#grateful that there will always be an audience i can count on to support my writing
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something that’s always been funny to me is that long fics with smut tend to do better than long fics without but it’s like. if you write a longggg 10k+ word fic with a build up and plot and sprinkle in smut at the end, people will read that long build up and pay attention to the plot in order to get to the smut. and 99% of the time the tags and comments will talk about the plot itself and the way it was written as opposed to the sex and they will ask for more or for part 2’s and as annoying as the part 2 comments can be sometimes, it also means that they focused on the plot and not the smut. but if you post that fic without the smut—as in same fic and same build up and everything, but the smuts not there, a lot of those same people will simply not give the fic a chance. it’s just funny to me bc yes, a part of it is just horniness, but also i think it’s partly that there is also some conditioning to believe that a “perfect romance” or a “perfect story” of a romance is sealed with intimacy that’s more often than not sexual in order to actually be valid. and yeah. idk. it’s an interesting thing to see from a writers perspective
#me personally i write what i want im at a comfortable place in my writing that#i don’t rly feel i need to add that smut to get engagement#partially bc i think im blessed with readers who are very kind to me and always reiterate that they would read whatever i put out#i have so many anons that tell me they don’t know anything ab genshin but they read my works for the fandom anyway bc i wrote it and i feel#grateful that there will always be an audience i can count on to support my writing#but partially also bc i’m also happy w my writing that if i did post a fic that had not smut and it didn’t rly get attention i wouldn’t feel#disheartened by it bc writing it was meaningful to me#but#ig it’s just an interesting divide to see of like ‘i won’t read it without smut’ vs ‘i will read it with or without for the story !!’
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Hello👋, and an unusual request I think, but could you do a reaction to the members having an S/O who is a supermodel from the 2000s I don't know do whatever you want, like those famous models on Tiktok like Gisele Bündchen, Shalom Harlow and Vlada Rosylakova, I've never seen anyone asking for something like this and I'm curious what it would be like, I'll be very grateful if you answer my request💕
their s/o being a supermodel from the early 2000s
content: established relationship, f!reader, fluff, etc.
wc: 672
a/n: so sorry about how long this took me!! i used to be really into models when i was younger but im still not sure if i did this justice! i hope you like it though<3
masterlist
seungcheol -
super cocky knowing he scored a supermodel gf lol slips it into conversation any time he can, always flexing which show you were walking on next and carrying around magazines you're in the cover of.
jeonghan -
another cocky one. ends any argument with anyone by asking who's dating the supermodel? oh, that's right. it's him! but as cocky as he can get, he'll still be mesmerized by you any time he gets to see you on the catwalk, playing with the bounce of your hair after a show, amazed at all the volume they give you.
joshua -
he's like those nfl wives. will attend any and every show/event you have, dressed to the nines as he admires your beauty. super in tune with you and the business of your life.
jun -
you'd be such an iconic duo as an actor and supermodel couple. he'd invite you to his events and you'd invite him to yours. would sing your praises any time he could, literally stopping mid interview if he saw you walking by just to admire you.
soonyoung -
so giggly and blushy lol. let's say you were walking for a lingerie show ... well he'd literally become a shell of himself as he watched, completely hypnotized by you and already thinking up ways to sneak backstage so he can admire you up close. always gets bashful when you're all dolled up and show him any type of affection after a show.
wonwoo -
he's not one to focus too much on looks, but he can't help but feel this immense sense of pride at looking at his gf and knowing everyone either wants you or wants to be you. adores you past your looks and engages a lot with your lifestyle. keeps updated with your diet, your brands, your exercise routine, your hair care, etc.
jihoon -
even though he's used to your beauty (he still counts his lucky stars every night), he'll be incredibly intimidated any time he attends your events and sees you on the catwalk. literally needs to be slapped out of a trance every time.
seokmin -
your number one supporter. he'd have to be reprimanded the first time he was in the audience for one of your walks, not realizing he wasn't supposed to cheer so loud oops. he'd always be backstage just in time to kiss you good luck and rush back outside to get front row at your walk. literally collects any magazines you're in and prints out your shoots.
mingyu -
he kind of looks like the epitome of supermodel so it'd be a match made in heaven. he'll actually be super interested in all the intricacies that come into your lifestyle, always asking about the process behind your hair, your outfit, how you do your walk, which companies you're in talks with. he's just super interested in it all.
minghao -
he adores how passionate you are about your modeling career and is incredibly supportive of it. makes you meditate with him before any important show, knowing how nerves may get before any important event on a stage. he's absolutely mesmerized by you and the confidence you carry on and off the catwalk.
seungkwan -
attends all your shoots and shows, carrying a (designer) bag full of all your must haves from hairspray, water bottle, lip gloss, resistance bands, you name it! also, he's obsessed with you but that's a given.
vernon -
this man is whipped as fuck. literally forgot how to speak the moment you walked the catwalk at your first lingerie show, practically drooling at the sight. still stutters around you sometimes because you're just so pretty to look at.
chan -
he feels like he won the lottery. no shit the guys give him about anything ever beats the fact that he's the one dating a supermodel. literally groans any time you take him with you to a show and give him a sneak peak of the outfit they got you on. has no idea how to handle you like he's just happy to be there.
#seventeen x reader#seventeen fanfic#svt fanfic#svt x reader#seventeen imagine#seventeen oneshot#svt reactions#seventeen reactions
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Blossom
Pairing: Kim Seungmin x Reader (fem)
Genre: crack, smut, fluff; historical!AU, magic!AU, fuck-or-die(ish)!AU, enemies(ish)-to-lovers!AU, 18+
Word Count: 6.5k
Warnings: swearing, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, outdated sexual norms/attitudes, public sex.
Author’s Note: After another ~long~ hiatus... I'm back! The premise of this fic is heavily inspired by a super old, now deleted AO3 fic I once read for a now dead fandom (showing my age here for you children lol). I love navigating these forced interaction scenarios - so please let me know your thoughts! Feedback and reblogs are love as always - and I now have a Ko-Fi that I would really appreciate contributions to as well (linked in my Bio)! Thank you for your support~
Summary: But what this ritual required of you, the High Sorceress, was not just some spellwork or incantations - no, this ritual involved you losing your virginity. To your King - to Seungmin. On the High Table. In front of the entirety of the royal court.
You were sure you looked like a thundercloud - dark skirts swirling, white sparks crackling from your fingertips - as you stalked through the castle towards the royal chambers.
“Milady!” Changbin chased after you, your long-suffering knight trying his best to head you off. “His Majesty is in a council meeting right now,” he huffed out. “Maybe we can seek an audience another time?”
“I don’t ‘seek audiences’ from His Majesty, Bin,” the title grating in your mouth. “I talk to Kim Seungmin when I want to talk to Kim Seungmin - especially when he wants to pretend like I don’t exist.”
You were laying it on a bit thick. But you were the High Sorceress. You had no insignificant amount of pride yourself, and nothing made your temper flare like Seungmin outmaneuvering you - exactly like he’d just done.
You arrived at the heavy wrought iron doors of Seungmin’s private chambers and, with a swish of your palm, sent the doors flying open, almost rattling off their hinges. A tableful of lords turned around to gawk at you - but you only had eyes for the man at the head of the table. He leaned back in his chair, watching you stalk into the room with a barely concealed grin. “And there she is.” The faint note of humor in Seungmin’s voice made you want to wring his neck.
