#drinking wine and drawing did wonders for me this time

[faretheeoscar]

Duke Leto Atreides

Monochrome Series

It’s been a couple of months where my friends of my server and I have been rewatching or watching for the first time some of Oscar’s movies, we do it all weeks and it’s been fun.

Recently we started taking screenshots of any moment that made us go crazy and unhinged and everybody draws them in their own style.

Leto has been my favourite to draw so far, I’m on a Dune era relapse rn

Drawings Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are kindly appreciated 🫶🏼

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 CHAMPAGNE KISSES

FEATURING: pm!dazai osamu

SUMMARY: in a desperate attempt to try to get you to drink with him, dazai offers up a secret he's never told anyone... and how could you possible refuse that? AKA the first kiss fic.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: here is the promised second fic! another light hearted one :D (warnings: fem!reader, there are some implications of reader and chuuya being taught to use their bodies as tools - as implied in canon - but nothing else really, this is light-hearted as promised)

You don’t usually drink. 

In fact, you usually stay as far away from any type of alcohol as you possibly can because the one time you did drink, you ended up passed out on the floor of the Colonel’s office with no recollection of how you got there. You blame Nakahara Chuuya because he is a bad influence and stole one of Kouyou’s bottles of wine, sneaking it up to your office to convince you to drink with him to celebrate your sixteenth birthday. The Colonel was severely unimpressed with you and you were severely embarrassed, more so when you found out that he spent half of the night cleaning up after you. 

You blame Chuuya. 

Neither of you can recall how you��d gotten separated that night, but you’re certain that it’s his fault somehow.

“Just a few glasses,” Dazai complains, a pout tugging at his lips as he drapes himself half over you and half over your couch, dangling a bottle of champagne in your face as if to tempt you. “We just ended the biggest conflict Yokohama has ever seen. I was just promoted to executive. Celebrate.”

“No,” you tell him instantly, putting your palm to his face and shoving him away from you. 

Dazai instantly lets out a string of complaints, unbalanced as he rolls off the couch and onto the ground. He scowls up at you, disgruntled and irate as he pushes himself back to his feet and throws himself right back down where he was, perhaps even more on top of you than he had been before. You sigh, he looks distinctly pleased by the withering look you give him.

“You drank with Chuuya.” Dazai instantly throws the fact in your face, as offended about it as he was the day he found out you and Chuuya got drunk for the first time without him. As if it was your fault that he was sent away on a two-week mission in Sapporo to try to draw Murasaki and her men out of Yokohama and back to their homefront. 

He didn’t speak to either of you for days.

It was the most peaceful few days of your life.

No, you’re joking, you spent a whole week doing paperwork for him as an apology, but no matter how much he tries to convince you to drink with him so he can be even with Chuuya, you deny it because you have no interest in drinking again any time soon.

“You drank with Chuuya and you won’t drink with me. You hate me,” Dazai complains, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. “You want me dead.”

“Dazai,” you start, but he doesn’t even let you get out a second word.

“You can’t even deny it,” Dazai accuses, pulling off of you to glare at you. “I’m supposed to be your best friend. Not Chuuya. You’re trying to replace me with him.”

You give him a blank look right back, and distantly, you wonder how you ended up in this position, regretting that Mori ever pulled you back to Yokohama from Kyoto, desperately wishing to go back to the city just so you can escape Dazai’s dramatics. Maybe you’ll ask him now that the Dragon’s Head Conflict has ended. 

His expression shifts into one of offense, as if he can read your thoughts. 

“Take that back,” he demands.

“I didn’t say anything,” you say, appalled.

“You didn’t need to, it was all over your face. Take it back.”

You lean forward, hand lifting to his face to squish his cheeks together. He squints at you, aggrieved, but you don’t let him yank his face out of your grip.

“I am not drinking with you,” you tell him firmly, tired of this conversation, you’ve been going back and forth about it with him for almost thirty minutes. You duly ignore the way his eyes droop and the way he sticks his bottom lip out—a ridiculous expression considering you’re still squishing his cheeks. “You’re welcome to have a few drinks yourself, but I am not going to be cleaning up after you.”

You drop your hand back to your lap and relax back against the couch, raising your eyebrows when Dazai only continues to pout in your direction. At once, a glimmer of mischief flashes through his visible eye and instantly, you’re on edge, tilting your head to the side as you wait for him to speak. 

With no concept of personal space, clearly, he leans forward again, lips curling up into a suspicious smile. “What if we made a deal?” he asks, looking mighty pleased with himself when your eyes narrow onto him, interest piqued.

“What type of deal?” you ask dubiously, not entirely convinced that he has something up his sleeve that could convince you to drink again.

“If you drink with me, I’ll tell you something about me that I’d never admit sober.”

 Oh.

Dazai smiles like he’s won. 

You click your tongue sharply and then say, “Pour me a glass.”

This was a mistake. 

You don’t know where Dazai got his hands on two bottles of champagne, but you almost would’ve preferred his choice of whiskey to it. The bubbles have gone straight to your head, your entire body feels light and Dazai has become far more touchy than he usually is. It started out with subtle brushes—he moved closer to you, thigh pressed to yours as he spoke animatedly about his portion of the last mission, occasionally knocking his shoulder into yours. He’s no doubt over-exaggerating the grandeur of it all, but you find yourself smiling as he waves his hands around and describes the epic staging of his capture and how he almost died at the hands of the enemy because Chuuya ‘can’t function without Dazai there to order him around.’

You think Chuuya would punch him in the face if he heard Dazai say that, but you think you’ll let it slide this time because Dazai looks cute happy rambling on about the mission and boasting his feats. His cheeks are tinted pink from the alcohol and he’s talking so fast that you can hardly keep up.

Dazai had been weird the past two weeks. You thought he’d be excited with his promotion to executive and beating both you and Chuuya in the race to the open seat, but he’s been oddly glum. Hasn’t risen to the bait of Chuuya’s gibes, hasn’t chased you around headquarters to bother you about one thing or another; when people congratulate him for his promotion, his gaze slides past them as if they aren’t even there. You and Chuuya have been trying to figure out what’s wrong with him but every time you guys try, it’s like he knows to evade you.

This is the most ‘normal’ you’ve seen him in almost two weeks.

“What were you going to tell me?” you finally ask curiously when the conversation lulls as Dazai reaches to pour himself another glass.

He pauses, gaze cutting to the side to look at you. Your eyes narrow and for a moment, neither of you move, just staring at one another. Then Dazai pointedly continues to pour himself another glass.

Notably, not answering your question.

You scowl at him. “You are not getting out of this, Dazai Osamu,” you say, irate. If your voice is a little slurred, you ignore it. “You promised.”

Dazai makes a noise in the back of his throat—something caught between a complaint and a whimper—and you lean a little closer to him, intrigued, watching as his face steadily gets redder.

“Oh my god,” you say more to yourself than him. “You really are embarrassed. Come on, tell me, it can’t be that bad.” 

“I’m not drunk enough,” he protests, trying to physically turn his body away from you, but you shift closer to him, half leaning on his lap so you can keep your gaze trained on his face. “Stop that, get off.” 

“No,” you say instantly, delighted at the change in demeanor. “I’m drunk enough. Tell me. It’s time.”

The expression Dazai shoots at you is nothing short of withering, the look in his eyes hateful, you only give him a simpering smile in return. He pointedly turns his head away from you and mumbles something under his breath that you can’t hear. You frown as you lean in a little more.

“Speak up,” you tell him, nudging your shoulder into his and you can see him scowl, cheeks flushed, chin raised high. 

“I’ve never had my first kiss,” Dazai rushes out as if it’s his greatest shame, refusing to look at you.

You stare for a moment and then you snort.

“Did you just… laugh at me?” Dazai’s head snaps toward you, thoroughly offended.

“No,” you say immediately, forcing the smile off of your face as you look at him, but as soon as you catch the pink tint on his cheeks, your hand is flying to your mouth to muffle another giggle, this one far more obvious than the last.

Dazai looks entirely insulted. “You did. You’re laughing at me. You’re laughing at me.”

“I’m sorry,” you gasp through a wheeze. “I’m sorry, I just-you’ve got to be lying. There’s no way, I mean-”

Dazai bristles. “Stop laughing at me,” Dazai complains, burying his face in his hands, he covers his cheeks as he turns to glare at you. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised, it’s not like the slug has either.”

“Chuuya has had his first kiss, Dazai,” you say before you can think over your words and instantly Dazai’s brows are furrowing, eye squinting as he looks at you.

You think you’ve made a fatal mistake. The alcohol has made your tongue far too loose.

“How do you know that?” he asks suspiciously, staring at you intently as he waits for an answer.

Shit. You stare at him for a moment, contemplating your options because there’s no way in hell that you’re admitting to Dazai Osamu that you were Nakahara Chuuya’s first kiss. But the longer you wait, the more suspicious he’s getting, you can tell, and you have a feeling that if you do lie, he’s going to figure it out right away.

“He told me,” you finally answer and instantly, Dazai’s gaze sharpens.

Fuck.

“Liar,” he accuses, and you can see that even under the influence of four glasses of champagne, his mind still works sharply—a bit slower, maybe, because even Dazai Osamu is not immune to the effects of alcohol, though he does clearly have a ridiculously high tolerance. 

You see his thoughts whirling, racing to put together the pieces laid out before him, and you watch as he suddenly straightens in his seat, eyes wide. “Dazai-”

“No,” he breathes out, horrified. “No. No. You’re lying. You must be lying.”

“Dazai,” you say again, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“Noooooo,” Dazai complains, louder, more aggrieved. He tugs at his hair, squeezes his eyes shut. “No. No. Noooooo, I can’t accept this. Revoke it. Revoke it immediately.”

You blink. “Dazai,” you start slowly, “I can’t just revoke it. That’s-It’s not how that works, what-”

“REVOKE IT!”

“Jesus Christ. Fine. Revoked. It's been revoked.”

Dazai lets out a long breath, leaning back against the couch as he turns another flinty look onto you. “You’re so disgusting.”

“Look in a mirror,” you snap back, irritated.

“No, you look in a mirror. You’ve kissed a-” he gags as if he can hardly bring himself to say the words. “You’ve kissed a slug. You’ve kissed a slug, you’re so disgusting, I can hardly stand to look at you.”

“You’re so fucking dramatic, Dazai,” you snort, rolling your eyes at the genuine repugnance painted all over his face. But you watch as the disgust suddenly disappears, melting into a conflicted expression that you have trouble reading. “You really haven’t had your first kiss?”

You don’t really know what you expected. Well, you would have thought that Dazai would have some experience—maybe not as much as you or Chuuya, the two of you have been trained in utilizing your bodies for strategic purposes, but you would’ve thought maybe he found someone to experiment with. 

Although, you suppose you shouldn’t really be that surprised. Mori is Dazai’s mentor, and he has the boy constantly swamped with missions and operation preparations, keeping him carefully under his thumb so that no one else can taint the control he has over his precious Demon Prodigy—Dazai likely doesn’t even have the time to even think of stuff like this, much less go out of his way to experience it himself. 

Dazai doesn’t respond, pointedly turning his face away from you. 

“So what if I haven’t?” Dazai snips, regaining his cool facade, even if it did take a bit longer while under the influence of the champagne. “Maybe, I’m saving it for someone special, ever think of that?”

You coo, reaching out to pinch his cheek, and Dazai gives you a look nothing short of affronted, pulling his face away just as you feel how warm his cheeks are. 

“Tell me about your dream woman then, Dazai?” You lean your elbow against the back of the couch, resting your cheek on your palm as you look at him. “I wanna know allll about her.”

“Well-” Dazai starts, clearing his throat as he takes another sip of his drink. 

You watch as he stares ahead for a moment, waiting to see what he says—a part of you is genuinely curious, a tight feeling of anticipation in your throat that you can’t seem to push away but don’t know why.

Finally, Dazai looks at you with a crooked smirk and a victorious look in his eye that makes you realize whatever he is about to say is going to piss you off. “You would like to know, wouldn’t you? I knew you had a crush on me. I bet you just want to know if you’re my dream woman.”

“HA!” you bark out a laugh immediately at the prospect, ignoring the weird tug at your chest. “You wish, Dazai, maybe when hell freezes over.”

You miss the way Dazai’s expression falters as you try to distract yourself from the tightness pulling at you by taking another generous sip from your half-full glass.

Dazai lets out an irritable puff, pushing out his cheeks as he looks away from you, making a show of being offended by your comment. You roll your eyes at him as you turn your attention back to him.

“So you’ve both had your first kiss then,” he says, voice clipped, and before you can make a comment about it, he continues, “Whatever. It’s probably not that great anyway. It’s just pushing your lips against someone else’s. What’s so special about that? Honestly, it sounds kind of gross.”

He’s not looking at you, and you have to gnaw at your bottom lip to not snort at the blatant bitterness in his tone as he speaks. You wonder if he’s that aggrieved by the situation, or if the alcohol is just making him looser with his emotions because he’d never usually be so openly bothered by this.

“Why haven’t you kissed one of Mishima’s daughters?” you ask curiously, tucking your knees to your chest as you watch him curiously. “Those three are always hanging around trying to get our attention.”

That’s putting it gently—Mishima’s girls are your age, and whenever the Sun and Steel host an event that the Port Mafia is invited to, the three are all over you guys. Whether it’s teenage rebellion against their father, or they’re actually interested in you, you don’t really know, but they make for better company than most of the other people in attendance and have loose lips, so you tend to find the oldest sister to entertain you for the night.

Dazai hesitates for a moment, an odd expression crossing his face. He finally says, “They’re not interested in me.”

You wrinkle your nose as you look at him, leaning your head against the back of the couch. “What do you mean? The youngest is interested in anything with two legs, pretty low bar to reach,” you try to joke but Dazai seems to find no humor in it, lips curling down as he stares ahead absently.

“Not me,” Dazai says after a few seconds. “... They think I’m weird. Heard them talking about it at the last event—Noriko and Michiko.”

You pause, lowering your glass from your lips to rest your hands down in your lap as you observe him. His expression is mostly blank, but there’s a conflicted look in his eye that makes your throat feel tight. You’d always wondered if Dazai cared about what people would say about him—they’re not exactly subtle regarding how they feel about the youngest executive. They find him odd and disturbing, most people evade him as much as possible. They think he’s inhuman, closer to a demon than man. You’re sure he’s overheard a lot of it: Dazai knows anything and everything that goes on in the Port Mafia, you can’t imagine he’s blind to people’s opinions on him, but if he is aware, he’s never let it outwardly bother him. In fact, you think he’s utilized it to his advantage for the most part.  

But… you’d learned quickly once you were back in Yokohama that Dazai Osamu isn’t alone by choice. He craves interaction with people, but finds little of it because people find his presence unnerving and the few that don’t are wary of the tight leash that Mori has him on. So, you suppose you shouldn’t really be surprised that he’s more bothered than he lets on about some girls your age, who are clearly hung up on both you and Chuuya, having no interest in him because of how they perceive him.

“Well, fuck them,” you finally scoff, already plotting out a way to humiliate the two that Dazai had overheard talking shit about him at the upcoming event in a few weeks. “They’re bitches anyway. And stupid too, clearly. You’re not weird.”

Dazai looks as if he doesn’t believe you, lips tight as he lifts his glass to his lips only to find it empty. He seeks out the bottle and sighs when he notices that it too is empty. He places his glass back down on the table, but doesn’t turn to look at you.

“You don’t need to lie,” he says, keeping his voice breezy but you can see the expression on his face even if he is trying to hide it from you. “I know that I am, I-”

“You’re not,” you repeat, getting increasingly more irritated. “Don’t piss me off. Stop saying that shit.”

“It’s the truth,” Dazai says simply, folding his hands over his lap. “I don’t know why you’re getting so upset about it. Even Chuuya thinks so.”

“It’s not the truth,” you snap, “and I’m getting upset about it because you’re my best friend. I’m sick of people acting like you’re some evil incarnate for doing what we all do. And I’m sick of you letting it feed into whatever complex you have about your humanity. And for your information, Chuuya has drop-kicked people for talking poorly about you—and you better not tell him I told you that, he said he’d kill me if I did.”

Dazai doesn’t react to what you say for a second, brows furrowing and a strange expression crossing over his face at your words, as if he wasn’t sure what he expected from you but it wasn’t that. But it’s the truth. 

Chuuya has beat the shit out of people for talking badly about Dazai—no matter how much he bitches and complains that Dazai is annoying and a freak, he doesn’t let other people say the same shit when he’s around. You don’t like getting your own hands dirty like Chuuya does, but you’ve had people killed for talking badly about Dazai—you won’t admit that to anyone even if there’s a gun to your head—but all it takes is a few words about a certain subordinate stirring dissent within the ranks and the Black Lizards are on the move to take care of the inciter. 

It’s safe to say that the Mafia subordinates are careful to not voice their opinions about Dazai around the two of you anymore. 

Then, he says firmly, “I’m not your best friend.”

Your eye twitches. “What?” 

“I’m not your best friend,” he says again, speaking in a calm, matter-of-fact tone. “Chuuya is your best friend. You hang out with him more than me, you go drinking with him and don’t drink with me unless I bribe you, you kiss him.”

