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yourheartandmind · 2 years ago

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Know You Don't

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: Knowing didn't always translate to understanding, and loving Wednesday meant learning that the hard way.

The reality of dating someone rarely goes exactly as expected. Sometimes, this is for the better. Sometimes, the love transforms into a waltz of teaching and learning; a journey beyond yearning and into accepting and understanding. Sadly, however, most of the time it's not.

When it came to loving Wednesday Addams, you knew from the start that loving her would be unlike anything else.

How could it be?

From the beginning, the girl had been reserved and unaffectionate, more likely to commit murders for you than hold you through spouts of tears. And though you had always known better than to expect anything more than that, it would still prove to be your greatest oversight.

Because knowing did not always mean understanding, and for all that you might have tried to ignore this fact, it was the inescapable difference that doomed your relationship.

Watching the girl now, you held back your sigh of frustration as she rolled her eyes at you. The action made you bristle, and if it had been from anyone else, you might've snapped. Yet, because it was the girl you loved, you fought against the urge to let your irritation show.

Even as the lines around Wednesday's lips deepened, conveying her displeasure and etching it onto her face, you made every effort to remain composed. In that moment, you couldn't help but notice how her expression still bore traces of the stoic stare you had become accustomed to - once wonderfully intriguing. But now, those traces served only as a painful reminder of just how little Wednesday seemed to care, sometimes.

"I don't think I'm asking for too much," you pleaded, your voice tinged with a hint of desperation as you searched for any glimmer of understanding in her darkened eyes, "Just a little more affection, Wednesday, a small gesture here and there to let me know you're there for me when I need it." Your mind wandered to the countless sleepless nights, of the loneliness that always followed. It was during those times that Wednesday seemed to disappear, leaving you to confront your thoughts and solitude alone.

"In what ways, Y/N?" She pressed, her arms crossed defensively over her chest, as if erecting an imaginary wall between the two of you.

Not that it seemed to really matter either way. Even when she was physically present, like she was now, it still felt like Wednesday was a world away. Her physical proximity held no comfort. Her gaze had no empathy. It felt as if your struggles were inconsequential to her; as if you were inconsequential to her.

“Affection?” There was the beginning of mockery in her voice, causing a pang of defensiveness to course through you, “As in physical gestures? You want me to embrace you?” Her words felt demeaning, as if your deepest desires were being reduced to childish wants. But just as likely was the possibility that it was simply your imagination playing a cruel trick on you.

"Yes, physical gestures, Wednesday," you replied, your voice attempting to stay calm despite how you might have been feeling inside.

It was as if your plea was falling on deaf ears, though, Wednesday's expression remaining unchanged - as if she couldn't even fathom what you were saying. You were just stopping short of practically begging the girl to show you love, yet the only emotion you found within her gaze was something akin to boredom. And when the raven hair girl finally spoke again, her words were measured and deliberate, only fueling your frustration further.

"I simply don't see the point in such trivial things," she replied, voice carrying a cold detachment, "Are my options for affection really limited only to meaningless, physical touch? Can I not express my love in any other way?"

Her words struck you uncomfortably, causing a knot of confusion to tighten in your chest. You had hoped for even a glimmer of understanding, any willingness to find common ground. Instead, Wednesday was challenging the very essence of your request, leaving you questioning your own needs and desire for affection.

"It's not about triviality or limitations!" You explained, a mix of frustration and yearning in your voice, "I know that you express your love in your own unique way, and I love that about you. But sometimes I just need tangible reassurance. Sometimes, I just need to know you're there when I get lost in my own doubts and worries."

But, in reality, the last sentence remained unspoken; the words that exposed your vulnerability lodged in your throat. Your hesitation was tangible as you found yourself unable to admit your need for reassurance any further, as if exposing your deepest desires would be an admission of weakness.

“I just…” You attempted again, but once more finding the right words escaping you. The unfinished sentence dangled in the silence, leaving the conversation unresolved.

Despite everything, you allowed yourself to silently hope that Wednesday would grasp the depth of the situation without your explicit pleas; that she would understand the importance small gestures of affection could have on the chains around your heart. But as the silence stretched on, it became clear that the unspoken plea would remain unheard; the usually acute and observant Wednesday somehow missing all the signs you were desperately trying to convey.

"You're not understanding," she exhaled, voice carrying a weariness that matched the heaviness you felt.

Suppressing the retort that it was her who failed to understand, you locked your jaw. The words teetered on the tip of your tongue, ready to be unleashed in a moment of frustration and pent-up energy. But as you looked into Wednesday's eyes, vacant and unbothered, you felt all the fight drain out of you. The startling realization of your situation suddenly dawned onto you.

"I'm sorry, you're right," you admitted, the words slipping out with a sigh, carrying with it resignation and the bitter taste of defeat. The apology was empty, devoid of genuine remorse. It was like nothing more than an obligatory olive branch in your attempt to reconcile.

Wednesday, however, nodded, as if your admission was something she had expected all along, accepting your apology with an air of anticipated detachment. A silent scoff almost escaped your lips in response, a bitter reaction to her lack of acknowledgment.

But eventually, resignation seeped into your bones, and acceptance settled heavily onto your shoulders, weighing you down with the realization that your battle for understanding had been a solitary one - waged against an opponent who hadn't recognized the fight in the first place.

Wednesday turned away without a second glance, effortlessly resuming her day as if nothing had transpired, rubbing salt into your wound as you were left to wallow in the futility of your efforts.

Perhaps this time, it was she who had missed all the signs you had desperately tried to convey, consumed by her own world. But, you couldn't help but feel like the eternal fool, allowing her to emerge victorious once again, surrendering your own world to be lost in hers.

---

Unofficial Previous Part: Imposition

#wednesday x reader #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams imagines #wednesday addams x reader fluff

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seijorhi · 3 months ago

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What kind of yanderes do you think Togame and Ume would be?

umemiya's a walking red flag of pushy, overbearing behaviour, the problem is that even ithough you see it coming, there's not much you can do to stop it.

no one blinks an eye when he plucks your phone out of your hand to see who you're messaging, or 'mysteriously' keeps bumping into you time and time again while you're out with friends, always inserting himself with a bright, friendly grin, an arm slung possessively over your shoulders.

he'll dote on you, smother you in (annoying) affection, ignore every boundary you try to put in place, slowly but surely snuffing out every relationship he doesn't like – if you want friends that badly, you can come hang with his.

he's everywhere, it's suffocating, it's inescapable, and none of his friends – no one with the power to actually try and stop him – sees anything wrong with it.

now togame, togame's different.

togame's willing to be the worst version of himself if it means you stay his. it's a bone deep surety that no one else can give you what he can, love you as deeply as he does, none of it. if he has to play the villain – scare off your friends, beat up some asshole who's causing trouble for you at work, even threaten you when you start to get a bit unruly, it's no skin off his back.

he doesn't even care all that much if you fight against it. you can kick and scream all you like, togame knows what's best for the both of you in the long run and this is it. Ultimately of course he wants you happy and willing, but in the short term he'll settle for you being within arm's reach.

and i do mean that quite literally. you don't have to play nice, but you will sit pretty on his lap (endure his lazy, wandering touch) when they're at ori or out doing business. he doesn't much trust you out on your own, and if you try and weasel your way out of it, it's easy enough for him to send a few of his underlings to... convince you to rethink that decision.

from the outside, people think you're togame's latest amusement, a toy he'll fuck around with for a while before boredom sets in and he casts you aside to move onto the next. he doesn't do much to dissuade that notion, either. he's more affectionate in private, more willing to let that mask slip.

#rhi answers #startcarvingdarling

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hollandorks · 1 year ago

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haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter eleven

Summary: After the sudden deaths of your mother and grandmother, you’re forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke your heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, you vow to get to the bottom of your former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what you’re expecting. a

a/n: I'd like to say week was crazy and that's the reason the update took a little longer than usual, but actually I had the week off and I was just taking a break! Anyways, things are starting to get a little crazy now...oops

Series Masterlist

word count: 2.3k

How many more women would die?

And how much time did that buy her before she was next?

Two nights after the second murder–another woman who eerily resembled y/n–she finally got a text from that same unknown number.

11 tonight, same place.

She was almost giddy. She had been hiding in her room for two days like a good girl, trying not to bug Gordon or even Martinez as they investigated the second murder. But she’d be damned if she wasn’t going crazy again already.

The news was calling it a potential serial killer, but she knew better. They all knew better.

It was the Gallo family hunting her down.

She dressed in warm, dark clothes again and texted Alfred where she was going. She wanted to leave early, but knew it was a bad idea. She waited until a couple of minutes after eleven to go downstairs, just to be sure the Batman was out there. As she stepped into the elevator his one word text came through. Outside.

She was excited to see him. She finally had something to look forward to, and it was talking to a vigilante, of all things.

And there he was, leaning against the motorcycle without a care in the world. She let her eyes trail from his legs crossed at the ankle to his crossed arms to his masked face. Despite the fact he was literally covered head to toe, a thrill went through her.

“Hi,” she said lamely when she was close enough.

He simply handed her the helmet and got back on the bike.

Some of the excitement went out of her like a balloon deflating. “No hello?” she said, her voice light and teasing.

“Hello. Ready?” he asked when her arms were around his waist. She rolled her eyes.

“Ready.”

They sped off into the night. She let her eyes close. She was almost at peace for the first time in weeks, and it was in the wake of another murder and on the back of a motorcycle with a vigilante she barely knew.

But she had not been made to be idle. Sitting at home, hiding from mobsters, was doing her in. Add to that not only boredom, but grief and painful memories from all sides, and she was surprised she really hadn’t jumped out of a window yet. It was the reason she and Bruce were constantly sneaking out as kids, the reason she had taken extra classes for fun in college, the reason she did things that were objectively stupid. The reason she was an investigative reporter and not in a more steady, safe job.

The motorcycle jolted to a stop.

She opened her eyes and slid off, tucking the helmet under her arm.

Even though she knew what to expect, the fear still stole her breath. She really, really hated heights, and yet she was willingly going up onto rooftops. Stupid. She muttered to herself as the soft noise of the grappling hook split the quiet air.

Y/n tried really hard not to embarrass herself by clinging to Batman, but it didn’t work. At least this time, she let go quickly and didn’t fall on her ass.

She cleared her throat as she stepped away and murmured a thanks. She inched carefully towards the center of the rooftop to get her bearings. It was a different roof this time, next door to the one they’d been on that first night.

“Thanks for doing this,” she said quietly as she set up her camera. The pub below was twice as busy now that it was the weekend.

“Is it so bad at home?” he asked after she had taken several pictures, startling her. She glanced over at him, but he was busy studying the street below. His gloved fingers tapped an idle rhythm on his leg.

“Yes,” she said without thinking. She looked through the camera’s viewfinder and adjusted another setting for the low light and the distance. “I mean–sort of. It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?”

The camera shutter was the only sound between them for a minute. “I told you my grandmother and my mother died.” A soft noise of assent. “And to start with, Wayne Tower, as nice as it is, is full of memories of my grandmother. She raised me. Every time I walk around a corner I–” The words stuck in her throat as the grief rose unbidden within her. “–I have no idea if something is going to remind me of her and then I have to remember that she’s gone. It’s like getting punched every time. Or having the breath knocked out of you.”

“I understand,” he said softly, and she knew that he had lost someone too.

She blinked back tears and nodded. She focused on the pictures to distract herself. “On top of that–” She couldn’t admit it. Because how pitiful would it sound? How stupid, how childish, would it sound to say, On top of that, I told Bruce Wayne that I loved him three years ago and he broke my heart and I still can’t stand to be around him. “It’s complicated,” she finally said again. “Someone broke my heart, and I haven’t gotten over it. I’m not sure I ever will.” Her voice lowered until the last words were almost a whisper, choking her until she could barely speak.