“Your Majesty,” you greeted in the frostiest voice you could muster up.
Seungmin smirked. “You only use my proper title when you’re fit to rip my throat out, Lady Sorceress.”
You ignored the barb. “We have an urgent matter to discuss, my lord.”
One of the old, stodgy lords piped up in a reedy, disapproving voice. “What can take precedence over matters of council and state, Sorceress?”
“Matters of national security, Lord Park.” Seungmin rose to his feet, making everyone else jump up to theirs as well. “Council is adjourned, my lords.”
You held your head high as the councilmen streamed out of the room around you, some barely bothering to disguise their resentment. Seungmin sauntered his way around the table, coming to stand right in front of you. You scowled as you inevitably had to tilt your head back just to look into his amused face.
“You’ve been avoiding me, my witch.”
“I wasn’t avoiding you,” you snapped back, cringing at how petulant you sounded even to your own ears.
Of course you’d been avoiding him. Ever since he’d slapped those scrolls down on your worktable a week ago now, you hadn’t been able to think about him without flushing, let alone be in the same room as him. It would be for the good of the people, he’d announced crisply, looking so tall and prim and regal as he towered over you sitting on your little garden stool. I’m sure you won’t see any harm in it. You’d scanned through the parchment, ignoring the scribe’s careful translations to parse the ancient runes yourself. It outlined an ancient magical ritual to replenish the barrier wards for your nation if they ever fell - which they had. But what this ritual required of you, the High Sorceress, was not just some spellwork or incantations - no, this ritual involved you losing your virginity. To your King - to Seungmin. On the High Table. In front of the entirety of the royal court.
Seungmin snapped you out of your thoughts with a brief “Ahem,” quirking a skeptical eyebrow at you. “I haven’t seen you in a week. Every time I’ve gone to your rooms since the day I gave you those scrolls, you’re conveniently ‘not there,’ and that poor fool,” he flicked a thumb over to point at Changbin, “is stuck trying - and failing - to make excuses for you.”
You shot a glare over at Changbin - he didn’t look sufficiently embarrassed of himself, but you would deal with that later. “Well, I’m here now, my lord. And I’d appreciate it if you could tell me how you unilaterally decided to add ‘Publicly Deflowering the High Witch’ to your agenda for this evening?”
You’d hoped to embarrass Seungmin, browbeat him - like you’d clearly done to Changbin, judging from the choking sound that came from next to you. But you’d underestimated your enemy.
Seungmin sighed, clasping his arms behind his back. “Because we don’t have a choice in the matter, my dear witch. If you’d allowed me the chance to actually talk to you this week, I could have convinced you of that, and you'd have had time to prepare yourself. But - you didn’t, and so, I had to force your hand.” You shuffled uncomfortably under his piercing stare as he continued. “I know you translated the runes yourself - you know just as well as I do that this ritual needs to be done soon. Now, if we don’t want the Eastern Army taking advantage and invading us as soon as they muster up the forces. But unlike you, my lady - I don’t have the luxury to pretend like this problem will go away if I ignore it.”
And that was exactly what you hated most about Kim Seungmin. He was smart and logical to a fault - enough so that he’d trained himself to not let pesky emotions get in the way of doing what needed to be done. You on the other hand… the less said the better on that front.
Before you could snark something back at him or even just bristle up, Seungmin stepped away from you, rubbing his hands together. “Now that that’s been settled, I’m sure you have no more objections. Anyways, you have a busy afternoon ahead of you, Lady Sorceress. I’ve sent several maids to your chambers to help ready you for this evening - I’m sure you remember how exact the runes were in terms of preparation.” Seungmin wasn’t even bothering to hide his grin as he dismissed you with a wave of his hand, striding out of the room.
That patronizing bastard. You briefly contemplated throwing a fireball at his laughing back - but being executed for treason wasn’t exactly the way you intended to go out.
With a deep, soul-weary sigh, you turned on your heel to leave, resigning yourself to your fate.
Of course, if you knew exactly how the rest of your afternoon was going to be spent, you might just have thrown that fireball at Seungmin and gotten it over with.
After that useless showdown, Changbin frogmarched you back to your rooms, handing you off to an actually intimidating keeper - Chaeryeong, your personal maid. But, to your even greater chagrin, she wasn’t alone. As promised, an army of maids descended on you, all charged with different vicious tasks - stripping your skin bare and smooth with hot sugar paste; kneading various herbal, floral unguents into your skin before dunking you into cold and hot baths; brushing your hair out until it fairly gleamed in the fading sunlight. By the time you were passed off to Chaeryeong for her final inspection, you almost didn’t recognize yourself in the mirror.
Chaeryeong clicked her tongue approvingly as she walked around you, tightening the laces on your virginal white chemise. “You finally look presentable, milady.”
You bristled. “Are you saying I usually don’t?”
“Last week I had to pull a twig out of your hair before sending you down to supper. There isn’t a single dress of yours that doesn’t have mudstains, milady, and you think a splash of cold water every morning or two is enough to care for your skin.” Chaeryeong looked scandalized.
You rolled your eyes. “Well, I’m glad one of us is satisfied with this situation.”
“You’re not?”
“Why in the name of the Goddess would I be?”
“Sleeping with a man who’s young, tall, handsome, powerful, wealthy,” Chaeryeong giggled as she counted off each word on her fingers, “isn’t the worst thing in the world, milady.” She flicked you a mischievous glance as she smoothly slid to stand behind you. “Especially when the man in question has a major soft spot for you.”
You scoffed. “Kim Seungmin doesn’t have a soft spot for me, Chae. He can't even be in the same room as me without snarking at me - and I can't remember the last time he actually said anything nice to me.”
Chaeryeong’s fingers stilled in your hair as she stared you down in the mirror. “You really believe that, don’t you?” You arched an eyebrow at her in response. She let out a deep sigh. “For such a brilliant witch… you really can be dense.” She shook her head before reaching over to grab flowers to weave into your hair. “I hope you realize - the one thing standing between him and war is you. Most men - especially a King - would have just tossed you onto that table and had their way with you. And maybe they would have begged your forgiveness and understanding afterwards - maybe, if they were worried about you cursing them into oblivion. No one else would have spent a whole week waiting to try and convince you into doing this willingly.”
You opened your mouth to snap something back in your defense... and realized you had nothing to say.
“See,” Chaeryeong murmured softly. “Sometimes it feels like you’re… willfully blind to His Majesty’s kindness towards you. He’s always treated you with respect - and made sure you’re treated with respect. I wouldn’t take that for granted, my lady - or ignore what’s behind that mask he puts up all the time.”
As she put the final touches on your hair, you couldn’t help but reflect on Chaeryeong’s words. You had extraordinary freedom and liberties as the High Sorceress…but no, that wasn’t exactly right. You were given extraordinary freedom and liberties as the High Sorceress - by your King. If it wasn’t for his unwavering support for you - against the Council, against any and all reactionary forces - you wouldn't hold any of the power you did. Sure, he riled you up, jerked you around a bit - and you still hated just how easily he could outwit you. But you were being childish to fixate on that - to lose sight of the forest for the trees.
