he puts a joint into my hand. 

“So you can light my cigarettes but not a joint for me.” I pout to him and he reaches over to the table and grabs a lighter and flicks it on. 

I push the tip into the flame and inhale. The familiar sting in the back of my throat lulls me into a more relaxed state. I exhale the smoke out and hand it to Aegon. He turns the TV on for background noise as we pass it back and forth until it’s done. The room is hazy as we lay back on the bed. His cat comes up and lays on my chest and I smile petting him softly. 

“I might purr if you pet me like that.” Aegon turns on his side and looks to me with low lids. 

“Then come here.” he scoots next to me quickly and puts his head next to Sunfyre. 

My nails scrap against his scalp and the moan this man lets out has a blush creeping up my neck. I continue to brush my fingers through his hair which I have to admit is very soft. After a couple minutes of silence he lets out soft snores. I contain my giggles while I keep brushing through his hair. Before I know it I’m drifting off with my hand buried in his hair. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

I crack my eyes open and feel my heart quicken as I don’t recognize my surroundings right away. I look down and see that my hand is still tangled in Aegons hair who has turned and is currently watching TV. I slowly start to stroke his hair again and he turns to look up to me. 

“You could have woken me up.” I murmur. 

“I liked being held by you.” his voice equally as quiet. 

“You have very soft hair.” I hum as I give it a soft tug and he leans into my touch. “What time is it?” I yawn. 

“Like two in the morning.” he turns back to watch TV and I look out his windows at the city lit up. 

“I should go move my car.” I shift to get up and he turns back to me worried. 

“Don’t go.” he says furrowing his brows. 

“I thought you had a party anyway.” I brush his hair back before removing my hand. 

“I don’t wanna go if you’re not going.” he sits up with me. 

“Then let’s go move my car and we’ll figure it out from there.” I stretch once I’m standing. 

We slip into the elevator without waking anyone and exit through the lobby quickly. I’m thankful it’s a short walk during this hour although the streets are well lit. Once we make it to my car Aegon stands at the drivers side and I tilt my head. 

“Can I drive?” he smiles. 

“This is my baby, Aegon.” I look to him skeptically. 

“Oh I can tell. It’s beautiful and I’ve always wanted to drive one.” he runs a hand across the trim. 

“You have a license right?” I nibble on my lower lip. 

“Of course, my love.” he smiles holding out his hand. 

“Fine.” I relent dropping the fob into his hand. 

He walks to my passenger side with me and opens the door. I settle into the seat as he walks around to slip into the drivers seat. The engine comes to life and he turns to me and smiles. He shifts it into drive and we’re on the streets in an instant. I watch him as he relaxes into the seat and steals a glance at me. 

“Relax, Y/n.” his hand falls to my thigh. “If anything happens to your car I’ll just buy you a new one.” he offers me a lazy smile. 

“I don’t want a new one.” I squeeze his hand and keep mine on top of his. 

“Don’t worry.” he rubs his thumb on me and my body heats at his touch. 

“Where are we headed?” I look out the window and watch as the city passes us. 

“No where in particular. What would you like to do?” he asks driving us deeper into the city. 

“I don’t know like food and back to yours?” I have no desire to go out or go home. 

“Sounds perfect.” he smiles and I admire him from my passenger seat. 

He takes us to a drive through and we eat in the parking lot which came with a lot of threats to him about not spilling anything. After we’re done we head back to his building. He parks it underground much to my relief. We wait for the elevator in silence and once we enter I turn to look out windows to take in the night lights. As the elevator starts to ascend he turns me towards him. 

“Hm?” I slide my eyes over to his and he places his lips on mine. 

I squeak before melting into him. He slowly licks along my lips and I sigh as his tongue slips into my mouth. The elevator begins to slow and our lips part. We’re both breathing heavily as we look to one another with smiles on our faces. As the doors open a woman with red hair is waiting in front of us. 

“Yes, mother?” Aegons demeanor immediately shrinks and the smile is erased from his face. 

“Are you sober right now?” she sounds almost confused. 

“I am.” he nods his head. 

“Who is this?” she looks to me with a raised eyebrow. 

“Y/n,” he turns to me chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

“Lovely to meet you. I’m sorry of the late hour, if we woke you.” I wince not knowing what to say or do. 

“Do you need something?” Aegon asks and her eyes move back to him. 

“No, have a goodnight.” she looks to both of us before turning and disappearing down the dark hall. 

“I’m sorry.” he turns to me with scrunched brows once he closes the door to his room. 

“If it makes you feel any better my mother is the same.” I offer him a soft smile. 

“It’s never usually that calm.” he picks sunfyre up and hugs him close. 

I walk over to him and brush his hair back running my nails over his scalp. His shoulders seem to relax and I continue the movement. His cat jumps out of his arms and he pulls me into his embrace resting his head on my shoulder.

“It seems as if you need me to fuck the sad out of you.” his arms tighten around me at my words. 

“That was my line.” he chuckles into my neck. 

“Yeah but you’re like some sad fallen angel right now with your glossy eyes and I can’t help myself.” my hands travel up his back until they’re buried in his hair. 

He pulls back and looks at me slightly annoyed but has a smile on his face nonetheless. He captures my lips in a gentle kiss that clashes with his rough hands that start to lift my shirt off. He quickly unclips my bra without breaking our kiss and I groan into his mouth as he squeezes my tender flesh. 

“These are more perfect than I thought.” he groans as he pulls back to look down at them. 

I pull his shirt off before he reattaches his mouth to mine. I groan as our chests mold together. His hands slip down the front of my pants as he swallows my whimpers when he finds my wetness. His fingers slide down my slit before they stop and slowly circle my bud. I moan loudly into his mouth and he chuckles. 

“That feel good?” he continues with his languid speed. 

“Yes,” I nod my head as my breath starts to come out in pants as he begins quicker motions. “Aegon,” I whine as he pulls his hand out. 

He tugs me back to the bed and once I fall back on it he’s pulling off my pants. He crawls between my legs and slowly starts to pull off my panties making me squirm. He groans as he takes in my glistening core and looks up to me with low lids. 

“You said I’d only need ten minutes with your tongue if I remember correctly.” I look down at him spreading my thighs. 

He smiles devilishly before diving between my thighs. I bite my lip from crying out when his tongue licks a thick stripe up my center. His tongue attacks my bud and I arch off the bed gasping. My hand tangles in his hair and he moans against me as I pull. I grind against his face and he pulls me even closer keeping a bruising grip on my thighs. 

“Fuck Aegon,” I whine as my hips jolt against him as his tongue circles my core. 

The second his tongue pushes into me I feel myself ready to explode. The whimpers falling from my mouth only spur him on and my hips jerk on their own accord. I cry out his name as I come across his tongue and he licks me through all of it. He leans back and looks up at my heaving chest. 

“You were right.” I say with my voice still breathy as I sit up and watch him pull off his pants. 

I bite my lip at his length bobbing up against him. My eyes travel up to his face and take in the smile that’s back on it. He crawls back into bed with me and takes my lips. I reach out and wrap my hand around his length and he sighs into my mouth. My thumb collects some of his droplets helping my hand glide smoother. He grunts as I push him back and he looks up to me confused. 

I straddle him and line him up with my dripping core. We both moan as I sink down onto him. His hands grab onto my hips once he’s fully settled in me. I relax around him and begin to slowly move up and down. Once I get more comfortable I start to bounce quicker and his hands move from my hips to my breasts. 

“You were made for me.” he grunts as his hips push up to meet mine.

His name falls from my mouth as I grind into him as he brushes against my sensitive bud. I feel my pleasure coiling as he thrusts up into me hard. I come undone around him and he moans with me stilling inside me. He bucks his hips and flips us over and starts hammering into me. 

“Look at you taking me so good.” his voice rough as he rolls his hips into mine. 

My nails dig into his back as he grunts into my neck. His pace is relentless as I lose myself to him. I arch into him as I feel my pleasure building again. His trusts start to get sloppy as he chases his high. My walls slam around him as he swallows my cry of euphoria as he begins to fill me. He slowly pushes his hips into me pulling a whine from my mouth.

“Fucking perfect.” he slides out of me and lays next to me. 

“I think you succeeded in fucking the sad out of me for the night.” I smile at him and he turns to me with his own. 

“I was done being sad the second I was between your thighs.” he rolls over to me. 

He rests his head against my chest holding me tightly. My fingers brush through his hair allowing my nails to soothe him again. He hums in satisfaction against my chest as we allow our eyes to droop and for sleep to take over. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

masterlist 🔌 

and if i make a mini series out of this then what 🧍🏼‍♀️ 

Part 2

taglist ✍️ 

@clarityisnofun @callsignwidow @gabriella-aesthetic @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @anaviieiraaa @zanygot7straykidsbonk @hueanhdang

ps: this is not a cry for help i’ve done my dues in therapy and group BUT if you’re struggling there are resources out there that can help you and you can reach out to me and I will do what I can to help

[hagrove]

RADIANT ━ chapter two

Summary: Raine Coleman had long since learned to live with the uncertainty. Since she became a vampire the fragments of her human life seemed almost too small, too insignificant. It was as if her mind was trying to block out her past on purpose, occasionally showing her glimpses of what she used to be, only for those moments to slip through her grasp before she could fully understand them. At some point in her life she stopped caring too much about it — her new coven and a new way of life proving to be the most important.