“Why can’t you both be my best friend?” you ask, annoyed, feeling much like a child.

“That defeats the purpose of best,” Dazai says snidely. You roll your eyes at his tone. 

“Well, I only hang out with Chuuya more because you’re on missions more than both of us because you have that fancy executive title now. And I don’t go drinking with Chuuya. I drank with him once and never again.”

You pointedly don’t say anything about the last comment he made, but Dazai catches that, leveling a steady look onto you.

“You kiss Chuuya,” Dazai repeats, quieter this time. “You don’t kiss me.”

“I would kiss you,” you tell him, voice a little more hesitant than you intend for it to be. Nervous, even. 

This is different from when you kiss Chuuya—from when you do anything with Chuuya. Kouyou directed the two of you to each other a few weeks ago toward the end of the conflict, saying that if you ever plan to bring any of the tactics taught by your mentors about utilizing your bodies for strategic purposes to the field, it’s best for the two of you to practice with one another as training. 

It was work. 

It was training. 

It wasn’t whatever this is about to be.

Your heartbeat feels erratic in your chest as you stare at him, he hasn’t reacted to your words, staring at you as if trying to figure out if you’re being serious or if you’re setting him up to make a fool out of himself.

“… I would not mind if hime was my first kiss.”

You let out a flustered noise in the back of your throat at the sudden use of the title you’ve grown to loathe over the past two years, dubbed by none other than Mori himself. Usually, Dazai only uses it whenever he’s trying to goad you into an argument, knowing how much you hate it, but there’s something different about it this time—something that has your cheeks heating up. His voice is softer, breath a bit hitched as he speaks, as if he’s just as nervous as you are but is trying to hide it.

“I thought you were saving it for someone special,” you say quietly, looking at Dazai carefully.

Dazai finally turns his head to look at you, expression subdued. “... Hime is special to me.”

Your breath catches at the admission, wondering if he’s trying to say you’re special because you’re his closest friend or if he’s trying to hint at something more, but Dazai’s expression doesn’t betray any of his thoughts and he doesn't seem inclined to expand on his painfully cryptic comment. 

Nor do you have the courage to ask.

You take in a quick breath, gathering your nerves before Dazai takes your prolonged silence as rejection and flees. You shift closer to him, watching as he takes in a sharp, quiet puff of air, staring at you carefully. His fingers are stiff in his lap, twitching as if he doesn’t know what to do with them. You lift your own hands to cup his cheeks between them.

His bandages are rough against the pads of the fingers on your left hand, and absently, you think that you should maybe stock up on a softer brand, because you’re sure they must be irritating his skin. His skin is smooth in contrast as the fingers of your other hand brush along his cheekbone, you watch as he lets out a shaky breath, visible eye wide as it traces your face. He instinctively leans into your touch and for a moment, you can’t help but wonder when the last time someone has touched him gently. Even Chuuya didn’t have such a reflexive reaction to your touch.

You don’t kiss him for a second, gaze lingering on his face, searching his eye to make sure that he’s ready. His tongue darts out to nervously wet his lips, cheeks tinted pink, fingers still unsteady in his lap as he waits. It’s cute, you think—and it might be the first and last time you’ll ever see Dazai Osamu so plainly flustered over something, so you want to savor it as best you can.

Once you’re satisfied, you lean in to press your lips against his. His lips are chapped and taste like the champagne the two of you have been drinking and faintly like the cigarette he’d been smoking on the walk back to your apartment. Not the most pleasant taste, but for some reason, you can’t seem to get enough of it. 

As far as kisses go, it's definitely a bit awkward, but still, it’s nicer than kissing Chuuya. You tell yourself it’s because kissing Chuuya is like any other job or mission, but a part of you wonders if it might be more than that.

You disregard that thought instantly. 

You keep the kiss soft and chaste, lips moving only subtly against his own. Dazai doesn’t kiss you back—you can feel his lips trembling and you try to relax him by smoothing your thumb over his cheekbone, but it only seems to make him even more nervous from how his breath hitches against your lips.

You can’t help the smile that tugs to the corner of your lips and he can obviously feel it, so he pulls back and asks, “Are you about to laugh at me again?” His voice is edged with a whine, lips turned down and expression sullen.

You don’t respond, instead, you lean in to press another quick kiss against his lips, letting out a puff of amusement when he lets out a surprised noise but swiftly melts into it.

Then you press another, and another after that, and again, until you can feel his own lips curving up against yours. You don’t know how long the two of you sit there, sharing short, chaste kisses and giggles until you can hardly remember how the two of you ended up there. You blame the dizziness you feel and the way your heart flutters in your chest on the alcohol.

When you finally pull away, Dazai’s face is flushed. He tries to hide the way his fingers are shaking by sneaking his hands beneath his thighs to sit on them, attempting to save some face by raising his chin and giving you an arrogant look.

“I knew you had a crush on me.”

“Ugh! I do not, you’re so gross, Dazai.”

But even as you speak the words out loud, you know that it’s a shameless lie. 

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

An Arranged Marriage, part 16

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

M!troll x f!reader

1.4k words

With one big hurdle out of the way it was a lot easier to just relax and enjoy his company. Being able to just cuddle completely entwined and not having to worry was a new feeling, but definitely welcome.

(I am feral over my own character, ask box is always open for talking about my writing or just monster fucking in general!)

--------

You were hungry, and perhaps a bit sticky and sweaty, but you felt content snuggled up to Zen. It was getting late and despite his offer to go and pick up something for dinner he appeared to have fallen asleep and you did not had the heart to wake him up. He looked so utterly relaxed just happily dozing now.

You could not resist tracing your fingers along his tusks, sure they got in the way, but they were also one of your favorite things about him. The carvings on them were so intricate, a mix of decorative designs and writing in his language that you often wondered about. You lifted your head a bit and wiggled up closer to kiss the side of his tusk and saw him smile when you did.

“I thought you were asleep” you said.

“I was, until you started wiggling around” he said and nuzzled the side of your face. “And still only going to touch me when you think I am asleep? I assumed we would be past that now” he teased.

“No, I just like touching your tusks and needed something to do while you were sleeping. And anyways, I liked how you sounded when I was touching you, I wouldn’t mind hearing more” you stammered through the last part.

You felt his purring before you could hear it. The way the vibrations traveled from his chest to yours made your own heart flutter a bit. Faking a smile or words was easy, but his purring was something genuine and out of his control.

“Then maybe after dinner you can help me find a way that works with my tusks so I can taste you”.

You buried your face into his chest, unable to make eye contact but you saw how he looked at you. Whatever blood had not rushed to your face to make you blush had definitely rushed lower to give you an ache between your thighs at the thought.

“Come on, how about we go and get some food and see where that takes us” he said.

The two of you dressed, Zen never once taking his eyes off of you. It seemed that now that he had been allowed to see all you you that he was going to drink in as much of you as he could.

You walked together closely though the market quarter, constantly in some form of physical contact with one another, just chatting and eating as you wandered.

It seemed Zen drew attention everywhere he went. It made you self conscious the first few times you had gone out with him into the city, they way people looked up and watched with curiosity. People often watched you when you were out on your own anyways, being possibly the only human in the city did draw attention, but being with Zen drew even more attention. You did you best to ignore it, occasionally burying your face into his arm to block it out.

At one point Zen tugged you into a small shop and chatted at length with the shopkeeper before buying a bottle of wine and giving you a big smile.

“How about we pick up some sweets, go home, and lay in bed with wine and dessert?” he asked.

You leaned against him and tapped your head against his arm, mimicking his quick little nuzzles, “I like that plan”.

Zen happily followed you from stand to stand and shop to shop, as you picked out some pastries and other goodies for the two of you. Any time you asked what you should choose he would just encourage you to get everything you wanted and not worry about it. Zen was always more than happy to indulge you or spoil you.

Wine and treats in hand, you made your way back home.

“What do you mean you don’t have a corkscrew?” you asked as you watched Zen fight with the cork of the wine bottle.

“I do not drink at home, so I have never thought of it” he said as he was trying to pry it free with a knife.

“Give me that” you held out your hand and waited for Zen to give up.

He relented and handed you the bottle and knife. Instead you wedged the knife in at an angle and slowly twisted the cork to loosen it enough to pop out.

“Why do you know how to do that?” he asked.

“Because back at home sneaking into the wine cellar was easy, but sneaking into the kitchen for a corkscrew wasn’t” you shrugged and took a drink directly from the bottle before passing it to him. It was much drier than you would have preferred, but wine was wine.

Zen took a deep drink and grimaced a bit.

“Too dry for you too?” you asked.

“Dry? It is wine, how can it be dry?”

“That’s not- never mind. Don’t like it though?”

“Oh, I do not like most wines, or alcohols in general, never really got the taste for it, or tolerance. But Ba drags me out to grab a drink from time to time and I may not like the taste, but the effect is nice”.

“Well, at least the good news is the more you drink, the less you care about the taste, and if you’re a lightweight then the taste really won’t matter for long” you took the bottle back from him and took another deep drink.

You passed the bottle back and forth, talking about everything and nothing while getting pastry crumbs all over the bed.

Looking over at Zen he was flushed purple on his cheeks, but looked so relaxed leaning back a bit. You laid your head on his lap and looked up to smile at him, enjoying the pleasant buzzing in your head from the wine.

“What was that called earlier?” he asked.

“What was what called?” you asked back.

“Earlier, when you used your mouth, what is that called?” his words were slow as he tried to remember his common through the wine.

“A blowjob?”

“That does not make sense, you were sucking”.

“Zen, I don’t know what to tell you, I don’t make up the names”.

“And what is it that I can do for you, what is that called?”

“Eating pussy”.

“Well, that is crass, but makes more sense than blowjob at least”.

At least that seemed to satisfy him. He was humming the same song as always and absentmindedly playing with your hair. It was comfortable just being pleasantly buzzed and enjoying time with Zen.

“I want to eat your pussy” he said flatly, breaking the silence.

You bolted upright, nearly choking on your saliva in the process from the surprise. Something about the bluntness of his statement mixed with the fact he rarely even swore or ever said anything vulgar caught you off guard. “You’re drunk” you insisted.

“No” he pushed back, but the purple flush to his face and slow speech said otherwise.

“You already told me you don’t drink much, and you don’t tolerate it well. You’re drunk”.

“Fine, a little lightheaded, but fine, and I want to taste you” he said.

You looked up at him, trying to figure out if he really was fine. He had no trouble sitting up on his own, and his speech was slow but he was not slurring.

“You drank more than me anyways” this time a bit of a whine was seeping into his voice.

“And I’m more used to drinking” you countered.

“I am okay, I promise. I just really want you” he was already panting as he looked down at you, and try as you might to ignore it you could feel him getting hard under where your head was resting.

The way he was looking at you was making a warmth pool between your legs. You did not think he would be able to do much with his tusks in the way, but with how much room his tongue had taken up in your mouth you sure were curious how he would fair going down.

“Please let me try, let me make you feel good” he was whining now, “I can figure it out with my tusks, please let me try”.

How needy he was was making you wet, you were more than happy to let him try, you just wanted him to be able to remember it later.

Part 17

[throneofsapphics]

finding you again prologue

Azriel x f!Reader

summary: after he ended your relationship, you didn’t expect Azriel to pop into your life again - and you’re not happy about it

warnings: angst, drinking

a/n: here's the start to the mini series from this poll! if anyone wants to be added to a taglist, you can comment under here or send me an ask/message!

series masterlist

“Why?” You ran a hand through your hair. “Can you at least give me a reason?” 

“I told you. It’s not working.” Pity shone in Azriel’s eyes, and it made you want to break something. There was more he wasn’t saying, it was obvious to you, just as it was obvious he wouldn’t deign to share. 

“Then get out,” your voice was colder than you’d ever heard it. Enough that he blinked, and it brought a sick sense of satisfaction to you. “Out,” you repeated, not sure how much longer you could keep the tears in. 

He backed up slowly, one hand reaching behind to open the door, before slipping out. You missed the lingering look they shot your way, already having turned your back. With the click of the door, you grabbed the nearest glass and launched it across the room, a guttural scream leaving your chest. 

-

He lingered in the hallway, listening to shattering glass, your scream of pure pain, and hated themselves for a brief moment. He hadn’t lied to you, it wasn’t working. 

Whether you knew it or not wasn’t of any consequence to him. He did love you, genuinely, and part of him ached at the pain he was causing, but it was better than drawing out the inevitable. He’d loved you, but not enough to spend the rest of your lives together. It didn’t feel right to keep going when he knew you felt differently.

Still, he had to fight the desire to go back in and comfort you. 

His footsteps were soft down the hall, the stairs, the street, to the night that left an uncomfortable itch on his skin. 

-

Everything seemed fine. Not a damn indication something was wrong, but you should’ve known better - he was trained to hide his emotions, to keep secrets, but for a few years you’d let yourself believe you meant something to him. Let that pathetic hope fill you, that it might evolve into something more, that you could be his one. 

His face flashed across your mind, unwelcomed. That pity, like you were some miserable creature that would be broken by this 

Maybe you were broken, right now, but you decided to give yourself a day. 24 hours, and then you’d pull yourself together. 

But for now … a perfectly good bottle of red wine sat on your counter, one wine glass left standing. It would do. 

-

His shadows, half with a mind of their own, still followed you - still trailed to check you were fine. It was normal, expected, of course. You’d spent a few years together, although in secret, it was natural he’d still care for you. 

But, after a year passed he started to … wonder. Had he made a mistake? Through whispers in his ear, he trailed your life. Healers training, like you always said you would, a few new friends, new lovers that came and went, and eventually your departure from Velaris - sent to an outlying island as a new healing post. There was pride, pride he didn’t have any claim to feel, but it persisted nonetheless.

-

Prythian shut down, and you were one of the few who knew of a safe haven - although you couldn’t speak of it, or recall how to access it. Velaris. Each time the word came to the tip of your tongue, each time it was prominent in your mind, your throat dried up - chest clenched hard enough you lost your breath. It happened frequently enough your friends worried there was some sort of medical issue, and you forced yourself not to think of it. 

There’d been one last command from your High Lord - to lie low, and stay away, with one image flashing through your mind - the Holy Mountain for all of Prythian. Now cursed. Four simple words, one horrid curse, and you were cut off from all of your family and the friends you’d known for years. 

After 45 years, you wondered if they would still remember you like you did them. If one day you’d hug your little sister again. Would she remember you? She’d only been 10 the last time you saw each other, a day before you left, your chest clenched, throat tightening. Before you’d left home.  

You’d ached to leave the city and explore, and now all you wanted was to return. 

-

He thought of you often. Stuck outside of Velaris, with no way back. Not for the first time, he resented the decision Rhys made to keep them away. He hoped you’d gotten some kind of warning, that you were still alive out there. 

Azriel found himself checking on people he’d only heard of in passing. Everyone who’d been important to you in your life. Your younger sister growing, how your name was always met with worried looks and hushed tones, how over the years she stopped asking after you, how you seemed to disappear from everyone’s minds. 

Sometimes he wondered if he was the only one who remembered you. 

[daenysthedreamersblog]

STRANGERS II - HIS DARLING BLUEBELL

I tried to be good. Am I no good? Am I no good? Am I no good?

If I'm turning in your stomach and I'm making you feel sick

part one here

summary: your victory tour has ended, and snow throws a party for you to let the bidding war over you begin. but as the time for the final deal draws closer, can president snow truly part with his favorite little victor?

pairings: president!snow x district6! reader

warnings: MDNI! swearing, heavy drinking, non/dub-con touching / kissing, choking, dub-con, fingering, oral sex, power imbalance, slapping, spitting, me trying to describe hair styles, let me know if i forgot anything!

notes: hope you enjoy part two! tysm for reading 🤍

You couldn't sleep without two bottles of wine at least while also baring the train car door with a chair to keep him out. He never came or else you would have heard the banging. He would have tried and most likely succeeded breaking down the door and once again violating your space. You knew it would only enrage him more, locking him out, but it gave you some sense of peace. Allowed you to find sleep underneath piles of blankets surrounded by empty cups.

You also knew if he asked you nicely you would open the door in an instant, and you hated that part of yourself the most.

The train had stopped a long while ago and you waited for someone to retrieve you. You had removed the chair and sat there peacefully until the Avox came within the room beckoning to follow. You did, you followed them off the train and onto the concrete platform. Taking a deep breath, the smoke from the train blowing off into the winds; you found strength in the scent, found yourself wishing that puff of smoke was blowing you away with it.

President Snow was gone leaving you in worried silence wondering what corner he would be lurking around.

The tribute center hadn't changed in the months you had been gone and the ride up the elevator was actually nostalgic. How different life had been back then, how afraid you were for different things. It dinged on the sixth floor allowing you off and your feet gravitated to your old room. You peered to the right, to the door that would never open again revealing the freckle faced boy you had come here with. He had died in the first five minutes of the games and you never knew his name too caught up in your own woes about dying.

"Good afternoon miss." A bright smile greeted you. "President Snow sent me." She was flanked by two others opening kits of instruments and fabric and colored makeup. She had her hand around your back ushering you to the bathroom. "Let's get you cleaned up for him hmm?”