“And here’s the final touch.” Chaeryeong sidled up to you with a long scrap of silk in her hands - your blindfold. “You’re not allowed to see His Majesty until the ritual starts.” Her quick fingers made short work of fastening it around your head - and being the jerk that she was, she put it on properly tight, making sure you couldn’t see a thing. “Maybe that’ll teach you to let yourself lean on him for once,” she mused, before pulling you up out of your chair with none too gentle hands.
Chaeryeong, as always, was right. You were completely unmoored by the loss of your sight, limiting your magical abilities too. You were forced to rely completely, like a baby, on Chaeryeong to guide you through the halls to the oldest wing of the castle - and you only realized that you were in front of Seungmin when the two of you came to a sudden halt, a reverent “Your Majesty” coming from her lips.
This was it.
Chaeryeong subtly pulled you down into a curtsy, pinching you in the back to make sure you stayed low as she stepped away from your side. From the sound of her sharp footsteps receding down the hall and the lack of any other noise around you, you presumed she’d left - and you were now alone with your King.
“You may rise.” Seungmin’s amused drawl sounded from somewhere high above your head. Disoriented by your imposed blindness, you stumbled a little as you stood up - but you were caught by warm hands encircling your arms, steadying you on your feet. “How low the high have fallen, hmm?” Such a tease, you thought. But the gentle tone of his voice, the circles his thumbs were rubbing into your arms… he was helping ground you, to put you more at ease - which only made you feel more guilty.
“My lord,” you started softly - earning a harsh inhale in surprise from Seungmin. “I… I owe you an apology. My behavior earlier today - for this entire week - has been immature and not fitting for a ranking member of your court. Forgive me for my negligence.” You made to dip into a curtsy again - but Seungmin’s grip on your arms tightened, keeping you from lowering yourself.
There was a heartbeat of silence before Seungmin responded, his voice more tender than you’d ever heard it. “I don’t know what prompted this… change, but - you don’t need to apologize. I knew we both knew this is what must be done, and I knew we were going to eventually do it - but that doesn’t make it any easier for you. You didn’t want this with me, and I know that.”
Why did that last statement sound a false note in your heart? You ignored it in favor of speaking out. “But I’ve spent the past week shirking my duty. You had to force me back in line.”
“And that is my responsibility as King, my sorceress. No harm done.” You could tell that he was leaning down closer to you, his voice loud and clear in your ear. “And remember - neither this kingdom nor I will ever forget this sacrifice.”
There was an oddly charged moment of silence after that statement - which was abruptly broken by the sensation of the ground suddenly falling away from under you. You gasped as surprisingly sturdy arms lifted you up until you were cradled against a lean, hard chest. “Seungmo!” You squeaked, the childhood nickname slipping past your lips. “S-since when were you strong enough to do this?”
There was a pause - you were positive that Seungmin had rolled his eyes at you. “Just because I don’t have bulging biceps like that bodyguard of yours doesn’t mean that I’m a weakling, witch.”
“Well, it won’t be good to kick things off with you tripping over your feet carrying me in,” you muttered sulkily.
You couldn’t hold back a shiver as Seungmin tsked, his warm breath ghosting across the sensitive shell of your ear. “Such disrespect for your king? Bold, given that you’re at my mercy for the next hour.”
“Next hour? That ego of yours is still clearly giant.”
Seungmin let out a husky laugh. “It’s not the size of my ego you should be worried about right now, sweet.” You thumped a useless fist against his chest - even as your core involuntarily clenched and slickened.
There was a ear-ringingly loud blast of trumpets, followed by the creak of the gates to the ancient hall being pushed open. The murmurs and chatter of the crowd awaiting your arrival fell silent, an almost eerie hush settling in as Seungmin strode into the hall. Even with the enormous fire spluttering away in the ancient hearth, the room was always chilly; gooseflesh pimpled your arms, and you almost automatically burrowed closer into Seungmin’s neck for warmth - at least, that’s what you told yourself. The sharp raps of Seungmin’s footsteps against the flagstones came to a halt, and you were securely sat onto a hard surface - the High Table. Your sacrificial altar, you mused to yourself cynically.
You jumped a little as you felt gentle fingers clasp your hands, giving you a firm squeeze. Those warm fingertips then ghosted across your cheeks, twining through your hair as they searched for the knot of your blindfold. Your heart was bounding in your chest, blood roaring in your ears as Seungmin leaned into you, that familiar, titilatingly musky scent of his flooding your senses as he worked to unravel the tight knot, until the blindfold finally came free.
You blinked your eyes open to mellow, golden light - and the sight of Seungmin standing over you, watching you carefully with a small, soft smile. The great hall was awash with candlelight, long tapering candles and sticks of smoking perfume burning all around you, throwing the faces of the crowd of onlookers beyond you into shadow - but bathing Seungmin in glorious, warm light. He looked impeccably regal as he stood above you in his smart black leather doublet and swan white shirtsleeves, his royal purple ermine-edged cloak clasped around his throat. His hair was up, brushed off his forehead, and the gold of his royal circlet shone out bright against the ink black of his hair - but the brightest of all were his eyes, warm and deep brown, steady and clear as he - your King, you truly felt down to your bones for the first time - held your gaze.
Taking a deep breath, you let yourself fall back, the ancient stone of the table icy against your spine. While you couldn’t see any of the spectators surrounding you and Seungmin - the vaulted ceiling of the great hall the only thing in your line of sight - it felt like you could sense their gaze prickling across your skin, weighing you down. But before you could let your mind wander too far, Seungmin was there, leaning over you with those broad, square shoulders, blocking your sight of anything but him. You felt your cheeks flame as his hand came up to cup your face, and your heart skipped a beat as he pressed a petal soft kiss to your forehead, breathily whispering into your skin. “It will be good, my sweet. Trust me.”
Maybe Chaeryeong was onto something… You searched his eyes, finding so much affection and reassurance beaming back at you that you blinked your own shut - before giving him a brief nod.
He let his lips drag over to your temple, then down to your cheek, leaving open mouthed kisses in his wake as his lips trailed lower and lower, down your jawline, down your neck - and lower. Your mind reeled, your hands fisting the flimsy material of your gown. This was supposed to be brief and impersonal - you’d even readied a lubrication charm in preparation for the inevitable. But you should have known that Seungmin wouldn’t just do an adequate job like that. You were fighting for your life to stay silent as he added his teeth into the mix, working the thin, sensitive skin of your throat until you felt the sickly sweet pain of a bruise forming. His hand slid down from your cheek so he could softly thumb at the mark - his mark - marring your skin, and when he pressed down just right on the bruise, you whimpered - and watched as his eyes darkened to black.
From there, he was insatiable. Your hands flew up to his shoulders at the swipe of his tongue against your hardening nipple; they desperately slid to clutch at his hair when he took it whole into his mouth, the wet heat tantalizing even through the cotton of your chemise. He palmed your neglected breast hard, the soft flesh spilling through his fingers. A whine finally tore itself free from your throat, and Seungmin snapped his head up to look at you, lips twisting into a triumphant smirk. “I thought you weren’t going to enjoy this, Lady Sorceress.” His fingers came up to tweak your nipple - hard - as he mouthed carelessly at your other breast, his eyes watching you hungrily as you writhed under his touch. The pleasure carried you away on a hazy cloud of lust, into the dreamland of dangerous possibilities. What would it feel like to have this dumb chemise out of the way, so his fingers and lips could traipse your naked skin? What would it feel like to have the heat of his bare skin pressed up against yours - the weight and friction of his hard chest crushing into your sensitive breasts?