There was a sharp intake of breath next to her.

She faced him but he was staring below.

She frowned and tried to see what she had missed that made him make that noise, but she couldn’t see anything.

They lapsed into silence.

“Got any snacks in that fun belt of yours?” she asked a while later. Her voice was falsely light to her own ears. But what else was she supposed to do? She had basically trauma dumped on a virtual stranger. It was awkward, too awkward. She grit her teeth and silently cursed her mouth for running away from her, like usual.

A huff that might have been a laugh. “No. No snacks.”

She faced him fully this time, one hand on her hip while the other still held the camera. “No snacks? What kind of vigilante are you if you aren’t prepared for everything?”

He shrugged but he was smiling. “A bad one, I guess.”

“I’m making my own belt for next time and filling it with snacks,” she muttered.

Things were a little easier after that. Batman still didn’t talk much, but she did come to learn that he made most of his gadgets too–like the gauntlets that held a grappling hook–and most of those things he had added after bad experiences.

“One time I fell in the sewer because I didn’t have a flashlight,” he said in a low voice. She had to smother her laugh so as not to draw attention. “Now I have two.”

She was also able to elicit an answer about his favorite snacks, learning that he had a surprising sweet tooth. She asked if he ate healthy in order to stay in shape for being a vigilante, and he answered that his diet focused on strength and stamina. She made a joke about protein shakes that had him turning a cough into a laugh.

It was nearly one in the morning when she saw him.

They had been chatting quietly, the music coming from the perpetually open pub door drowning most of it out, when a man stepped outside.

Y/n almost dropped the camera.

“He’s here,” she said in a whisper. She quickly snapped pictures.

She hadn’t expected to recognize the man who had escaped.

But there he was, standing below her, talking to one of the women smoking as she leaned against the bricks by the front door.

“You’re sure?” Batman asked.

She could feel her pulse pounding in her throat. Her hands shook so badly she had to fight to steady them so as to get a good picture.

He had been closest to her that night. His face in the most light.

He had been holding the gun.

It played in her mind again, the noise drawing their attention, the almost slow-motion turn of four heads.

“Fuck,” she whispered.

And, somehow, it was like the man heard her.

He looked up, across the street and to the roof, and met her eyes.

Y/n scrambled back away from the edge.

“He saw me,” she whispered. “He saw me.”

Batman was crouched next to her, hidden by the low wall that ran around the entire edge of the building.

“You’re sure?” he said again, but his eyes were on her face this time. It was too dark to tell what color they were. Probably not brown–they were too light.

She mentally shook herself to focus. “I’m positive.”

It was his turn to curse. “Fuck,” he muttered. He grabbed his phone and texted something quickly. He was actually good at texting–she had expected him to text like an old man with just his pointer finger.

He put the phone away and crept closer to the edge of the building. He peeked his head over the wall, barely clearing it, but it was enough. He ducked back down as a shout rang out.

“Oh God,” y/n said. The fear threatened to overwhelm her. If the pub was a hangout for the Gallo family–and at this point, she was certain it was–that meant a lot of armed men and maybe women were right there.

They were trapped there, the motorcycle hidden next to a dumpster down below.

Next to a very convenient fire escape that led straight to where the two of them were currently crouched.

“Listen to me,” Batman said, drawing her focus. He was crouched over her where she was still splayed in a half-crouch from her mad dash to get out of sight. He touched her chin. “Do exactly as I say. We’re going to have to move fast. The priority is getting you and that camera out of here and not leading them home, do you understand?”

She nodded frantically. “Yes,” she said on a breath. “What do we do? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s not your fault.” He was grabbing something off of his belt and texting at the same time. “Gordon’s on the way but it’ll be too late. If they’re smart, they’re going to surround the building. Someone will be sent to the roof from inside, someone up the fire escape.” He held three small flat disks in his hand and pocketed the phone again. “When they’re distracted, we’re going to make a break for it. Can you drive the motorcycle if you have to?”

She stared at him, openmouthed. “Yes,” she said after a second. “Bruce taught me, years ago. I can figure it out.”

“Good. I’ll stay to fight if–”

“No!” she said, the word too loud in the darkness. Below, it had gone quiet. Too quiet.

Batman seemed to realize it at the same time, his head tilted. “The music’s off,” he murmured. “We’re going to have to move.”

He crept to the edge of the wall and peered over.

A gunshot echoed through the night. A chunk of brick exploded close to Batman’s head. She squeaked and covered her mouth to hide the sound. Her eyes were wide as he came back to her side.

“Hold on tight. Run if I say run. Do you understand?”

She nodded. She had never been so afraid, even that first night she had met him. She hadn’t been surrounded then. She hadn’t had to do anything but run and now–now there was so much more on the line.

“If you have to leave me behind, do not go straight home. Ride around as much as you can, as randomly as you can, and try to meet Gordon somewhere. Got it?”

He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her, still crouched, to the spot closest to where the motorcycle was.

He was giving her so many instructions she could barely keep up. Run, stay alive, get to Gordon. Leave him behind if she had to.

She didn’t want to leave him behind. She didn’t know if she could.

He let go of her long enough to throw each of the three flat disks in a separate direction. Two landed in the alley below, one at each end.

“Ready?” he asked, an echo of the start of their night. He held something out to her. The motorcycle key.

She shook her head but he was grabbing her anyway. There were three small explosions. Smoke poured out of the ground. There was shouting, gunfire.

She realized her face was wet with terrified tears.

Batman leapt.

The ground rushed up at them fast, too fast, and she fought against the instinct to hold on tighter, to close her eyes. She needed them wide open, needed to be ready to run.

With a yank, he pulled up right before they hit the pavement, and landed impossibly softly on his feet.

There was smoke everywhere now. She could barely make out the dumpster the motorcycle was hidden behind.

“Go,” he whispered in her ear and gave her a shove.

She ran.

There was more gunfire behind her and she ducked on instinct. Her hands smacked against the side of the dumpster as she lost her balance.

“Over here!” she heard from somewhere in the smoke. There was a loud grunt and more gunshots. Her heart was pounding so loud it echoed the gunfire in her ears.

She sobbed through her teeth as she ran the last few feet to the motorcycle. She could see nothing in the smoke other than shadows and the vaguest outlines of the streetlights at either end of the alley.

She almost dropped the key but managed to slide it into the ignition. She waited to start it, waiting for one shadow in particular to materialize into a familiar form. Where was he? He hadn’t told her to leave without him, but what if–

She screamed as hands grabbed her and yanked her off of the motorcycle.

Next Chapter

taglist:

@ktficworld @grunge-n-roses5 @anon-cat-posts @projectdreamwalker @warsaur @lachillona02 @crazyunsexycool @doetic @alexiris @that-girl-named-alex @harry-bowie-mercury @vaniasagitaa @widows-writings @missing-loki @exactlyelegantwizard @miriamnox @mavenmoon @eclipsedplanet

#the batman x reader #battinson x reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #the batman 2022 #battinson #the batman #bruce wayne #haven #haven fic

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samsvenn · 2 years ago

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Would you do some hc's about sakamaki's cuddling with their significant other??

𝐜𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐬

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬

shu’s cuddles are filled with utter warmth and homey-ness. he loves letting you play with his hair and scalp massages have him melting like a pot of honey.

his fingers love to slowly trace along your veins, drawing mindless patterns across your lower back and spine. cuddles with him are mostly out of boredom; a time-waster to let the eldest have an excuse to drift off to his safe place, you.

cuddling with reiji makes you realize how touch starved the poor man is. you can see it from the way his hands trail after yours when you reach for your phone, the way he gently presses your head to face the same direction as his when your eyes stare way too long at his beakers, and the way his breathing changes when you let his rest his tired, pretty head atop your chest and rub his tensed temples.

all the stress leaves the man like cold, arid vapor floating towards the moonlight once he croons into your neck and soft, circles along his back welcome him to loving bliss - something that was definitely uncommon for the dork.

it felt unreal how peaceful ayato felt to the touch. there was no more boisterous, booming man-child that’d snap your neck if you ever pointed out how vulnerable he was although the possibility always lingered, depending on how cocky he was feeling that day.

the moment he sank into your plush arms and of course, chest, it was as if time stopped and ayato wasn’t the arrogant, aggregating vampire who’d make fun of you for every little flaw you have.

instead, little murmurs of vengeful possession would lull the man into grasping you tight and sin your skin to be his. both your legs twisted and interlocked with each other, fluffy red ringlets laying on top of your cheek.

his grip on you often felt like an inescapable prison. was it a cover up for his underlying abandonment issues? you’d never know the truth. however, all it took was a simple caress pressed to the corner of lips and you knew, his glassy spring-green eyes whispered so much to you; or perhaps in another sense, it even needed.

with laito, the line was barely there, yet you knew to enforce it. this man has probably done this before, countless times and with countless prey before.

but did you care? absolutely not. to care was to give him power on a pretty platter, so you took it away and didn’t look back. his touch longed for you - pleading, pretty feline eyes that promised to take you to a world of pleasure, eager hips grinding against your waist, hands keen on making you a mindless slave, and deadly venomous words that were laced and wrapped with temptation.

it was an artform at its finest. however, laito forgot that there were two pieces of art at its definition: art that made you feel and art that was so perfectly and intricately made, to the point where it felt ingenuine. it was clear where laito fell.

to try and somewhat deflect this, you fought him at his own battle: you peppered pecks to ends of his eyebrows, laid still and held him gently, as if his advances were just another part of laito being his usual self and that it didn’t matter anymore.

for the first time in a while, laito stayed quiet. and, as he held your hand, a dry chuckle bounced on your ears. he leaned more into the cuddle, until there was nothing more separating your bodies, including his desperation.

cuddling with kanato always felt like he needs you. despite his harsh words and the constant comments about various replacements, he clings to you like a lifeline. there’s always harsh nail marks on your arms and back from how hard he digs his digits into you.

thanks to his petite frame, it’s easy to position in a way that he’s laying on top of your lap and letting him nap on your shoulder. kanato likes this position too, mostly due to how much access he has to your blood and heartbeat.

with kanato, there is no such thing as a break from cuddling. you’re either together or you somehow ended up in a coffin. his nose and lips are always pressed to your skin. whether it’s your neck, the skin behind your ear, the fold that connects your collarbone or simply suckling onto one of you fingers like a pacifier as he falls asleep, it’s a reminder that you’re real and you haven’t escaped.

yet.

like his brothers, kanato is extremely touchy. his skin itches for you and he’ll throw a big tantrum the moment you stop coddling him.

“I will dismember your hands with a fork if you continue to rebel against me. Now, if you please, touch me as you desire and let your greed run wild… Or else my patience will be the one running thin.”

subaru was an interesting cuddle buddy. there’s a mental back-and-forth whenever your warmth distracted him from his other usual self-degrading thoughts. ‘i don’t want this, i don’t need this, why am i like this, this is just a physical altercation and all i need to do is punch some scumbag to feel better-’

these thoughts serve to sever himself from how close he is to being intimate and vulnerable with you. of course, it doesn’t work. the care you’re showing makes him forget all the things his mother has thrown at him as a child. whenever you two cuddle and you hold his ruffled bedhead to your heart, it’s the closest subaru has ever felt-

-to being deemed as loveable. and probably, it’ll be the closest subaru will ever come to loving himself - using the sense-losing warmth of your bodies as a proxy.

#diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers fandom #dl #rejet #diahell #laito sakamaki #subaru sakamaki #shu sakamaki #reiji sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #kanato sakamaki #sakamakis #headcanons #diabolik lovers headcanons

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thefandomenchantress · 5 months ago

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Secret (Acevid)

(This is a David mastermind AU! So if he seems a little out of character, that's on purpose! He's more of a douche than usual now, haha)

---

Ace was currently stomping down the steps of a spiral staircase. The metal beneath his feet was loud and echoed through the dim chamber with each step. He always made this much noise when he visited David, or at least he usually did. There wasn’t much point in being quiet.

…No, wait. There was. Being quiet always made David happy. He claimed that not knowing when Ace would finally descend was exciting. Ace didn’t really understand it, but sometimes he’d indulge the man. And since he was feeling nice today, he quieted his steps as much as possible when he was about half way down the steps. He then silently crept forward down them.

David was always complaining about that. Boredom. He claimed it was almost always an inescapable feeling to him. Something that would always strike at him just when he thought he’d made it leave. Or at least that had been the case before the killing game. He never elaborated after he explained that, just stared off at the wall and presumably imagined their classmates’ gruesome deaths.

Ace suddenly stopped his descent down the stairs for a moment. Last time Ace had visited, David had complained his arrival had become too easy to predict, since he always took the same amount of time to climb down the staircase. Ace had told him that was too fucking bad, and he wouldn’t stand on the stairs doing nothing just to please him. And at the time, he’d meant it. But his resolve didn’t hold when he thought about David’s delighted smile, so now here he was, crouching on the stairs like an idiot.

In order to entertain himself, Ace decided to reflect on how he’d even gotten here in the first place. Since when had pleasing David been a priority? Or David in general? He supposed it all started the day he’d overheard his secret.

David and Arei had been loudly talking in the Relaxation Room. The name of said room had gotten more and more ironic as time went on, since it was more well-known for arguments than it was for actual relaxing.

Now, if Ace was a kind individual who respected others’ privacy, he would’ve covered his ears or exited the floor so he couldn’t overhear, or maybe go tell them how loudly they were talking and that they should go somewhere else if they didn’t want him listening. But alas, Ace was not a kind individual. He was a nosy bitch who wanted to know what Arei was fussing about. So instead, he had exited the gym as quietly as possible and stood outside the Relaxation Room, eavesdropping on their entire conversation. Even if his hearing hadn’t been as great as it was, it wouldn’t have mattered because he doubted that he wouldn’t have heard them even from the other end of the hallway.

He supposed it made sense that Arei wasn’t putting too much effort into being discreet, since it wasn’t her secret she was exposing. David, on the other hand, seemed to be panicking too much to actually consider the fact he shouldn’t be talking as loud as he was.

After their conversation had ended, Ace had slipped back into the gym and waited for the two of them to leave. And in the trial the next day, he’d shared what he had overheard.

It was hard to describe the expression David had stared at him with at that moment. Complete surprise, at first. But then came something more unexpected. He’d tilted his head slightly, and stared at him with something resembling fascination. It didn’t last long, and soon after he saw it Ace decided that maybe that hadn’t been what he was seeing at all. He’d never been good at reading faces, so it made sense that he could’ve misread David calculating his next move as intrigue directed at him.

Teruko, unsurprisingly, uncovered David’s lies about being the culprit. It really wasn’t too hard, since he couldn’t seem to explain what half the items at the crime scene were even used for. And after that whole fiasco, which was admittedly partially Ace’s fault for even throwing blame onto David in the first place, Teruko had reanalysed the evidence and found the true culprit. Then came an execution that Ace did not wish to mentally revisit any time soon.

The unexpected part came after the trial, when Ace had been walking back to his room. That was when David had called out to him. “Hey.” David said, his voice not being forced into its usual chipper tone. Good, that voice had driven Ace insane. “Wait.” David ordered, taking a step closer.

Ace was, admittedly, nervous when the encounter began. Everyone else had entered their dorm rooms already, and given David’s attempt to get them all killed earlier with no regards for his own well-being, Ace wasn’t completely certain David wouldn’t murder him right then and there, uncaring about the prospect of being caught. But David didn’t seem to be interested in that as he asked, “Can we go somewhere else to talk?”

Ace had blinked a few times, completely silent. Why the fuck would he ever consider doing that—

“If you don’t, you’ll regret it.” David said. His tone had shifted from monotone to vaguely threatening, and Ace got the feeling that if he didn’t listen, he’d definitely end up with a knife stabbed into somewhere he didn’t want it to be.

So Ace had given him a shaky nod, agreeing to go with him. David turned and walked towards the infirmary. “This place has the walls that are the most sound-proof.” David told him as he closed the door behind him. “Which isn’t very sound-proof, but enough that you’d have to have be very close to the door in order to hear anything. And no one followed us, so we don’t need to worry about that.” David was saying all this as though it should somehow lessen Ace’s worries about the situation, not heighten them.

“Why the fuck is that a good thing for me?” He asked without thinking. He wondered afterwards if maybe he should’ve been more polite to the person who was likely planning to murder him. The chances of him being spared probably dropped with every word he said.

David raised an eyebrow as he turned back to face him. “Oh, trust me. You don’t want anyone overhearing this just as much as I do.”

“I’m sure my corpse will appreciate the solitude that comes with no one finding my body until morning.” Ace shot back, then once again internally berated himself for speaking without thinking.

To Ace’s surprise, David barked out a laugh. “What? Do you think I’m going to murder you? Of course not. You’re no use to me if you’re dead.”

“No…Use to you…?” Ace repeated, confused.

“Mhm.” David took a step closer. “I didn’t hear you listening to me and Arei. You’re good at sneaking around.”

“...Okay?” Ace was now very confused. He had no idea where this was going.

“Which means you could be useful.” David leaned forward slightly and looked him up and down. Then he smiled. Not one of his idol smiles. This one was crooked and imperfect. “It seems I’ve found my traitor.”

“I–What?” Ace asked, squirming slightly as David gaze drifted over his small frame, seemingly analyzing everything he could.

“I’ve decided that you’re going to be my traitor.” David answered, as though that explained literally anything. When he saw Ace was still confused, he groaned at the prospect of having to explain further, before seemingly reconsidering his disappointment and deciding a dramatic reveal was more fun anyway.

“Alright, I’ll start with the basics. Ace, you’re staring at the mastermind behind this killing game.” David said. He gleefully watched Ace’s reaction. The jockey immediately stepped back from him, his expression panicked and for good reason. His hasty step backwards, however, made him trip, causing him to crash to the ground. David sighed as Ace pressed his back against the wall, shaking.

“Don’t worry. Nothing bad will happen to you as long as you do as I say.” David assured him. “In fact, I’d say you’re far safer now than you were before, since I’m protecting you.”

While Ace was aware that this situation wasn’t looking good, he couldn’t help but perk up at the mention of safety. “...What do I have to do?” He asked hesitantly.

“Mostly just what you were already doing. Causing as much chaos and as many disagreements as possible. Just try to target people other than Nico sometimes. All that tension really helps create the perfect atmosphere for a murder. And that knack for sneaking around you seem to have will allow you to sneak off to find me pretty easily, so communicating in private shouldn’t be too hard.”

“How do I know that you’re actually the mastermind?” Ace asked, wondering if this was all some elaborate ploy to murder him. Or maybe David was just trying to get him to do what he said in order to get him to assist in murdering someone else.

David pondered his question for a moment. “Hmm…Well, I need to show you where we’ll meet to talk anyway. If I show you a room only the mastermind would know about, would you believe me?” David reached out a hand towards him. Ace stared at it for a moment, aware that taking it would both be an agreement to follow him, as well as one to take on his new role. Not that he’d had much of a choice to begin with.

He took David’s hand, and David smiled that crooked smile again. “Yes? Alright, let’s go.” He pulled Ace up off the ground and they headed off towards the storage room. David brought him to the back of the room, and moved one of the boxes on the shelves, which contained a few useless items. Behind it there was a piece of wall that he pressed down, and as a result a doorway opened up, the wall covering it slid to the side. The beginning of a spiral staircase could be seen.

“Now do you believe me?” David asked. Ace nodded numbly, wondering what terrible luck they all must’ve had to never find this even after relentless searching.

“In that case, I’ll see you tomorrow. We’ll meet down there.” David decided. The door automatically closed after a few more seconds, and they headed back to their dorms.

After that, Ace had continued to sow chaos among his classmates. Since to them this was only a minor downgrade from his usual behavior, it passed by unnoticed. David seemed happy with that outcome. He also seemed happy that Ace was indeed just as skilled as he thought he was at sneaking around, never being caught once while coming to meet with him.

It appeared that David really had picked out the perfect traitor.

---

This little one-shot was supposed to be posted on ao3 and added to my acevid one-shot collection, but I'm not sure I'll ever end up doing that. I actually wrote more, but I couldn't figure out how to end it nicely and since this piece is under my usual goal of 2000 words if I end it here, I decided to post it on Tumblr instead. Maybe I'll post an updated version to ao3 one day (or this version if I decide I like it enough).

All this is to say, if you're wondering why this included very minimal acevid-y stuff, that's because all the toxic yaoi is in the ending that I refuse to post (I never thought I'd use the phrase 'toxic yaoi' but here we are haha).

I decided to try giving them a more toxic dynamic this go around by making David a despair-obsessed mastermind, but soon discovered while I was writing the ending that I'm bad at making toxic relationship stuff and I feel like it ended up looking like me romanticizing a toxic dynamic so. It stays in the drafts for now. But all this is the part that I was decently proud of.

#danganronpa despair time #drdt #drdt spoilers #david chiem #ace markey #acevid #david chiem mastermind au #ace markey traitor au #enchantress’s writing

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goopiferart · 1 year ago

Text

Classpect analysis notes under the cut!

Spent the last 2-3 weeks classpecting with the Book Club and here's what we largely came to agree on for MY classpects. I came to the discussion thinking "Thief of Doom" but I guess things just change! Most of us went into this with "which classpect would present the biggest challenge for me" so most of my notes take on... challenging qualities.

I'll try to post everyone else's final classpects + notes in this blog eventually (soon).

🩸 PRINCE OF BLOOD 👑

Princes are individuals who either lack their Aspect or outright reject their Aspect and are defined by their struggle to come to terms with it

The Prince of Blood may start out as an individual who struggles with relationships

They would have difficulties forging new friendships, maintaining bonds, and finding meaning within the company of others

They resent the ties that bind them to people, most likely due to their overwhelming need to honor obligations at any cost

Their highly competent nature is sought out by others but is rarely rewarded, putting this Prince at risk of being exploited if they are not discriminating in the company they keep (like Pages)

The Prince’s mean independence streak can border on the extreme if they don’t have social anchors to ground them

They have a fetishistic need to burn bridges at the slightest inconvenience, selfishly preferring to indulge in their maladapted coping instinct over rationally working things through with others

They are equally avoidant and combative, lacking the meekness of Rogues but also their knack for charm and levity

The Prince of Blood’s natural instinct is to avoid confrontation not out of fear of others but of themselves

“Nobody makes me bleed my own blood. Especially me!”