The chill went through you; for him. It might be a figure of speech since he was the President and everything was always inherently his. You lived in his districts, you won his games, you would always be his property, and maybe that’s why he felt a right to your body too. You let them strip you, let them wax and pluck and shave down every part of you until your skin was raw.

They sat you down and styled your hair into elegant waves down your back slicking your bangs against your head and behind your ears to let your hair hang permanently over your shoulders and down your back. They airbrushed makeup onto your face covering your lids in gentle colors, putting a soft pink gloss on your lips. And finally when that was done, when they had rubbed your body down with sweet smelling lotions and perfumes, did they slip on the dress.

It was white, a slight sparkle to it when the light hit it, off the shoulder sleeves hanging against your biceps a slight cowl neckline and bodice that hugged your waist, cinching it in tight. The skirt stopped at your feet the two stylist sliding you into white heels.

"You look absolutely ethereal." The stylist mused running fingers along your hair to get it perfect, smoothing down any stray pieces. "An image of innocence." Your eyes flashed to her, pride gleaming in her face, but the others. They seemed sad, almost ashamed as they turned away from you. "Final touches." She slipped the red rose corsage along your wrist the disgusting smell wafting up to your face. "Perfect. Now wait here until he comes to fetch you."

They left like they came, quickly and without many words leaving you in a heart drumming silence. The room felt like it was caving in and suddenly your breaths were hard to find as panic choked you, the bodice of the dress squeezing your lungs. You spun, gripping the back of the chair to walk, soon grappling for the armchair wanting to rip this dress off so you could breath. You forced an exhale out wrapping your arms around the back trying to rip it off. You couldn't do this, couldn't go out there and let him sell you, let him sell your body. You could hear your heart beat throbbing in your throat as you stumbled over to the small cart holding liquor white knuckles holding onto it to stay standing. You snatched the cap off, throwing it across the room and chugged the burning white liquid down until your insides felt on fire, until most of it was gone.

You threw it at the window, watching it shatter to pieces, but the window never broke trapping you in with light reflected shards of glass. You grabbed a bottle of wine off the cart, fell to the floor with a sob, dizzy and heavy with grief. Maybe you deserved all of this after everything, after killing that boy, after surviving, after some elder family member had rebelled. You ripped the top off the wine and drank deep wallowing in self-pity until your doom came for you.

The door open and closed without protest, no chair would keep him out anyways. You listened to the short clips of his shoes as he came around and stood behind you like a shadow, like a guardian angel. He tsked, squatting down, turning your face towards him. He looked immaculate in a white suit, a single red rose pinned to his chest; a perfect opposite to your ensemble.

A single tear rolled down your cheek as you stared up at him with scared eyes, "Please." You whimpered. “Don’t make me go out there.”

He raised his eyebrow, an amused look on his face, "Oh my darling bluebell." His hold on your face tightened as he yanked you forward forcing you to throw your hands out to brace the floor, "My good little bluebell." His eyes flickered around your face, a cold rage settling in and then his hand was around your neck stealing the breath out of you. You gaped at him, mouth opening and closing trying to force the words out, trying to claw up his arm to pull him off, but he only yanked you closer, bodies flush as your vision split and blurred. "As it is given...it can be taken away." He hissed pressing a bruising kiss to your lips, his hand loosing, the gasp opening up your mouth for him to slip inside.

His tongue was dominating, shoving down your throat as he attempted to devour you whole. It was a mesh of teeth and tongue; his kiss starving, hungry, like the Capitol never gave him enough food and he was planning to eat you. Fingers were digging in, carving out a place for him to control, breath by breath he took out of your chest until finally he pulled back, a string of spit trailing between the two of you.

You opened your mouth to speak, to ask him why he was doing all of this, but the words failed as your wide eyes flickered around his face.

He stood up and went to the door leaving you waiting in a pile of tears and broken glass. He opened the door, "Call Tigris." He instructed to someone outside of the door. Then it closed again, and he took a deep breath, your eyes flashed up to him as he readjusted his pants, the hard bulge in them prominent. He clicked his tongue hands resting on his hips as he stared at the ground, and then down at you still shaking on the floor.

Then he threw off his suit jacket. "Fuck it."

He came striding forward once more with purpose, lust blowing his pupils wide. "No!" You cried out falling back on your butt, crawling backwards until your leg snagged on the dress and you went tumbling to the ground. You rolled trying to scramble to your feet, but his hand had wrapped around your calf where the old scar still sometimes hurt. You clawed and kicked at him, "Please!" The sob broke out, feeling him pushing the pretty white dress up, the unbuckling sound ringing in your ears too loudly. "I've been good! I've been so good." You shook your head as he pinned your legs down with his hips. "Please Mr. President sir," Tears rolls down your cheeks. "Haven't I been good? Your good girl, please don't do this." You tried to fake tenderness by running your fingers down his arm, but nothing stopped him. It all fell on deaf ears as his hands found the hem of your underwear and he began to pull down. You thrashed more, cried and clawed at him, but he seemed content to ravage you.

"Coriolanus." A woman's voice shot through the room and he stilled atop of you hands slowly leaving from under the dress.

He sighed, his forehead pressing into yours as if it had been such a ruined intimate moment. He began to climb off, straightening himself up again. "Tigris." He said smoothing down his hair. "Get her cleaned up I'll be back in a half-hour."

You laid there in silence listening to him leave, listening to the door close with his exit the sound throbbing in your head. She finally came around staring at you disheveled on the floor. "Come on." She grabbed your hand helping you up, and back into the chair in front of the vanity. It wasn't horrible considering all that had happened. Your lipstick was smudged with small marks of mascara tracks down your face, which she solved in a matter of minutes. Your hair had only needed a quick brush and more spray to fix. Then you were perfect again; like he had never touched you. The feeling remained; his hungry lips on yours, his devouring hands. Your lip began to wobble as water welled, "Don't cry." You blinked up at her, "Please." She whipped out a handkerchief and dabbed at the corner of your eye to prevent the liquid from spilling over. "Are you alright?"

You only stared at her with furrowed brows at the dumbest question she could have asked. You pushed her away gathering shaking breaths as you turned from her.

"He..." She sighed still looking at you. "He is...he just..." You glared at her over your shoulder and she dropped her voice, "I'm sorry he is doing this you."

"If you were sorry," You seethed letting your anger show. It was rare. "You wouldn't fix me up so he can sell me like a prized mare!"

Tigris frowned truly saddened by the words taking a step back like you had slapped her. "I'm sorry." She said again grabbing her things and beginning to retreat. "I'm sorry." She went to the door opening it, "Coriolanus." She said staring up at him. "Can I speak w-!"

"Go." He gritted out as she stumbled out of the door and into the hall. He slammed the door behind her. He stared at the closed door for a second, took a deep breath, then turned to take you in once again, "Perfection." He smiled as you slowly turned to fully look at him. He came forward and your foot slid back, "Oh my little bluebell." He mused continually moving for you. "I didn't mean to mess up your makeup." He took your hands in his not really offering anymore of an explanation. "Can you forgive me?" He kissed your knuckles staring at you expectingly from under his lashes.

What were you to say to the president of Panem? No?

"I forgive you, Mr. President, sir."

He beamed, hands coming around your face, "That's my good girl." His thumb caressed your cheek, "Now give me a kiss." You sucked in a breath and let him guide you to his mouth pressing your lips to his own. He hummed gently against you, tongue sweeping along your bottom lip, but he pulled back your gloss shining on his plush mouth. "Don't want to make us late." He pushed stray pieces of hair off your neck and tucked your arm in his elbow to lead you out of the room. "I have a few people I want you to meet..." He kept talking but you drowned him out as he walked you down the hallway his grip borderline painful.

He ushered you out into the hall with ohs-awes echoing around everyone straining to get a look at the Capitol's pet until the next games rolled around. Snow was speaking motioning to you and once everyone had toasted to him, the Capitol, the games did he begin to pull you around the room; a pretty accessory on his arm.

"Isn't she lovely." He said introducing you to a herd of men staring greedily. You stared ahead, far away as you heard him whisper about you, something about being well behaved, a few chuckles followed and pocket books opened, "Come," He opened his arm wide for you to walk forward. "Introduce yourself."

Your name sounded foreign, like it didn’t belong to you anymore as you shook their hands. "Nice to meet you sir," With each pleasantry and curtsy. It went around and around until you felt dizzy with each turn you made to meet someone new, someone who wanted to buy a body because 23 others had died. For some reason it made you curl against your fearsome President more as if he would stop these vultures from descending upon you; how ironic. You tugged on his hand to make him look. How dark his blue eyes seemed to get seeing you clinging to him like a savior.

"What is it?" He dropped his voice his hand patting yours.

You gazed up with pleading eyes, "I need a drink."

"Yes, of course." He leaned lower stroking your chin, "Not too much remember?" You nodded as he straightened up and smiled.

"Will you excuse me gentlemen?" You peered at the circle of buyers.

One had his arm wrapped around your bicep and your eyes flared up as he yanked you, "I can walk you over there."

No, no, no. You wildly searched for Snow behind his tall frame, and didn't have to look for long as a hand appeared on the man's chest, "Get your hands off her before I have them removed from your body." His voice was low. The man scoffed. This is what they were there for; me, and their president was stopping their grubby, money stained hands. Snow stepped closer, "Did I not make myself clear."

The hand fell off you and you rubbed the redness, "You promised that we-!"

"I didn't promise anything." Snow stood tall staring down his nose at the man. "Especially not to you." He waved a hand and you heard peacekeepers moving in, his eyes met yours, "Go."

"Mr. President, sir." You hid the shake in your voice as you slipped away hearing the whispers of praise about the view walking away was giving them. You didn't look back as you charged to the refreshments table grabbing the expecting flute from the servant's hand. You chugged it swiftly before anyone could notice and then forced them to refill. This time you drank it slower, body still lagging from the liquor you had drowned in earlier. If you kept in a constant daze everything felt a little more distant, like your drunk mind had made it up, fabricated the story.

"He sure does seem to like playing with you." Your head snapped to the young woman, the victor from District 4. "Mags," She smiled. She slid up besides you, nursing her own flute of champagne, "It gets easier."

"When?"

She chuckled, "When they get bored, when other victors emerge. You got bad luck, you're the first female victor since my games." Which was four games ago, "They're salivating simply to smell you." She took a sip from her flute, "You should have never told him you were a virgin."

Your eyes were wild. "H-How?" Don't stutter darling, your mother's voice, It isn't proper.

"You think he wouldn't 'leak' that to the posse he sells us all to?" Mags shook her head, "It's made mutts of them all."

"It was an accident." You took a shaky breath remembering that day on the train. "I thought something was going to happen and I wanted him to st-!"

Her hand grabbed your arm, "He's touching you?" Her grip grew firm, "Isn't he?"

You drained the flute to avoid her seeing your horridly confused face, "Did he not..."

"No, never." Her face held genuine concern. "Some minor comments, but no he never. Didn't parade me around on his arm, didn't coordinate outfits," Mags scoffed, "He made me wear this ugly teal thing as homage to my district." You couldn't speak, couldn't seem to settle yourself. "Maybe because of the whole new victory tour he felt he could get away with more. He does like his power-trips, and you're such a obedient little thing. His cock probably is straining in his pants just looking at you all pouty." You set the flute down holding your hand to your head to stop the thoughts from pouring out, dizzy with her words. They felt so brutal like the blows were hitting you in the heart. "Oh dear. I'm sorry I really never know when to shut-up." She turned you to face her, "It's alright. Here." She grabbed a fresh flute of champagne and forced it into your hands, "The first time is the hardest, after that it gets easier and once they get bored it will stop. You need to be strong okay?" Her hands ran down the skin of your arms as if trying to warm your soul. "It will be over soon. I'm here. I understand, all the victors do."

You drained your flute like it was the air you needed. "Why is he doing this to me?"

Mags only frowned sadly, "I don't know. I used to hear stories about him, before he was President. Rumors says during the 10th Hunger Games he was a mentor, but theres no proof, everything got wiped. Afterwards, he got shipped to District 12 for some rules he broke during school. When he came back he was different; he came back that man." Your eyes landed on him across the room, and he was watching you over the rim of his glass. "Something changed in him out there, and ever since he's been working his way to the top, keeping the Games, making them more brutal and publicized each year."

"What do I do?" You pleaded with her.

She tried to smile taking your hand, but it never reached her eyes, "Be careful. He's dangerous, and let's just say, I'm surprised anyone is going to bid for you seeing the way he keeps you so close." She had this look indicating she wasn't sure what was worse; the leeching men or Snow's protection. It wasn't sound advice, but you tucked it close because what else were you supposed to do; burn the Capitol down.

No one person couldn't do that.

You glanced back at him, anger laced in his stare as men talked at him.

You knew which was worse.

It was midnight by the time you stumbled into your room kicking your shoes off towards the far end of the wall and grabbing the brown liquor you had left from earlier. Your stomach garbled with hunger, but you just tossed the glass decanter cap away hearing it shatter behind you and pushed the bathroom door open. You turned the faucet on setting the glass container down to attempt to undo the bodice of the dress. You got half way down before you gave up unable to reach, too tired, too drunk, too ogled at to care. You climbed into the tub, decanter in hand, the water soaking into the fabric weighing you down as you slid into it. How pathetic. How was this the epitome of desire, a drunken, wet, sad little girl.

Maybe that was how they liked them.

You turned the water off with your foot as it sat just under your chin, wet hair floating around you. You took another long drink eyes heavy, brain swirling with everything Mags had told you tonight. You couldn't make sense of it all, not now, a part of you didn’t ever want to figure it out, it was simply too much to dissect and what good would it do. He was still going to sell you off to whoever he wanted until your name was a joke they spoke over whiskey.

Ugly red rose petals floated around you from the ruined corsage around your wrist. Your ears were underwater, the idea of drowning yourself more appealing the more sleep pulled you under. The water dulled the sound of the bathroom door closing, but there he was staring down at you in the bath. He was dressed down, his suit jacket gone, dress shirt unbuttoned at the top, his perfect hair slightly curled in some parts. He almost looked normal, handsome even if you allowed yourself to admire it. You picked your head up as he knelt beside the tub, "You could have called for help to take the dress off."

"I was impatient." You took a swig from the bottle a glare in your eyes.

"I can tell." He chuckled, his fingers dancing on the edge of the water, playing with soaked rose petals, urging you to disagree with the movement. "I saw you speaking to Ms. Flanagan.”

You glanced over at him. He was expecting an answer and you couldn't tell him the true meaning of the conversation or else Mags could get in trouble. "That it must be nice to be President Snow's favorite victor." You took another drink, "I told her that isn't true, it would be wrong of you to pick favorites."

He smiled to himself, "It isn't wrong; I do have a favorite."

“Did he not��"

“No, never.”

You knew he wasn't lying, knew in the way his eyes drank you in he wasn't lying. He took a deep breath, folding up his sleeves, coming around the back of the tub, "I did a lot of thinking." His hand came up to your neck, running down the wet flesh, fanning your hair out of the way. "And you were right." His lips were pressing against your jugular kissing down and across your shoulders his hands following the same trail.

"About what?" Your chest was rising and falling too fast vision blurring, brain clouded.

His mouth was against your ear, "You have been so good to me." He bit down on your ear. His hand was dipping further into the water until it was fighting your heavy skirt to get underneath, "And I've been so selfish."

You froze as you watched in horror as his hand disappeared underneath the skirts of the dress. He shifted his other hand coming around to float down your chest. He was under the hem of your underwear as your lips parted in a gasp feeling the slide of his fingers against your folds. Your hands were coming up to stop him, "Mr. President plea-!"

Two fingers sunk into you. You cried out, hips bucking at the contact, but his other arm slammed you back into the tub, "Shh, shh, it's okay." He whispered into your ear. "It will feel good." He kissed your neck, his other hands slipping under the neckline to grip your breast. You had your claws in his arm as he slowly moved his fingers inside of you.

Conflicting feelings began to arise within you, you felt fear at the intrusion, but your face burned as pleasure shot through your body. It shouldn't feel good, but he said it would, and so it did. Him touching you this way shouldn't bring a blush to your cheeks, an aching throb to your core. He was curling his fingers inside of you stroking a deep sweet spot you could never reach on the nights you had tried to explore your own body. At the same time his thumb brushed over your nipple kneading your breast into his hand.

You felt your hands slipping off of him.

"Let me make you feel good. I know you want to, can feel your pussy sucking me in." You chewed on your lip turning your face from him as your knees involuntarily curled up, spreading you open more for him, "There you go," his husky voice said in your ear as he once again shifted to push his hand inside further, the other squeezing your breast. You bit back the noise gurgling in your throat; no your body had betrayed you enough, you would not let him hear it too. "I saw you," He panted nearly engulfing you with his chest. "I saw you looking at me, clinging to me, begging me to save you from those men who want to take you from me." His thumb swirled around the sensitive bud between your legs and your hand shot up twisting into his shirt, toes curling, "I wanted to fuck you in front of them all, watch them drool as I take what is mine and not theirs." His thrust were vicious, his thumb pressing down, the other hand pinching and rolling your nipple. "Mine." He hissed against your hot skin.