Your attention was yanked back into the land of the living at sudden, discordant noise: gasps and murmurs, you quickly realized, rippling through your audience - for your King was dropping to a knee at your feet, hands sliding with promise up your legs under your chemise. You shot up onto your elbows, staring down at him in horror. “Your Majesty,” you hissed. “This is wanton.”
Seungmin arched an eyebrow. “I’d rather be wanton than have you in pain at my hands.” You felt a traitorous flutter in your chest. “And most importantly - when you have the kingdom’s most powerful woman laid out in front of you... you worship her.”
Those large, long-fingered hands of his found purchase in the soft skin of your inner thighs, forcing them spread and keeping them spread with that hidden strength of his. He let out a small groan at the sight of your swollen folds, dragging a single, deliberate fingertip down the length of your slit. At the very first touch of his soft lips to your sensitive bundle of nerves, you choked out a moan - and startled as the candles around you all simultaneously popped. From between your legs, Seungmin laughed darkly. “Looks like I won’t need to ask you whether I’ve done a good job,” he said, the sensation of his breath and lips against your core making you squirm with stimulation. His hands slid up to your hips, anchoring you in place as he lapped languidly at your cunt, tongue flicking in and out of your aching entrance, nose rubbing up against your swollen little pearl.
There was no chance in hell you could stay quiet any more. As a moaning keen spilled forth from your lips, your eyes flicked up to the shadowy figures in the crowd watching you. You’d thought they would be judgmental - critical, gossipy, as people always were in situations like this. Instead… there wasn’t a face you could make out that wasn’t flushed, expression glazed over. Seungmin slid his arms under your legs, yanking you down the table until the base of your spine rested on the very edge of the table, your core putty under his mouth as he supported your weight - and you watched as some woman in the crowd whimpered, biting her lip in response.
Your head lolled back onto the table, and you started shuddering in Seungmin’s hands.
“I guess I was wrong about needing an hour.” With a final kiss to your folds, Seungmin rose to his feet, leisurely wiping his mouth on the back of one hand, the other drifting down to the laces of his trousers. “I didn’t anticipate just how thoroughly you would enjoy my attentions, my witch.” Tease. His eyes danced with mirth as you whined in annoyance. You felt the blunt tip of him dragging through your folds, its weight catching deliciously against the tight ring of your entrance. “I’ll start slow,” he murmured, a hand coming up to brace himself above your head. And from the first breach of his length into your walls, you knew you were in trouble.
“Big,” you gasped out. Seungmin let his free hand run loose over the flesh of your thighs and hips, kneading and caressing and soothing. “Relax for me, sweet - it’ll be easier if you let me in.” His voice was breathy and soft, eyes so warm - daresay loving - as he leaned in over you, covering your body with his. You gave him a small nod, breathing deeply and doing your best to let your body sink into the stone under you. As he carefully, firmly worked the rest of his length into your tight cunt, you couldn’t help but whimper, eyes squeezing shut at the deep, deep stretch of him, your spine arching off the table as your body contorted to accommodate him. “Beautiful,” he murmured, pupils dilated with lust. “Made to take me.”
And as the sting and discomfort started to morph into the burning, insatiable stretch of pleasure, you were inclined to agree with him.
“Let me know when I can move, sweet,” he asked, the flat of his hand rubbing soothing circles into your lower belly. “Please,” you rasped out - and the delightedly vicious grin that curled his lips in response only sent another surge of fire through you. Your limbs ached to twine around him, pulling him down into you, imprisoning him between your legs - but you were determined to maintain some public decorum. Seungmin made the decision for you though, salaciously bold as ever as he leaned forward into you, splaying your legs out wide, knees almost to your chest. He tested the waters with a rapid snap of his hips in and out - and the two of you stared at each other with wide eyes at just how deep it all felt in this position. Seungmin’s hips started rocking back and forth, almost as if on their own volition - almost as if they were enchanted - and your hands desperately scrabbled for purchase on the unyielding stone as he started pounding into you.
Your hips canted up into his, trying to answer his thrusts with your own. And you were clearly doing something right, judging by his drawn out groans. “Mine,” he moaned. As he bore down on you, every thrust ground delicious friction into your bundle of nerves - and Seungmin’s hips were driving into yours at such a punishing pace that you were overwhelmed by stimulation. You were sure the two of you were making an absolute mess, the squelching sounds of him pumping into you only growing louder with every thrust. Just with his lips and nose and tongue, the friction and sensation and pleasure had all already brought you close to the cliff of your peak. You knew it wasn’t going to be much longer now before he dragged you over - but there was something positively strange happening to you. Your pleasure was merely riding the edge of some deeper, powerfully visceral sensation that had you gasping, shivering with every plunging stroke. But Seungmin, your ever-wise, your ever-aware Seungmin, had cottoned onto what was happening to you - and wrapping you tightly up into his arms, he only picked up the pace of his hips. “Let go, sweet,” he eked out. “I’ve got you safe, here - let go, my queen.” And before your mind could even process what he’d just given away, you felt yourself clenching up, eyes squeezing shut and nerves singing in pleasure as you hit your release - the pain of your fingers digging into the broad expanse of his back, the spasms of your tight cunt triggering Seungmin’s release simultaneously, spurts of his hot, thick seed flooding into your core, serving as a balm for your aching walls as he collapsed into your waiting arms.
Before you could let the waves of pleasure carry away your mind with it, however - your eyes shot open at the gasps and shouts coming from around you. Gold - that was all you could see - a golden bubble encasing you and your King. Seungmin lifted his head up from where it was pillowed on your chest, a look of pure wonder on his face as the two of you watched the bubble slowly float and collapse inwards, coalescing into a glowing yellow orb hovering above all of your heads. The hazy whorls of incense and candle smoke in the air took on a bright golden hue - before it all whooshed outwards in a rapid gust of wind, rattling the windows of the hall as the orb and its golden mist exploded out into the sky . You recognized the magic for what it was - the largest, purest barrier charm you’d ever witnessed.
You and Seungmin had pulled it off. A giggle of delight squeezed out of your chest, and you let your gaze snap back down to the man resting on his elbows over you. Seungmin was watching you with a small, mysterious smile, panting slightly as he tried to catch his breath. And as you looked back at him… you felt a wave of emotion wash over you, as powerful as if the ground had literally shifted under your feet. An almost unbearable fondness filled your heart as you beheld him - your King, your protector…your lover.
You had been right about one thing - there would be no going back from this, at least for you. But now you found yourself wondering… why was that such a bad thing?
Ignoring the shuffling footsteps around you as your audience slowly started to disperse, you let your arms wrap around Seungmin, relishing the feeling of his muscles bunching under your touch as he slid his arms in turn around you, helping you to sit upright. His dark eyes were fixed on the place the two of you were joined as he slowly extricated himself from you, the feeling of his sticky seed trickling out from between your legs strange and foreign. That ever intelligent, searching gaze then slowly scanned your body, looking you over head to toe as he tucked himself away in his trousers, before his eyes fluttered shut. Seungmin let out a slow exhale before blinking his eyes open again - and you were startled to see that professional mask of his slide back into place.