But when years later Raine met Rosalie Hale while passing through Forks and felt an instant connection, kind of an inexplicable pull that both intrigued and unsettled her, she strayed from the peaceful life she and the Colemans created for themselves. What she didn't know, however, was that the blonde vampire was the exact same person she used to love so dearly as a human.

Pairing: Rosalie Hale x fem!oc Word count: 11.9k Masterlist ・Part 1・Part 3

The next few days following the banquet passed in a blur. Both Raine and her family had no real time to rest, as the aftermath usually took a lot of their time — everyone was already very much used to it, however. While both her and Royce took on replying to the incoming mail full of thankful notes and appreciation of the small gathering, the people who earlier only roamed the corridors with hands full of decorations now switched to attempting to turn the makeshift ballroom back into a regular dining room. Multiple servants worked tirelessly to return everything into its proper place, rolling up oddly extravagant and colorful carpets, and moving tables that had been put together in an effort to fit all the food in one place. What once had been a space full of glee and fake smiles now stood empty, echoing with the sounds of clinking silverware instead of idle chatter and soft sounds of violin.

The silence was heavy. Even more than she expected.

But it was, or was supposed to be, normal. She was used to her life looking like this after every bigger event.

And yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. There was something weird lingering in the air, a change that was just beyond her reach. No one else could feel it and she knew it — because if anyone apart from her did, then the effort to put everything back in place would go to waste. The world kept turning and the people around her carried on as if nothing happened, nothing changed. Perhaps it was the first impression she had of Rosalie and the intimate moment they shared on the balcony, or the look her mother kept giving her while talking in a hushed voice to her father, probably about something she dreaded for the past few months. 

Whatever it was, she sure as hell didn’t like it.

And the fact that her mind was almost constantly spinning didn’t help at all. She tried so hard to push away vile thoughts but her efforts proved to be futile pretty much immediately, sending her into a slight spiral. It was almost as if she, every single morning since that one evening, was reliving the inner turmoil that started when she first locked eyes with Hale. The feeling unfortunately refused to dissipate and clung to her like an annoying shadow, a memory that just didn’t want to leave her head no matter what. Even now, when she had something to focus on, meaning the huge pile of letters to reply to, she still found herself absently tracing the coarse edges of the envelopes with her fingers, her mind in a completely different place. All she could see, all she could feel was Rosalie’s warm breath on her skin when she pulled her closer during the dance and the soft touch of her cold fingers. It was excruciating and yet also somehow addicting in a way she was unable to explain. 

However the letters in front of her still provided a welcome distraction. Maybe she wasn’t completely focused on them, thanks to the blonde haunting her mind, but it worked at least to some extent. She really could care less for the forced gratitude penned by people who had likely already forgotten half of the night, the hosts included, but as long as her mind could rest, even for a few minutes, when reading the mail and laughing about the sycophantic words, all of her reluctance seemed to ease up.

Royce sat beside her in the study, barely glancing at the contents before drafting quick, efficient responses. Sometimes he stopped for a while, letting his gaze hover over the paper and the corners of his mouth to curl up in a mischievous smile, in disbelief. He often shared the contents of the letters with her, especially the more absurd ones. One of them came from an elderly lady she saw maybe once during the banquet and who, with a straight face, called her a ‘delightful young lady with a pretty face and the gaze of a hawk”, which was also mentioned also in the letter her brother showed her as, apparently, she had no idea her name was Raine. 

“She meant it as a compliment,” Royce had said, eyes dancing with amusement. “Although I’m not sure if she thinks you’ll hunt or waltz your way through marriage.”

Raine had smirked, a little too tired to fully commit to the banter. “Maybe both. Depends on the day.”

And, somehow, the presence of her brother also seemed to soothe her nerves. They were siblings after all, merely one year apart, so they knew each other better than anyone, perhaps excluding Jolene. Even despite the fact that it felt weird sitting here with him when her thoughts were full of a person so dear to him. It did make something inside her twist with guilt, however, because she loved and respected her brother, so while she was hopeful that the attraction she felt might turn into something more, she also couldn’t imagine doing it to him. To someone from the outside, just like her, who knew nothing about the nature of his brother’s relationship with Rosalie, it looked like he loved her and strived to make her feel like the most gorgeous and cared person in the entirety of their town. 

“The banquet was a success,” he said then, breaking the silence. “More or less. People are still talking about that disastrous waltz the Hawthorne’s did.” There was a smile on his face and he looked like he really was trying not to laugh at the memory people kept bringing up. Especially that he, too, was there when the couple graced the dance floor with their presence. 

“Are they now?” she chuckled. The performance, if one could even call it that, really was a one to remember. She might’ve even called it, jokingly, the highlight of the evening if it wasn’t for that one moment she shared on the balcony with the girl she called a moon.

“You know it.”

But she really wanted to do something about it. Push away her duties and formalites, all the expectations weighing on her shoulders, and all the increasing rumours about her engagement, just to chase her own happiness. She wondered what it could’ve been if not for the fact that Rosalie’s hands lingered on his waist and not on hers. If not for the whispers and the laughs they shared while nobody was looking, and that electric connection between them. She wondered what it would be like to be loved, to be cared for. She knew her for a few days, yes, but she couldn’t push it away so easily. Rosalie Hale to her felt like the exact person she was looking for, the soulmate she read in books about. 

She knew that this thought should never get out of her head and reach someone else. No one could guess at it and she had to try to hide it from everyone, no matter what. Especially from poor, completely clueless Royce. So she let him joke, let him read the letters aloud and exist beside her in this small bubble of half-lies because it was easier. Easier than confronting reality and easier than what she really wanted to do. Acknowledging it would make it real. Would make it cruel.

Suddenly Royce nudged another letter her way with a smirk.

“Dear lord, please do read this one,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “From Lord Danford. I think he might be trying to convince us he invented wine.”

And so she forced herself to push the vile thoughts away once again.

They didn’t matter. They couldn’t.

The ornate, old clock in the corner of the room striked four when Raine’s family sat down on four ends of the way too long table, decorated with a pristine white tablecloth and an elaborate centerpiece, which in theory was just a vase of fresh, red roses. The chime of the clock echoed off the tall walls, eventually fading into a silence so brittle that Raine feared even the soft clink of a fork might shatter it. Food was already served, placed strategically so that no one had to be forced to ask for something, as every bowl was at one's fingertips. This weird, almost eerie atmosphere was a standard element of their daily dinners, but this time something really seemed to be off. 

She couldn’t quite place it, however. Not yet.

Her mother sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, focusing her gaze on her husband and, at the same time, carefully averting it from Raine’s, while Royce, uncharacteristically silent, examined the contests of his plate with far too much interest, as if the mere sight of roasted turkey could spare him from the conversations that loomed ahead. It wasn’t that bad of an idea, however, considering the fact that it didn’t really involve him, but he knew, which was almost bound to fuel Raine’s rage afterwards. Only the head of the house, Mr. King, seemed to be in an unnaturally good mood. Unlike everyone else at the table, he was cutting into his portion with deliberate ease and measured movements, which added a¹0n odd theatricality to the otherwise stale routine. One could say that he just enjoyed the food, but it was more like he was savouring the anticipation that everyone, even the servants, could feel in the air. 

Something was about to happen, to be said, and Raine wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear it.

Maybe she knew her father a bit too well, or his actions turned predictable after many years. She wasn’t sure, but she could sense it just from watching him carefully from her seat. The odd shift in energy, the small, almost missable prelude before an announcement made with the tone of a business proposal, so common in her father’s actions lately, instead of the one of a concerned parent, or just a d a d.

Finally, after what felt like ages, he laid his silverware down with a soft, deliberate clink against the porcelain plate. Her stomach twisted, not with fear, exactly, but with the heavy certainty that whatever was coming next was either already decided long before this dinner, or something that she was not going to like. 

And she was starting to get an idea of what it might be.

“Ezra Dwyer is expected to return by the end of the month,” he said at last, lifting his wine glass. “His father believes an engagement between you two would be beneficial for both families.” 

There it was. The heavy silence that lingered in the air finally found its true reason.

Raine did everything she could to keep her expression neutral, even though her mind already started to race. She had expected this, of course she did. Hints of the upcoming alliance coming from both her parents and, at the same time, most of her father’s friends who knew Mr. Dwyer, weren’t as subtle as they thought. And yet she was hoping it wasn’t going to happen so soon, or that they would at least discuss it with her before making a final decision.

Because both sides, which meant her’s and Ezra’s father, probably already agreed to it a while ago.

And it most definitely didn’t happen just the day before.

“And what do you believe, Father?” she asked after a while, forcing a calm she didn’t feel. There was no good answer to his words, or at least not one she could come up with on the spot.

Mr. King looked at her with a smile before answering, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “That you won’t find a better match.”

Simple and direct. As if that was all there was to it.

Nothing else seemed to ever matter when it came to things like these. Her feelings, just like everyone else’s had to be put aside as emotions had no place in the matters of wealth and social standing. Love was a luxury, one that people like her weren’t meant to indulge in. 

Her mother remained silent, but Raine felt her watchful gaze on her. 