You threw your head back against his chest the moan breaking from the confines of your throat. His eyes were there to greet you, his hand pulling off your breast to wrap into your hair forcing you to stay put, to keep staring at him. Because he wanted to see your face as he made you come undone, as he burned through you like wildfire. Yours eyes screwed up, fast pants leaving your agape mouth, and all you could do was keep his gaze as he brought you to the peak of ecstasy.

"Cum for me," He growled, "Be my good girl and cum right now." Maybe it was the trained etiquette built in, maybe it was him, but your body clamped down on his hand stars spilling into your vision as you came. It felt like betrayal; it felt wrong to let the pleasure leak out of your body as his hand stayed rooted within you. His mouth was on yours stealing breath from your lungs as he shoved his tongue between your teeth. It was possession and ownership and it was all his to command. His bit down on your bottom lip tugging until his teeth broke skin, and then he was kissing you again the taste of rust filling your mouth, brain unsure what to feel but the pain oozing from the open wound and the delicious pulsing between your legs.

You couldn't kiss him back. Couldn't do anything but lay limp in the water for him. You came down from the high he had given you confused as the bliss danced down your spine. Until finally his hand slipped out of you, the emptiness tugging in a weird place and you stared at him blankly. He kissed your lips again, gently like it would break you. Your bottom lip was trembling as he pushed you forwards undoing the rest of the dress. It felt so wrong, everything, he had violated you in a such a way and you had let him because your body couldn't avoid the pleasure he had made you feel

He pulled you out of the soaking dress, and picked you up from the bath, head lolling against his chest. You were naked and dripping when he placed you on the bed not caring enough to even dry you off as stray red petals clung to your skin. He was still pawing at you as you stared up at the ceiling, hands on your naked flesh, nails digging in where he wanted to grab. "So soft," You heard him mutter his mouth tasting along your body, drinking in your moisture.

Your head was somewhere else, the alcohol, the orgasm, the exhaustion was dragging you under. You couldn't quite see him anymore, "Please," You mumbled his tongue circling your nipple, fingers inside your sopping cunt once more. "I'm so tired." Tears were rolling down your cheeks, or was that simply water from the bath? Why were you crying if it felt good? He hadn't forced himself inside your mouth, inside you, he was rewarding you for your good behavior.

"Shh." He only hushed you. "Close your eyes." You did close your eyes unable to keep them open, a soft whine leaving your throat as he pushed your legs apart, "Look at you," His voice sounded underwater he was still speaking, but you couldn't hear him anymore his hand viciously thrusting inside of you. "Do you like that?"

You were whispering something, but couldn't feel the words your head being pulled into the pillow fingers clawing at him, for him.

"You do." You felt warmth between your legs and soon his head was there, his tongue licking up the center of you a smile beneath it all.

You orgasmed one more time before blackness pulled you under.

You awoke to an empty bed. You groaned barely able to open your eyes the air hitting your bare chest. He had left you here, alone and drenched in your own arousal. Your thighs were soaked and sticky his own pleasure splattered across your breast. You wanted to sob, each shaky breath hurt your ribs, but the tears never came. Because as you stroked your fingers through everything he had pulled out of you, you knew you had let this happen, you had let him do this to you. Your body had given itself over willingly to him as you rubbed the proof between your fingers. You wanted to feel shame; you wanted to feel broken, but all you felt was left over euphoria from what he had given you.

He had never fucked you; you would have known. You would feel the pain of something like that, see the blood as he broke through your maidenhead. No, he had just feasted on your flesh, drained every drop he could and abandoned you here. You rolled over, body sore from what he had done and slowly rose from the bed.

Then you padded to the bathroom, reran the bath, and soaked his touch off.

The stylist team came again, Tigris came again. Curling your hair, pinning it half up-half down, smearing on more makeup, and sliding you into a chiffon lavender dress. Another image of innocence; a sweet girl pliant for men.

"How are you?" She asked placing more foundation in a mark he had pressed into the flesh on your neck. He had tried to be careful, biting and bruising what no one could see loosing control most of the time, but you saw it. Saw the outline of every half moon cut he had made, the teeth indents of his mouth, the deep blues and purples littering your skin. He fashioned himself an artist; your naked body was his masterpiece signing his name is white pleasure.

You blinked up at her, "Why me?" You didn't think you could trust her with the knowledge Mags had told you; that he had never touched her, and instead singled you out.

Her brush slowed, "I don't know."

"I'm no one, just a girl from District 6." You glanced down as she pulled her hand back. "I'm nobody."

"You're not." She whispered. "You're a-you won." Her back was to you as she set down her things, "He..."

You waited until she turned back around to look into her eyes, "He's a monster." She saw some goodness in him that wasn't there and you had no idea why.

Tigris was abhorred. "I don't know why he's doing this. He's possessive and his obsession drives him mad sometimes. I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She packed her things quickly leaving the room in a panicked rush as you sat in silence.

An Avox came by an hour later leading you down the elevator and out where a sleek black car waited on the curb. Your heart stuttered as the door was held open for you a hand outstretched to help you inside. He was sitting within, red leather seats sinking you in. "How did you sleep?" He brushed a knuckle over his lips to hide the smirk as the door closed behind you.

"Good." You lied. It was deep, but waking up was jarring. You still felt the ache of his touch inside of you, the feel of his mouth wrapped around your clit. "Thank you Mr. President, sir."

His hand fell on your thigh. "I'm having you moved to the mansion." He told you, "I don't like you being so far away where I can't protect you." You swallowed the look in your eyes asking him, from what? "These men are desperate for you," He stroked your leg an attempt at a reassuring look in his eyes. "I'm afraid at what they might do before a deal is set. I want you close, where I know where you are all the time."

He wanted you in his cage, but he did have a point. "Thank you Mr. President, sir." Your heart thudded heavily in your chest. You didn't want a deal set, you didn't want other men hunting you down and taking more pieces of you. "Are we..." You gazed out the window. Are we going to one of them now, you wanted to ask.

"Yes and no; he'll come by the house later. I think you'll like him." He turned towards the window. "I want to show you something first." The drive was quiet. You were too afraid to ask anymore question in fear it would break your resolve further. He kept his hand on your leg and when the car stopped he held onto you tightly leading you away from the road towards his home. "You showed me yours; I think it only fitting I show you mine." He whispered close to your ear gripping around your waist as he led you down a side path towards what seemed to be a large greenhouse.

"Oh." You said staring up at it. It was a formidable beast defiantly more kept than your lousy garden at home. Was it even home anymore? You weren't quite sure of anything anymore. He had given you no inclination on when he would let you return. Perhaps when the 'deal' was set you would be allowed to leave until a new victor emerged. He opened the door for you leading you inside letting it click close. The room was covered in roses, just roses. "It's beautiful," You lied taking it all in. He had every color, but white roses took up most of the space, like they were beginning to dominate every root in the soil. It was too pristine, too clean to be anything but frighteningly horrid.

The greenhouse door locked into place, and your breath halted with it. You focused on a blooming white rose running your fingers along the soft petals. You don't know why the idea of being alone with him still scared you when he had seen you at your most vulnerable. "Did you enjoy last night?"

"The party was wonderful." You absentmindedly said; it wasn't what he was inquiring about.

He chuckled his footsteps slow coming closer, "Yes it was a nice party for you," He was standing behind you now. "Everyone was enchanted by you," He trailed his fingers down your skin. "They wouldn't stop talking about all the different ways they wanted to fuck you," His chest was pressing into your back as his hand slithered around your body coming up to your neck to grip your jaw, "But I got to taste your pleasure first, got to feel the softness of your tongue around my cock, got to hear all the pretty noises you make." Your throat bobbed feeling the hardness press into your backside as his thumb pressed into your bruised lip. "I know you enjoyed last night, my darling bluebell, by how drenched my face was buried in your sweet cunt for hours."

Hours. He had been there for hours between your legs, touching you, stealing from you, feasting on you while you were blacked out. You couldn't speak, couldn't move as the vision choked the air from you, his mouth dragging along the tense muscle in your neck.

"Do you still feel me down there?" He was bunching up the skirts of your dress. And maybe deep inside your brain it remembered him drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you because your body heated, your core grew slick. Treachery coursed through you at your body, at the fact it was less weary of him than you were. "You're fucking wet." He laughed as if he too was astounded by the moistness gathering in your panties as he rubbed his hands along the front of them. He became ravenous after then shoving his hand inside of you with such a force you fell forward. Potted plants clattered to the ground in a pile of dirt and glass, but he didn't care. He only shoved his hand deeper his body curling around you, enveloping you, "You're so fucking soft; like fucking rose petals." He pressed a third finger inside of you and you bit down on the scream, a small whine floating through the quiet air as he stretched you open. "You want my cock inside of you don't you?" He bit down on your neck, "You want me to fill you so badly, you want me to be the one to do it."

"No!" You cried out as he slammed your chest to the table the plants once sat on. The room was filled with the squelching sounds his hand made every brutal thrust into you, your arousal dripping down your legs. You gripped the table feeling him pulling your skirts up around your back, ripping off your underwear leaving you bare for him. You knew deep down your body would take him, suck him in greedily, allowing him to live there while you writhed in agony and embarrassment. Maybe it had something to do with the small power you felt that he was unable to control his desire for you, or maybe it was simple need. Wicked, cruel thing human nature seemed to be, she laughed at you while allowing him to take more, more, more.

You kicked your leg out trying to buck him off, but he slammed your head back down slapping your backside harshly, "Behave." He growled. You yelped as he slapped you once more his hand pulling out of you. He held you down by a large hand on your head as you squirmed, listening to him unsheathe himself.

"Please," You whimpered. "Please you don't want to do this. You-you said...you'll ruin me for your deal and-and-!”

He spit in your face the warmth of it landing along the corner of your lips and cheek. It trickled into your mouth and your tongue darted out for more. "Don't stutter." He yanked your hips back, "And be my good girl and fucking take it." You were crying now, crying as more wetness slipped out of you, crying as he ran his cock along your folds, crying as the tip of him lined up with your entrance, crying as you wanted him inside you so badly it burned.

A knock on the glass door stilled him before he could push inside of you and you nearly passed out from relief. "Sir?" Someone called inside, "Your guest has arrived."

You were taking large gulps of air every shake of your body rocking against the tip of him. "I'll be right there." He shouted back angrily. He was motionless behind you a deep frustrated sigh the only reminder he was there, a few moments from taking what he so desperately wanted it seemed. "Get on your knees." He pulled your body up and forced you to the ground, bare knees scraping in the broken glass. "Open your mouth." Your body relaxed as you took him; you knew this, you had been through this, you could take it, mouth moist from his spit. He wasn't as kind as before, if you could even call that kind. Forcing his cock to the back of your mouth, snapping his hips against your face as he yanked your hair around to move your head, "So good. So," Snap. "Fucking," Snap. "Good." He had your face buried within his skin as your tongue involuntarily swiped around him feeling his movements stutter at the unwarranted sensation. "You fucking like my cock inside your mouth." You weren't sure, but it was becoming familiar and the safer option, and you didn’t mind the taste of him. He reached down grabbing your hand pulling it to the shaft swirling around it with your palm, "Do it yourself sweet girl, do what I tell you."

So you did. You did what he wanted you to do, swirling your hand around the shaft, took his cock deeper until you gagged letting the spit spill out of the corners of your mouth. Your tongue ran along the head until his movements grew erratic and his thigh became taut hot ropes of cum spilling down your throat.

"Swallow it." He commanded snapping your jaw shut after he pulled out. "All of it." His breaths were heavy. You gazed up at him feeling the remnants trickle down your throat. His eyes were dark, demanding, obsessive. "I want you to kiss his cheek with my cum still on your breath." He left you on the ground as he went to the door. "Clean her up, get her ready for lunch." He called to some servant.

You glanced down at the dirt staining your chest from where he slammed you, the blood blooming on the dress from your scraped knees, your smeared makeup no doubt. You let them help you up and cart you back to the house.

An hour later, and now a pink dress covering your skin, you sat down at the table. It was a small thing, set to fit only six people in a small room cascaded in sunlight. The windows were open letting in warm air and a breeze that ruffled the curtains. He sat to the chair next to you cutting into his food while he spoke to you...buyer. The highest bidder.

The man was handsome, maybe a tad older than the darling President, but not by much. He had dark hair and darker eyes a slight shadow of a beard gracing his features. He wore a light blue suit that was almost tacky compared to Snow's deep green. You shook your head at the ridiculousness of comparing the two, comparing the buyer to the seller.

And yet, President Snow's presence comforted you, which in turn disgusted you. It gave you a headache and you drank dainty sips from your cup of sparkling wine hoping to avoid the feelings this afternoon was invoking from you. A mere hour ago he was shoving his cock down your throat, and you had savored the flavor of him. Now he was wanting money for your virtue. You glanced across the table once more.

You had won the games, and this was your peace they had promised.

There was no winning. Only surviving.

He left after an hour long lunch barely speaking to you at all, but when he left he grabbed you. He pulled you in close hand blatantly spread across your back side as he forced you to kiss his cheek. Could he smell it? Could he smell his President's cum stuck between your teeth?

When he left Snow had an anger to him which surprised you given the fact he was the one pawning you off, he should be happy.

Your eyes met, sunlight heating your back from the window as you watch his teeth grind together never looking away from you. Then your face began to fall, knees wobbling, at the realization of the reason behind his anger.

He forced you away without another word.

PART THREE HERE!

( its disgustingly smutty so bring holy water )

notes: this had WAY too much plot sorry lmao

tags: @astarborntowrite , @genderfluid-anime-goth , @merlieve , @darktrashsoulbear

[anonymousewrites]

One Hell of a Love Christmas Special

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Christmas Special

            “Ah, the Christmas decorations have returned,” said (Y/N), looking at the mess of bows and wreaths on the floor.

            Sebastian sighed. “Lady Elizabeth insists, and the Young Master cannot say no to her.”

            “And the mess on the floor?” remarked (Y/N).

            “Need I say the name?” said Sebastian.

            (Y/N) smirked. “No.” They already knew Mey-Rin had dropped the boxes, but the desire to tease never left them. “But shall we get to work? The sooner these are up, the sooner we’re free of this ‘holiest of holidays.’ ”

            “I wonder if demons decorating cause it to lose the ‘Christian spirit,’ ” said Sebastian.

            “We live in a world where humans focus on profit more than living and are willing to sell their souls for selfish desires,” said (Y/N). “I’d say they lost that a long time ago.”

            Sebastian smirked. “Indeed.”

            “But at least they’re enjoying themselves,” said (Y/N). “It’s so amusing to watch them entertain themselves.” They picked up a wreath. “And I would prefer to ‘celebrate’ this day in my own manner.”

            “May I join?” said Sebastian.

            “You would appear without an invitation,” said (Y/N).

            “Merely because I crave your presence,” said Sebastian.

            “I am quite captivating,” said (Y/N), smirking at him and winking. “So I’ll let you come along.”

            “I look forward to our evening, then,” said Sebastian, giving them a playful and flirtatious bow.

l

            Soon enough, the decorations were up, the food was cooked, the table was laid, and Lady Elizabeth was happily enjoying her Christmas with her family and Ciel. The servants were all kept busy, especially (Y/N) and Sebastian because they had to make up for any mishaps on Finny, Mey-Rin, or Baldroy’s parts and fit Francis Midford’s exacting standards. However, the end of the night arrived, and they were able to slip away for a moment on their own—their favorite time.

            “Good evening, Felis,” said Sebastian, drawing them in to kiss their cheek the moment the door of their room closed.

            (Y/N) smiled and leaned into his touch. “Good evening, Corvus. I’d say today was a success.”

            “Indeed,” said Sebastian. “You were elegant and poised as ever.”

            “I was taught by the best,” said (Y/N), trailing a hand down his neck and collarbone.

            “Were you? You must give me their name,” said Sebastian.

            “Jealous?” said (Y/N), turning away but looking coyly over their shoulder.

            “Perhaps,” teased Sebastian.

            “I have a remedy for that,” said (Y/N), turning back around with a bottle of wine and two glasses. “A drink.”

            “Food is rarely something I engage in,” said Sebastian.

            “Let me tempt you,” said (Y/N). “Did you know I can make wine myself?”

            Sebastian hovered behind them and wound his arms around their middle as they pouted. “You’re incredibly talented, Felis.” He kissed their neck.

            “I cannot remember properly,” said (Y/N). “But I believe I did so to celebrate Dionysus during the time of the winter solstice. It would go along with witch celebrations.” They lifted a glass, and he plucked it from their hand. “Witches drink to the gods that serve their purposes rather than obeying a single god in all things…”

            “And now you must only obey your desires,” said Sebastian, taking (Y/N)’s hand and turning them around. He took a sip of his glass of wine and lifted it towards their lips.

            (Y/N) had their own glass, but they indulged him and let him tip the wine into their mouth. They licked their lips afterward. “Precisely. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

            “However, I did learn of one tradition from the pagan practice that the Christians took that I am quite fond of,” said Sebastian. “Well, now that you’re here.”

            “Enlighten me,” said (Y/N), tilting their head.

            Sebastian pulled a small sprig of mistletoe from his pocket. “You kiss under the mistletoe, correct?”

            “I don’t remember that from my human life, but it’s possible,” said (Y/N).

            “Indulge me either way,” said Sebastian, leaning in.