“Up you go,” he murmured, arm sliding around your back as he helped you off the table, supporting you as your legs quailed under your weight. With a few deft pulls, he unfastened his cloak, wrapping it around your shoulders instead. You were thankful for the warmth it provided - and the coverage, you realized, as you noticed the servants hovering at a respectful distance from the two of you. “Give me a second,” Seungmin said before turning away to address his valet and knight-at-arms.
One of the maids stepped forward, a fan in her hand to put out the few lingering candles. Before you could even hesitate on what to do, she dipped into a low curtsy, bowing her head - to you. “Your Highness,” she breathed out, an almost reverent look on her face as she glanced back up at you. Awkward with the unfamiliar courtesy, you smiled hesitantly, tilting your head at her in acknowledgement.
How had you misjudged this situation so badly? Part of your hesitation leading up to all of this had been because you’d thought that you’d be made out to be a slag - no better than the King’s kept woman. Why hadn’t you appreciated the power inherent in this? With the spectacular care with which he’d pleasured you, with the demonstration of your magic in front of the whole court, Seungmin had marked you - just as he’d told you with those hungry eyes - out to be the most powerful woman in the kingdom.
You snapped out of your thoughts to see Seungmin making his way back to stand in front of you. You frowned to see that mask of his still in place, a strange awkwardness in his manner as he addressed you. “I can help you back to your rooms now. Or,” he turned to gesture behind him, “one of the servants can take you if you prefer.”
You arched a critical eyebrow at him. “Could we go to your chambers instead?”
His eyes widened for a second, before you watched understanding wash over his face. “Ah yes, that was careless of me - there’s too many stairs to get back to your chambers. You can rest in mine as long as you need.”
Wrapping an arm loosely around you, he let you lean on him as the two of you walked out of the hall. His rooms weren’t too far away, the royal chambers taking up a significant portion of the ancient wing of the castle. But an awkward silence reigned over the two of you, Seungmin stoically looking straight ahead as you limped along beside him.
Something had clearly changed in you - because for once, instead of being the reactive fool you normally were, you saw the situation - and his reaction - for what it actually was. Seungmin was taking his turn to be the awkward overthinker - a role he’d grown out of once he’d become King… except when it came to a few specific things he couldn’t stay purely rational about. The things he cared about the most, the things that mattered most deeply… in this case - you.
You sighed. You’d probably need to gift Chaeryeong a necklace or something after all of this was over.
You bided your time until Seungmin finally shut the two of you into his chambers. He’d turned away to lock the doors behind him - and startled when he turned back around to find you standing right in front of him. As you stared up at him, watching his lips twitch in discomfort… you came to a shocking realization.
“You never kissed me,” you breathed out, even more surprised as you said it. He’d kissed you literally everywhere else - but he hadn’t touched your lips. You gazed up at him with wide eyes. “Why?”
Seungmin shifted uncomfortably. “It felt too…intimate.”
What? “You took my virginity - in public. We unleashed a magical force field together,” you deadpanned, trying to get a laugh out of him - and failing, as Seungmin continued to look at you stoically. “I’d say that’s pretty intimate, my lord.”
He shrugged, hugging his arms around him and hesitating for a second - before bluntly, in Seungmin fashion, getting to the heart of the matter. “The reality is that… freely given sacrifice, prophecy, whatever you want to call it - I took something from you that you didn’t mean for me to have.” It was a testament to Seungmin’s poise that his voice stayed even, his eyes stayed steadily on you as he spoke. “I wanted you to have something - a part of you - you could still give away of your own will.” He sagged heavily into the doorframe, finally breaking eye contact as he trailed off.
Poor baby. Your heart fluttered. “That is… quite thoughtful of you, my lord,” you choked out, taking a small step forward. Then another. And another, inching towards him. “So - that means it’s alright with you for me to do this, right?” Reaching up, you twined your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up onto your tiptoes to press your body into his. His hands reflexively grabbed your waist, steadying you even as his eyes widened in surprise - before fluttering shut as you pressed your lips to his.
His mouth was divine heat - soft, pliable against yours. He gasped as you nipped at his lower lip, and you seized the chance to lick into his mouth, deepening the kiss until your head was whirling, ignorant of where you ended and he began.
When you finally pulled away for air, his lips chased yours for a second before he caught himself. You giggled, beaming up at him. “How low the high have fallen, hmm?”
Seungmin let out a low warm laugh, such fondness in his eyes that you couldn’t help but shy away. “I have much, much lower to fall still, don’t worry,” he murmured as he bent down over you, his hair falling into his eyes as he smiled. In a single, smooth movement, he flipped the two of you around so he had you pinned up against the wall, his body pressed firmly into yours.
You cleared your throat. “Y-you really like having me against hard surfaces, don’t you?”
He shrugged, focus elsewhere as his fingers busied themselves with the laces of your chemise. “Seems like it’s the only way to keep you good for me, witch mine.” You whined as his hand accidentally grazed your sore, tender nipple, the sound making his eyes snap back to yours. A dark, wicked smile curled his lips before he crashed his mouth back onto yours, long fingers working your breast deliberately, possessively. You responded with enthusiasm, tangling your own fingers into his silky hair, until the spell was broken - for you at least - by loud noises from outside his chambers.
You pulled away from his lips with a loud smack. “What’s that?”
“Never mind that,” he rasped out, pulling you in tight against him. “Worry about it later.” Your breath hitched as he nosed his way into your neck, pulling at the loosened neck of your chemise to expose your collarbone for him to feast on.
Steeling yourself, you pushed your hands firmly against his chest. “Seungmo, I want to worry about it now.” He groaned, rolling his eyes, but let you go without a fight, releasing you from his embrace. Turning on your heel, you tugged him along to his balcony. The sounds had seemed to come from the royal gardens, which were sprawled right below Seungmin’s chambers. Pulling your cloak - his cloak - more tightly around you, you stepped out onto the balcony - and froze, as an astounding sight brought the two of you to a standstill.
Wherever you looked - below you, around you - every single plant and tree was in abundant bloom. Regardless of season, of age - fruit and flowers were everywhere, swinging in the breeze, littering the ground. You turned to Seungmin in shock - only to see him looking back at you with loving, wondrous awe. “That’s all you,” he murmured, brushing a fond hand against your cheek. “My powerful, mesmerizing sorceress.”
You flushed. “No, it’s not.” You stepped closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “It’s us.” You tiptoed up to press a kiss into his cheek - and promptly hid into Seungmin’s neck as whoops and cheers rang up to you from the gardens below.
Seungmin laughed, tucking you into his side as he led the two of you back inside. “Well, you know what this means,” he said.
You quirked an eyebrow at him. “What?”
Shooting a dazzling smile your way, he caught you up in his arms once again, the heady sensation already warm and familiar to you - before peremptorily throwing you onto his bed.
“The fate of the flora of this kingdom is in our hands, Lady Sorceress.” He intoned in a faux serious voice - made only the more ridiculous by the sight of him crawling on all fours towards you on the bed. “We have crucial work to do, milady - and we must start posthaste.”
You threw your head back in laughter before wrapping your limbs around him. “Yes, my lord - let’s start immediately.”