What little people they manage to keep around them are at risk of being put on a gilded pedestal

The Prince’s loyalty to those that they deem worthy is all-consuming and dangerous, to both themselves and others

To step outside The Prince’s idealized version of you would be to betray their trust and one-sided devotion, something they will never be able to forgive

Princes naturally gravitate towards embodying their opposite Aspect, at least outwardly

The Prince’s independence is sacred and is something they will never willingly compromise with, much to the chagrin of those around them

CAUTION: Do not tell this Prince what to do

They chafe against tradition and the status quo but lack the drive (and charisma) to rally others to their cause

They seek out novelty over the tried and true, often having difficulties completing long-term projects out of boredom or due to needing to experiment

The Prince wants nothing more than to escape the “heaviness” of Blood for the airy pursuits of Breath but will always be doomed to be tethered by their undeniable need to love and to be loved by others

Princes destroy Blood or destroys through Blood for themselves

Aside from being effective solo killers (blows up all your blood), the Prince would be able to utilize their bonds to destroy other bonds

They could form alliances or force others into contracts to help eliminate other inconvenient alliances

Obligations become weaponized as the Prince can call upon irrevocable (and inescapable) favors to their team’s benefit

The inverse classpect manifests when Players are at their worst or are emotionally compromised

The Prince of Blood’s inverse is the Sylph of Breath

At their worst, the Prince could take a dogmatic approach to prescribing their variety of independence as the one-and-only solution, forcing their brand of “living” as the panacea for all of life’s injustices

Their forced and misguided aid would make them appear to be tyrants to others despite the Prince’s initial good intentions

They could also become wholly irresponsible individuals, shirking the demands of Blood completely for a life of carefree self-destruction

🖕 SEER OF RAGE 🔮

Seers receive knowledge of their Aspects externally, not being innately versed in their Aspect early in their journey

The Seer of Rage could initially have trouble understanding anger and fear, both theirs and others, as they’re either suffering from chronic indifference or are in deep denial about their own inhibitions

They could appear to be carefree and upbeat individuals while being deeply conflicted and troubled on the inside, completely loath to let their struggles be perceived by others

The Seer will never admit to feeling powerless over their lack of agency over their base instincts, shamefully resorting to relying on the voice of more authoritative figures to guide them instead

They want others to see them as arbiters of self-control, infallible beings who keep a short leash on any unbecoming instinct that betrays their lack of mastery of the self

The Seer is oft indecisive, afflicted by the restrictions they place on themselves by being unable to look past their own fears and discomforts

The Seer comes into their own when they start allowing themselves to question their beliefs, confronting uncomfortable revelations, and allowing themselves to dabble in the mess that is “human emotion”

The catalyst needed to put the Seer on the right path in pursuing their own truths will usually be explosive, a sudden and dramatic event that would change their relationship with their Aspect forever

The Seer of Rage may be one of the more “introspective” Seers in that the prerequisite to being of any use to their team and session is to understand themselves first rather than blindly trusting external sources

They can also run the risk of becoming mouthpieces for misguided causes and manipulative forces

These Seers tend to be natural pacifists who rarely enjoy involving themselves directly in conflicts

This does not mean that they are shy about letting their own Rage loose on occasion

Seers examine (understand) their Aspect or examine (understand) through their Aspect for others

The Seer of Rage can literally see (smell?) fear

They know exactly what people are afraid of and what needs to be done to mitigate, avoid, or enhance it in others

They can be incredible strategists, capable of seeing through illusions and identifying enemies’ psychological weaknesses

The Seer is capable of identifying all the possible missteps stemming from the “human element” in plans and will work around them accordingly

The inverse classpect manifests when Players are at their worst or are emotionally compromised

The Seer of Rage’s inverse is the Witch Hope

At their worst, the Seer shirks their responsibility as the messenger of hard truths, using their extensive knowledge of fear and anger to transform “unpalatable” emotions into more pleasant experiences for others

Allows unhealthy delusions to cloud their ability to discern the truth from fantasy

Focuses too much on helping others avoid reality than on confronting it

#homestuck #prince of blood #seer of rage #classpect

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ironstrange1991 · 2 years ago

Text

Anything For You

+18 Smut

Pairing: Sinister!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Looking for something to distract herself, the reader finds a session in the library with quite interesting content. When she suggests to Stephen that they should try a different sex practice he doesn't seem very confident, but decides to do it to please her, after all it's Valentine's Day.

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: Slight male dominance, oral sex with male receiving, fingering, p in v, creampie, cock warming, choking, love bites, mentions of spanking and violent - consensual -sex.

A/N: This is the same pair from Make Love To Me.This fic was inspired by the two new pics Marvel released of Sinister Strange. Although it is mentioned, I don't consider it to be a Valentine's Day fic, but that's up to you. I really got carried away with this one and it ended up being a bit long, but I'm sure it's worth it.

You were bored. But other than that, you were super bored. Usually you could handle your reality trapped inside the Sanctum while the universe fell apart, but that day since you woke up you felt upset. It wasn't the world or the incursion that was slowly destroying everything around you, much less Stephen you were upset about, but you.

You were never happy, your life in your universe was mediocre and as strange as it may seem, being kidnapped to that universe by a sorcerer who swore that you two were soul mates and therefore should be together, was the most incredible thing that ever happened to you.

But why were you feeling so low? Of course it took you a while to accept your reality and you were afraid of Stephen for a while until you became friends and finally had your first night together, but Stephen showed you what love was, what it was like to be loved by someone, touched and - my god, Stephen touched you like no other ever did.

But if everything was fine and you loved Stephen as much as he loved you and cherished every second you spent with him, why were you feeling this way? Maybe it was just the boredom that was finally showing up after months of being there, but it was a not pleasant feeling from which you desperately wanted to escape.

The first few months you arrived you didn't have time to feel bored. There were so many feelings running over each other inside you, vying for which one to take over. Fear, disbelief, shyness, apprehension, interest, affection, passion. But now that you've been there for a year all the feelings have had enough time to be explored and finally you're getting your inescapable dose of boredom. Dreadful and merciless boredom.

Stephen was distracted in his office. Ever since you've gotten closer, so to speak, he's become obsessed with the idea that he needs to stop the incursion, so he's been reading, reading extensively. You could have sworn you've seen him read a gigantic volume in a single day. These readings usually left him annoyed because he couldn't seem to find anything that would solve the present situation and the only solution seemed to be the book he carefully put in a safe place promising you he would never touch it again.

You didn't understand anything about magic and spells, but if there was one thing you understood it was the existence of spells considered good and others bad. Stephen explained that the Darkhold was evil. He said that it was through him that he managed to bring you into his universe, but before that he caused the incursion looking for you in different realities. Anyway, you understood very well that using the book was bad for Stephen and you were grateful that he decided not to touch that thing anymore, but at the same time you feared that failing to find answers elsewhere he would resort to the Darkhold again.

You've already spoken to Stephen about how you've been feeling the last few days and he didn't seem to mind much suggesting that you find something to distract yourself with in the library. You were obviously irritated by his lack of consideration, but you soon understood that he was really just overly concerned about the present state of the universe and the fact that the incursion seemed to have accelerated in recent months. You were sure Stephen wasn't afraid to die, but he needed to protect you, that was his real concern.

You sighed, deciding to give in to his suggestion and look for something in the library that would make you forget your boredom and all your other worries.

When you entered the library you found it empty and dusty like everything else. You were busy keeping your bedroom, the main room, the kitchen and Stephen's office clean, but everything else was too much work for you. The Sanctum was so big and full of weird things you were scared to death of.

The library also smelled of mold and it didn't take long for you to find the reason: several walls had water infiltration. There were overturned shelves and books on the floor which made your little tour of the gigantic room more difficult than you imagined, but you soon became distracted by the variety of books that were there.

When Stephen suggested that you find something to read you turned your nose up at the idea thinking there would only be books of magic and such, but walking through the west wing of the library you noticed that the shelves were filled with novels. There was so much amazing stuff to read.

You didn't even notice the time passing while you were distracted choosing the books to take upstairs and when you finally decided on the ones you wanted, you noticed a small shelf further away with what looked like magazines.

As you approached, you couldn't contain the heat that rose to your face when you notice that that small wing of the library, nothing more than a set of shelves in the corner of the wall hidden by other larger shelves filled with suspense books, was devoted to erotic content. A variety not only of extremely explicit magazines, but books as well. One of them was called "Anatomy of Sex: Discovering the Paths to Pleasure."

You found yourself wondering why there was that kind of stuff in a library that should have open access to anyone, but you couldn't deny that the curiosity to read some of those magazines and books totally disappeared with the boredom that was consuming you.

…

Stephen closed the book he finished reading and threw it on the desk abruptly. Another day passed and he didn't get the answers he needed. At the same time the universe seemed to consume itself faster and faster and he was trying to control himself not to give in to despair, but each day that passed seemed like one less day in the fight against fate. He needed to stop the incursion, he knew he had the power to do it, he just needed to know how.

He leaned back in his chair sighing heavily and pinching the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb. The Darkhold - closely guarded - seemed to sing to him, drawing him in like a siren draws a shipwrecked man to the depths of the ocean. He had resisted the cursed book for months because of you, but now he feared that for the same reason he would have to resort to it.

Stephen got up taking the stack of books from the desk and walked quickly to the library. There were thousands of books in there, one of them must have something written about incursions, and he wouldn't give up or succumb to the Darkhold unless all other options proved useless.

He returned the books he had read to the shelf and walked silently, hands in his back, through the halls looking for other options that looked promising. He barely realized you were there until he heard you laughing, completely distracted, lying on a divan in the farthest wing of the library. The sound as always made his heart skip a beat. It was undeniable that you brought life to that dying universe and obviously to his heart.

Stephen fought the urge to go to you and take you in his arms, but there was work to do, books to read, an incursion to stop and then, only then would he be free to enjoy every second of the day with you. Until then, he had to be content with the nights. God, the nights were ravishing.

He shook his head trying to control his thoughts and focus on the task at hand, but just the thought of you was enough to make his pants tighten around his hips. He sighed, walking away and finding three more promising books, he left the library, striding back to his office - before desire made him change his mind.

…

You totally lost track of time reading a magazine with very explicit photos, but what really mattered weren't the sex photos, but the surprisingly educational content you found there. In addition to tips on positions you would certainly like to try, there was a lot of information about intimate health and tips on how to spice up a relationship - not that you needed such a thing. Your sex drive was put in good use with Stephen and Stephen was insatiable.

You felt your face flushing the whole time like a teenager seeing that for the first time. Everything you read, every tip and different thing you discovered you wanted to try with Stephen.

In addition to the positions, you read about a very interesting practice that apparently came from tantric sex. It was something suggestively called Cock Warming and oh my god it made you blush. You wanted it, you needed to experience it with Stephen.

You finished reading the magazine and put it back where you found it, but you took the volume called Anatomy of Sex and hid it among the books you had already selected to take to your shared room. You climbed back up to your room realizing that the candles were lit and the day had quickly turned to night already. Although it was difficult to distinguish one from the other, practice and time living in that gloomy environment made you learn.

You placed the books carefully on the nightstand on your side of the bed and tucked the volume about sex into your lingerie drawer. Heat rose throughout your body and you noticed that there was a certain wetness between your legs that you hadn't realized that was there. Deciding to put your little plan for the night into action, you filled the bathtub and ran a bath with your favorite bath salts.

…

Stephen was fully absorbed in his reading when he heard a timid knock on the door. You never walked into his office without knocking. He sighed feeling mental fatigue and heavy eyes. "Come in"

He almost gasped in surprise when he saw you. You looked stunning dressed in a black silk nightgown, barefoot, your hair loose falling to your lower back. Your scent flooding the room. He couldn't contain the wide smile on his lips.

"Too busy?" You asked uncertainly still standing in the doorway.

He gestured with his hand for you to come in and pushed his chair farther away from the desk so that you could fit there facing him. "I'm never too busy for you kitten, especially when you dress like this for me."

You smiled walking around his desk and approaching "I needed to find a way to get your attention, it's been hard to keep up with your readings."

He sighed closing his eyes and nodded in agreement "I know. I know I've been busy, but only because I care about you." He wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your belly sighing heavily "I love you so much, kitten. You are everything to me, you know that, right?"

You agreed wrapping your arms around his neck and stroking his hair gently "I know. I love you too, Stephen, but I need some attention right now. You can leave the books for tomorrow, can't you?"