            “You just want to kiss me,” said (Y/N).

            “Perhaps,” purred Sebastian, taking their glass of wine and setting it to the side with his. “But while the wine is delicious, I’d rather taste your lips.”

            “You flirt,” said (Y/N).

            “For you,” said Sebastian, closing the distance and kissing them. His hands tangled into their hair before one dipped to begin unbuttoning their uniform.

            “Merry Christmas to me, then,” said (Y/N), pulling him in by the lapels. “I get you all to myself~.”

            “For eternity,” said Sebastian, kissing them more fiercely than ever.

Taglist:

@technikerin23

@im-making-an-effort

@izzieg3987

@jinxxangel13

@alexpangender

@otomyoli

@neenieweenie

@nex-crowley

@anxious-chick

@bellacastiel

@v1l-ismissing

@agentdedf1sh

@iamsexytrash

@oceansfloor

@sarkzjam

@temporarilyablog

@elaemae

@urlocalsabito

@roo024

@ittomain1

@whereismymonsterlover

@alythewolf

@serinity750

@cloberrii

@kniselle

@ray-rook

@yappydoo

@kitkatlover015

@snowy-violet

[cartoonguy08]

I did it. I got my ass to finally draw Scout’s Ma (again based on how @/rogmont drew her cuz I love their artstyle)

Okay, I got an idea on how I might portray her

Scout’s Ma works with the mafia, super rich gal who has game, and popped out 7 kids. Then when she met Spy she genuinely connected with him. And he loved her, naturally they spent a little time together and before they knew it, boom Scout popped out.

Spy ended up not being part of Scout’s life cuz he was…scared. He ran away, and although he loved her dearly, he couldn’t see himself as a father, he wasn’t ready. So, like with the rest of her boys she raised him herself.

She has the patience (omg she has a shit ton of patience) but has her breakdowns. Scout absolutely loves her and always calls her anytime he can, he’s not afraid to admit he loves his mother (W Scout)

She maaaaaayy have the smoking habit because of Spy. Just a maybe. But she does smoke, regularly (she has somewhat of a strained voice from it). She also drinks wine (the mega fancy ones, she finds them more appealing)

Finally, her relationship with her son? Pretty meh if you ask me. (I’ve actually been wondering how it would’ve been for Scout to have 7 older brothers and being the youngest one) Course’ she loved him, yeah she was strict and too tired to play with him, but she genuinely did love him. She makes sure to tell him she’s proud. Enjoys the calls he has with her in his spare time.

But she does have a bit of a temper. Just a bit. She yells a lot

[thatfreshi]

I was wondering if you could write Astarion having to tend to a very cuddly drunk female Tav. Possibly having to defend her from other people trying to take advantage of her.

This took me on a very sad adventure

TW - blood and gore, attempted sexual assault, drinking

Recommended Song: Drew Barrymore - SZA

The nice thing about no longer being on wild adventures full of tadpoles and cultists is that you and Astarion can go out drinking like normal people. While your vampiric lover thoroughly enjoys a good glass of wine, he usually stops himself at one. Perhaps he's a little paranoid about you, your safety, but he insists not to have more than one when the two of you are out together. At the house? Sure, he'll finish two bottles with you, the two of you drunkenly laughing by the fireplace, but not when danger could be afoot. You try to tell him he's just anxious, tense, that you'll be alright.

"I'd rather just make sure my love. You indulge all you want darling, I'll be fine."

In one of the more rowdy taverns, you and Astarion sit at a table off to the side, watching people get drunk and dance, bumping into strangers, sometimes fights ensue. As per usual, he nurses his singular glass. You look at him, a gleam of sadness in your eyes.

"Are you sure you don't mind? I can just skip out tonight, maybe we can just drink later, when we get back."

"Nonsense, have your fun my sweet. I insist."

You squeeze his hand.

"Alright then, I'm off to get my second... you can tell me to stop anytime!"

You tease as you slowly walk away, almost backing up into a nearby half-orc. He simply smiles at you, one of those smiles that says everything he's thinking, how he thinks you're precious, how he'd gladly never get drunk again if it meant keeping you. Years ago, he would've never given up a vice for some person. But you, you make this feeling well up in his chest, like he has to hold you close at all times, worried someone will snatch you when he's not looking. You may make fun of him for simply being a paranoid person, but you made it a million times worse.

"I'm back!"

Your voice draws out, and you return with two mugs of beer instead of just the one.

"Already going for three darling? You do remember you're a lightweight, right?"

"I'll be fine. Besides, Mr. Knight in Shining Armor is here to take me home if I throw up on someone."

You lie against his arm, starting on your second drink.

"You did eat before we left the house, right my sweet?"

You look up at him silently. He just sighs, running his hand through your hair.

"Then why did you need to go to the kitchen before we left?"

You giggle a little.

"To... pre-game!"

The laughter rings out of your throat as Astarion sighs, again, more annoyed this time.

"So you're telling me-"

"Already gettin' drunk Aster, it's a great time."

The more and more you talk, the more he realizes your words are becoming more slurred. Perhaps he should've asked before you left, made sure you at least grabbed a bite.

"Alright, you stay right here, I'm going to get you some water and a little snack."

He gets up, swiftly grabbing the two mugs off the table while you protest.

"Hey, I wasn't done with those!"

As Astarion makes his way to the bar, asking for the classic drunkard's care package, he's suddenly nervous. Had you ever been this drunk in public before? Maybe the two of you should just go home, before you somehow get your hands on any more alcohol. After thanking the barkeep for the water and some bread, he comes back through the crowd, and sure enough you have left the table.

"Gods damn it Tav."

After setting down what was supposed to be your little pick-me-up, Astarion quickly moves through the groups of people, knowing you probably just got up to dance. The bard playing tonight was quite excellent after all. However, after looking through most of the common space, you're nowhere to be found. That feeling of panic starts to well up inside of him, where he's only driven by fear. He knows you can't be far, but he also knows most of the tavern-goers here are slimy, horrific people looking for their next bag of gold. Walking through the crowd again, Astarion comes near the back entrance, and hears a conversation down one of the abandoned hallways.

"A gal like you, surprised you're here alone."

He rounds the corner, seeing you and a bulky half-elf, your arms pinned above your head. You seem nervous, but not conscious enough to realize anything is truly wrong. Astarion stalks up behind the wretched man, wrapping his dagger around the half-elf's throat.

"No so alone anymore, are we?"

Your captor surprisingly doesn't stand down.

"You won't do shit. People know me around here, important people, they'd surely have your head if something happened to me."

"Not if I hide your body well enough. And trust me, I have experience."

The two of them are un-moving for a moment as your wrists start to go numb from the pressure. You groan in pain, only causing the half-elf to grab you tighter. As Astarion goes to press his blade into the man's neck, he whips around, pushing Astarion back. Gods, he's tall. You fall back against the wall, trying to nurse the pain in your hands. As Astarion and the stranger fight, you hear the sounds of blades colliding, but your head is spinning. Perhaps he was right about the whole 'eat before you drink' thing.

You're interrupted from your thoughts when you hear a loud thump on the floor. The half-elf almost knocked Astarion out. leaving him on the ground. The stranger then turns back to you, lifting you back up from the floor, going to open the back door.

"What a find. Can't wait to enjoy you."

In that moment, while trying to get his bearings, Astarion realizes this wasn't just someone threatening you, and that disgusting feeling fills his stomach. He remembers how many times he shared his body against his will, and the adrenaline of that anger is enough to get him back on his feet. As you and the half-elf make it out the door, Astarion rushes him, tripping one foot out from under him. And then he drives his blade into the stranger's back, again, and again, and again, and again, and again. He's covered in the sinner's blood, shaking with both rage and misery. The violent display helped sober you up just a little, enough to make you realize that Astarion has killed someone behind the bar, and that it was clearly deserved. He looks up, locking eyes with you, still holding his blade down, as if the dead man needs yet another plunging strike in his back.

"Astarion?"

You ask, your voice full of uncertainty, the past few minutes still a blur. He begins to cry, putting his dagger in the ground, slowly crawling over to where you've ended up on the ground. He holds you tight, almost to the point of pain. He doesn't say anything, and you simply watch the blood pour out of the man's corpse as he grips you tight. Flooding memories cover every space of his mind, seduction, imprisonment, and most of all, Cazador's death.

"Astarion... you're hurting my arm."

You say softly, not fully aware of just how distraught he is, still far too inebriated. You're sad though, because he's sad, and you can't quite put together why. He lets go, wrapping his arms under his legs, crying into his knees. You try to comfort him, despite your state.

"It's okay, it's over now."

You don't even know what's over, but if someone is dead and Astarion is still alive, he must've ended it.

"I know."

He chokes out those two pathetic words, looking back up at you.

"We need to leave."

The survival instinct kicks in, knowing he can't explain why this man has at least five stab wounds in his back. The second one of the bartenders finds this, it'll be over.

"Come, this way, we're going to take the back alley."

Snatching up your arm, Astarion leads you through the darkness, mumbling things to himself that you can't quite hear. The two of you move quickly through the night as you stumble around behind him. When the two of you get home, he gets you some water, leading you upstairs so you can lie down.

"Are you okay?"

Such an innocent question. He knows you'll remember tomorrow, that it's not like you're blacked out or anything, just confused.

"I'll be fine my dove. Get some rest now, it's alright."

It's as if he's trying to convince himself, but it's enough for you in your drunken stupor. You curl up into the heavy blanket cast across the bed, and he leaves a kiss on your head. Not long after, you're drifting off to sleep, exhausted.

As Astarion makes his way to the bathroom, he thinks of the horrific things that could've happened, of how cruel humanity is. He thinks about how you have to be the only truly good person in all of Faerûn. He'll never get all the blood off his face, not while you're asleep. His mirror, his sun, his everything, and you were almost tainted the very same way he was.

When you wake up the next morning, Astarion isn't in bed. You try to reach out groggily, looking for that embrace, only to be left with cold sheets. Thinking back on the night before, the memories start to filter in. The drinks, the half-elf, the stabbing, and Astarion sobbing. The full picture isn't entirely there, but there's enough pieces for you to realize. That man, he found you drunk in the tavern, and tried to take advantage of you.

You stumble out of bed, walking down the stairs, rubbing your eyes.

Astarion is in the kitchen, drinking some tea, his eyes bloodshot. You don't say anything, slowly walking up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist, holding him tight. He puts his tea down and rests his head on yours.

"Are you alright my love?"

"I'm fine. Are you alright?"

You make some space again, looking up at him, holding his hands in yours. They start to shake again, rage and misery. You move a piece of hair out of his face.

"He didn't do anything to me love, I'm okay."

"Just- the thought of- I-"

He tries to hold back the tears again.

"It's okay, you can cry. It's going to be okay."

With that allowance, the permission to let go, he cries again.

"I don't ever want you to feel like that Tav, the way I felt. It's so, disgusting."

"I know, but it's over Aster. It's over now. You're okay, we're okay."

You wrap around him again, and he continues to weep.

"I love you, so much, and they didn't ruin you, I promise."

That worry, that he'll never be the same, that he's forever fractured now, that a piece of him is gone. Innocence, what a loaded word. Those who are guilty make the innocent feel guilty, and those who are guilty feel powerful, and the cycle continues, always continuing. You stand in the kitchen for a long time, letting him get all of the pain out, your shirt sleeve wet with his tears.

"I just wish I didn't have to be scared anymore."

You frown, thinking on his statement, knowing that no one is ever truly safe. You'll both live in fear forever, of those that think cruelty is accomplishment.

"I know."

It's all you can say, because you can't lie and tell him there's a day he won't have to be scared, that one day all the monsters of the world will be gone. There's nothing to learn, no moral, no mistake to fix, just pain. Pain caused by those who greed after anguish.

"Do you think I've changed? Or am I just as I was, a scared, beaten slave?"

"Gods Astarion, of course you've changed. It's the world that hasn't. We're better than them though, even if that's all we have."

Neither of you reach any resolution, nothing that makes you feel better. Instead, you sit on the sofa by the fire, watching the wood go up in flames, softly speaking about the suffering. You lie in each other's arms, sad. Misery loves company, and the two of you sit in that aura of grieving for a long time, grieving his past, grieving what could have been a kinder world. But here, in this sacred space, where feelings are free to run wild, where you can cry as much as you need, that's the only place you're truly safe. And that's alright, as long as it's together.

[beyondspaceandstars]

Paint 'n' Sip

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: N/A, just all fluff! Summary: You convince your boyfriend Bucky to go to a paint and pour with you. A/N: so this is part of my attempt to post the writings I originally posted on ao3 before I made this account so this is a pretty old one-shot (ao3 says 2020 but I feel like I wrote this before that lmao) however I did go through and edit it so it's a bit stronger than it was before! please enjoy, it's a super simple little fluffy thing :)

Masterlist

"Doll, come on…" Bucky sighed as he gripped the event flyer in his hand. You were sitting on the couch, watching, while Bucky was planted in front the kitchen island.

You just came in the room minutes ago with puppy dog eyes in full swing and a pout as sad as you could muster. Of course, your boyfriend immediately knew something was up, but he gave you the benefit of the doubt and read the flyer you were shaking about. You had got yourself cozy on the couch and waited for his reaction. As predicted, he wasn’t a willing participant.

"What?" You frowned. "It’ll be fun."

He shook his head and turned to you. "Painting and drinking wine? Sounds more like a girls night activity."

"Well," you sighed and crossed your arms, "none of my friends are available, so I thought my wonderful boyfriend who loves me so much would go with me." You tried to keep your face as serious as possible, but it was difficult thanks to Bucky’s expression which told you he wasn’t that convinced yet.

"Doll, seriously, of course I love you, but I draw the line somewhere."

You groaned and got up from your seat, making your way over to your stubborn boyfriend. He placed the flyer on the counter and opened his arms to engulf you. Despite your slight annoyance, you accepted. You were always weak when it came to him holding you.

"You’re being a bit dramatic about this," you said as you gently ran your fingers through his hair. "It’s just a bit of painting paired with some wine sipping. What’s there to really hate?"

"Well, for starters, I’m not much of an artistic guy—," you rolled your eyes, but he continued, "and it’s gonna be full of moms."

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh. "Moms? You think it’ll be full of moms?"

Bucky gave you a look, eyebrows raised. "Wine and painting? Sounds like a mom activity."

You shook your head. "I’ll have you know, this is a very trendy thing trendy adults do."

Now, Bucky was the one laughing. "Oh? And we’re so trendy?"

You lightly hit his arm for that comment. "Come with me and you’ll see that it isn’t so bad."

He truly couldn’t say no to you. And you both secretly knew it.

Saturday night had finally rolled around.

You sat at your vanity touching up your makeup while Bucky lounged on your shared bed. You kept sneaking glances at him through the mirror, taking notice of how he had freshened up a bit more than usual. His jeans hugged him in the right places and his hair was done well. It warmed your heart to see the effort he was trying to put in for you. Even if it was just a night of painting and drinking, it was still a night out with each other.

"You almost ready, hon?" Bucky asked as he kept glancing at the clock on the wall. Your reservation was at seven and you were sure going until the last possible second with your makeup.

"Oh, sure, sure," you waved a hand in dismissal. "Just let me put on lipstick."

"Lipstick?" Bucky frowned. "That just means you won’t let me kiss you."

You let out a laugh, trying to stead your hand as the scarlet color coats your lips. "You can keep your lips to yourself for a few hours."

Your boyfriend mumbled something under his breath then whisked you out of the shared apartment.

You both arrived in just the knick of time. After checking in and grabbing your drink, you two found the only open seats. They were in the middle of the room. And they were nicely situated between two groups of excited, bubbly women.

It didn’t go missed by you that Bucky was the only guy that and from the frown forming on your boyfriend’s face, you realized he noticed at well. You did your best to hold in laughter. He would probably bug you endlessly for this one, and you knew it.

"I think you owe me for this, sweetheart." Bucky muttered as he stared emotionless at the blank canvas propped up the table.

You glanced down at your sorted paints and brushes. "Maybe this will allow you to find your inner Picasso."

Bucky let out a humorless chuckle before taking a big gulp of his drink.

While your boyfriend stewed in his grumpiness, you decided to eavesdrop on the ladies around you two—partially desperate to prove it wasn’t just moms here. You quickly found out that the women on your side were college students out celebrating the end of finals. There was, also, what looked like, a bachelorette party going on a few tables in front of you. You were just about to tell Bucky he was wrong about the clientele when the women sitting closest to him started talking about their children's soccer games. As if on cue, Bucky shot you a look.

"You so owe me for this," Bucky whispered to you. You had to cup your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from roaring with laughter.

The room died down when the instructor introduced themselves and began the class. The painting on tonight’s agenda was a simple sunset with a forest landscape. It sounded quite cute and may even make a nice piece for over your dresser, you thought.

As you got into the painting, you kept glancing over at Bucky. To much surprise, he was extremely concentrated on his canvas. Every brush stroke was done such precision and no move was done unwisely. His drink was even going untouched, completely forgotten about as he was consumed by paint. Your heart fluttered at this sight.

Turning back to your canvas, you tried to match his precision. The blending of your sunset wasn’t exactly up to par, but you thought if your stubborn boyfriend could get into it, you could too. It was your idea after all. How were you doing to be shown up by Mr. Grumpy over there?