“Ezra has spent the past year abroad,” her father continued, cutting his meat with precision. “He’s well-educated and, most importantly, well-connected, which will undoubtedly help us secure our standing.”

Raine’s hand tightened around her fork. “And if I refuse?”

Her father sighed, setting his knife down. “You won’t.”

It wasn’t a threat, not outright, but a statement of inevitability. A reminder that this was not a conversation. It never had been.

Once again she glanced at her mother, searching for at least some trace of sympathy, but found none. There was only quiet expectation, the same silent compliance that had shaped every decision in their household. Pauline, as that was her mother’s name, already knew. Even worse, she must’ve been extremely happy to hear that she has yet another wedding to plan. Which, by default, meant that Royce also heard about the news. 

And that hurt like hell, because they swore ages ago that they would tell each other absolutely everything, no matter how old they would get, or how hard the situations were. They both knew each other better than anyone else and yet, despite that, he didn’t seem to think that a decision about her life, a marriage contract, was important for her to know. Or, at least, to find out on her terms and not during family dinner where everyone was watching. She felt betrayed.

“I understand this is difficult,” Mr. King continued, though his voice lacked the softness the words implied. “But the agreement with the Dwyers is a wonderful move. With the volatility of the current market and uncertain future, this decision is strategic. It will secure ours and your future.”

Raine felt like she was about to throw up. Her appetite was already gone anyway, but now she knew that there was no way she was going to touch the food on her plate. All she wanted was to l e a v e.

“Strategic,” she repeated his words, eyebrows raised. “You make it sound like I’m one of your stocks, Father. An asset to be moved and married off for stability.”

“You’re not just an asset,” he said, as though that made it better. “You’re my daughter. And I wouldn’t put you in the care of anyone I didn’t trust.”

Just an asset.

Just.

She wasn’t surprised by his words but she still felt as if something was currently tugging at her heart. She didn’t matter in the long run and she knew it, but hell, it still hurt terribly. Same went for her opinions and the ability to choose for herself.

“I’m not asking for your trust,” she said flatly. “I’m asking for a choice.”

There was a beat of silence so profound it almost echoed.

“You’ll learn to appreciate this, in time,” he said at last, sipping his wine as though the matter was already resolved. And to him it probably was, but not to her. 

Raine didn’t respond right away. She glanced at Royce who finally dared to look up — just long enough to meet her eyes, his gaze full of something halfway between regret and shame. That fleeting moment, that single look, told her everything she needed to know and confirmed her earlier assumptions. He knew.

That was the worst part.

Not the deal, not Ezra Dwyer, not even her father’s cold detachment.

But the quiet complicity of the person who claimed to love her.

“I hear he’s handsome,” her mother remarked after a while, finally allowing herself to join the conversation and, at the same time, breaking the awkward silence. “Well-educated and a gentleman. A proper match.”

“A stranger,” Raine countered, keeping her voice neutral.

Her mother smiled softly. Perhaps she understood her daughter’s frustration, or she just considered her words to be naive, rather than accurate. “Strangers can become partners with time, honey. You’ll realize it sooner or later.”

If Pauline thought that her words were of any help, she was wrong. They only made the redhead more upset, which, in result, made her feel even worse about the engagement. Perhaps Raine was jealous, just a little bit. Mostly of the fact that Royce could do whatever he wanted and, most importantly, be with anyone he felt attracted to. It wasn’t just about Rosalie, who she considered the most gorgeous woman she has ever met and a perfect match for her in another life, but about the choice and the freedom. Something that she just couldn’t experience herself.

“But why am I being forced to build that relationship?” she asked, her voice a bit firmer than earlier. “And with someone already chosen for me?”

Her father’s eyes flickered with a hint of irritation. A first crack in his composed demeanor and probably the last one. “Because that’s how things are done, Raine. You were raised to understand your role in this family. You were raised to understand the meaning of responsibility.”

“No,” Raine said, her voice cool and deliberate. “I was raised to obey. That’s different.”

Maybe she shouldn’t have snapped, shouldn’t have said anything after hearing the news about engagement and just finished the dinner in peace. She knew that her parents were right, that she should’ve expected this, but she just couldn’t keep herself quiet. Throughout the entirety of her life, which was a bit over twenty one years, she was a watcher and all she ever wanted was to finally be seen. 

But apparently in this family, in this world, it was too much to ask.

Royce shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The clink of his knife against the plate seemed louder than before, though he still hadn’t taken a single bite. Raine didn’t look at him again. She couldn’t bear it. The silence that fell over him had now become an accomplice to her father's plans, and she wasn’t ready to forgive that.

Mr. King leaned back in his chair. “Ezra is arriving in two weeks. There will be a formal dinner that you will attend without any excuses. Otherwise there will be consequences.”

“And pretend I’m thrilled?” she asked bitterly. “Smile and nod while you parade me like a trophy?”

“You will be respectful,” he said, not raising his voice, but letting the sharpness come through to show off his authority.

Raine swallowed the rising anger in her throat. Every part of her screamed to get up, to leave the table, to slam the door behind her and run until the weight of this life fell off her shoulders. But she didn’t. Not yet. She had learned long ago that open rebellion rarely worked in this house. Strategy was her father’s game and she would need to learn it, too, even if she didn’t want to. 

“Two weeks,” she repeated, nodding slowly. “That’s not much time.”

“Time for what?” her mother asked.

“To learn to smile convincingly,” Raine said, and stood up. “Thank you for the dinner.”

Without another word, she turned and left the dining room, the click of her heels sharp against the polished floor. She didn’t hear anyone call after her. Not her father, not her mother, not even Royce. 

Only the ticking of the ornate old clock followed her, a cruel reminder that time, unlike people, did not ask for permission to move forward.

It was an unspoken tradition that every year when the weather got a bit warmer, and the sun finally started peeking through the dense clouds, most citizens of Rochester would meet up at the local park for a stroll or, eventually, a friendly chat with others who enjoyed sitting on a bench a little bit too much. It was almost as if the green communal areas came alive overnight, leaving the unpleasant gloom of winter behind and embracing the upcoming warmth. Raine usually tried to never miss out on that moment, especially now that her bond with the sun seemed to grow even stronger, but there were times where her duties back at the estate held her back, forcing her to watch the season’s arrival from behind tall windows instead. 

If she could make it, however, her mother would sometimes join her with a parasol in hand to shield herself from the sun. On those days they would walk slowly along the dirt paths, laughing at the words coming from people they passed, sometimes even engaging in short conversations with them. It was obvious that almost everyone tried to enjoy the first warm days as much as they could. Raine loved those moments, even if they were mostly fleeting and never lasted for too long. Not only because of the great weather and the bucolic atmosphere that accompanied them, but also because sometimes, when her mother was next to her without a hint of worry on her face, King could feel like a kid again. 

And it was something that she has very dearly missed.

Today, however, Raine was alone. Her mother had been too preoccupied with wedding preparations, which had unfortunately already started. And yet, she wasn’t exactly disappointed — especially after what happened during dinner three days before. The memory of that evening still left a bitter taste in her mouth and even the gentle, almost soothing rustling of leaves couldn't make it go away. The thought of the sudden, albeit inevitable, engagement and Mrs. King’s reluctance to say anything that wouldn’t sound like the weirdly rehearsed formula her father used, too formal to be included in a conversation with his daughter, or a praise towards the infamous Ezra, made her stomach churn. 

That night had marked a subtle shift in her behaviour. She felt as if something in her had retreated inward, folded like a letter tucked away into a drawer no one would ever open again. She should be happy about it, because she knew that the engagement was inevitable, and at least her father didn’t pair her with someone twice her age, but it still felt weird, still hurt. Especially now that her mind was occupied by one particular blonde that she was supposed to forget about right after the banquet.

And the way the news was announced to her also didn’t help. 

Her parents seemed to forget about her little act of rebellion, but it made her realise that it was because of the fact that they, or mostly her father, expected her to behave and never, under any circumstances, talk back to them again. She still, however, hasn't talked to Royce, who seemed to avoid her to postpone the inevitable confrontation. King wasn’t as mad at him as she was three days ago, but she still didn’t understand his reluctance to share the news with her earlier. Their father probably told him not to, but it wasn’t like she would tell him that she knows. It would ease out her reactions and, besides, they used to break rules all the time as little kids.

Raine shook her head gently, as if to chase the annoying thoughts away, but they clung to her stubbornly. It was hard to forget about it, since she was supposed to meet her future husband in a little over a week, but she really was trying. That’s why she came to the park despite not being in a great mood — she wanted to take advantage of good weather and the soothing atmosphere to calm her nerves. 

Warm rays of the sun caressed her skin as she walked on the once deserted pathways, smiling fondly at the children chasing each other across the grounds. Her hands were tucked behind her back, her fingers brushing against the edges of her dress. A sharp gust of wind finally pulled her from her thoughts, sending a few loose strands of her hair whipping across her face, and forcing her to, once again, look up. What she didn't expect, however, was to see a much familiar figure right across from her — Rosalie. She probably shouldn't be able to recognize her so quickly, but there was something a bit too remarkable in her features, making it hard not to. She took a few steps towards her but didn’t get a chance to say anything, as Hale turned around right as she heard someone walking behind her.