He nodded in agreement "When you ask like that" He said inhaling deeply "God, you smell so good."

You grinned pondering how to approach the subject and reveal what you wanted.

"I was in the library this afternoon and found some pretty interesting stuff on a shelf in the west wing." You said it as naturally as possible.

Stephen hummed backing away and leaning back in his chair. There was an interested look in his eyes, "There are many interesting things in this Sanctum's library, my love. You'll have to be more specific."

You sat in the desk in front of him and couldn't help but notice how his eyes seemed to never leave you.

"Porn, Stephen. A lot of books and magazines. Some very interesting ones."

He chuckled "Oh, that stuff." He spoke naturally, but you noticed his eyes darkened with lust.

"I'm no prude. As long as it's not an addiction I have nothing against porn. I am just curious. Of all the things I thought I'd find in that library... porn?!" You whispered the word on purpose.

"It's safe to say that the Sanctum’s library holds every type of literature ever produced by mankind. Many years ago it was fervently curated." He smiles at you "It's just files kitten. To be honest I've never read any of that stuff. If you want to know I didn’t even remember those things were there."

You bit your bottom lip hesitantly, but Stephen was looking at you intently.

"What's up princess? Don't say you're jealous of those silly things."

You shook your head "I was reading one of the magazines...well you know I'm curious and once I was there I couldn't help but look through it and although there was a lot of explicit stuff what really interested me was this article about tantric sex and some practices..."

You realized that you were looking anywhere but at Stephen and when you finally forced yourself to look at him there was a mischievous smile on his lips, a cocky sideways smile.

"Tell me all about it, love."

You felt your face heating up, but continued "It's a sex practice called Cock Warming... well the name is not discreet at all and you can guess what it is." You were losing your courage with every word that came out of your mouth "Anyway, I don't know why I'm talking about this, I just found it... interesting."

Stephen dragged himself to the edge of the chair to get closer to you and without warning he spread your legs and untied the knot of your night gown moving it out of the way. "You can tell me anything, kitten. There's no need to be shy, you know that." He brought his lips down to your belly and kissed there, the contact of his goatee making your skin prickle. He continued down until his face was between your legs and placed a chaste kiss on your black lace covered slit.

You couldn't contain the soft moan that escaped your lips.

He sighed heavily taking a small bite there and then used his hands to pull your panties to the side and penetrated you with one finger. He moved his finger in and out a few times and then took it out and brought it to his mouth. "Fuck kitten, whatever it is that you read made you this wet?"

You shook your head trying to clear your thoughts "Actually it was you Stephen. I was thinking of doing that with you"

He smiled confidently getting up and positioning himself between your legs. He cupped your face with two scarred and trembling hands and kissed you. Wet, rough, passionately. You moaned into his lips and he wasted no time, he supported your waist with one hand lifting you off the desk and with the other he took off your panties passing them by your feet and throwing them on the floor. You struggled against his robes, finding it difficult to unbuckle all those belts, but he moved his fingers quickly to undo his clothes and one second later he was gloriously bare for you.

He unfastened your bra and cupped one breast squeezing it as his lips trailed your collarbone in search of your other breast. He licked your nipple, circling it with the tip of his tongue and then took it in his mouth, sucking it as his fingers teased the other one.

You leaned on the desk with one hand to keep your balance, the other hand was in his hair, gripping it tightly while moans escape your lips. When he was finally sated he allowed himself to pull away from your breasts, but not before giving one of your nipples a light bite making you hiss.

He held his cock in his hand giving it a couple of jerks and then rubbed the tip on your slit collecting your arousal. You moaned even before he entered you "Stephen..."

He spat on his cock spreading the saliva with his fingers and then he positioned it at your entrance and he penetrated you with a single thrust and you gripped the desk to stay in place. "Oh my god, Stephen... you feel so good..."

He interrupted what you were saying by placing a wet and deep kiss on your lips. His tongue penetrating your mouth and completely dominating you as he thrust mercilessly against you.

Sex with Stephen was usually rough in the first round, after he got his first release he'd calm down and fuck you slower, but no less intense. That was just the way he was and you loved that about him.

You knew what you wanted seemed to go against all of his instincts, but you were obsessed with the idea, you had to try. You were jolted out of your fast reverie by a thrust that hit exactly that special place inside you that Stephen always found so quickly. "Oh my... right there Stephen, right there."

He grabbed your waist with both hands and increased the intensity of his thrusts, each one hitting your g-spot and making you see stars.

"You feel so good, kitten. You're going to tell me everything about what you read in that magazine, aren't you? Such a dirty girl reading porn like that. You liked it? All those pictures? Did you imagined it was me doing all that to you?"

His moans grew louder and louder, your walls fluttering around him with every word that came out of his mouth.

"Answer me, princess" He demanded.

"Yes" You said whimpering. The pleasure so strong it was hard to think. "Yes Stephen, I want to do that with you. Please tell me you gonna make that with me."

He chuckled amidst his moans and groans that grew louder and more animalistic "I don't even know what that is, kitten, but you know I'd do anything for you."

He kissed you feeling your walls contracting and squeezing his cock so hard inside you.

"Fuck, kitten, your pussy is so tight right now" You moaned with him, the room flooded with the obscene sound of your lovemaking and your breathing and your groans and grunts. "Stephen, I'm gonna cum"

He bit your bottom lip in response "Already? Okay, princess, you can cum, but you know I'm just getting started, right? We've got the whole night ahead of us."

You nodded in agreement. Stephen had a lot of stamina, his sex drive was absurd and not a day went by without you having sex, three, four rounds a night. "Yes, please, I need to cum now, fuck me harder. Make me cum."

Stephen grinned, pleased to see you fully surrendered to him. There was nothing that turned him on more than seeing you with that cock drunk face, mouth agape, eyes closed as he fucked your brains out. He tightened the grip of his hand on your waist even more and the other hand he brought to your throat choking you not so hard, but enough to draw a surprised moan from your lips.

You were so compliant, Stephen loved how you gave yourself to him and let him do whatever he wanted to you. He in turn loved torturing you by biting, choking, slapping your ass so hard you got marks for days.

You were his and you loved every second of it.

As if possible Stephen increased the speed and intensity of his thrusts even more and quickly you felt your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. He must have felt it too because he grinned devilishly at you and grabbed your chin making you look him straight in the eyes "Gonna cum for me princess? Tell me how amazing my cock is making you feel right now"

"It feels good Stephen, so good, please don’t stop, make me cum, I'll be good to you, I promise."

He grinned releasing your chin and putting his hand between you, his long fingers reaching your clit and circling it and making you groan obscenely "Good girl, let go, kitten, don’t hold back, cum for me, do it now"

You moaned loudly in compliance and your entire body convulsed with your orgasm and the whole time he kept thrusting, prolonging the sensation as you creamed him with your cum and at the same time seeking his, thrusting so hard against you that he made the desk creak beneath you. "Fuck princess, you are so wet right now, so fucking tight..." He hissed "I'm gonna cum so fucking hard inside you. Tell me you want it, I need to hear how much you want my cum"

He grabbed your throat again and it was hard to talk with the grip of his hand choking you like that, but you loved every second of it "Please... I want your cum... so fucking bad. Please cum for me... please"

He kept his pace hard and rough pounding you until he stopped completely and groaned outrageously loud, his load spurting inside you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his ragged breath in your ear.

You were silent as your breathing returned to normal, Stephen remained hard inside you, pulsing violently. He wasn't sated and neither were you.

"Did you know today is Valentine’s Day?" He said kissing you. You looked at him in surprise. You didn't even know what day it was, it's been a long time since you gave importance to days. "I didn't know that" You replied pulling him back to your lips.

"I should have made something special for you, instead I spent all day reading... I'm sorry"

You shushed him "It's okay. I don’t mind. For us, every day is Valentine’s Day, right?"

He gave a small laugh stroking your face affectionately. Like you said, Stephen used to be more affectionate with you after you made him cum.

"You are right, princess, but I want to please you anyway. Tell me, what do you want me to do to celebrate the special date?"

You smiled openly "Lets go to bed" You asked and he agreed kissing you softly and a moment later you were in his room. You still weren't used to his magic, but you were certainly grateful for the comfort it brought you both.

There was cum running down your thighs and Stephen loved it. He had a fixation on seeing his cum on you, marking you as his. He conjured a tissue and cleaned you gently and you barely waited for him to get rid of the dirty tissue to throw yourself into his arms again.

Stephen hold you in a tight hug and pulled you onto his lap, your legs wrapping around his waist, your arms around his neck pulling him back to his lips and kissing him so passionately. He laid you down on the bed, the weight of his body making your legs open for him, but he didn't enter you, instead he settled down leaning on one arm and caressing your face with the back of his hand.

"You are so beautiful. I never get tired of saying this." He watched the skin on your face turn slightly pink and then decided to get back to the subject you started in his office "So, are you going to tell me about what you read? I confess I'm curious to know more."

You bit your lower lip and Stephen felt provoked every time you did that, it made him completely crazy to kiss you. He waited for you to respond, but he could see you were too embarrassed to say it, so he came back to reassure you "Kitten, no need to be shy, the most important part you already told me."

You looked at him blankly and he grinned biting your bottom lip gently "You just told me you were reading porn magazines and you got so fucking horny you were dripping wet. Whatever it is that you read its just a detail."

You nodded in agreement.

"It’s not very inventive actually, I... you'll probably hate it..." You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly "... You just have to stay inside me. No moving, just... it seems nice, I don't know."

He raised an eyebrow "And how do you expect me to stay inside you without moving? Princess, I don’t know if I can do that!"

You nodded "But would you try?" You glared at him with puppy eyes "There's something about this that makes me really want to try it. Please?"

Stephen kissed you lightly and then rolled onto his side on the bed reaching out for you to snuggle close to him. He stared at the ceiling in silence for a second and could feel your eyes on him the entire time always afraid he would be mad at you for whatever reason, never understanding that there was nothing in the world you could do that make him mad at you.

Stephen loved you, he destroyed the entire universe for you, he would do anything for you.

"I can try…" He said finally and you smiled "...After all it's Valentine's day and I owe you a present, don't you?"

You agreed pulling him to your lips and he kissed you now ardently which made his cock throb demandingly "But first you're going to make me cum one more time, kitten, because I swear to you that I won't stand to stay inside you without moving when all I want is to fuck you."

You agreed. You also doubted you could handle it when your body was crying out for him so desperately. "Okay"

He smiled widely and you kissed him, taking one of your hands to his cock, stroking it slowly, but with enough force to bring a moan from the back of his throat. "Do you remember the first time we made love?" You asked looking at him, you had the sweet voice of an angel, but your hand was skilled and was stroking him with such malice. He squeezed you in his arms and gripped the sheet with his other hand so hard his knuckles turned white. "How could I forget? You ran into my bed looking like a scared kitten."

You hummed "And you took care of me so well." You said propping yourself up on your elbow so you could better look at the work you were doing. Stephen's dick was wet with precum already and the sound of your hand stroking him was so arousing.

"You were so irresistible that night. I couldn't help myself"

You smiled kissing him and he moaned when you increased the rhythm of your hand "Fuck, it feels so good but I want your mouth, please, kitten, give me your mouth."

You nodded, happy to please him and quickly positioned yourself kneeling on the bed. First you spat on his dick and then you spread the spit all the way down his length and taking so much time before putting it in your mouth, but when you did you were merciless. Stephen loved the way you sucked on him. No shame, just lust and love. He loved the way you sucked on the head as you continued to stroke him with your hand, but he lost control of his own body when you took him whole inside your mouth like that, forcing yourself to swallow until the tip of it was against the back of your throat. "Oh fuck, just like that, you always suck my cock so good, princess, I love it"

You moaned satisfied with the praise, the vibration making him see stars. You took it out of your mouth to breathe, but then you swallowed it whole again and started taking turns between putting it all the way to the back of your throat and sucking only the tip.