Eventually, the instructor concluded the session and everyone around you was quick to show their group what they had done. Plenty of wine had flowed as well, probably contributing to the frenzy.

You stared at your sunset and were a bit…unimpressed. It was alright for a beginner, you figured. You turned to ask how Bucky was doing but your words died on your tongue when you saw his final painting. Bucky’s was the completed opposite of yours… It was like a whole new world. The detail, excitement, colors, everything… The care and concentration he had put into it didn’t go unnoticed. Everything flowed so gently and beautifully. To say you were amazed would be an understatement.

"Buck, that’s…incredible." You were in awe. Bucky glanced at you and a slight blush creeped up on his cheeks.

"You really think so?" He asked.

You nodded. "We’re gonna have to hang it up when we get home."

He chuckled and asked if you ere ready to go. You agreed, deciding it was time to free home.

With both paintings in one hand, Bucky used his other to intertwine your fingers and swung your arms back and forth gently as you two walked back home.

"I’ll be honest, I had a good time tonight," Bucky admitted.

"Really?" You giggled. "I hadn’t notice at all. I thought the canvas would combust from your intense stare."

He bumped his side into you lightly. "I was just… really into it. We gotta paint more."

"Oh, no, not we." You shook your head. "I think this is your hidden talent."

Bucky started to blush again and looked away toward the street.

"I mean it, babe." You mumbled, rubbing patterns on his hand with your thumb. "I think it could be good for you. Therapeutic, maybe."

His walking speed was slowing down a bit. You were looking at him while his eyes were trained on the pavement.

"Only if you promise you’ll hang up every painting I do."

You smiled at the comment. He started picking that talent up from you—making some lighthearted comment even in the slight serious of times. The fact he even considered it made you feel all fuzzy. You couldn’t wait to see what he could do with a full set of acrylics.

"It would be an honor to display any of your paintings."

He gave you a peck on the cheek, now making you blush as you continued your way home.

[mslanna]

Raphael reacting to his little mouse asking to meet with him privately; when he agrees, Tav makes a thorough check of the room (to ensure nothing and nobody is eavesdropping) before explaining. Tav informs the cambion that another fiend appeared before them and attempted to get the adventurer to agree to sellout Raphael by essentially acting as a mole, so now Tav is here to warn him while also trying to figure out some things, "Any idea why that other devil thought that I'd be a good choice for this? They claimed you were enamored with me, but I stopped paying attention when they persisted with flattery rather than give me their actual reasoning." Meanwhile, Raphael is sat there knowing all that "flattery" is true.

Well, that took an unexpected turn at the end. 🤭 nby Tav without body configuration unwise application of whisky Read it on AO3

Double-Dealing Devils

Everything had to be perfect. Raphael made another round through his suite in Sharess' Caress. His favourite future client, his little mouse had asked – asked – to meet him. This could only mean one thing, and he was ready.

The wine was ready. Refreshments were ready. The special occasion outfit in black and red was tailored to perfection and fitting impeccably. Scented soaps and lotions awaited in case the meeting turned a little more – satisfactory than Tav anticipated. The rose petals might clue them in.

On the other hand, they might not. Tav could be deliciously oblivious for all their street smarts and battle prowess. Raphael tugged at his sash and ran a hand through his perfect hair. Archdevil Raphael. Ruler of the nine hells.

Soon.

The door opened and his future swept in, disregarding him completely. Raphael frowned as Tav began a thorough search of his suite – not just with hands and eyes, he felt the distinctive tingle of magic.

"Pray what-"

"Sh!" Tav hissed. Their tone was so urgent, that Raphael obeyed.

Such power in such a small package. He watched Tav doing a full circuit, thinking of all the wonderful ways he could harness their energy. Free it. Shape it to his will. Leaning back against his desk, Raphael let his thoughts roam freely over the subject.

"Happy?" He crossed his arms and tilted his head when Tav finally deigned to approach him.

"You know you are rather unpopular already?" Tav mirrored his pose.

"I'm a devil, my dear. I am popular only with those who are worth the time and effort."

"Maybe you should reconsider who that is, because I got a really interesting offer."

"Is that so." Raphael refused to be fazed. "I am curious why you did not take it."

"Who says I didn't?"

"Would you be here if you did?" Raphael straightened. "If you have found another way to solve your little tadpole problem, I am all agog to hear about it."

"It's not about that," Tav conceded. "Or maybe a little."

"Come, sit." Raphael gestured to the comfortable couch at the pool. "Tell me everything. Have a drink. Refreshments?"

Tav blinked as if they had run into a brick wall. Raphael exploited their surprise by pressing a wine goblet into their hand and guiding them into the desired direction.

They flopped down with their wine sloshing dangerously high in the goblet. It didn't spill though. A pity, but something akin might be happening later. Raphael licked his lips.

Once sitting, Tav gulped down half of the wine in one go. A waste considering the quality of it but the mortal didn't even notice the taste. "I don't even know who that devil was. I don't deal with devils on a regular basis, you know?"

"And you didn't think to ask their name?"

"I don't believe a word they said. Why would I believe the name they gave? Also, they wore a glamour. Four meter devilshape is drawing attention. So they glamoured themselves to look like-" Tav hesitated.

Raphael moved closer and swirled his wine. "To look like who?"

"Um." Tav blushed. "The type of woman I prefer."

"A successful ploy judging by your reaction." A wrench in the works, maybe. Korrilla reported a certain interest in the druid elf travelling with the group.

"The only success." Tav snorted and slurped up the rest of their wine. "Anyway, they wanted me to spy for them. On you," Tav added seeing the incomprehension on Raphael's face. "They want me to sell you out. Your secrets and stuff. Whatever gave them the impression I am a good choice for that."

Tav shook their head and stared into the empty goblet. Oblivious. Raphael suppressed a sigh. Maybe it would be wise to keep it that way. They would certainly be a liability. He was far from admitting that it was part of their charm. So easily fooled and yet so firm in their beliefs.

"They must have given reasons," he prompted.

Another snort from Tav. "They said you have a soft spot for me. Said, you were, can you believe it, enamoured with me." Tav looked up to find Raphael's brown eyes reasting heavily on them. They swallowed. "Anyway, I stopped listening when they kept repeating that instead of giving their actual reasoning."

"Ah." Raphel picked the empty goblet from their unresisting hand. "I see."

It was unfortunate that his – lenience towards his little mouse should be known in infernal circles. That offer would not be the last of them. This time, Tav decided to come to him. But who knew how their decision would fall in the future? Once his deal was concluded and other devils found tempting prizes for Tav. He needed a solution.

"I know. It's ridiculous." Tav leant back and spread their arms over the backrest.

Raphael turned away to refill their cup. Tav sitting like an open invitation was a little too on the nose. Did they really not know? Or were they stringing him along, trying to weasel some kind of confession out of him? And if he did, would it be worth it? Raphael scrounged his nose in thought as he poured them more wine.

"I mean, it's all very professional, is it not? You give me a hammer with which I can free Orpheus who will solve all my problems. I give you a crown that will solve all of yours." Tav shook their head. "You're not even coming for my soul."

"As yet." Raphael smiled like a promise and a threat. "Who knows what will happen once you sign my deal and we conclude it successfully?"

"So you have further plans with me?" Tav frowned.

"Perhaps." He took a step towards them. "It depends entirely on whether you are willing."

Tav narrowed their eyes. Willing to do what? Was – was his top button undone? That sure hadn't been the case when they arrived. The words of the other devil echoed through heir head. Soft spot. Enamoured even. Balderdash. Wasn't it? Admittedly, Gale had said something about roses and serenades as well. But Gale was a hopeless romantic.

Tav stopped to look around. A suite, tiles covered in rose petals. Wine. Refreshments. A pool inviting with soaps, oils and lotions. A bed, not even hidden from view with plush pillows and ample space. Raphael, in the middle of the room a goblet of wine in one hand.

Tav reached out. When Raphael handed them the goblet, they emptied it in one go. Shaking their head, Tav grunted. "I need something stronger than that, I think."

"That can be arranged," Raphael purred, pleased that realisation finally set in.

Glancing to the door Tav wondered if they'd make it while the devil was distracted. But Raphael cheated, by simply appearing a bottle of whisky and a filled tumbler in his hands.

"Anything else?"

"How about some privacy?"

"As you wish." With a flick of his hand, the lock of the door clicked audibly.

Tav swallowed. Doomed. They picked the whisky from the devil's hand who made sure their fingers touched more than necessary. Maybe if they got drink fast enough – But who were they kidding? He was a devil and one that looked at them like a cat that found a cream-covered mouse to play with. Detected.

The unveil hunger emanating from Raphael burnt in Tav's stomach even without a single drop of whisky. Words from another place wormed their way back into Tav's wavering conscience. Swallowing once more, they pulled up their tunic slowly and poured some of their drink into their belly button. It ran over because they didn't look away from the devil's intense gaze.

Raphael smiled greedily. He opened another button on his doublet and knelt before them.

Caught. Tav closed their eyes as hot lips closed in on their skin.

[inkmemes]

never stop blowing up  (  2024-  )  e01 : be kind, rewind sentence  starters ↪  taken  from  dimension 20's 22nd season.  alter  as  you  see  fit  ♡

“oh wait, i have to come up with the name right now!”

“this was the thing i forgot to do!”

“oh shit! wait, actually, that's… wait, actually?”

“ooh, look at my lovely cardigan!”

“i did think you were going to say tits.”

“that actually does really help me remember.”

“it's for parties. it's for chill kickbacks.”

“i think that's incredible.”

“it's a giant wrench.”

“without siblings, we're nothing.”

“you're gonna get me in trouble with my boss again. you can't do donuts in the parking lot.”

“it scares away the customers.”

“you're not gonna stay for the whole shift, are you?”

“i don't know what you're gonna eat, but that's not gonna be good when it's cold.”

“hey, you better make a move fast, man.”

“things are scary down there.”

“you do what you want, but at the end of the day, you're wasting your time at a place like this.”

“this is a dead end.”

“you need to take your life seriously, man.”

“i watch anime.”

“webster's is trash.”

“these kids, sweeties, they're not going anywhere. they're not going anywhere, believe me.”

“sorry, i was going to invite you to go out for a drink.”

“what are you gonna do in the big world?”

“i take it back. i take it back.”

“you're gonna bury us all.”

“i'll get the information somehow. you can trust me!”

“do me a favor. step behind this door.”

“what's behind the door?”

“he got squished to death.”

“who are you calling?”

“that's okay, i'll just pick them up from here when i come.”

“that's nice. i do like that.”

“oh my god, i keep calling people about that phone. it doesn't work.”

“what if i have to call i have to scream for them or something. good thing i have life alerts everywhere.”

“say hi to everybody! everybody you see, say hi.”

“you're drawing a spreadsheet by hand?”

“you may not be able to push buttons on that keyboard, but you push my buttons every day.”

“[name], you're my rock, and i am counting on you.”

“what do you need? i'll be right there.”

“can you do me a favor, sweetheart?”

“that's incredible, man. i'm so happy for you.”

“i always wondered what we might have done together, but then again, as you always say, you work alone.”

“i think you'd only slow me down, [name].”

“do you need a ride, or are you just gonna get there yourself?”

“what've you got going on here?”

“i can't believe you guys are closing down. what the hell? that's crazy, i can't believe it. why are you guys shutting down?”

“i just love the vibe.”

“i don't think there's any long-term ramifications of having no sort of collective ownership of actual, real, concrete media.”

“sorry, i just popped a really big mint in.”

“thank god, man. thank god you're here.”

“he looks like anybody, and he looks like everybody.”

“i'll give you one second to change your mind and not embarrass yourself.”

“i'd hate to have lunch with you.”

“dude's kinda weird.”

“what's going on with you?”

“what've you been doing on facebook all day?”

“why don't you let go, [name]? i let go, and i'm feeling amazing, all right?”

“what'd you ask? you want to rip my carpet?”

“i can't believe what that fucker was saying.”

“i could pick them up tomorrow for you.”

“god, it's hot in here. do you want a fan or something?”

“i've never tried that.”

“what the hell? are you okay?”

“you callin' me a chicken, [name]? ’cause i'm actually the cock of the walk.”

“god, that's fucking cool.”

“i think you're technically right once again, there.”

“i'm good, i'm good. living my best life. living my hottest sexy single life.”

“oh, you wrote it down, like old-fashioned style.”

“i left this post-it note in your lunch cubby.”

“we could get cataract surgery together, if you wanted.”

“this is eye-opening for me.”

“you just keep doing it. you just go and you do it again, and then you do it again.”

“you already said your name.”

“we're gonna kind of have a party of sorts.”

“a bottle of wine, then, is called for.”

“i think you can probably hang up.”

“he kind of sounded like a wizard or something.”

“oh my god, the tv's broken. everything's breaking.”

“you know what? i'll come with you.”

“is everything okay at home?”

“it was an accident. she didn't mean to.”

“you spent $400 on pants?”

“i hope i have arrived in time to join the festivities.”

“it was a joint effort.”

“did you eat those seeds yourself?”

“i never grow tired of it. i watch it again and again and again.”

“how do you know my name?”

“sorry, what was your question?”

“little bit of snow for your ski trip.”

“oh my god, i'm hideous!”

[jungkookjeon0007]

Nights in Vegas | CH. 10 (JJK FF)

☆ summary: When Olivia flies to Las Vegas for her first ever BTS concert w/ her best friend, she was expecting to make lots of unforgettable memories... What she wasn't expecting was to end up with the lead singer, Jeon Jungkook, knocking on her hotel room door only to find her in nothing but a towel. What will happen when the golden maknae wants to see her again? Will it lead to heartbreak, or a promising future for them both?

☆ pairing(s): jungkook x olivia.

☆ ratings: (18+) for detailed sex scenes + harsh language.

☆ genre: smut, angst, fluff.

☆ word count: 2.82k.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

[Jungkook's POV]

We got to our table and immediately I pulled out the chair for her. She thanked me with a soft smile and I smiled back before finding my way over to my own seat.

"Good evening. I'm Myra and I'll be your waitress this evening. I just wanted to get both of your drink orders so we can get those out to you first. What would the two of you like?" She smiled, pulling out her pen and paper, waiting for us to give our orders.

Olivia looked at me as I motioned for her to go first. She nodded and began to give her order. "I would like a sweet tea for now please."

The waitress scribbled down the order and turned to me, "Okay perfect, and for you Sir?"

"I would like a bottle of your finest wine please."

God knows I need it to calm my nerves. She scribbled my order down then looked at us. "Okay, I have your drink orders. I will be back in just a few minutes with those and then I will take your food orders. In the meantime, please let me know if you need anything."

We thanked her as she smiled and turned to walk away, leaving us alone.

I started to feel better until she turned her head to look around the restaurant and my eyes went to her neck. I couldn't help but travel my eyes further down her body. Fuck she's so beautiful, how did I get so lucky to meet her?

As the thought of my lips on her neck continued to occupy my mind, I felt my pants start to get tighter. I had to stop thinking about it before I popped a major boner. Thank god for the waitress!

She took our orders after she brought out the drinks and when she left I offered Olivia a glass of wine.

She looked up and nodded. "Yes please."

I poured the glass of wine and handed it to her, but when she grabbed it our hands touched causing my breath to hitch. Her eyes met mine and after clearing her throat she thanked me, taking the drink from my hand.

. . .

[Olivia's POV]

Shit. My brain is thinking so many things that it definitely should not be right now. In all honestly, I just want his hands all over me, but will not ruin this wonderful first date because I'm horny. If anything happens, it happens, and we will go with the flow.

After a few minutes, our food had arrived and we began eating, making small talk in the process. We laughed and shared stories about our lives and what we like or disliked. It was definitely an amazing distraction from all the tension earlier and once we finished with our dinner, we started to drink a lot more of the wine.

Before I knew it, we were more than 2 glasses in, and it was time to call it quits and head back to the hotel. He paid for our meal, and we walked to the back exit to meet the driver. Once we were in the car and on our way home for the night, I felt his hand rest casually on my upper thigh. He began to draw circles with his thumb, snuggling closer to me as his head rested on my shoulder.

"You smell so good." he stated as he leaned in closer. I blushed but thanked him none the less as he smirked at my shyness and stared out the window for the remainder of the car ride.

. . .

We arrived back to the hotel, making our way inside the elevator. He pressed the floor number, and we stood in complete silence as we waited to reach the 4th floor. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife, both of us feeling needy for the others touch.

Until suddenly in the blink of an eye, I was pinned between him and the wall of the elevator.

I looked up and he was staring back at me so intensely, eyes turning dark. We were only inches apart and I could feel his hot breath fanning against my lips. His look was full of desire and in that moment, I knew he wanted me just as much as I wanted him.

Taking his right hand, he slowly moved the stray pieces of hair away from my forehead, speaking in a deep raspy voice. "You are so fucking beautiful."

I smiled as he rubbed my left cheek with his thumb, looking him in the eyes. "Thanks, but you're so much more beautiful Kookie."