“Raine? Didn't think I'd find you here,” the blonde called out, slowly approaching Raine with a polite smile. There was a slight hint of confusion still visible on Hale's face which made Raine think that either she really didn't expect her here, or she struggled with recognizing her at first.

Or, perhaps, both.

“Why hello, Rosalie,” 

If only she knew that her words, a simple greeting, made Rosalie’s heart flutter and it took a lot of willpower to keep a very red blush from creeping up her neck. Rosalie glanced away for a second, pretending to fix the straps of her dress, hoping Raine didn’t notice the change in her expression. 

“Please, Raine, call me Rose,” she replied with a slight smile. There was something about this subtle request that made her heart flutter. They didn’t know each other for long and, apart from that balcony encounter that made her think about her for days, haven’t really had the chance to talk. And yet Hale trusted her with a nickname, a name, which was most possibly reserved purely for the people close to her. 

“Well then, Rose,” she replied after a while, shaking her head to get rid of unnecessary thoughts. She extended her arm instead, in a completely friendly manner, forcing herself to smile at the woman she once called a moon. A slight hint of hesitation could be seen in her eyes, but she didn’t consider her gesture to be weird or out of place. Her and Jolene always walked around the same way, albeit the general coldness of Coleman’s hands sometimes made it hard to keep it up for a longer time. “Would you like to join me?”

Rose’s expression changed, softened, her gaze flickering down to the outstretched arm. Then, with a quiet breath, she looped her own through Raine’s, her fingers brushing against the fabric of her sleeve. It was a delicate touch, almost imperceptible, but King felt it nonetheless. Rosalie’s hands felt warm, almost like the sun’s most delicate rays, which was a welcome change after the icy skin she was used to and a colder breeze that occasionally swept through the park. It was grounding in a way Raine hadn’t expected.

So simple and yet so significant.

They fell into step together, their arms loosely linked, as if they had done this a hundred times before. “How have you been?” 

Rosalie tilted her head slightly, wondering whether she should reply truthfully or quickly make up a white lie. “Busy,” she replied at last. A soft sigh escaped her lips, almost missable, and it made Raine think. She had a weird feeling that something was bothering her but she really didn’t want to pry. 

Because who was she to interfere with Rosalie Hale’s life?

A stranger. The sister of her beloved fiancè. 

Not a friend. And most definitely not a lover.

Similar thoughts raced through Rosalie’s mind, although a bit less intense.

Rosalie couldn't explain, or even simply understand, the weird pull she felt towards Raine since the night of the banquet. She knew that they were supposed to meet one day, of course she did, as Royce mentioned her multiple times in conversations, even going as far as suggesting his sister's help in their wedding preparations, but didn't expect that the, as one would call it, obligatory presence in her new life, will be so captivating, so intriguing. There was something oddly familiar about her, something that made her feel safe despite having spent almost no time together, which was much different from how she felt about Royce. It made Rosalie’s chest tighten in ways she wasn’t prepared for.

Raine’s presence made Rosalie want to talk to her, tell her more, e v e r y t h i n g, but it was as if her tongue got stuck in her mouth, not letting her say too much in case she went too overboard. It was different from conversations with Vera, even though she also considered the redhead a friend of hers — not as close, of course, but a friend nonetheless. 

Even the rush she felt during the banquet when she asked her to dance seemed to disappear. 

Maybe because they were in a vulnerable spot. People were watching their every step even if it didn’t seem like it.

Or maybe she was afraid of what she might discover if she let herself get too close.

The thought made Rosalie’s stomach churn, and she tightened her grip on Raine’s arm without realizing it. It wasn’t much, just a small, instinctive reaction, but Raine noticed. She didn’t turn her head towards her, however, deciding to ignore it instead. King wasn’t exactly sure if she could call Rosalie her friend, but that didn’t stop her from trying to enjoy her company as much as she could. It was almost as if her mind seemed to quiet down in her presence. The attraction she felt towards her was still there, of course, but she knew that there was no chance for that weird feeling to turn into something more. No matter how much she wanted it to.

It all seemed so complicated to her. Fate surely must’ve been playing tricks on her since the day of the banquet, because there was no way she’d develop such an attachment to someone who was meant to marry her brother.

And yet, here she was. The feeling she felt deep down wasn’t just fascination and she knew it. It was something deeper, something more dangerous.

For a while, they walked in silence, letting the murmur of the park surround them. There was no rush, no need for hurried words. The warmth of the day, the crisp scent of spring, and the quiet understanding between them were enough. Raine found herself stealing glances at the blonde, observing the subtle expression that flickered across her face. There was something about the way the light hit her face that for a few seconds made her look like she too belonged to the sun. 

She might’ve called her a moon when she first met her, but now she really wanted to say it was the other way around. 

"You must be looking forward to the wedding," Raine said when they finally stopped by a short fence, keeping her tone light, though something in her chest tightened at the mere mention of it.

“I am but… it’s overwhelming. Your mother puts a lot of pressure on everything, me included.”

King could only nod her head in response. Pauline King strived for perfection and she didn’t care if it affected people around her. Everything was supposed to go according to plan and the wedding was a perfect opportunity for her to, once again, be in charge and make something beautiful.

“She’s a lot, isn’t she?” Rose’s reaction only confirmed her words. She could only fear what would happen during the planning of her wedding. She would, once again, get to experience the perfectionist craziness of her mother in person in unfortunate circumstances that just didn;t feel right. “Let’s talk about something else, shall we?” Raine proposed, leading Rose towards a wider path. Mostly because she couldn’t stand more wedding talk, but also because she didn’t want to make her friend uncomfortable.

“Gladly,” the blonde agreed with her almost immediately.

King needed a second to think. She pitched the idea of a different conversation but she had no idea what topic would be suitable. Especially here in public.

An idea did find its way into her head, however. A great and a painful one at the same time.

“Do you have any dreams, Rose? Something that keeps you up at night?”

To Raine it was a simple question. Something that would help her know Hale better and perhaps make the blonde forget about the wedding for a second.

But it made Rosalie realise that she never talked about anything like this with Royce. They had a lot of topics to discuss, but they never were about something that interested her or her future plans. Her fiancé unfortunately loved talking about either himself, or his job, and eventually his family, but he very rarely asked about her. He showered her with compliments, of course, and made her feel like the prettiest person to ever live in Rochester, but all of it was shallow. 

She loved him and so did he, but she wished he asked her about her wellbeing at least once.

“I always wanted to have a family,” she said then, letting out a sigh. “A big one with a husband who comes home with a smile and children that run around the garden. Two, if possible. A girl and a boy,” there was a shift in the tone of her voice. Raine could tell that Rosalie became more dreamy, like it was the only thing she ever wanted. “I was even thinking about the names once. Louise and Lawrence. Or, maybe, Florence.”

And well, perhaps it was. Her words were genuine and her eyes glimmered with excitement. She understood it, really. Raine’s dreams once were also full of things like these, the idea of love so rooted in her head that she idealised it which only made her wish for a life full of love and a big family.

But now it was only something that she just couldn’t give her. 

Only Royce could.

The house Jolene Coleman moved to two years prior, when she ended up in Rochester after a long time of travelling, conveniently was right across the street from the King estate. Both her and Raine, as she was the first person she met here, constantly took every advantage of that fact. They were best friends, after all, and the proximity only contributed to their friendship — even if Raine’s parents weren’t exactly fond of it. She heard them talk multiple times about how odd it was for Coleman to live alone, and how they thought that she didn’t have a life outside of her house. According to the gossip they’ve heard, or perhaps just their own speculation, people heard of her and knew she lived in the heart of Rochester, but almost never saw her outside of her house.

And if only she could, Raine would probably laugh right in their face and call them ridiculous.

She knew Jolene and the way she always had a lot to say, how she cared for the people that actually made the effort to get to know her. She knew how Coleman could sometimes disappear into a book for days, or into her covered patio, or into some wild art project that the world would never see. She used to jokingly call herself the second Paul Cézanne, since her works apparently resembled his, but Raine was convinced that she was more like the wannabe artist tutor her parents hired when she was twelve. She didn’t have a heart to tell her that though, or at least not in a serious way.

Jolene didn’t live a quiet life because she had nothing to do — she lived one because her world was already full.

And so was her personality.

Coleman wasn’t really shy, more like selective. She didn’t offer her friendship to everyone, giving out polite, mostly fake smiles instead. She was exactly the kind of person who looked you right in the eye when she spoke and somehow made you feel like she already knew something about you that, somehow, you haven’t figured out yet. And her words seemed to flow seamlessly, almost as if she always knew what to say, even if it was forced and rehearsed. Raine admired that about her. Envied it, sometimes.

The way her world worked was also very much intentional and King learned that in the first month that she knew her. Every book on her shelf had been read and reread, every plant in the small pots on her porch had a story behind, and every corner of her house felt like it contained a part of her life and the things that mattered to her. Sometimes she would tell her about the places she visited before arriving in Rochester, which usually made her wonder how a person so young could have traveled so much, but she didn’t question it, drinking from her teacup instead. 