Stephen brought his hand to your hair, gripping it tightly as he lost himself in his own pleasure, his roughness showing again as he neared his release. He started to thrust up which made you gag around his cock. He let go of your hair and you took him from your mouth, saliva running down your chin, your eyes filling with tears. He caressed your face "I'm sorry kitten, you just feel so good swallowing my cock like that."

You smiled reassuringly, but instead of going back to sucking him, you wrapped one of your legs around his hip. He grinned satisfied. "You gonna ride me, princess?"

You shook your head directing his cock at your entrance and lowering it slowly. Stephen was so big, it always amazed you how his cock make you feel so full. "Fuck, you feel so tight, so good"

You leaned into his chest and began to move up and down, back and forth, riding him fast and hard.

He groaned gripping your hips, his eyes fixed where you met.

You kept your pace chasing your high with a voracity that surprised even yourself "Oh my god Stephen, it feels so good, I wanna cum, please..."

He grinned "Cum for me, my sweet girl, show me how good I make you feel."

You curved your body forward, your hands reaching for his hands and pinning them around his head on the pillow, your fingers intertwining with his, your face now just inches from his as you continued to move on his cock.

Stephen noticed you were tired and took over thrusting up and in that position he hit you sweet spot with absurd precision making you gasp and search for his lips. You kissed him desperately, a big, wet, desire-filled kiss that brought a moan from the deep in his throat. The sound going straight to your core.

Stephen could feel that you were on the verge of orgasm and he kept the pace never stopping until he felt your walls clenching around him. "That’s right kitten, cum for me, I am right after you."

You moaned loudly tightening your fingers around his fingers, searching for his lips. Your entire body trembling as your orgasm enveloped you.

Stephen kept thrusting, riding you through your high "That’s it, princess, you did it so well." He grabbed your hips turning you around and placing you underneath him on your back on the mattress, with one hand he guided his cock back inside you and he thrusted again, hard, fast, mercilessly as he sought his own high.

You wrapped your legs around his hips making him moan loudly, the position making his cock go even deeper and pulling a surprised gasp from your throat as you felt another orgasm building in the pit of your stomach.

Stephen felt your walls fluttering around him "Gonna cum for me again, kitten? I am almost there, you feel so good."

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders kissing him "Yes Stephen, please cum for me, fill me with your cum, I want it so badly."

He kept his pace violently rough and then suddenly stopped groaning and you felt his hot load spurting inside you and pulling you towards your third orgasm.

"Yes, yes, Stephen... please..."

He grabbed your chin and kissed you hard and then pulled out rolling over onto his side on the bed breathing heavily. You crawled into his arms resting your head on his shoulder and touching his face, making him look at you and then kissing him softly. You were silent for a minute, your hand stroking his goatee, his hand tracing circles on your back. The silence of the room broken only by your breathing that slowly returned to normal and the external noises of the ongoing incursion.

"Do you remember the day you got here?" Stephen asked, his voice a bit rusky. "Uh hm"

He sighed heavily "You asked how I could live in this universe and not be afraid..." He was silent and you stared at him.

"The truth is, I was never afraid before you arrived, but now... I'm afraid of losing you."

You looked at him surprised, but he needed to be honest with you. He needed you to understand why it was so important to stop the incursion.

"I've been trying to find a way to fix this..." He pointed to the window from which you could see the terrible vortex that seemed to swallow everything outside "I won't stop until I get it. I can't, I need to keep you safe ."

You cupped his face and made him look at you "I know. I understand what you're doing and why you're doing it, but Stephen... I accepted our fate here a long time ago." He looked at you confused. "I just want you to know that I'd rather spend the days I have left here with you by my side than watching you despair to find a solution that maybe doesn't exist."

He shook his head in disagreement "I cannot accept this. The Darkhold may have..."

"Stephen, no. The Darkhold has already taken too much out of you. Let's enjoy the time we have left together just like this. This is what I want."

He squeezed you in his arms. Stephen couldn't be further from agreeing to surrender, but he understood your point of view and couldn't say you were wrong. He sighed, deciding to leave that subject for another time. "You're right, princess."

You smiled "Of course I am" He hummed as you moved your hand down to his chest and held it directing it to his hip where his cock waited relaxed but not fully flaccid. Stephen couldn't complain about his stamina, despite being twice your age, he always lasted three, four rounds with ease.

However, he didn't want to get too carried away. He just wanted to get hard enough to fulfill the promise he made to you. He definitely wasn't sure about that, but frankly there was nothing you could ask him that he wouldn't do for you.

You stroke his cock slowly up and down and buried your head into the crook of his neck inhaling deeply "You smell so good" You whispered and he couldn't help but smile. He loved how affectionate you were with him, even if he was rough with you sometimes, you were still extremely sweet, always clinging to him. "Fuck, kitten, look what you do to me, I'm already completely hard for you again."

You pulled him to your lips and then turned your back so he could spoon you. He brushed your hair away from your face and neck, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance, sliding his cock easily into your pussy completed soaked with his cum. You curved your hips back so he could go as deep as possible and you both sighed heavily at the sensation.

Stephen had to restrain himself so not to thrust, instead he put one arm under your head making you better settle next to him and the other he rested on your waist keeping your bodies glued to each other.

He was pulsing violently inside you and your walls were clenching around him, yet you remained still and somehow Stephen understood the meaning of it. There was something extremely intimate and rewarding about being inside you that way. You were so warm and tight. It felt amazing.

"You feel so good, Stephen." You whispered and then gave a long yawn and he kissed your neck in response "Does it feel good for you too?"

He hummed "It feels amazing, princess. Happy Valentine’s Day”

You hummed satisfied and little by little Stephen felt your body relaxing, your breathing becoming more steady and he knew you had fallen asleep. He moved his fingers in a quick gesture and the candles went out, with another gesture he conjured a heavy blanket that enveloped your naked bodies. Another move of his fingers and the fireplace was lit. It was always so cold in that broken universe.

Stephen contemplated how lucky he was, even if the world outside was falling apart, he had you and you were the only thing that mattered to him.

When he finally allowed himself to relax he felt sleep approaching and even though his cock was throbbing inside you, he remained still, surrendering to the possibility of finally getting a good night of sleep. Stephen hadn't slept well in years, he usually left you asleep and went back to his reading and always went back to bed before you woke up so you wouldn't notice. That night however he fell into a deep sleep without disturbing dreams, he slept as well as he could not remember sleeping before.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing ;)

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yellowcry · 4 months ago

Text

All eyes are on you

Fifty years ago, Alma and Pedro lost their lives, protecting their children. That's how Casita was born. A pure wish for the babies to be safe away from danger.

Casita will make sure in it.

TW: Eating disorders

Mirabel groaned, stretching inside her bed. Ahh, another morning. For a moment, Mirabel concindered just turning over for another minute of sleep. Before realization hit her through the dreamy fog, smapping her mind open. Antonío's birthday! OH, OH! Mirabel junped off the bed faster than ever before. She's better go get ready to help the family. Anything is better than sit in one place doing nothing. Pull on the daily outfit, decorated by fine enbroidery. Mirabel made it herself. Sometimes planned, sometimes just because she was dying of boredom.

She was about to go out, check if anything needed her help. Before Casita pushed her back in the middle of the room. Oh, right. Casita doesn't like when Mirabel (or anyone else) is going anywhere without its knowledge. The house was alive, always moving. Clicking tiles, watching them. Every movement was strictly defined by Casita itself.

"¡Oh, buenos días, Casita!" Mirabel knocked on the edge of the bed. "I just want to check if the preparation for the birthday has started. Maybe wash the dishes?" She knew there was no reason to. She did it yesterday after the dinner. Several times.

The house pushed Mirabel to the door, accepting her reason. Okay.... She wasn't punished. She didn't fail completely. The bringht light blinded her vision, morning is just beginning. Quiet. Mirabel was always one of the first to wake up. Just at the morning with the first signs of the sun. The portrait of Abuelo Pedro and Abuela Alma swayed at the middle of the staircase. Always young. Sometimes Mirabel finds herself wondering what would her grandparents be like if they didn't die that night many years ago. Nobody really knows Abuelos at all. Not even Casita, and it knows everything about everyone.

Arrange the plates. Put the coffee boiling. The usual routine. Never changing. Mirabel isn't sure if Casita had changed even a little since the day she was born.

"Awake, Corazon?" Julieta croaked, she wasn't very good in talking out loud. None of the triplets was. Mirabel assumed it came with the fact that for years, until Tío Félix and Papá broke in, their only companion was Casita abd eachother.

Mamá smiled at her, crouching for a cheek kiss. Eww, gross. Mirabel rubs away the wetness. "Antonío's birthday is coming!" Of course, she knew she wouldn't be able to leave the house. Casita didn't like, didn't want them out of it's control.

Part of Mirabel felt bad for Antonío. He had a way too big age gap from everyone else. Dolores and Isabela were born like twins, Mirabel and Camilo did too, even if he was annoying, seeing someone abd know you aren't the only one with those changes was helpful. And while Luisa didn't have anyone the same age as her, she was only two years apart from the older girls, which wasn't a big age gap. Antonío was ten years younger than Mirabel. This put him on a completely different stage of development. Leave him alone like an outcaster out of their family.

Papá said there were a lot of kids if their age outside to play with. Which had caused enough arguments where Camilo begged Casita to let him out to meet other kids. The only thing he got was being locked in a small room as punishment. Mirabel wasn't sure if she should believe it. She knew Papa and Tío Félix broke into Casita one day when they were teenagers from the outside. As well Mirabel knew Casita didn't let them out. No matter what they were doing, Casita's control was inescapable. House is always here, an all-knowing observer. Make one wrong move and Casita will know. A little mistake and everyone will hate Mirabel because she failed because she can't be as good as everyone else. And she couldn't hide and the whole family would know.

Patío was the only way Mirabel could see the outside world. A cold blue sky rising above them. Sometimes a naughty sun would show up. Or black ink patching it at night. With the dots of starts breathing hight above Casita.

"Hey, sis?" Luisa once asked, back when they were kids. The middle child loved to stargaze and knew so much about these cosmo-aliens. "Do you wonder what it's like to be free like these?"

Casita clicked its tiles, threatening. It didn't like the family speaking of an idea of being out of this.

Luisa's eye twitched. Mirabel shook her hands. "Casita, Luisa didn't mean it like this! Just a possibility!"

Luisa groaned, pulling the cupboard against the brick tiles of the patio. Casita had allowed to make a little permutation and swap some of the room in their places. Which Luisa was busy doing at the time. Of course, she had technically did it with every combination several times already. There was no real need to draw furniture from one corner to another. But it kept Luisa busy. And becides she loved to be helpful. (Even if she knew that from objective view it was not helpful to anybody.)

Just keep herself distracted. Busy. Anything would be better than spend her time doing nothing at all. And she was the strongest out of her family, so moving furniture would be easier for her. Just make sure to ask Casita first. It didn't like them moving without its knowledge. Much less moving anything that belonged to it. (Tho, maybe the family also counts into this category. Luisa isn't sure if Casita actually counts any of them as living beings who can have their own opinions and wishes).

"Luisa?" Agustín called out, making Luisa wince. What's else? Did he need her help? "What are you doing? Do you need some help?" She placed his palm on Luisa's tricep, looking up at her.

"Ah, nothing!" She waved her hand. "Just some moving!"