I ran my fingers through his silky black hair as he closed his eyes, melting into my touch. He swallowed harshly, moving his tattooed hand and placing it on my waist. He glanced down to my lips, licking his own and biting his lower lip. "I'm sorry if this is too straightforward, but I really want to kiss you."

I searched his face, saying the words he was desperately wanting to hear. "Then kiss me."

He half smirked and as he leaned in, my heart started to beat fast.

But unfortunately, luck wasn't on our side as the moment his lips barely grazed mine, the elevator sounded that we had arrived.

. . .

[Jungkook's POV]

I am so nervous. All I want is to touch her and feel those soft lips pressed against mine. But of course the moment I have a chance, the elevator doors opened. I closed my eyes, hanging my head in defeat as she started to lightly giggle. At first, I looked at her in confusion but when she didn't stop, I slowly joined in.

I grabbed her hand, interlocking our fingers as I pulled her with me. "C'mon, let's go"

We walked down the hallway and stopped in front of the door as I nervously retrieved the keycard out of my pocket. Once I opened the door, I signaled with a nod for her to enter first. I shut the door behind us, locking it, and placing all of my things on the night stand as she spoke, "I brought some pajamas with me, so I am going to go and get changed real fast. When I come back, would you like to watch a movie with me?"

I nodded. "Yeah, go ahead. I'll get some comfy clothes on as well and we will decide on a movie together when you come back."

She smiled. "Okay! I'll be right back then."

I returned the smile and as the bathroom door closed, I hurriedly went to put on my sweat pants and an oversized Carhartt t-shirt. I plugged in my phone and got situated on the bed, waiting for her to come back and join me.

10 minutes later

The bathroom door opened and she walked out in a t-shirt and a short pair of pajama shorts. She had taken off all of her makeup and tied her hair back into a loose pony tail. My mind couldn't stop thinking how much more beautiful she was without makeup on.

I soon realized I was staring too long when she casually cleared her throat, smirking at me. I shook my head in embarrassment, "I'm sorry for staring, you're just seriously perfect."

She smiled, crawling into bed next to me. "I appreciate how sweet you are... ya know something, here lately you're the main reason I feel beautiful."

I smiled, grabbing her hand and giving it a gentle kiss. She herself started staring and when we locked eyes she quickly grabbed the remote, scrolling through the tv. "So, what movie should we watch?"

After a lot of scrolling and debating, we finally decided on The Notebook because I had never seen it before. To be sure I could understand everything the actors were saying, she turned on Korean subtitles just in case causing my heart to swell at the thoughtfulness.

"Is it okay if we cuddle together?" She asked sweetly.

I was nervous but nodded with a smile. "Of course."

We nestled under the warm blankets together as she laid her on my chest. I was a bit tense at first and hesitant to put my arm around her until she gave me a soft smile, "It's okay if you want to hold me."

I took a deep breath, "I am just feeling slightly nervous is all."

I could tell my innocence was intriguing to her but to help me along, she grabbed my hand gently and wrapped it around her body, snuggling closer. "See, everything is okay. You have nothing to be nervous about, besides your cuddles are wonderful."

Her words relaxed me as I enjoyed the feeling of her being in my arms.

. . .

We were roughly an hour into the movie when suddenly the characters began to make out heavily. Oh shit, not a sex scene.

When the girl was picked up and slammed into the wall, I knew I was done for. I tried to close my eyes and think of weird thoughts to get my mind off of the scenes playing in front of me, but it was no use. In my mind, I was imagining that was me and I was the one slamming Olivia up against the wall and making her moan out.

"Fuck, just focus on something else." I thought as I tried to hide my now noticeable erection the best I could. If we keep watching this, there's no way I will be able to hide this.

About that time, I felt her head raise off of my chest making instant eye contact with me. "Hey, is everything okay? You seem to be uncomfortable and you're getting tense."

I moved slightly but knew in the back of my mind that I was done for. My erection is extremely obvious at this point and is no longer able to be hidden. As I looked down, her eyes followed mine and immediately got wider. She paused the movie and slowly turned to me, "Are you going to be okay?"

I started breathing heavily, because this was by far the hardest I have ever been in my life. I glanced at her, nodding my head but it was clearly not convincing.

"I can tell you're not okay and how uncomfortable you are..." She paused for a moment, thinking of her next words carefully. "D-do you want me to help you?"

With a pained yet shocked expression I replied, "You don't have to. I can go in the bathroom and take care of it myself. I am so sorry, Liv."

I threw my arm over my face wanting to crawl away like an injured animal, but she moved it and grabbed my face, forcing me to look at her. "I want to help you or I wouldn't have offered. I can tell you are in pain, just let me make it go away and help you feel better."

She stroked my cheek with her thumb and god it felt so good to feel her touch. Before long, I was practically begging her, "Please.. I really want you to touch me."

Not another second passed and her lips were locked with mine. This kiss feeling needy and full of want, as if she had been holding this back all night.

. . .

[Olivia's POV]

When I saw how hard he was, my eyes almost popped out of my head but the moment I saw his face, my heart broke at how much pain he was in.

He was trying so hard to control himself but I knew that at this point, it was not happening. Shortly after I asked if he wanted my help, he admitted that he did which made me become turned on all of a sudden. I didn't give him a chance to change his mind and pulled him in to a kiss, knotting my fingers up in his hair. When I felt him resisting to touch me, I pulled away gently. "Baby, you can touch me. I promise it's okay.. I want you to."

He took a deep breath, pulling me back into him as he attacked my lips once more. His big hands started to roam every inch of me and fuck did it feel so heavenly on my skin. He slightly shocked me as he began to take full control of the kiss, but I followed his lead and let him guide me. I let out a few soft moans, and he took that as an opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth. I lost control of every thought, and without thinking twice I climbed on top of him and straddled his waist. I lined my aching core up with his hard member, never breaking contact as his hands were now resting firmly on my hips. That's when I accidentally grinded on him, causing his whole body to jolt. He pulled away from the kiss and groaned, "Fuckkk."

I smirked mischievously, "Do you want me to keep going?"

No words needed to be spoken as he grabbed my hips harder, pushing me down into him as we continued to rub against one another. After a few minutes of this, we were both so horny that I needed to have him right away. I moved my kisses from his mouth, down to his beautifully chiseled jaw, and then to his neck. I continued to work my way slowly, finally reaching the hem of his sweatpants where I then looked up at him for confirmation to continue. When he gave me a nod, I pulled his pants and boxers down at the same time instantly salivating as his erection popped up and smacked his stomach.

The tip was red and angry, dripping with pre cum, and begging to be touched. I wasted no time, grabbing the base of his dick as I heard him take in a sharp breath, hissing through his teeth. I ran my hand slowly up and gathered some of the pre cum to help my hand glide on his length with ease. When I had him to the point of no return, I stopped and looked at him, waiting for him to look back at me. As soon as his eyes opened and met mine, I ran the flat of my tongue from the base of his member all the way to the tip. As I got to the tip, I swirled my tongue around giving it a slow suck and felt every muscle in his body tense.

I swear to god I have never in my life heard a sexier moan than the one he's making. I smiled, taking him by surprise as I quickly took his entire length into my mouth all at once. He threw his head back, grabbing a fistful of my hair. "Fucking hell baby. That feels s-so good." He moaned out, fueling my fire even further.

I began to suck and use my hand at the same time, driving him mad with pleasure. He made the most sinful and beautiful noises and honestly, I can say no one has made me this wet just by the noises they made in bed. I stayed at a steady pace, beginning to notice that he was thrusting himself up into my mouth. I let him control the pace and before long I felt him begin to throb, "Sh-shit. I'm so close Liv."

He become rougher with his thrusts but I didn't mind, I continued at the same pace determined to make this man cum. A few more thrusts and moans later, I gently messaged his balls making him come unglued underneath me. "Oh my god. Shit."

In a second, the warm liquid was spilling down my throat and I swallowed every last drop, letting him ride out his high. I moved up on my knees, wiping my mouth off with the back of my hand while smirking. He had beads of sweat on his forehead, breathing heavily and when he opened his eyes he smirked, "I have never had one of those before... but shit was it worth the wait. That was fucking amazing."

Obviously his compliment stroked my ego and I smiled back, "I'm glad you enjoyed it Kookie. I'm honored that I was able to be one of your firsts to experience this with."

He glanced down as his cheeks turned red, causing me to furrow my eye brows in confusion. "What's wrong?"

He took a deep breath, "Don't laugh please, but you have been a lot of my firsts these last few days. I have never had experiences like the ones I've had with you. You're becoming very special to me, and not just because of the blowjob.. just in general, you're so wonderful."

My eyes filled with tears,  threatening to fall down my face but I choked back the knot in my throat. "You know... You're something else Jeon Jungkook. You're amazing and so much sweeter than I could have ever imagined, thank you for being so perfect."

He smiled and after a few minutes of our romantic moment, he began to pull his pants and boxers back up. He kissed me on my nose and after a minute or so went by, I could tell he wanted to ask me something, "What is it? Just ask me."

"When can I do something like that to you?"

I gulped. Oh bloody hell.

[amorficzna]

hiiii a prompt for you: galeheart + reaching out with their hand without saying anything, wanting the other one to grab it

yayay thank you for this one rowan, it really got me writing, and I ended up folding the prompt I haven't yet (completely) filled for @kvella into it as a shorter, completed story. I hope ya both like it <3

(alternatively, read on ao3)

The first time she is downed - too busy making sure Lae’zel can handle the goblin charging after her - she reaches out; for what or who, she doesn’t know, and assumes her body remembers the rites the way her mind can’t. She is no doubt reaching out for Shar, as penance, as the blood slips past her ribs and into the ground below, into the dark of the dirt.

The morningstar slips through her fingers, and it could be nothing more than her body crumpling beneath the heavy swing of the bugbear, but there’s more to it than that: her fingers stretch, and wait, and she feels the distinct prickle of something missing, though it isn’t her armament. 

There are muffled cries around her, and she blinks at the bleary image of a purple mass coming towards her; beneath the numbness of her skin she feels the warmth of a hand in hers. 

She doesn’t remember much after that, doesn’t bother to, until she awakes in camp. The hem of Gale’s robe is torn and there is a purple rag soaked with brown blood that lies at the edge of her tent. 

Her fingers flit across her palm. 

—

There are years of memories between that moment and this one, yet of all their time spent together - years and years and years of a life she can claim to remember now, with no uncertainty to it - seems condensed into that one moment; one that she cannot remember more than half-fully. 

Her Gale is old now; truly wizened, with his soul to match. He is grumpy, though in a light-hearted way that usually doesn’t match her on some of her best days. His face is alight with scars and wrinkles that she caresses in the evenings, when he snores and the winds of Waterdeep are too cold for her to wander onto the roof and look at the stars; to contemplate those celestially long lives, and remember an old friend. 

She is old now too, but not old enough.

Tonight the winds die down as she makes her way to the rooftop, Gale’s form sagging harshly against their mattress. The clouds are clear and she knows what omens are, how they manifest, like the way they did before Morena passed. The night sky was clear then, too, and the snow falling across city was so gentle it kissed her skin where it landed. 

She looks down upon her garden from her perch on the roof, for it really is hers. Her trees are ripe with blossoms and early spring fruits. The moon casts shade upon a sprinkling of every kind of flower and bush she could find, once upon a time; anything that would grow lies scattered haphazardly in the small thicket Gale once gifted her. 

In the middle of the lush of nightshades and crocus and night orchids peeks through the stone grave of Morena Dekarios. And beside her, the dirt still clinging to her nailbeds, lies another empty plot. 

She draws her knees up close to her chest, and looks upon the stars. 

Gale told her once of a tradition among Waterdhavians, or so he claimed. He less told and more performed, his hands whisking the Weave around them as an empty bottle of wine rolled haphazardly towards the edge of the roof, their lips stained plum, his smile bright. It was about wishes and falling stars, and how the Gods, who looked so fondly on those doomed celestial bodies, found it within themselves to grant wishes for even the lowliest of mortals. 

Now, as she looks at the sky, a piercing blue streak crosses past, just below the heavy full moon. 

The ache in her chest tightens anew as she wonders on it - if she should test her luck with some erratic half-formed tale from a night of drinking. But her children and the last of their friends will be here tomorrow, and her Gale is old, and she has spent many years with him, on this roof, in their bed, out in the garden; it will have to be enough. 

As the night turns golden with the rising sun she slips back inside. He is already awake, his eyes bright and warm as he sees her come in, his hand equally so as he wipes the dried tears from her cheeks. 

“My love,” he says, “My dear heart.”

“It’s been a good life.” 

“And it will be.” 

She runs her hand against his chest and the thin skin there; where his skin indents like an old scar, or a burn that never healed quite right. She spent many nights rubbing oils and balms into the skin there, out of sheer spite or blind stubbornness she isn’t sure, but the mark stayed, and they learned to grow around it instead. 

She wonders, in this last morning together, if she should bring up this half-formed memory of a life long ago. 

Instead she reaches for him, and he meets her halfway, their fingers entwining, his knuckled and swollen, hers a bit spotted and soft but still much the same, and that is answer enough. 

—

The sun is barely cresting over Deep Harbor when the first of their children appear - Marino and Arianell, their own families in tow. Shadowheart sends a mage hand to greet them, their light steps creaking against the old staircase as they make their way towards their parent’s bedroom. She runs her fingers softly against Gale’s forehead, his hair long and wispy and starkly white. 

His smile deepens the wrinkles and lines of his face, and he welcomes his twins with open arms. 

“Father -” Marino cries, but that is all the boy can say before the three of them are swept up in sobs and cathartic laughter.

Shadowheart rubs her hand against her daughter’s back, and sees so much of Gale in the both of them. Below her children’s partners and her grandchildren await, and she knows she will need to see to them soon as the day becomes long and the night will be upon them, but for now she feels the warmth of her son’s arms around her, and the hot trail of her husband’s tears, and she allows herself this indulgence.

—

Ama arrives before noon, her youngest daughter holding herself together with stark calmness as she wobbles up the stairs to see her father, always closer to him than Shadowheart. 

Shadowheart will speak with her later, and they will share their grief in their own ways, but now she holds one of her granddaughter’s close, and looks at her garden and the way its snaking vines slip through the open kitchen window and into the small cracks of the wizard’s tower.

—

The sun is casting orange and purple streaks across the walls of their bedroom once Astarion and Halsin arrive. They are quiet as they make their way to the bedroom, where the rest of the Dekarios clan sit upon the bed, sharing in stories and laughter, Gale’s presence the center of their small orbit. 

Halsin is like her, and she knows she will make a pilgrimage to Reithwin once her husband’s bones are settled into the ground; she will have to speak with him on this grief that is slowly twining around her heart like the mark upon her hand once did, though this one is not born of any malice. But it will still hurt, and it will hurt long, and hard, and she knows Halsin will share the wisdom of hundreds of years to guide her through it. 

But for now Gale is here, and he is so lovely, with his hair as white as her own, and his smile still so wide and warm, and his laugh coming out in soft, rumbling huffs. 

The night is coming faster than she thought, and there is the sharp slice of panic that rips through her as the sun continues its gentle decline into night; the moon is near, and between them lies her three children, and Astarion, and Halsin too. 

They all stay like that, long into the night, all of them crowded onto their bed. Even with so many of them, it doesn’t feel cramped, as if by some magic it stretches to accommodate all of Gale Dekarios’s loved ones.

Even with so many years and so many memories between them, he feels so far away in this moment, as if she will never be beside him again, her body never pressed against his, their hands never fumbling to pull the other close. She doesn’t mean to cry, and she doesn’t, but as they continue to swap tales - each more outlandish than the last that Shadowheart wonders if they are weaving the legend of the Great Wizard of Waterdeep as he still yet lives - she feels it; it is the gentlest of pulls that guides her hand open, palm up, reaching out towards the infinite space of night. And in response there is the turn of her husband’s head to meet her eyes, and across that infinite space she feels his hand in hers, like a gentle tickle against her palm, and she weeps.

—

Her children and friends stay for another tenday to help her with the funeral rites, to help her carve the stone and set the grave, to put his body to rest and to celebrate his life with rich wine and well-spiced foods. 

Her children hold her close, and she promises to visit them - and she will, in her own time. 

But once her house is empty once more, and her bed is missing its best half, and the hallways are too silent, and the mage hands have died away, she slowly makes her way to the roof. She wonders, as the wind whips against her face and hair, which of the stars her celestial husband has become to watch over her. 

“I miss you,” she whispers, “I already miss you. Wait for me,” she pleads.

A bright streak of blue answers her.

[maddie-dog-story-blog]

Sarah's Playground - 7

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

The wine bottles were exciting to me. As the sheltered girl I was, I had never even considered drinking before I was 21. The idea of getting to do something so adult with Lidia, the older woman who had made it her life's goal up to this point to treat me as her living baby doll, was enthralling. I remembered distinctly thinking to myself that this could be a turning point in Lidia and my relationship. Maybe I could be cool just like her?

I shuddered while still suckling at my mother's tit as I relived this new memory and realized how wrong and naive I was.

It didn't take Lidia long to find my Mom's wine glasses at all. She quickly went to the kitchen, put the bottles of wine down, and opened the precise cabinet where the glasses were located. I shot her a confused look. How did she know where those glasses were?