They didn’t know everything about each other, as it was pretty impossible, but she could, without a doubt, call Jolene her confidant. She could see right through her anyway, so every ever so small struggle that happened in Raine’s life quickly became also a problem of Coleman’s. That was just the way it was with them. Raine never had to ask for help — Jolene noticed and acted, often before King even fully admitted the issue to herself. It was the kind of friendship that didn’t ever demand explanations — their presences seemed to have a soothing, softening, effect and it went both ways. They weren’t perfect, of course, and so wasn’t Jolene, as she sometimes disappeared into herself for days and temporarily cut contact with Raine. 

But King has long since learned that she shouldn’t take it personally. Jolene just was like that and friendship with her meant accepting all the rocky moments, the tides, and accepting that she, too, had her own secrets.

Still, in all their time together as friends, Raine never managed to unravel the full story of Coleman’s past. There were clues scattered all around her house and subtle hints in her words or expressions. Whether it was a trinket from a tropical country, the lack of framed family photos on the walls, or the sudden change of mood when someone asked why she lived alone, the clues were definitely everywhere. But whenever Raine asked her more directly all she got were soft deflections and charming half-truths. Jolene was an open book only in the parts that she herself chose to show and share, but the rest of her life was a shut tight mystery.

And yet she didn’t push. It was enough for her that she knew the version of Jolene that existed in Rochester, the one that she dared call her best friend. And if some days it felt like Jolene was carrying something heavy behind her easy smile, Raine never said it aloud. She just stayed, listened and made sure she was there when Jolene needed her too, even if Coleman would never admit that she did. It was what she liked most about their friendship. Whatever happened, whatever it was, it would find its solution. Everything did, with Jolene. Eventually. 

They haven’t spoken since the banquet, although she did see her outside a few times, and she really needed to see her again. There was too much happening both in her head and in her life and she needed someone to share it with.

Because if she had to act like a perfect daughter and, at that, a fiancée, there was no way she could do it alone. 

So she passed a message to one of the workers that she’s heading out, given that only Royce was home that evening and they still haven’t talked, and practically ran across the street to her second home. The lights inside were on so King was pretty sure that her friend was there and not outside on a walk somewhere, like she used to sometimes do. With her long hair tied at the back of head and a floral dress on, that made her feel the coldness of the upcoming night, she knocked on the door with a smile. She didn’t have to wait for too long — Jo’s steps could be heard from the moment her hand touched the wooden surface. 

“And here I thought you started avoiding me, darling,” Jolene laughed as she opened her door. “Come in, I’ll make you tea.”

“Avoiding?” Raine gasped dramatically, putting a hand over her heart. “Who do you have me for, Jo?”

Jolene stepped aside, letting Raine into the place that felt more like home than her real house. There was a heavy scent of cedar in the air that easily mixed with the warmth of the interior, wrapping Raine in a weird, and yet comforting hug.

“The future Mrs. Dwyer, perhaps?” There was a wide grin on Coleman’s face and a teasing glint in her eyes. She had heard about the news already, of course, as Raine’s father made sure to pass it along to others after the dinner. There was no backing out now, no matter what she tried to do.

“I hate you.”

“Tell me something I don't know.”

Raine smiled at their antics but didn't say anything else, sitting down on one of the armchairs instead. Jolene disappeared in the kitchen for a few seconds and returned with a cup of tea and a platter of muffins, which forced the ginger to raise her brow with confusion. There was no way that Jolene baked it herself, she barely even touched anything food related that wasn’t the fridge.

Almost as if she read her mind in that moment, Coleman remarked with a smile, “They’re edible, don’t worry about it. Didn’t bake ‘em myself.”

“Oh?” Raine tilted her head to the side. “Then who did? Last time I checked you weren’t friends with anyone who wasn’t scared of kitchen utensils.”

“Carlisle’s wife,” she shrugged, setting the plate on a side table. “Feel free to take one. I ate so much already that I think I might as well burst.”

“Sorry?” If only Raine was drinking something at that moment, she probably would’ve spat it all out. “He has a wife?”

“Why do you sound so surprised? Of course he does.” Jolene laughed in response, clearly amused by her friend’s reaction. She didn’t blame her for not knowing since she didn’t know anything about Cullen or his family, but it was still pretty hilarious. Every time she accompanied him somewhere people always assumed he was single but, truth be told, Esme just didn’t want to risk blending in with crowds so she usually just stayed home. Her bloodthirst still wasn’t under perfect control.

So she turned to baking, which provided her a sense of comfort despite not being able to eat it herself. Her and Carlisle, who usually had to go out with it alone, and sometimes also with the help of Jolene, gave it out to other people who needed it more, so nothing ever went to waste. Coleman was actually supposed to bring those baked goods to the town square later, but since Raine popped by in a worse mood, she figured nothing bad would happen if she gave her some. 

They were Esme’s work, they had to be good.

“Just… Probably just didn’t expect it. I don’t talk about private matters with people I just met, you know,” the redhead countered, picking up one of the muffins.

“Really? Because that’s not how our first conversation went.”

“Oh shut up, Coleman.”

They both laughed this time and Jolene sat down on a seat across from Raine. Her expression had softened slightly, though there was that curious flicker in her eyes. The same one that showed up every time she was trying to figure something, someone, out.

“So,” Jolene said, tapping her fingers on the armrest. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or are we pretending the muffins were enough to make you forget whatever storm’s brewing in that head of yours?”

Raine didn’t answer right away. She peeled the muffin gently, more for the distraction than the treat itself, and stared down at the small crumbs collecting on her lap. The silence stretched just a bit too long before she finally looked up. The jokes were long over and this time she actually had to answer. Just to get a little bit of peace and quiet, even if only for a split second.

“I can’t do this,” she said, her voice quiet. “I can’t marry him.”

Jolene didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. She just nodded, her eyes full of compassion.

“I know.”

That was all he said. And somehow it was more than enough.

“I should be happy, shouldn’t I? Father always could’ve chosen one of his associates that are twice my age, but he didn’t, and I’ve dreamed about falling in love since i was a little kid. And yet the fact that I don’t even get a say in that matter now feels worse than a few months back when I first heard the rumors about my upcoming engagement,” the words poured out of her so easily, as if Jolene was the right person to hear them all. And she was, but her presence didn’t make the confession any less raw. 

Raine knew that it was her duty to marry someone of a high rank, her mother made sure to tell her that the moment she was old enough to comprehend the words that were spoken to her. But as much as she loved her life and thrived in social circles like a true centre of attention, that one thing, one duty, proved to be too much. “Everyone’s acting like this is some kind of fairytale ending. Like I should be grateful. And I.. I feel like I’m standing in someone else’s story.”

All this time Coleman looked straight into her eyes, as if to let her know that she’s got her full attention. She didn’t even move when King spoke and, for once, she felt like she was being listened to. That’s just how their friendship was and Raine was sure as hell grateful for it.

“You should be happy. But you’re not. And that’s not something you owe anyone an apology for,” Jolene replied finally to break the heavy silence that fell over them.

Raine swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to chase away the tears starting to nab at her eyes. She had expected Jolene to offer some sarcastic quip to ease out the atmosphere, but instead, she offered truth. Simple and painful.

“My mother told me yesterday that Ezra is so kind and so wealthy, and that he’ll take care of me. As if I can’t take care of myself.” She gave a bitter laugh. “I don’t know who she was trying to convince. Me or herself.”

The expression on her mother’s face that day made her question whether her words were actually genuine. She might’ve been just trying to make her feel better about it to avoid further slip ups. “But that’s not the only reason, which is even worse.” she added, more quietly, but Jolene heard her clearly. 

Jolene leaned in slightly, her brow furrowing with concern. “What do you mean?”

Raine hesitated. The truth clung to the inside of her mouth like something sour, but she knew she couldn’t carry it alone anymore. She needed someone to understand, and if anyone would, it was Jolene. Besides, she already saw how she looked at her during the banquet, it wasn’t hard to notice who was her gaze focused on.

“Rosalie,” she said finally, barely louder than a whisper. “You know, my brother’s fiancée? We met at the banquet. People seem to think that she and Royce are the perfect match, almost the true golden couple.” She let out a shaky breath. “But it’s not. It’s not perfect. Not to me.”

“The one you were looking at the whole night? And then one that went after you when you left to stand at the balcony?” It was a rhetorical question. Jolene knew exactly who her friend was talking about. “Then yeah, I do. To be frank, I thought it might be something like that.”

“How-” she didn’t get a chance to finish her question. 

“Don’t worry, I only saw you because I was escorting Carlisle to the front door. But I know you, Rae, and I noticed the way you looked at her. I’m not as stupid as all of those drunk halfwits.”

Raine let out a relieved sigh, although there wasn’t really a lot that could be seen. They danced together and shared some touches, yeah, but the tension was stuck inside of her. No one could see it apart from her. And, well, Rose.

“I don’t know what it is,” she admitted, her voice cracking slightly. “I didn’t plan for this. I didn’t want it. But it’s there. Every time I see her, it’s like something in me just…” She faltered, looking for the words. “It wakes up. And I don’t think I can go back to pretending that it doesn’t.”

Jolene nodded. “You shouldn’t have to.”

But they both knew that she had to.

“She’s marrying my brother,” Raine snapped, not at Jolene, but at the weight of the truth. “And I’m marrying someone I don’t even…” she paused, putting a hand over her face. “God, I barely even know Ezra. I only met him a few times as a kid when he would visit our house with his parents.”