Dad blinked at this explanation, fixing his glasses. "Didn't you move this cupboard less than a week ago?"

Maybe? Luisa didn't really count. "Well, now I'm moving it back!" She announced, rubbing her palms, chafing the cold sweat.

Becides, Luisa loved working out. So why wouldn't she treat this as one big exercise. And for a proper work out you have to lift heavy things. Which she was doing right now. What would be wrong with that?

Well, maybe Luisa kept feeling this inescapable agony in her muscles, the pain like her bones would just snap from the pressure. Maybe she collapsed from exhaustion once she entered her room. Because her muscles were all strained, unable to hold herself. But it was distraction. And as long as Casita didn't have any problems with it, a house couldn't fully understand the concept of biology, Luisa would be fine.

Antonío's birthday would give her a lot of moving for today. Place the table in the patio, set the dance zone. More work than in any normal day. It's not like she had anything better to do anyway.

Isabela flipped another page of the plant encyclopedia. She didn't actually read it, but the pictures were facinating. Yellowish from time, telling about what would be beyong Casita. At least to Papí's explanation.

"Do you think it's real?" Isabela turned her head. Luiza looked up from whatever she read at the time, something about mythology that she found a few days ago. A demand of their parents to read a book. "Like, the world beyong Casita?"

Casita questioned with the slide of a book. Luisa clentched her fists. Of course, a daddy girl she is would argue to defend their papá. "Papí wouldn't lie!" She pouted. And Isabela wanted to believe it. But, sometimes it was hard.. Casita didn't let them out. It had never let them out. No matter what. Which was stupid! Sure, Isabela loved Casita, and she loved her bestie cousin. Maybe even her annoying sisters on a good day. But it's not like Isabela could actually say it out loud.

Isabela pushed the plate away from her. Hot breakfast steaming with wonderfull aromas. So appetizing that she can feel her mouth watering.

"Bela, you haven't eat anything?" Her mamá asked, concerned.

Isabela smiled, her gace didn't twitch. "Sorry, ma, I just don't have appetite." She tucked a staggler back behind her ear.

Now that was a lie. Her stomach wretched. Nothing new. Isabela was used to it anyway. Her head feels a bit dizzy. Alright, the last time she ate was was.... she didn't really remember.

Isabela didn't know at which point she stopped eating. She just... needed control. She couldn't control where she was, what she was doing. Casita was always here, always watching. Controlling every aspect. And Isabela grew sick from it. This constant feeling when she couldn't say a word without a painful ring of the furniture. Without a fear of being locked in a small dark room all by herself.

So she grabbed onto the only thing she felt was possible to control. How hungry she was. How much she ate. (She couldn't really choose what to eat too.) And so she did. Of course, Casita tried to interfere. It was trying for years probably. But it couldn't really shove a spoon into Isabela's mouth. And asking her parents to do it instead would mean a defeat.

Casita was solid. Never changing. Isabela could swear she learnt the house up to every millimeter. It never changed. Every moment, every second was the same. Sure, Luisa did rearrange rooms sometimes. (why? Isabela didn't really know) But with time it became just as normal part of routine. You can move an orchid into new pots all you want, but it won't become a cactus. (And Isabela would die to see both)

Isabela hated this lack of control. She felt like a caged animal, confined in a small place. Going round from isolation. Ahe wanted to escape. To have her own life. One that wasn't defined by Casita. Where she could do something without asking first. Where she could take a step out of her room without asking if she's allowed to.

She knew better than assume it would happen.

#encanto #mirabel madrigal #isabela madrigal #luisa madrigal #ao3 author #fanfic #casita stop you're worse than swap pedro

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forgottenedmund · 2 months ago

Note

edmund & rosie: i can't believe you talked me into this

"One of my brother's many excellent qualities," Cassandra cut in, looping one arm round Rosie and the other around Edmund's, "is his power of persuasion."

"And as my sister is never wrong," Edmund drawled, the sarcasm in his voice going unnoticed by Cassandra, "I suppose then that it must be so."

"It certainly is," Rose agreed.

"I suppose you would have had no interest in seeing a play that is four hours long if I hadn't twisted your arm?" Edmund asked, arching a brow.

"Do not let him bully you, Rose," Cassandra interjected, "He means to trap you and I will not have it." She lowered her voice, "Edmund knows, as well as I do, that this play isn't as terribly as exciting as it ought to be, but he'd go and scold you for being unpatriotic if you said as much. Although, you'd really only be saving yourself from inescapable boredom if you'd not agreed to come."

Rose laughed, "Well, I never like to leave my friends to suffer alone."

Cassandra was soon distracted by the arrival of Arthur and Sebastian -- although Edmund suspected it was also a calculated move on her part to allow him some time alone with Roisin. She wasn't always as subtle with her attempts at matchmaking as she thought she was, but he was willing to forgive her meddling this evening for he had invited Rose with the hope of having her to himself.

"Is it really so terrible as all that?" Rose asked, after Cassandra had gone.

"Worse. It's one of the most boring plays you'll ever see, but the heavy religious symbolism makes it one of my father's favorites and we've been subjected to it every year during the season of his name day." He groaned at the memories, "If I have made you doubt your decision to come, there is still time to escape -- "

"Oh, no. I am quite determined to witness it all now. After such an endorsement, how can I not? Only now you have subjected yourself to my constant commentary which, as witty as charming as it promises to be, may prove even more tedious than the play itself."

Edmund laughed, "Then you have gravely underestimated the ability this great piece of artistic achievement has to bore one to tears."

#drabble #challenge #rose malconaire #cassandra varmont #idk what this is

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clarepreed · 1 year ago

Text

Micro-Story: Larissa's Decision

Story Content and Summary - 2,007 words. A depressed Larissa realizes how easy it would be to slip away while Mitchell sleeps. Symptoms, asthma, vague resuscitation descriptions.

Previous installment: Hurt/Comfort.

Mitchell slept deeply beside her, lost in an unusually carefree slumber. She could hear him gently breathing, occasionally punctuated by a soft snore. His body radiated warmth, and the blanket over them was soft and plush.

Despite this, Larissa felt cold. Cold and inescapably sad. Her brain lied to her, whispering to her soul that she was miserable, isolated inside herself, and unworthy of her generous lot in life. Her toes, nose, and fingertips burned with this knowledge. The depression nearly stopped her breath in her lungs. Literally, her breathing shallow and labored as she stared up at the ceiling.

I’m so tired. I just want to rest.

A miserly finger of warmth swept across her eyes. Tears brimmed against her lashes. More weight sank into her chest, making her wheeze. The burden of breathing plagued her.

Burden.

Insecurity welled up; this was a word to which she was sensitive, even if she was the only one wielding it. A burden. How different Mitchell’s life was now that he dealt with her poor health. Going from the CEO of the company he built to carer for his fragile wife. How stressed her parents were, worrying about her when they should focus on themselves and Poppy. The drawn looks she’d seen on Mark and Samuel’s faces the last time she was in the hospital. Her friend Kieran crying on the phone with her, having had a dream about Larissa nearly dying after her wedding. The weight dragged down everyone who cared for her.

So much angst, because of me.

Add to all of that her own growing sense of discontent and boredom. She didn’t have a job. Her friends lived scattered across the globe. Sometimes, she was well enough to run, but at other times, she couldn’t even go for a walk. Even simple pleasures had been taken from her. Bathing without fear of drowning. Eating a meal without fear of choking.

She loved Mitchell. She couldn’t put into words how much she loved him; hadn’t known that was even possible. And yet…

It’s not enough.

Sick and in love. Not enough.

I’m so sorry, honey. It’s not enough.

Her heart, instead of pounding in her ears as dread and depression pressed her into the mattress, beat slowly.

Thump.

She felt dizzy, the dark room canting around her.

Thump.

I could let go.

The realization dawned slowly. She could let go.

Feels like it would be easy.

She would stop breathing first. Lay there as her heart fluttered. Then her heart would stop completely. And it would just be over. No pain, no panic. Just this inexorable pressure, then nothing. She didn’t know how she knew this, she just did.

Her thoughts turned back to Mitchell. There was a chance he would sense something, would know somehow that she was in grave danger. He would awaken and find her still and lifeless beside him. He would shake her, gently at first. Then hard, making her head sway side to side. He would turn on a light, take in her staring gaze. He would shout and listen for breath and take her pulse.

He would call 9-1-1 and throw back the covers. Haul her bodily from the bed, her skull thunking on the floor in his desperation. His hands would stack on her chest and pump her heart. She could feel it, the relentless pressure focused on her sternum, making the bone sink toward her heart before letting it recoil. Her blood would move incrementally, rhythmically, through her veins.

Thump.

Then he would crank open her airway, pinch her nostrils, and cover her mouth with his. She could feel the ghost of his touch on her lips. His warm breath forced into her lungs. The dampness of saliva passing between them. Then another round of chest compressions as he counted and moved almost like a professional, efficient from all his practice.

I’m sorry, honey.

Thump.

He would do this for two minutes, then he’d leave her, sprinting for the linen closet they’d converted into a first aid cabinet, wired for outlets and well-illuminated. He would return with an AED. There would be another round of compressions. Then he’d fit a pocket mask over her face. She could feel him cradling her head with a shaking hand, settling the mask over her nose and mouth. The air flowed into her, disconnected from him.

Rustling sounds, accompanied by Mitchell verbally encouraging her to pull through. His voice heavy with heartbreak. Cool sensations up her midline as he cut through her shirt. More compressions, her chest sinking and her stomach bulging. Her feet rocking. Breaths. Sticky pads applied to her chest.

Her heartbeat continued to slow, though in her reverie, it was already still. She knew the AED would not advise any shocks, but Mitchell’s agonized begging was still a shock to her stagnant system.

Thump.

More likely, he would wake in the morning, when she was well and truly gone. He would stretch and reach for her like he always did. And he would know immediately, as his arm slid across her stomach. She would be still and cool to the touch. Eyes dull when he lurched up to look at her face. Fingers pressed desperately into her carotid would tell him what he already knew. He’d had enough nightmares to this effect that he would spend a few minutes insisting this was a terrible dream and trying to wake himself up. And when he realized the truth…

Her mind sent her a horrifying approximation of the mourning sound he would make, and she pulled back mentally from it so hard that her hands, curled limp on the mattress, flinched.

He would surely never sleep deeply again.

I’m sorry, honey.

Thump.

Still, not enough.

Thump.

What would be enough?

Her breath hitched, and her vision exploded into a kaleidoscope of gem-colored imagery. A 5k race finish line. Mitchell looking up from a book and offering her an easy smile. Kieran’s first child cradled in her arms. Sitting in a room of students with a box of freshly sharpened drawing pencils, listening to an instructor. Holding Momma’s hand at Poppy’s funeral. Filing LLC paperwork for a consulting business. Stepping off a plane in a far-off land. Calling Mark’s sister, Angie, just to tell her something funny she’d read. Sitting with Mitchell at a concert, grinning as the bass tickled her sternum. Petting one of the neighbor’s white, fluffy cats. Moving her parents into the Ohana. Watching Mark and Samuel renew their vows. Driving on a closed course. Mitchell in bed, coming apart beneath her with his heart pounding under her hand. Standing in the sunlight with her eyes closed, the breeze caressing her skin.

I don’t want to die.

Thump.

I don’t want to die.

Thump.

Is this a dream? When did I close my eyes?

No!

“Mitchell,” she whispered out loud, peeling her eyes open with difficulty. He didn’t stir; she hadn’t spoken loudly enough to wake him.

Larissa tensed her legs and arms, then released them.

Thump. Thump.

Her breath wheezed in and out of her. She needed her inhaler, but she was still being dragged along by the inertia of sleep.

Or death.