Lidia caught my look. As she reached into a drawer and pulled out a corkscrew, she responded to my unspoken question.

"Baby, don't look so confused. I've drank here dozens of times. What do you think I did after I tucked you in for an early bedtime?"

That made a lot of sense and eased my concerns a little.

"Oh, good," I said nervously, watching as Lidia pour two large glasses of white wine, "I don't think I should drink though. If Mom found out, she'd demote me back to third grade!"

Lidia smiled at me in response.

"Oh, don't be a spoil sport, it's your birthday weekend and you deserve to have some fun, right? I promise I won't tell your mom. I've never told her about our other secrets, right?"

I blushed at being reminded of the numerous weekends I'd spent with Lidia crawling around in a soiled diaper.

"No, you're right. You really promise you'll keep this a secret?" I asked hopefully.

"Of course!" Lidia said, handing me a glass.

I felt reassured. So, without hesitation, I took a big drink from the wine glass. I then immediately spat it out. It didn't taste like juice at all. Lidia laughed uproariously.

"Sweetie! You've gotta take it easy! It looks like juice, but doesn't taste like it. Why don't you try again, but just take a sip?" Lidia offered.

I obliged. I took a sip of the wine and made a face. This time, though I was able to swallow it.

"Great, now, how about we get some jammies on? I'll order a pizza and pop some popcorn, and we can have a Rom Com movie marathon?" Lidia offered.

That sounded wonderful to me. After years of being forced to watch Disney movies while suckling from a bottle with Lidia, the idea of drinking wine and watching romantic comedies with her felt almost too good to be true.

The rest of the night went excellently. I switched into my most comfortable pajamas and spent the night lounging on the couch and bonding with Lidia, who, for the first time in my life, was treating me as an equal rather than some stupid little toddler.

As I drank more wine, I started to get used to the taste. My head got fuzzy and my inhibitions dropped with each sip. I suddenly saw the draw of drinking. By the time 2 AM hit, Lidia and I had finished both bottles of wine and I was feeling pretty good. When I stood up though, I couldn't walk straight. Lidia giggled.

"Oh, sweetheart, you are wasted! Let me help you to bed!" Lidia said as she stood up, grabbed me by the shoulders, and guided me to my bedroom.

I smiled stupidly. Drunk and happy with my new found friendship with Lidia.

"Lidia, you know you are the... uh... best, right?" I slurred drunkenly.

Lidia laughed, "Yes, sweetheart, I do. Now let's get your drunk little butt to bed!"

I laid down in bed as Lidia directed, and, probably mostly out of habit, let Lidia tuck me in.

"Goodnight, Sarah," Lidia said as she closed the door to my room.

"Goodnight Lidy," I said as I closed my eyes, feeling the world spin around me.

I couldn't help but smile as I fell asleep. This was the perfect way to celebrate becoming an adult.

The next morning did not go nearly as well.

"Oh my god, Sarah! You said you haven't wet the bed since you were 13? You naughty little liar!" Lidia's voice woke me up.

"What? Yeah? I don't wet the bed anymore," I groaned, sitting up and feeling an uncomfortable cool wetness around my groin.

"That is not what your bed and pajamas say Little Missy!" Lidia said, throwing the sheets off of me and exposing my shame. She immediately pulled out her phone and took a picture.

"You know I have to tell your Mommy about this right? This is NOT the behavior of a real adult!" Lidia said.

"Please, don't! I thought we were friends?! This really wasn't even my fault, it had to be the wine!" I pleaded.

"Baby, you know if your Mommy finds out about this, and I didn't tell her, I could get demoted for being immature too. I have to tell her. Also, you are not going to complain about this anymore. If you do, I am going to tell your Mommy that you stole wine for me and your demotion will be MUCH worse," Lidia said.

"You... you wouldn't..." I stammered.

"I would, now, be a good girl and tell your Mommy about your accident," Lidia says, pressing the call button on her phone and handing it to me.

I almost wet my bed again right there out of fear of how my Mom was going to react.

NEXT CHAPTER

[doe-eyed-fool]

Fallen {Chapter Twenty Four}

Alastor x (fem)Reader

It had been about a week since that incident, I was still a little shaken from it. Though, I tried to keep my composure, and act normally. Most seem to buy it, except for two people. Angel Dust, he saw right through my act. He tried to make me feel better. Talking to me, inviting me out with him and Cherri. While I appreciated his efforts, it didn't help much. I tried to put his own worries at ease, but I wasn't much help either.

Then there was Alastor. Even if I wanted to pretend like everything was fine, it wouldn't convince him. He was patient with me and understanding. He did as I asked, and kept quiet about what he did to Liam. Though, telling from the grin on his face, he was satisfied with what he's done. 

Today, Alastor had stopped by my room. He wanted to take a crack at trying to cheer me up too. But, the way he went about it was...shocking.

I answer the door, I've learned overtime that his knock pattern was different from the others. He stared down at me with a friendly(?) grin. "Good evening Y/n! How are you feeling?" He asks. I shrug. "About the same." Not great, but not terrible either. Somewhere in between. But, it wasn't a good in between. I knew that much.

"Well, that's not good." Alastor knew it too. "It's because of that, I came by. I wanted to ask you to join me this evening." 

"Join you? I don't know Alastor, I'm not really in the mood to be going anywhere. I could tell I was dampening the mood, when Angel invited me out recently. I don't want to do the same with you." I tell him.

"Nonsense! You never let my spirits down! Y/n, I feel like this would be good for you. Trust me, you'll have a blast!" Alastor quickly adds. "And before you say anything, no, this evening will not involve murder or maiming of any kind." 

"Then, what were you planning?" I ask him. Alastor offers his hand. "That's for you to find out." I hesitated, but took his hand anyway. "Aha! Wonderful! I assure you Y/n, you won't regret it!" He begins to walk with me, but pauses after taking another look at me. I raise an eyebrow. "What?" 

"I feel as if we should properly dress for the evening, shouldn't we?" He says before snapping his fingers. Suddenly, we were both wearing new outfits.

I wore a red midi dress with a black bow tied around my waist. While Alastor wore a red suit, because of course it was red.

"Perfect!" Alastor exclaims. "Alright, are you ready, dear?" He asks. "I don't think I will ever get use to sudden wardrobe changes. But yes, I am ready." Alastor chuckles at my comment before leading me out. He teleports us both, as not to draw attention from the others in hotel.

We had traveled to a upscale part of the city, anyone here clearly were proper and fairly rich. I felt so out of place, though Alastor acts as if he's been here hundreds of times. He probably has, now that I think about it.

"I say we should start the evening off with a nice meal. What do you think?" Alastor asks me. I couldn't pass up the chance for food, especially when I haven't ate all day. "That sounds fine." I tell him. Alastor leads me to a fancy looking restaurant.

He informed the host of his name and reservation, and was swiftly welcomed in. Though, I'm sure without one he'd get in. He was an overlord after all.

We were brought to our seats, and given a bottle of wine that was sat in a small bucket of ice. The host told us our waiter would be with us momentarily before excusing himself. "I know you don't drink, so I won't force you. But, if you change your mind..." Alastor says as he pours both of us a glass. "It'll be there." 

"Well, it's not like I don't drink ever." I say while taking the glass. "I just, prefer not to over do it. I like to keep it light, you know?" I then took a sip. Wow. This is good. I dare not think about just how much this wine costed alone, on top of sitting down to eat here.

"Understandable." Alastor nods as he takes a sip himself. "I don't think I've gotten drunk in a while. Last time I did, I believe I found myself in a part of the pride ring I'd never been to before. Apparently, in my drunken state, I had bet quite the sum of money on a race horse...and lost." 

I couldn't help but laugh a bit at that. "How much did you drink?" I ask. "Couldn't tell ya. But my pockets were hurting for a bit after that, I can say that for certain." Alastor chuckles.

"I can't even remember why I was drinking that much to begin with. But I recall Mimzy being there, and when Mimzy and I drink together...The night can take us literally anywhere. I even asked her, and she can't remember why either. But she had gotten herself into some trouble as well." He takes another swig. 

"This Mimzy girl sounds like a blast." I say with a smile. "Oh, she is." Alastor chuckles. "Quite the trouble maker too. But, she's a decent woman. Me and her go way back. We were good friends when we were alive." He tells me. "We got each other out of a few sticky situations, every now and then." 

"I notice your quite popular with women." I say. "You get along with them better, and it seems you only make friends with women. I'm surprised you don't have a girlfriend, or a wife." Alastor shrugs. "I was never interested. Romance, love, it was never a priority." 

"Oh, I see." Something about hearing that made me a little disappointed. Not upset. But, I guess I was hoping for something? Then again, this could be a good thing. My delusions and silly emotions could finally settle. At least now, I know for sure I won't get hurt again.

Our waiter then arrived, and took our orders. As we ate, me and Alastor talked about all sorts of things. He told me a bit about his living days. How he was a popular radio host, though that was unsurprising. How he basically came from nothing made something of himself all on his own.

And being a black man in a time like that, it was more than a little difficult. But he did it, and he was damn proud of it too. He told me more stories of him and Mimzy, and from what he talked about, she was a handful. She would get herself into trouble and usually Alastor would have to help her out. But, she would always make up for it somehow.

By the end of dinner, he would take me to a jazz lounge. The relaxing atmosphere, along with a few drinks, had put me a calmer mood. While the restaurant made me a little anxious, this place was the total opposite. Jazz wasn't my most preferred music, but I still liked and appreciate it.

And as I said, it was very relaxing. I take a look around, there was a few couples in lounge, cuddled up next to each other. I smiled at the sight, but it made me a little jealous. My gaze then moved to Alastor. He was focused on the performance, so he didn't catch my stare.

Maybe it was the alcohol finally settling in, but, the lighting of the lounge made him look very handsome. And we were sitting so close, our shoulders nearly touched. My cheeks began to heat up, and I prayed he could hear my heart beating as fast as it was. 

"I was never interested. Romance, love, it was never a priority." 

My heart started to settle, upon remembering those words. I turn to face the stage, feeling that same twinge of disappointment again. 

After that, Alastor and I took a stroll trough the city. We didn't talk much, but it was a comfortable silence. My arm interlocked with Alastors as we walked.

The night here in Hell was different from the one on Earth. Instead of a black sky full of stars, the red sky was a cool maroon. Even the bright pentagram had dimmed down, still bright enough to light the sky, but not enough to hurt your eyes. It was like looking at the moonlight. 

"Y/n?"

I looked up at Alastor. "Did you have a nice time?" He asked me. I smile and nod my head. "I did. Thank you." Alastor's grin soften, he turned his attention ahead and kept walking. As we walked, the sound of music steadily grew louder.

Ahead of us, was a street performer, who was playing a saxophone. There was a small gathering of demons who watched him play, some playing money into the saxophone case next to him. He was pretty good.

Alastor suddenly stopped walking, unhooking his arm from mine, and twirled me around. "Alastor?" I gasp slightly. "May I have this dance?" He asks, pulling me close. "I thought I told you, I can't dance." I laugh weakly. 

"You did fine the last time we danced." Alastor said, beginning to move. "Don't focus on the dancing, just focus on me." I tried to do what he said, keeping my eyes on him, trying to drown out my thoughts as we danced.

I follow his lead, and like before, he was perfect. I couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been dancing. 

I became less tense by the second, just taking it all in. The soft music in my ears, the beautiful city lights. The very same feeling I had when Alastor held me like this before...I couldn't help but smile, and finally give in. Alastor made it clear, he wasn't interested in romance. But it was a nice thought. 

It was nice to pretend for a while. Just for tonight, just in this moment. 

 As the song slowed to an end, Alastor and I found ourselves closer than when we started. Our lips but inches away from each other's. I half expected Alastor to back away after the song finally ended.

But, he stayed put. His eyes, looking deep into my own. I swore I saw something in his, I had never seen from him before.

It was really nice to pretend...

I inwardly sighed before pulling away from him. "That was nice." I say softly. Alastor was silent for a moment before speaking. 

"Yes...Yes, it was."

Tag List! @krak-jj

@martinys-world

@cherry-cola-100

[dbnightingale24]

Getting Lost In The Silence With You

An Emmett Lovestory

~~

~~

Surprise, and Happy Halloween!!

I just wanted to make something fluffy and loving, since I'm always giving you guys angst and despair 🙃 anywho, I hope you all enjoy this little story, I hope you're enjoying one of the best days ever, and please be safe! As always, thank you to @fuckingbyefor the amazing moldboard, and for just existing. Alright, enough of my rambling, enjoy!

Like always, Tumblr is on it's bullshit, so I'm only gonna post part of it here, and leave the link to my AO3 if you wanna read all of it.

Word Count: 15,618

Warnings: SMUT (18+ Minors DNI), Swearing, Drinking, Heartbreak, Dealing with Loss, FLUFF, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Self Doubt, A Bit of Self Loathing, uhh...I think that's it?

Song(s) That Inspired This Chapter: You Are The One I Waited For, I Knew It All Along

~~

I do not give permission/consent for my works/stories to be posted elsewhere.

~~

You keep your giggles quiet as you feel something tickling your toes.

Emmett.

‘Happy birthday,’ he smiles down at you after your eyes finally open.

This has been routine for the past three years now, and you can’t help but smile at the fact that you and Emmett have had each other to lean on. You wonder how something so beautiful came from such an ugly turn of events.

When Emmett found you, you were both wary of one another. He hadn’t meant to find you, and you hadn’t meant to find him. He stumbled across where you’d been hiding, searching for materials to stock up on. The second he found you hiding, you both pulled your guns on one another. While you were more than sure that he could see the fear in your eyes, you saw the emptiness and despair in his. Yet the longer he looked at you and the more you shook, the softer his features became.

He held a finger against his lips, a sign for you to be quiet, and slowly led you out of the closet. You warily grabbed the few of the things you had and followed him. You’re not sure why you followed him to this day.

“What were you doing there?” he asked softly, once you two had reached where he was hiding out, putting away the few supplies he was able to scrounge up on his trip.

“The same thing everyone else who’s alive is trying to do. Hiding.”

“That’s a terrible hiding spot.”

“It worked out just fine for me for the last two months.”

“Are you alone?”

Silence.

He turned around to see you standing there, eyes watering as you tried to look anywhere but at him.

You’d been alone for a year at the time. There hadn’t been anyone you’d confided in, and you didn’t find yourself wanting to know anyone. The last person in life died in your arms and you’d decided to keep to yourself from then on out. It just felt like the best idea; the safest in this world surrounded by danger.

“I don’t mean to be harsh, you just...that spot was dangerous. Even more so if you’re alone. Have a seat. Have you eaten today?”

“Don’t eat much,” you mumbled, taking a seat at his table, looking around the empty space. “I don’t hunt unless I have to.”

“I’ll get you something, just sit tight,” he told you softly. 

You looked around and saw the different drawings, a few pictures, and wondered how long it’d been since he lost everyone.

“Th-thank you,” you told him softly, pulling out a bottle of wine and setting it on the table.

Seemed like a pretty decent peace offering. 

“Where the hell did you get that?” he half smiled, coming over and picking up the bottle in admiration. 

“Some of it’s self made, others are from...before.”

“How old are you?”

“What’s the date?”

“October 31st.”

You smiled and shook your head, wiping away a few tears, “I’m 27 today.”

He offered a sympathetic smile, “happy birthday.”

And that’s how it started. You never intended on staying with him, and you’re more than sure he never meant to let you stay, but you both soon found that you enjoyed the company of each another. It’d been a long time since either of you had people in your lives, and it just felt nice to have someone around.

Even if you two didn’t say much to each other for the first few months.

Every once in a while, he’d hear you crying and sit by you, softly placing his hand over yours and you’d squeeze it softly. Other times, he’d have restless nights, tossing and turning for hours, and you’d just sit by him and take his hand until he felt at ease. In exchange of him getting food, you taught him how to make his own wine and vodka. You would share books, and every now and again you’d both go to the nearby falls together just to hear something.

This stayed a constant for months until he found you listening to your iPhone one day.

“How do you still have one of those?” he marveled, putting a plate of venison in front of you.

Deer was his specialty.

“My best friend figured out to make a battery one night,” you laughed softly. “She was drunk as shit, but real determined to make it work. She refused to lose all of the comforts from the way things used to be. It was the last gift she ever gave me. I’m not the best when it comes to things like that, so I try not to use it often. I don’t wanna end up breaking it and being fucked,” you finished with a scoff as you pressed ‘pause’ and set it aside.

“What’s special about today?”

“It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Explains why it’s so damn cold,” he muttered, and you laughed softly. “Anything good on there?”

“Depends on what your definition of good is,” you smirked, pouring the both of you a cup of wine. “Being a Jersey girl, there’s a lot of Springsteen on there-”

“You’re from Jersey?” he questioned before he realized he cut you off, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

“No, it’s okay. We’ve never talked about it. Um yeah, I was born and raised in New Jersey. My parents moved to Millbrook after I went off to college. I was here visiting when...when everything happened. Got stuck,” you chuckled humorlessly. “At least I don’t have to worry about paying off my college loans,” you muttered as you cut up your deer and Emmett laughed.

It was the first time you’d actually heard him laugh.

~~

You can read the rest here.

taglist: @autumnrose40