Fin.
~
[If you made it all the way here... please comment, reblog and give me feedback!! My Ko-Fi is also linked in my blog if you're able to support :)]
#skz fic#skz smut#stray kids smut#stray kids fanfiction#stray kids fanfic#seungmin x reader#seungmin fic#seungmin smut#seungmin#kim seungmin#skz fanfic#skz fanfiction
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Are we gonna have smut in ihm soon?🤭
man it’s really fuckin disappointing and sad to spend 10 hrs out of my week to try to create a meaningful story, one that resonates a lot with me and the things i’ve been through in my life, one that i hope my readers can resonate with and see themselves in, just to get asks like this.
like, picture this. you get super excited to write this story of yours, you plan aaaaaall these secondary plot lines, introduce new characters, create different character dynamics, try to include scenes that strengthen relationships with already existing character dynamics. plan out an ENTIRE story on paper (my ideas doc ALONE for ihm has 13k+ words) and try to leave subtle clues here and there in your chapters to support a build up of tensions that’ll lead to a payoff later on in the series. oh, and this is just the planning part. did you know that it takes the average person 1-2 hrs to write 1k words? the last ihm chapter was 14.1k words. go ahead and do the math, and try to figure out how long it must’ve taken me to write it. without even counting the time spent i spent editing it.
i know that this fandom is so horny brainrot fucked up to the nines, i’ve sincerely never seen a fandom that needs to touch grass more than the jjk fandom. and admittedly, i am also super excited to write more smut in my stories! sex is fuckin cool n sexy! but let me just get one thing straight to you horny anons that send me asks like this: my stories are STORIES first and foremost. they are not VESSELS for your FANTASIES. they are not PORN with PLOT. they are my stories, that i write drawing from my real life experiences. and, hey, news flash, they mean a fuckin lot to me! i’m assuming you didn’t do the math on the 14.1k word chapter thing, but i’ll tell you right now: it took me maybe 20 hours to write ch3 of ihm. something that probs took you 1 hour to read, and then ten seconds to send me this ask. surely your tonedeaf brain can at least understand that i wouldn’t spend that much fuckin’ time writing something if it was just supposed to be porn with plot.
listen, i know that i’m not the best writer. i understand that, after reading all of this, you might be thinking “shut the fuck up bitch, your writing aint alla that for me to respect you. we only care about the smut, don’t you understand?” that’s valid. i’ll respect that. i never claimed to be a great author, or deserving of anything meaningful from you in return. ultimately, it’s my choice to spend the time that i do writing, no one’s forcing me, and i would never expect people to support me either (although i am always infinitely grateful for it and tbh the support is what keeps me writing). but what i don’t deserve is to be sent careless asks that make me feel like you see no purpose in my stories other than sex. other than smut. other than a penis going inside a fucking vagina.
anon, you know what would make me excited to continue writing my story? excited to get to the parts where characters ARE intimate with one another? is if you maybe threw in something as simple as a fuckin “hey i loved that part in ihm ch3 where [x]. thought it was a cool thing to do. btw, looking forward to the smut!” would’ve taken you a solid 30 seconds. it just took me 30 seconds to type that. or? you know what else you can do? go sit the fuck down, shut the fuck up, and spend 20+ hrs writing a 14k+ oneshot on the smut that you so badly wanna see. it’s your choice. really! i mean it. go be the change you wanna see in this world.
i have never once felt like i deserved any of the support that i’ve gotten. idk how to write pretty prose. or moving stories. i read some other people’s work on this app and i’m genuinely gobsmacked by how talented they are and constantly think how shitty my writing is in comparison. but my thing is that i am at least trying my best to write stories that people feel worthy of reading, because i feel like that’s the kind of respect that an audience deserves. i am trying my best to put my character and integrity into things that i write, even if what i produce ends up falling flat or doesn’t come across. but this ask isn’t an isolated issue. this issue has come up multiple times in the time i’ve had my blog, where people just reduce my stories down to smut smut smut smut smut when are we gonna get smut when are they gonna fuck write more smut in kickoff you should make ihm couple fuck like rabbits in the next chapter oh we better see them do [redacted redacted redacted] or else imma [redacted redacted redacted]. my fics are literally TAGGED with "slow burn romance"...i am fully transparent about it. and while i’ve also gotten so many meaningful heartfelt reactions to my stories (which, btw, were tastefully horny…yes, there is a way to send an author an ask that is tastefully horny while also appreciating their work!! insane wild concept!! /sarcasm), unfortunately these bad interactions will always stick.
like. would you ask someone you knew irl that was writing a novel, when they're gonna write the smut for it? would you tell them to hurry tf up and finish their novel just so that you can read the smut? would you send them your smut fantasies and be like "include this in your novel for ME because I want it "? no. because they'd think you're creepy n weird asf n overbearing then drop you. so why is it okay to do that to an author on tumblr? what happened to manners? what happened to decorum? especially for creators who are making you content for FREE.
if i was an author that wrote purely smut oneshots, i’d maybe kinda sorta understand (still think it's wrong asf, regardless of the content of stories that you write). but i feel like, after the 200k+ words that i’ve poured into my two stories (including the chapters i’ve written that i haven’t yet released) where it’s CLEARLY evident that these stories are much more than smut, i’d think that i deserve treatment a little bit better than this.
i’m done. i’m done trying to be nice. i’m done just silently deleting rude asf asks because i don’t wanna cause a scene. i’m done worrying about hurting people’s feelings, when I’M the one that is getting my feelings hurt while you just get to hide behind an anon.
i. am. just. fucking. done.
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— FRONT ROW
summary : for the first time, you see just how many fans wilbur has in person, and for the first time, you begin to feel like you might not be able to handle it.
genre : angst -> fluff, happy ending
warnings : one or two swearwords, reader gets overwhelmed, they almost break up (but not really i promise)
pairing : cc!wilbur soot x fem!reader
pronouns : she/her, reader is called wilbur's girlfriend
featuring : cc!wilbur soot, cc!ranboo (mentioned), cc!philza (mentioned), kristen
requested : @gracietaylorsversions Hiii! Ilysm could you maybe write a fic inspired by the song “dark red” by steve lacey, more specifically the part: “only you my girl, only you babe” where the reader gets insecure and jealous but wilbur makes sure to reassure her <333
word count : 1.5K
note : hello angel! now, i personallly hate writing jealousy fics i feel like i can NOT do it well, so i opted to delve more into insecurity than jealousy with this one. i'm so glad you're liking my stuff thank you so much it means the worlds
the room was massive. it was like a warehouse, but with seperate rooms off the main one, and way more people. you were in one of the separate rooms, carpeted and less crowded, a yellow card around your neck with your name written on it suspended by a lanyard.
you weren’t a creator. you didn’t stream or make youtube videos or anything, you hardly even posted on instagram. the only reason you were attending vidcon was because of the man whose arm was wrapped around your shoulder as he chatted avidly to ranboo.
they had a panel later, the first one since the pandemic had started. it had been somewhat of a surprise to you, when wilbur started getting so big as quickly, but you’d always know it was bound to happen. now, three years into your relationship, you were about to see your boyfriend in front of his first live audience.