“It still can be fixed somehow” Jo replied gently. “You know, Rae, you’re allowed to feel this way. What’s right shouldn’t matter at all times, anyway.”

Raine blinked hard again, brushing away a tear that threatened to fall. “And what if it does matter? What if I keep trying to ignore it, and it just… swallows me whole?”

“Then I’ll throw you a rope,” Jolene said without missing a beat, offering her a smile. “Or a bottle of wine. Whichever works faster.”

That earned her a small laugh.

“And then we can both run away. Wherever in the world you want, just not the desert. 

Suddenly that offer didn’t sound as surreal. It almost felt like the best solution to this situation.

But she shouldn’t run. She wasn’t a coward.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Jo.” Coleman winked at her when she heard her response. “I really should forget about it, though. I appreciate that you’re not judging me, but we both know that I shouldn’t feel any attraction to a woman. My parents would disown me on the spot. Hell, I don't even know why I feel like this. But when I think about marrying Ezra, all I can see is Rosalie. And how wrong it feels to be someone’s wife when your heart’s already tangled somewhere else.” She let out a bitter laugh.

Raine blinked slowly, a single tear escaping before she could stop it.

“And she’s going to be my sister-in-law.”

She didn’t get a chance to say anything else. She felt the coldness of Jolene’s arms instead, wrapping her in a tight embrace. Her friend didn’t say a word, didn’t try to reason with her or offer an easy answer, because she knew there wasn’t one. Jolene just held her and in that moment, it was the only thing that made sense. That made something stir deep in Raine’s chest. She looked at her best friend, at the woman who knew all the worst parts of her and stayed anyway, and felt something unsteady but real settle in her bones.

She didn’t know if Rosalie felt the same. She didn’t know what would happen if she confessed the truth. But for the first time in days, maybe weeks, she felt like she didn’t have to walk through it all alone.

“I don’t understand how you do it,” Raine muttered, shaking her head. “You live so freely, without a care for what people think.”

Jolene grinned, moving back to her spot again. “That’s because I have no one to answer to.”

“You have yourself.”

“And that’s enough,” and those words gave her a perfect idea. “Come on,” she exclaimed, getting up from her seat and extending a hand towards Raine. “I want to show you something. Maybe that will make you forget about Dwyer. And Hale.”

King perked up at her words and a soft smile appeared on her face. “What is it, more fake Cézannes?” 

“Rude,” Jolene said, feigning offense. “And no. Not a painting. Not exactly.”

Raine paused and tilted her head. “Then what?”

“You’ll never find out if you don’t get up.”

And those words made her grab Jolene’s hand and follow her upstairs, the tea still steaming hot on the coffee table.

On some evenings the residence Raine's family lived in was oddly quiet. Even the workers seemed to disappear as there were no footsteps heard on the halls, or the idle chatter that followed them everywhere they went in groups bigger than one. Her father spent most of his time at the bank, so the lack of his presence was understandable, but it was a rare occurrence for other members of her family to leave at the same time. Royce worked with their father, yes, but he usually was back home in the evenings, and her mother didn’t really leave the estate if it wasn’t necessary. 

She did have more work with the upcoming wedding, however, and the engagement dinner in two days, so she spent most of her time with family friends or hired professionals, and that’s exactly what happened that evening. She took Royce with her, too, needing an opinion on some decorations for his, as she used to call it, big day. Which, in result, left Raine to attend to the matters of the house. It sounded worse than it actually was, as there wasn’t much to do and she quickly ended up back in her room with a book in hand, but her father always made a big deal about it.

For once in a long time she could enjoy her peace and quiet, at least for her body, as her mind was still racing, even after the talk with Jolene. There was a hot tea on her table and only one light on, allowing her to sink into the shadows of her room without feeling completely in the dark. The stillness should have been soothing, but it only gave her more space to think. Her eyes skimmed the lines of the book without truly understanding the words. Which also meant that the same paragraph had repeated itself twice now, and she didn’t even notice until the third time. She still tried, though.

“Miss Raine?” There was a subtle knock on the door, but loud enough to get Raine’s attention. She looked up from her book, focusing on the source of the noise. No one usually bothered her when she was alone, unless there was an important matter to attend to that couldn’t wait, or an impatient visitor that she had to greet, as everyone here was taught that it was impolite to keep anyone waiting. She also respected the people that worked for her family so she opened the door every time someone knocked.

“Yes?”

The door creaked open and one of the housemaids stepped inside, hands neatly folded in front of her. “You have a visitor, miss.”

Raine straightened in her chair, her mind already starting to spin. Could it be Jolene with something to say that she forgot about last time or perhaps one of her father’s business associates checking in? She knew there was one more option, also extremely realistic, but as much as she wanted the guest to be Rosalie, she also was aware that she shouldn't get her hopes up. 

Not anymore. Not ever.

She sighed softly, closing her book and placing it aside. “Who is it?”

The maid hesitated for a brief moment before answering. “Miss Hale. Rosalie, if I’m not mistaken.”

Raine froze. The name struck her with such force that for a moment she couldn’t tell if she’d heard it right. 

It took her a moment to regain her composure but when she did, she only smiled at the maid, hoping that she didn’t notice the slight change in her demeanor. “Thank you, Dolly. You may go.”

When the door closed and the girl disappeared, King rose from her seat far too quickly, brushing a hand over her dress to steady herself as if that could do anything about the nerves suddenly building in her chest. It felt different from the encounter at the park. Here she was in the comfort of her own home, and Rose was probably just a guest passing by to visit Royce, but yet it felt like there was no escape. Like something was bound to happen.

She moved across the hall with grace and went downstairs, her walk coming to a halt when she saw the door to the drawing room. Her pulse ticked loudly in her ears and she hated it. She shouldn’t react like this to the mere thought of meeting with Rosalie — it wasn’t okay. Wasn’t proper. Wasn’t following the social norms and rules she was taught since a very young age.

And definitely not her moral code.

That’s why it took a few minutes before she dared to open the door.

Rosalie stood in the center of the room, out of place in a way that made her look even more striking. She felt like something broke them when their eyes met and made them both freeze for a second. 

“Hi, Rose,” she greeted her with a smile, taking a few steps towards her. She was cautious, wary, but it would be weird for her to stand still by the door. Especially now that she was the host. “Royce isn’t here if it’s him you’re looking for,” a fake smile graced her features, the tone of her voice perfectly matching it. 

Oh, how she wanted to be the one that Rosalie came to visit.

Rosalie replied almost immediately, surprisingly stumbling over her own words. “I’m so sorry to bother you then, Raine. I thought Royce was already ho-”

But in reality, Rosalie did come here to see Raine. Not her fiancé. 

She didn’t have to know that though. Or shouldn’t. 

“It’s okay,” she interrupted her, extending her hand forward as if to try and stop Rosalie from apologizing. “Please, Rose, have a seat. Would you like a cup of tea?”

She saw how Rosalie pressed her lips together, how her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve and how her gaze seemed to constantly flicker to the floor like she was trying to avoid something. Or someone. Her, perhaps. She didn’t know her yet, not as much as she wanted to, but she was observant, so those gestures unfortunately didn’t go unnoticed. 

And it made her heart drop.

“Yes, thank you.”

A short reply and a short breath. Raine studied Rose’s expression once more with a concerned look on her face. This encounter was much different from the walk in the park a few days back. Much different. 

What could’ve happened?

Hale finally sat down and Raine gestured to one of the remaining maids to bring them a pot of tea and then leave them alone. She didn’t want anyone to listen in to their conversation, no matter how connected to her family they were. She took a seat across from her hesitantly. “Do you want me to wait with you? It might be a longer while before he comes back.”

Rosalie shook her head gently, a strand of hair slipping over her cheek as she looked down at her hands. “No,” she said, her voice a little too quiet for someone who should already feel at home in this house. “Actually I…” A beat of silence. “I didn’t come here for Royce.”

There it was. The words hung in the air like mist, heavy with meaning, with implication, with something neither of them dared name.  Raine’s breath caught in her throat for a moment, her fingers tightening around the armrest of her chair. 

“Oh,” she said after a pause that stretched just a little too long. “Then… what brings you here, Rose?”

Rosalie didn’t answer right away. The maid came in before she could anyway, placing a pot of tea with two cups on the table. The quiet between them settled again after she left, not awkward, but intense, almost like the silence before a storm.

“I just…” Rosalie exhaled slowly, her voice shaky. “I needed to see you.”

The admission was so soft it could’ve been missed, but Raine heard it. She felt it. It wrapped around her like a thread, pulling her in tight.

“Me?” she repeated, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Hale pondered for a while as if searching for a suitable answer. In her opinion there wasn’t anything she could say that would fit this description. She decided to change the topic then. Make sure that she was at least slightly right. 

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like if things were different?”

Raine stilled for a second before she tilted her head, looking at Rosalie with interest. She wasn’t expecting a different question but an answer to hers, a confirmation of her assumptions. She didn’t want to push her, however, so she just went with it. “Different how?”

Rosalie didn’t answer immediately. Instead she looked at something behind Raine’s head, as if the painting on a wall was the most interesting thing in that moment. “If we had met under different circumstances. If things weren’t so… complicated.”

King felt her breath hitch but quickly masked it with a quiet chuckle. “I try not to think about impossible things.”