Larissa licked her lips and forced her hand to slide across the fitted sheet until she bumped Mitchell in the back.

“Mitchell,” she croaked, then coughed.

He stirred. It always fascinated her how quickly his mind cleared when he woke up. She probably wouldn’t have to say his name again.

Thump. Thump.

A few seconds passed, and he bolted upright. Another few seconds, and she heard the click of the manual button on his smart lamp.

“Larissa?” He leaned over her, his eyes quickly scanning her face. He looked concerned, but not yet panicked. “Asthma?”

She nodded, though it took a lot of effort and she saw his eyebrows quirk. Mitchell pulled back the covers, and she shivered.

“I’m sorry. I just want to help you sit up, baby.” He did more than that; he wedged his hands under her arms and hauled her up, then held her close to his chest with one arm while he dragged the pillows up behind her. He leaned her back against them, frowning when her head lolled. Mitchell moved quickly, straddling her legs and leaning over to open her nightstand drawer. “Hey, Google. Turn on Larissa’s bedside lamp.”

The light flicked on. Then he had her inhaler, shaking it before he held it to her lips. “Ready, baby? I can help you.”

She struggled to raise her arm, so Mitchell said: “Okay. I’m going to count to three and then I’ll give you a pump. One, two, three—”

Larissa gave it her best effort, inhaling as he depressed the canister. Then she held her breath, letting the medicine move through her lungs before exhaling.

Thump.

“Okay, one more.” He held the inhaler close to her face, and she wrapped her lips around the mouthpiece again. “One, two, three! Good, good job, baby.”

The inhaler went back into the drawer; Mitchell was very good about putting things away so he could find them later. He wasn’t the sort to leave his underwear in the bathroom, or things on the stairs for her to trip over.

I’m thinking about too many things when I should think about breathing.

It was harder than she thought, and she concentrated on breathing in and out, hoping Mitchell wouldn’t have to call an ambulance.

Thump. Thump.

Thump.

Mitchell cradled her wrist in his hand and pressed two fingers to the inside. He made a sympathetic sound when he touched her. “Geez. Your hands are so cold!”

Larissa reclined against the pillows, tipping her head back and closing her eyes. Keeping them open seemed like it was taking a lot of her energy. She could hear herself wheezing; it would take the Albuterol a few minutes to work.

Thump.

“Larissa.” Mitchell’s tone was sharp, so she cracked her eyes open. “Is anything else wrong?”

“I was—” A coughing fit took her, and she was vaguely aware of Mitchell moving around; when she could draw breath again, he had her phone in his hand. She didn’t want to try speaking yet, so she offered him a thumbs up and the OK sign.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I’m going to be OK.

Now.

Mitchell made a face at her, something between frustration and worry. She shivered in response, and he let go of the phone so he could reach out and rub her arms. “Soon as I’m sure you can breathe, I’ll get you some things to warm you up, baby.”

“Sorry,” she croaked, coughing again.

“Don’t apologize, Larissa. Thank you for waking me up. I don’t like to think about you struggling in the dark alone.” Mitchell reached up and cupped her cheek. “You’d help me if I needed it. You have before.”

She nodded and took a few careful breaths. She felt a little stronger now; holding her head up didn’t take quite so much effort. More importantly, she no longer felt like she might leave the mortal realm at any moment. Relief that she was apparently going to live filtered through her, leaving her confused as to whether or not she’d been having a nightmare or if everything she’d felt had been real. Guilt prickled across her cheekbones; she had no intention of telling Mitchell any of it. Especially not when he was looking at her like that, like she was a precious thing, easy to lose.

Mitchell leaned forward and kissed her forehead before climbing off her legs. His lips felt warm on her skin. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” He winked at her, dispelling some of the worry on his face, and she offered him what smile she could muster.

He returned soon, with fluffy socks, a knit hat, gloves, and a blanket. As he was pulling the hat down over her head, each movement deliberate and gentle, she whispered: “I love you.”

It’s enough… for now.

The story continues with Neighborly.

#resus writing #cpr resus #female resus

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yoshiyakiryu-archive · 2 years ago

Text

Some fresh nonsense about joshneku losing over at @homoeroticbetrayal

"Fancy seeing you here," Joshua chimes from his perch on the cafe seat as Neku approaches the table. It's not Wildkat, but this side-street shop feels unnaturally empty, and all the more unreal for the presence of the smiling Composer, casually seated by the window.

He could be the most powerful entity in the city, but Neku's urge to roll his eyes and tell him to go fuck himself has the budding inescapability of an oncoming sneeze. Only four words in, Neku's already reminded that no matter how much he misses the asshole when he's gone, he's a pain in the ass to have a straightforward conversation with.

"You invited me," Neku gripes, unable to resist giving the eye roll. He slides onto the seat across from Joshua, feeling another one coming on already.

"Hmm, did I? I suppose I must have. Hee hee." Joshua slides one of the two cups in front of him towards Neku. "The coffee here is decent, you should give it a try."

"…Thanks."

He continues being suspicious for a moment, but ultimately trusts Joshua, and the knowledge that poisoning wasn't really his style. If he wants Neku back in the UG, there's nothing stopping Joshua from rattling another bullet through his poor, pre-punctured brain matter. The old one must still be in there, making him think humoring this conversation was a rational idea that won't just end in a headache.

Joshua smiles, two hands on his own paper coffee cup, fingers striking it in sequence, a steady expectant rhythm. As he watches Neku, the motions change. Taking a sip, the scales shift to an energetic tempo, striking keys he cannot see in time with music he cannot hear. Weirdo.

"What did you want, anyway?" Neku asks, setting the coffee down. There's little point in wasting time on pleasantries when Joshua deemed something catastrophic enough to take the risk of actually talking to him.

"Nothing to say about the coffee?"

"Not really." It's pretty average, as far as coffee goes, and it's not a surprise Joshua knows his order.

Joshua hums, digging his phone out of his pocket and adding to what seems to be, from Neku's view of the phone upside down across the table, a personal review log of local restaurants. "That's hardly a riveting opinion, but I'll include it. We wouldn't want to find Players erased of sheer boredom, would we?"

Whatever UG bullshit Joshua was pursuing, Neku wasn't making it his problem to know. He could guess, but he won't. He won't even think about it. Nope, no dead people business here.

Joshua frowns at him through the silence, bordering on a pout, and sets his phone down.

Neku tilts his head, gesturing with his free hand.

"Well? Did something happen? Why are we here, Josh? Is reality about to collapse in on itself? Did someone important die? Double die?"

"No, no no no, nothing like that," Joshua says waving off his tone. "Well, people die of course, every day. But that's not my concern." He cuts Neku off before he can reply that yeah, it kind of is, by snatching his phone back off the table and waving it in Neku's face. "I'm here about this."

Oh.

That.

The homoerotic betrayal thing. He'd heard about it after the fact when three of his friends texted him their condolences on losing to Brutus and Caesar. He needed to ask for context, and to be frank, didn't know what to make of the whole thing. He could have gone without knowing that "iconic homoerotic betrayal" was a tournament he'd been nominated in, and privately thinks Joshua has got to find more normal ways of hitting on him. Ways that don't involve firearms.

"Isn't that over?" he asks, with little else to say. If it was over, they shouldn't have to worry about it. Problem solved. Neku out. The arcane and meta machinations of the multiverse can remain not his problem.

"Yes," Joshua says, all business, "but we lost."

"So?"

"So, we lost! After all our fans put in such heartwarming work about us too."

Neku mulls over the word "fans" for a long moment, and decides he doesn't want to consider the implications of that either. He shrugs. "Okay."

"Neku," Joshua says, placing the phone between them and folding his hands loosely over his drink, "I don't think you're taking this very seriously."

"No shit, Sherlock," Neku snaps, indulging that eye roll. "You're not telling me why I should."

"Because we lost," Joshua says, forced patience, as sincere as he ever gets, "and because I have reason to suspect there was UG involvement." He picks up his phone again, opening an app before handing it over. "Take a look. Do any words stand out to you?"

Neku takes the phone, and scrolls slowly, taking his time to make sure there was nothing obvious for Joshua to scold him about missing, and to make him squirm, until he sees a familiar word. "Memes?"

"An astute observation Neku! I knew I'd chosen you for a reason."

He's insufferable. Neku hands the phone back and sinks down in his seat. Unbelievable.

"Memes, yes." Joshua twirls a lock of hair around his index finger, and Neku takes a sip of coffee to disguise how closely he followed the movement.

"You think that we lost because everyone was Imprinted to vote against us?"

"In short, yes again," Joshua says, smiling once more. "Someone put on their thinking cap today."

Asshole. Bastard. Little snot.

Neku takes a deep breath and swallows the growl climbing his throat.

"Explain."

Joshua hums, then shrugs, palms up and put upon. "I believe there was a site-wide Imprinting campaign leading up to the bracket. Disguised as a celebration of the death of Julius Caesar. You of all people know how easily folks can be swayed by a trend." He slumps down onto his elbows, resting his chin in his hands. "Then we lost," he continues, annoyed. "And I don't like losing."

"Obviously. Isn't it kind of far-fetched to Imprint memes on a whole website?"

"You'd be surprised what some of the Higher Plane get up to in their spare time.

"…Right, don't tell me." He doesn't want to hear about angel hobbies. He doesn't want to think about angel hobbies. "I still don't get why you submitted us to that thing in the first place."

"I didn't."

Eye rolls must come in threes. Joshua has the audacity to look affronted.

"Okay. Sure. I'll believe that. Then why is this so important?"

"I can't tell you," Joshua says, gazing meaningfully into the middle distance fingers tangled in a stray lock of hair.

He is so full of shit. There is not one iota of Joshua that isn't composed of compacted, steaming, fresh shit. This is what happens when you cross the guy's competitive streak with a crush. He should confiscate Joshua's phone. Joshua should talk to him more often.

"But! We could get a second chance," Joshua says, affected wistfulness gone. "I know how big a fan you are of second chances. We'll win the revival match." Joshua leans in, devious and conniving across from him, and Neku knows what's coming even before Joshua does a fingergun in his direction. "You will win us the revival match. By any means necessary."

"And how am I going to do that?" Neku crosses his arms.

Another shrug. "Start Imprinting memes on people yourself. Find the culprit rigging things from before. I'm not fussed about the strategy, as long as we win."

Neku closes his eyes. "I don't get a choice here, do I?"

"It's a homoerotic betrayal tournament, Neku. That's against the spirit of it, wouldn't you say?"

"Fair enough." It isn't. Not really. But Neku's learned to pick his battles. He's learned to pick them very well. "But I set the terms."

"Oh?" Joshua's pitch rises in surprise. "Intriguing. Go on."

Neku lifts up a finger. "One. No penalties for losing." Joshua grumbles against his palm. "Two, if we win, you're showing up for group outings. No excuses or leaving early. Spend time with us."

There's unmatched satisfaction in the way Joshua looks like he's swallowed something far too sour. "These aren't very nice terms, Neku."

"Take them or leave them. And no funny business."

"…Fiiiiiiine. I guess you'll just owe me."

Joshua pulls himself from the table and stands, all drawn-out, fluid movements and exaggerated resignation. His coffee sits abandoned on the table, half finished.

"Owe you!?"

"Hee hee. For being so generous, of course. I'll pick you up when the polls open." Joshua touches his sole fingergun to Neku's temple before leaving the cafe and an exasperated, incredulous Neku. "Toodles."

#twewy #joshneku #neku sakuraba #joshua kiryu #yoshiya kiryu #dedicated to léa regalli and dusty for running so far with this #i wrote this in a hurry but it's way more than I can usually write in this span of time #so that's pretty awesome #i just wanted to make the meme joke #my writing

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