one of the vidcon crew members arrived in the room as signalled everyone’s attention, everyone in your group falling silent. they’d all be leaving to go on stage soon. you wouldn’t be alone though, phil’s wife would be there in the audience with you.
while wilbur got instructions from the crew member, another producer lead you, kristen, and a few other guests of creators into your seats, and you waited anxiously for your boyfriend to come out.
the two of you had together since 2019. you had helped him move into his streaming office (and subsequently out of his streaming office after getting evicted), and had been there every single step of the way through his streaming career. his fans knew of you. they knew your name and what you looked like, and that you and wilbur had been dating for years, but not much more than that.
you were as supportive of a partner as you physically could be, helping him out as much as you were able to. for his first ever vidcon, you’d been lucky enough to be able to take time off work to go to LA with him, and he’d let you know over and over how grateful he was for it. you’d held his hand across the atlantic ocean and let him go just in time for him to meet his adoring public.
and adoring they were. it had been your first time ever truly seeing your partner’s fans in person aside from the odd chance meeting. this was extremely overwhelming. he stepped out of the wings and made eye contact with you immediately, waving at you subtly as he greeted the rest of the crowd. the featured creator hour went for, predictably, about an hour, and as your boyfriend and his friends left the stage, the audience was left to disperse on their own. you guys had saved seats for this one in advance, so you’d had a producer escort you into them, but this time it was just you and kristen in a sea of hundreds of teenagers.
“excuse me,” a small voice piped up, and you whirled around to see a young girl, no older than fourteen standing nervously behind you. she introduced herself nervously, and told you that she thought you had always seemed lovely, and asked for a photo. kristen took it for her, and she left with a beaming smile on her face as you felt your heart thrash against your ribcage.
there were so many people here, and you were already incredibly overwhelmed by the noise, but now the knowledge that people were perceiving you, even if it was only one fourteen year old girl was just too much to handle. “hey!” you called out to kristen as you both reached the door, having to nearly yell over the noise. “bathroom, i’ll be right back.”
“do you want me to come with you?” her husband would be back in the creator lounge by now, you knew, so you shook your head.
“no, i’ll be alright, you get back to phil. will you tell wilbur where i am though, please?” she nodded at you, and you took off towards the nearest bathroom. it was absolutely packed, so you skipped it and went straight outside to the carpark. it was hot, and you took a swig of your water bottle as you sat down on the concrete, back against the wall of the building. there were still somehow dozens of fans out here, but you didn’t care.
you needed to get better with this stuff. this was wilbur’s job, and you were his partner. if you were going to spend the rest of your life with him, then you’d need to be able to go to things like this and support him.
he had so many people’s eyes on him, and you knew that all he wanted was yours. you couldn’t be there for him in the way you needed to. he deserved better.
the internet was a cruel place. of course you’d seen hate of yourself. you’d seen wilbur shipped with any female friend he came into contact with, and you had always been okay about it. but maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea if he dated someone from the industry. he was bound to find someone eventually, someone who loved him just as hard as you did and was able to be there to support him.
you weren’t cut out for this. you needed wilbur.
he was beside you. “are you alright? what’s going on?” he was scanning the small scattering of fans around the carpark areas, hoping to find somewhere to get you away from prying eyes. “darling?”
“i’m okay,” your voice shook, and he helped you to your feet. “you should go back inside.”
“i am not going anywhere without you,” he said resolutely, hand securely wrapped around yours.
“i’m such a shit girlfriend,” you tried to laugh, but their were anxious tears forming in your eyes. it was so bright that you had to squint to look at wilbur, who was shielding you from the LA sun. “i’m sorry.”
“what are you talking about?” he asked softly. “you’re not shit, darling. furthest from it, in fact. you’re the best girlfriend i’ve ever had.”
“i’d hope so considering we’re still dating,” you said quietly. “maybe we shouldn’t be, though.”
wilbur thought he couldn’t feel more anxious after the creator hour. existing in front of such a massive croud of people was something that had never felt real to him, but then he’d looked out into the audience and had seen you, and he knew that after he left he’d be able to pull you into his arms and kiss you, and that you would fix the pounding of his heart. and then he’d stepped back inside the lounge and been met with just kristen, he waited, ten, fifteen minutes, believing you when you’d said you’d gone to the bathroom, before he used the find my friends app on his phone to see where you were. but that sentence made earlier feel like the most calm he had ever felt. “you want to break up?”
his voice quivered, low and deep, and you shook your head frantically. “of course i don’t want to. i was just thinking that…”
“that we should.” he finished flatly. “why?”
his hands were still around yours, but this felt more for his sake than yours now. “i can’t do this, wilbur.” you breathed out. “i can’t do the crowds and the screaming and the hoards of people who know that i exist, i can’t do it.”
wilbur’s face crumpled with relief. “you don’t have to, darling. i promise. from now on, no more events or conventions or panels that you don’t want to go to. please, i love you so much, i’m not gonna lose you over this.”
“but you deserve to have someone there who can do these things!” you argued. “someone who gets it, who understands!”
“i don’t want someone who gets it.” wilbur shot back immediately, silencing you. “i want you. i love you so much, darling. i don’t care if you don’t like the crowds, or if you don’t feel comfortable with me talking about you on stream or posting photos on instagram. none of that means anything to me. the only important thing is you and only you.”
you were almost crying as you kissed him, having to close your eyes instinctively against the sun as his lips pushed against yours, his hands caressing your back comfortingly. “i’m sorry, wil.” you said softly, lips still on his. “i’m being silly.”
“just a little,” he admitted between kisses. “but so am i. i’m just glad you’re here. i love you, silly.”
“i’d say it back but i don’t feel like it anymore.”
he barked out a laugh. “fine! i’m sorry. i love you, darling. my serious girl.”
“that’s somehow worse.” he kissed you to make it up to you, though, so you allowed him to drag you back inside, this time he got a security guard to sneak you in through a back corridor where you were still met with a room full of people who knew your name. except this one had a reserved seat right next to wilbur as you got to watch him live out his dreams, right there in the front row.
#wilbuh#wilbur soot fluff#wilbur x y/n#wilbur soot imagine#wilbur soot x reader fluff#wilbur soot headcanons#wilbur soot x y/n#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur soot fic#wilbur soot x you#wilbur soot fanfiction#wilbur soot angst
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SUMMER SUNTACULAR AND THINKING ABOUT LUCIO’S GOLDEN WET SKIN IN THE BEACH DRIVES ME CRAZY RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH
one shot. smut. please im thirsty.
thanks your existing i love you 🥰
- Lucio’s simp
Sex On The Beach - Lucio
Pairing: Lucio Correia dos Santos x fem! reader (uses fem pronouns + has a pussy)
Genre: smut/nsfw
Word Count: 1.5k
Summary: a beach day with your boyfriend turns steamier than expected
CW: public sex, Lucio humour, sex on the beach, unprotected sex, nipple play, creampie
sgfdhskskl I was so so so excited to write this. idk if its cause of the summer games event or lucioball or what but whenever its summer, i always think about our froggi boy. this was sm fun to write and i hope you like it! also thanks sm for your support & participating in the event <3
this is part of our Summer Suntacular event! come check it out!
The sweltering sun overhead gleams across your boyfriend's chest, his tanned skin turning golden in the sunlight. He flashes you a bright smile and gives you a wave from where he stands knee deep in the shimmering, blue water.