Rose’s lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say more, but in the end, she only offered a small nod. “Right. Impossible.”

This small interaction, the otherwise planned question, made her think. It was dangerous, that kind of thought. It went right along the edge of what Raine was allowed to feel, or worse, want. But there was a weight behind Rosalie’s words that couldn’t be ignored. Like they were here, in Rochester, but belonged to some other parallel universe that neither of them had access to. And yet she, both of them, could imagine it vividly.

She sat up a little straighter in her seat, trying to keep a refined posture but failing miserably. She also tried not to stare, but Rosalie had a way of pulling her gaze in like gravity. Her eyes traced the soft angles of her face, memorizing the subtle crease in her brow, the way her lashes lowered when she was deep in thought. Raine told herself it was just curiosity, just observation — the same way both her and Carlisle watched the painting of a woman behind them. 

Most people don’t look at something, someone, so intensely when they’re simply ‘observing’.

Jolene said those words to her during the banquet and now she finally understood what she meant by it. None of this was ever going to be completely innocent or platonic. Raine was meant to fall for Rosalie and the way she carried herself since their very first meeting and that, more than anything, terrified her. It didn’t matter if she wanted it or no, fate intertwined them together a long time ago and they have yet to realise that. 

To her they were just confused friends who met under wrong circumstances.

But to the universe they were much more. Two souls bound together. Fated hearts. 

Soulmates.

They didn’t know it yet as life loved to play tricks even people who were sure they lived a perfect life. It brought Rose together with Royce when Mrs. Hale sent her all dressed to the bank where her father worked, and pointed Ezra towards Raine when their engagement was announced, but no one ever said that one’s partner had to be the last. It was almost as if no matter how long or good the other relationships were, the pull was inevitable. Raine was starting to get a slight idea of it when she recalled Jolene’s words and when she thought about how weird it was for her to feel that strong of a pull towards someone so early on, while Rose couldn’t stop thinking about how better, how more at ease she felt when she was around King. It was much different from how it was with Royce — he treated her like a beauty queen and she made her feel human.

The silence between them stretched, occasionally disrupted by the clink of porcelain as Raine slowly filled their cups with tea. It wasn’t uncomfortable, however, but quite enjoyable and soothing. Maybe they couldn’t find answers to their questions in it, but they could at least find a bit of comfort. 

King gently pushed one of the cups towards the blonde, a soft smile on her face and their fingers brushed for a brief moment. The contact was entirely accidental, it had to be, but it still sent a ripple down her spine. Hale’s eyes met her in an instant as a response, startled and unsure. There was something oddly familiar in her gaze that Raine recognized. Hunger, maybe. Or perhaps the restrained longing and hesitancy. A mirror of her own emotions.

“I think about it too, you know,” she whispered, suddenly getting enough courage to continue their conversation. “What it would be like if things were different.”

Rosalie’s head turned then, slowly, as if afraid of what she might see in Raine’s expression. “And what do you see?” she asked.

“Honestly? I don’t know.” It was the truth. This time she didn’t feel forced to lie or to hide anything that was going on in her mind. She felt bare and vulnerable in the presence of Rosalie, but somehow safe in it too. And it made her want to tell her everything. “But what I know is that I can’t seem to get you out of my mind.”

The confession took a lot of bravery and, for a split second, Raine didn’t believe she said those words out loud.

But she did. And there was no going back.

Rosalie’s breath caught in her throat, her finger still wrapped tightly around the cup of tea she didn’t even try. The warmth emanating from the drink had nothing on the heat rushing to her cheeks and yet she didn’t look away. Not this time.

Something between them changed in that moment. Like a secret that got cracked open.

Her voice trembled as she answered, “I thought it was just me.”

It wasn’t loud. It didn’t have to be. Rosalie’s words settled between them silently and Raine’s lips parted slightly. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, pounding against her ribs like it wanted out, like it needed to leap forward and meet Rosalie’s halfway. .And in that suspended moment, it felt as though the whole world around them had gone quiet.

I thought it was just me.

“I don’t know what to do with this,” Raine admitted, her voice quieter, heavier. “With you.”

She sighed. “What I feel…” she paused, not sure if she should only speak for herself at that moment. “What we feel doesn’t even matter now. You’re getting married to Royce and I’m supposed to become a wife of someone I haven’t seen since childhood. A stranger.”

They both knew that, unfortunately, she was right. 

“But then again, you make me forget what I’ve been taught to want and to do,” she said softly. “And I don’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse.”

Rosalie chuckled dryly and then got up from her seat to join Raine on the loveseat. She moved carefully, as if unsure, but didn’t back out. The King heiress shivered when the blonde sat beside her as she felt her touch on her skin — there wasn’t too much space so they had to 

She turned to face her, a soft smile on her face. The proximity was dizzying, yet comforting. It was much different from how she felt at the balcony that day. This time she craved this closeness, dreamt about it at night when she actually got a good night of sleep. 

“You say that,” Rosalie whispered, “But you don’t seem cursed to me.”

Raine’s breath faltered. Her gaze dropped to Rosalie’s lips for a moment too long, and the realization of it made her look away. “Maybe not,” she said, “But it feels like I’m standing at the edge of something. And if I fall, I don’t know where I’ll land.”

Rosalie tilted her head, watching her. “Then don’t fall,” she said. “Not unless I fall with you.”

It was too much. Too honest. Too dangerous.

And still, Raine found herself whispering back, “Would you?”

Rosalie’s eyes met hers then. She didn’t answer with words and hesitantly reached out and tucked a loose strand of Raine’s hair behind her ear, instead Her fingers lingered near her jaw.

“I think I already have,” she said.

King raised her hand and let her fingers brush over Rose’s jaw. “You shouldn’t say things like that,” Raine murmured. “I’m trying so hard not to hope.”

“But I don’t want to lie anymore,” she replied.

Raine leaned in before she could stop herself, drawn in not by desire but by something deeper. Her forehead touched Rosalie’s, barely grazing, as though asking permission through proximity. And Rosalie didn’t move away.

This time Hale was the one to speak first. “It’s dangerous, isn’t it? What we’re doing right now?”

“It is. And I-” Raine hesitated, moving away from Rosalie. Her gaze fell on her lips again, just for a second, and then focused on something on the opposite wall. “I can’t do this to Royce, Rose. He’s my brother, after all. Family.”

Rosalie nodded slowly, her expression clouded with something that looked like both understanding and devastation. “I know,” she whispered. “I wouldn’t ask you to. But now I’m also not so sure if I can get myself to marry him.”

The space between them felt even heavier now, as if every unspoken word they didn’t allow themselves to say filled the air with weight. “I just needed you to know,” Rosalie continued after a beat. “Before everything gets too far. Before it’s too late to say any of it.”

Raine looked at her with a sad smile. “I’m glad you did.” 

“And I too want you to know that even if it all is so new and unusual to me, and even if we don’t know each other for long, the moment I heard about my engagement all I could think about is that I would prefer to marry you instead of Ezra.”

The attraction turned into something more pretty quickly and it made Raine feel terrible about it, but she couldn’t stop her heart’s needs. But now, somehow, when she said it outloud and realised that none of it can ever go past the drawing room or the already intimate enough touch, she felt even worse.

Rosalie laid her head on Raine’s shoulder with a sigh. “I guess we’re both in trouble now.”

“That we are,” King forced a laugh and took a deep breath, wrapping her arm around the blonde’s shoulders. And they stayed like this for a while, waiting for her family to come back to actually say their goodbyes. Because even if they couldn’t fall for each other now, or possibly ever, they both would never forget that conversation.

No matter what.

dividers: cafekitsune gifs: hagrove

Part 1・Part 3

[poisonlove]

Omg! You're taking requests!!! ME haaappy! 'cause i have one eheh

Jenna xfemreader

where you find somewhere a love letter for you, actually.. The first part is really sweet, a classic love letter but the second part is.. quite interesting: the anonymous writer describes in detail what they would like to do to you and with you.

You want to find out who the writer is but a suspiciously nervous Jenna tries to stop your "investigation".

Have a good day:)

I actually like the idea a lot. Transitioning from a romantic sentence to something more sensual is something that had crossed my mind before, but I hadn't found a prompt for it until now.

I've made a few changes, but I hope you'll still like it. Enjoy reading!

I NEED YOU | J.O

As I open the locker in search of books for the next class, I notice a folded sheet atop my science book.

Arching my eyebrows in confusion, I scan the school corridor, trying to discern the mysterious sender. The only people around seem engrossed in their cliques, completely oblivious to my perplexity.

With a mental shrug, I abandon the search and focus on the letter, smiling shyly at the unexpected gesture. In an era dominated by technology, receiving a handwritten letter has become a rare and special occurrence. I delicately grasp the letter, running my fingers over the crumpled paper that evidently forced its way through the cracks of my locker. I flip the letter several times, searching for any name on the outside, but all I see is a completely blank sheet.

"Hey y/n!" The voice of the basketball team captain, Isaac Ortega, resonates in the corridor, grabbing my attention. I turn and smile at him, considering him one of my closest friends.

Isaac's brown eyes fixate on the sheet in my hands, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Do you have a secret admirer? Uyy," he whispers, attempting to grab the letter.

With a smirk, I snatch it away, tucking it into my backpack pocket. "Mind your own business, Ortega," I say absentmindedly, rolling my eyes slightly irritated.

Isaac raises his hands in surrender.

"Anyway, see you after practice?" he asks curiously. "I think so… now I have to go, I have a class," I reply quickly, grabbing the necessary book from the locker and carelessly stuffing it into my backpack.

My eyes shift along the figure of Jenna Ortega, Isaac's younger sister, passing by us. Jenna wears her classic earphones, walking elegantly in the corridor. Dressed in ripped jeans and a red and black plaid shirt, Jenna exudes a mysterious aura. As her eyes briefly meet mine, she gives me a small smile before continuing on her way.

I knew Jenna only by sight; however, our conversations were limited.

"Hey JEN!" Isaac shouts, trying to catch his sister's attention. Jenna stops and removes an earphone, turning towards her brother. Isaac grins widely.

"Remember that you have to come to practice today… you promised," Isaac pouts, feigning innocence, and Jenna rolls her eyes, responding with a raised middle finger.

I chuckle softly.

"I love you too, Jenna," Isaac exclaims with fake sorrow, smiling and giving me a quick wink before turning away, draping his arm over the shoulders of a guy walking beside him, most likely a teammate.

I sigh and start walking towards my next class.

(...)

With a heart beating fast, I step through the classroom door, and the breathlessness betrays my sprint to avoid being late. A hurried glance around reveals a reassuring scene: the teacher hasn't arrived yet.

A sigh of relief grazes my lips, easing the tension in my shoulders. The chance to avoid the stern gaze of the teacher grants me a moment of tranquility. With a stealthy step, I head towards the farthest corner of the classroom, finding refuge near the window.

I place my backpack on the desk and sit down, releasing a sigh of frustration.

With a resignation barely perceptible, I begin to diligently retrieve the materials for the new lesson when my gaze stops on it: the letter. An aura of mystery envelops it, and the curiosity creeping inside me is irresistible. The paper, still neatly folded, lies among the books and notes, ready to unveil its contents.

With hands slightly trembling with excitement, I grab the letter, fingers gliding over the smooth surface as I observe its external appearance.

"Good morning, everyone," the voice of the literature teacher dances through the classroom walls, interrupting my brief moment of intimacy with the letter. I avert my gaze from its surface and observe the authoritative figure of the teacher starting to write on the chalkboard.

"Turn to page 75 of the textbook; today, we'll delve into Shakespeare," the teacher announces with authority, outlining the day's agenda. The succession of murmurs in the class, coupled with the rustling of pages turning, creates a vibrant background of activity as everyone prepares for the lesson.

The letter, momentarily forgotten in my hand, returns to the center of my attention with an irresistible pull.

I decide to open it.

Y/n… what I wanted to write in this letter is something quite simple: I like you, and a lot.

"So, Isaac was right," I mutter to myself.

I love everything about you; you're intelligent, beautiful, and incredibly interesting, not to mention a wonderful person. Your eyes were immediately my downfall, the way they light up when you're excited or when they gaze upon me makes me feel excited and, at the same time, as if a shiver runs down my spine.

"I seem to know her…" I think with curiosity.

You make me feel things I've never felt before in my life, thoughts for a girl that had never crossed my mind until I saw you for the first time. I still remember our first encounter, even though I was watching you from afar. We were doing gymnastics, and Jessica spilled water on you, something I still owe her thanks for.

The way you lifted your shirt to reveal your toned stomach to dry your face… it caught the attention of my eyes.

Something in me ignited.

"However… what a peculiar way to confess their feelings," I suppress a smile and continue reading the remaining lines.

Returning to things I like… your lips. Goodness, they are a daily temptation I always want to indulge in. I just want to place my lips on yours and kiss you until I run out of breath.

Your hair… it looks so soft, and I desire to wrap my fingers around it, playing or simply caressing you.

Your smile… voice, laughter… they are all things I like and want to see every day, especially causing and being the recipient of it.

Your hand…

I raise an eyebrow in confusion reading the latter.

I would love to grasp it and intertwine my fingers with yours, check if your skin is delicate, feel the strength of your large hand over mine, completely overshadowing it.

That hand I want to caress my face, running the thumb over my lower lip, gently putting the tip into my mouth, wishing for you to suck on it.

"This letter is taking a strange turn," I think carefully.

I want that hand around my neck, gripping slightly to make me understand to whom I belong, that hand that will later trail along my body with cunning and strength, slender fingers skillfully working on my flesh.

"Damn…" my cheeks flush with red as saliva begins to fade.

I want that hand to spank me if I misbehave… I want that…

"Miss l/n, could you answer the question I asked you?" The teacher's voice diverted my attention from the letter, and with flushed cheeks, I looked into her eyes, receiving a reproachful gaze.

"Can you repeat the question?" I timidly ask, nervously swallowing saliva.

"Where is Romeo and Juliet set?" she asks again. "Verona," I immediately reply, causing the teacher to blink in surprise. "Correct… well, let's continue with the lesson," she begins, and I roll my eyes in annoyance, directing my gaze back to the letter.

I want you to make me feel like no one else has made me feel: possessed. I desire your hand to possess me; I want it to be rough with me because I'm not delicate like a porcelain doll… I simply want you to use me as you please.

I cross my legs, feeling warmth in the lower abdomen.

I want to feel your fingers inside me, enveloped in my warmth, giving me pleasure until exhaustion. I want to see your eyes hooded with excitement as you continue to penetrate me with your fingers again and again, without diminishing the intensity.

I want that tongue working on my bundle of nerves; I want to feel its full length along my intimacy, making me sigh and moan until I'm breathless. I want you to put it in my mouth, letting me taste myself; I want you to keep licking even if I've already come…

I love your name, and I want to moan it every night, day, second of my life… something I already do within the walls of my room.

"Oh my God…" I bite my lower lip. "This girl is making me feel… uh…" I think to myself, unable to ignore the dampness between my legs.

I want you, I want you y/n, I desire you ardently.

—Anonymous.

I fold the letter and begin to contemplate the room, analyzing what I had read. I don't know how, but I would find out who this girl was.

I needed to know.

[pigfacedbitch]

It's A Trap!

summary : Prince Arthur uses reader to lure Merlin out whenever he is hiding from him.

word count : 0.5k

type : imagines

pairing/s involved : Merlin x Reader (?)

warning/s : none. just Merlin pining over reader and Arthur being an ass.

here is my masterlist!

Note : I thought of this when I watched the clip where Arthur is looking for Merlin and he was hiding behind the door. 😂 It was a one shot before and I heavily edited it too.

There is no denying that Prince's Arthur's manservant is in love with (Y/N), a noble lady from one of the most prestigious houses in Camelot.

Everyone, even Arthur himself, knows it. And that's saying something. 🫢😂

From the way Merlin would stare at you with heart in his eyes, how he would follow you everywhere like a dog, or his ears pick up whenever he hears your name.

Gaius almost wants to take a leaf out of Van Gogh's book and tear off his own ears because Merlin wouldn't shut up about you. He also writes about you in his letters for Hunith.

Now, does Arthur take advantage of it? Of course, he does. Like,"Do you know Lady (Y/N) would be there?" or "If you fetch flowers for Gwen, you could also get some for your lady love."

The epitome of the statement, however, is making you his trap. Confused? I'll explain further later.

"Merlin?! Where are you?!"

It's very common for the palace staff to hear the prince of Camelot blaringly calling out to his manservant. Although some people catch Merlin scurrying away from him or has an idea of his whereabouts, no one bothers to tell Arthur anything.

After all, it's completely understandable and why many servants can empathize. As admirable and honorable the prince is, he can be a handful at times.

That's where you come in.

Whenever Arthur has given up searching for Merlin, he would search for you instead.

He often finds you in the gardens with the other noble ladies, helping some servants with menial tasks, or having tea with Morgana and Gwen. Uther enjoys your company too, making the usual stoic ruler laugh and gossip.

"May I excuse Lady (Y/N)? I need her assistance with something."

"Is it Merlin again?"

"...Yes."

You would go to Gaius' chambers, the kitchens, servant's quarters, or anywhere Merlin could've gone to. Then, you would tell anyone that you're looking for him to speak about personal matters and you'll be waiting for him with a place of your choice.

Arthur would wait with you, but he's hiding where Merlin can't see him.

Why do you continue helping the royal prat? It's because you find it funny.

You're also curious, thinking how long will it take Merlin to stop seeking you out because most of the time it's just one of Arthur's traps.

The prince's knights bet on it. Gwaine and Leon are winning— saying how Merlin will never learn.

It's true, he doesn't. I guess love does make you an idiot.

Merlin always approaches you with a beaming grin on his face and blushed cheeks, acting like a lovesick school boy.

"My lady, you were looking for me?"

"Well you see..."

Arthur would wait for Merlin to get closer before grabbing the manservant in his clutches.

"Here you are, you idiot!"

Sometimes Merlin would free himself and run, sometimes he doesn't and Arthur would drag him away while warning him of possible punishments.

But he never misses the chance to look back and give you the most charming smile anyone has ever graced you with.

"Merlin really loves you, doesn't he?" You hear Gwen beside you, linking your arm with hers. Nervous and worried, you reply—

"Yes. I just hope that I get to tell Merlin that I share his affections. But Arthur is always with him."