The thinly strewn muscles in his arm flex with the motion, the rippling, golden skin enough to make you drool. You’re grateful for the distance, partly so he can’t see you salivating over something as simple as him shirtless, and partly so you don’t pounce on him in such a public place.
You take a deep breath—though it does nothing to sate the heat washing across your skin—and cross your legs. You return his wave, cupping your hand over your eyes so you can see him better.
Grabbing the melted remnants of your mai tai, you settle into your towel in the warm sand and look around. Despite being such a gorgeous, hot day, hardly anyone is around. The family that had been set up about twenty metres away from you have long since packed up, leaving the two of you in almost complete isolation.
You sip back the rest of your drink and go back to watching your boyfriend do the backstroke. Each wave of his arm in the water is followed with water rolling down his muscles—all you can think is how badly you want to rub your hands down his skin and lick the water as it drips down.
“Earth to y/n, hello?”
You flinch, your heart beating a thousand times a second. You glance up at your boyfriend and offer a sheepish smile. “Hey baby.”
“Whatcha looking at?” He asks, but judging by the grin on his face, he knows damn well what you were looking at.
You dig your hands into the sand and push yourself up. “Just you.” You grin at him, wrapping your arms around his neck.
He leans in and presses a kiss to your lips. “What about me, hm?”
You slide your hands down his neck, to his shoulder blades and the muscles that live there. His skin is warm to the touch with the occasional cold drop of water relieving your palms. You plant another kiss on his lips.
“You’re just so sexy,” you admit, suddenly feeling a little hot. “You look like a demigod.”
He laughs. “More like a music god.”
You roll your eyes at his stupid joke, letting out a snort. He slides his hands to your waist, digging the pads of his fingers into your sides and tugging you towards him.
He kisses you again, intensely, desperately. You press your body closer to his, drawing him in as close as you can. You can feel every crevice of his body, feel the flexing of his abs and arms with every little motion he makes.
He slips his tongue into your mouth, eliciting a gasp from you. He laughs against your lips, the vibrations tickling your sensitive skin.
Just as he slides his lips to the edge of your collarbone, you gently push him away. He offers you a puzzled look, his dark brows raised.
“We’re in public. What if someone sees?”
He gestures towards the miles long empty beach. “Yeah, look at this crazy audience. I wish I had a turn out like this at my shows.”
“Okay, okay, I get it.” You lightly slap his shoulder. “Jerk.”
“You love it,” he beams and tugs you in for another kiss.
It’s needier than before, pure desire following in the wake of each sloppy motion. His hands trail down your body, running down the curves of your bathing suit and settling on the spot where the waistband of your bikini bottoms rest on your skin.
He slides his fingers across the band, dipping them just inside and stopping. His lips trail down from yours to your collarbone, planting sloppy kisses as he makes his way down from your neck to your chest.
You gasp when his lips wrap around your clothed nipple, the warmth of his mouth teasing at your sensitive skin. You slide your hand through his hair, twirling his locks around your fingers.
His other hand slides into your bottoms and cups your heat. You can feel him smirk against your nipple, the sudden motion forcing a moan from your mouth.
The pads of his fingers rub at your clit, drawing lazy circles while his mouth makes quick work of your nipples. He slowly drags his finger down your slit, collecting your juices before slowly pushing his index finger inside of you.
You clench around him, your knees suddenly feeling wobbly and threatening to send you face first into the sand. Lucio braces you against him, kneeling down until both of you are awkwardly laying on the towel together.
The towel is warm on your back from the sand underneath it, but it’s a welcome warmth. On instinct, you spread your legs, trying to silently tell him you want more.
Lucio obliges—always reading your body language even better than sheet music—slipping another finger inside of you. You throw your head back, a puff of sand flying up on either side of you, and arch your back to give him better access.
He curls his fingers inside of you, the soft pads digging into that spot inside of you that drives you crazy. Just as you get used to the rhythm of his pumping fingers, he pulls out.
“Babe!” You cry, looking at him through your lashes. “Why’d you stop?”
He pulls back, propping himself up on his knees so he can slowly tug down his board shorts. “Can’t let you have all the fun, can I?”
Lucio swears drool leaks out of the corner of your mouth as he tugs his shorts down just enough to free his thick, throbbing cock. He was already half hard just from seeing you in your bathing suit, but when he stuck his hands in your cunt and felt just how wet you are for him, his cock almost hurt from how hard it got.
He reaches his hand towards your core, pulling your bikini bottoms to the side to make room for his cock. He leans into you, lining his cock up with your entrance, and slowly pushes in.
The stretch makes you whine, fisting your hands in the sand and clenching your eyes shut. Lucio digs his hands into the meat of your hips, using it to push himself even deeper. It feels like forever until he bottoms out, until his cock scrapes that spot deep inside of you that only he can hit.
He strokes your cheek gently, prompting you to open your eyes. “How’re we doing, baby?”
“G—good,” you stutter out.
The sun behind his silhouette casts a godly glow to his skin, making him look ethereal. You wrap your arms around his neck and slowly bounce your hips against his.
He smiles at your eagerness, taking the hint and starting to meet you halfway. His thrusts slowly pick up the pace as he finds his rhythm, his skin making loud slapping noises as his balls smack against your thighs.
Beads of sweat roll down his neck and arms, making his muscles glisten. Soft grunts and groans escape his lips in tandem with the thrust of his hips against yours. He rolls his cock inside of you, the tip just gently brushing your cervix.
You tug him closer, burying your face into his neck so you can whine even louder while he fucks you. Lucio mimics you, lips pressed so deep into your collarbone that you can feel the vibrations of his moans in your chest.
The knot in your stomach build with every motion, coiling tighter and tighter and threatening to snap with each drag of his cock. You clench around him, desperate for more. More of what, you’re not sure.
“If you keep clenching me like that,” he grunts, “I’m not gonna be able to pull out.”
You wrap your legs around his waist, forcing him deeper inside of you. “I d-don’t want you to.”
Lucio cums almost as soon as the words leave your mouth, thrusting sloppily as he shoots rope after rope of white hot cum inside of you. The heat and the motion and his sexy fucking moans send you spiraling, the knot in your stomach bursting open and pushing you over the edge.
All the muscles in your body contract, the heat in your body reaching a nearly unbearable temperature. Your eyes flutter open and shut, tears pricking the corners and threatening to spill through the waves of your orgasm.
Lucio strokes your head weakly while you cum, still winding down from his own high, and whispers praise in your ears.
You blink at him a few times when the aftershocks of your orgasm finally subside. The world around you comes back into view and suddenly you remember exactly where you are.
“How are you feeling?” He asks and rolls off of you.
“Good, good.” You say, pulling your bottoms back into place before his cum can fully leak out. “Hey babe?”
“Yeah?”
“Can we go home? I need to shower.” You swallow back a laugh, “I have sand in places you should never have sand.”
summer suntacular | masterlist | overwatch masterlist
(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)
#overwatch#overwatch 2#ow2#overwatch x reader#ow#overwatch x you#overwatch fic#lucio#lucio x reader#lucio smut#lucio correia dos santos#lucio correia dos santos x reader#lucio overwatch#overwatch smut
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No More [Selunite!Shadowheart x F!Reader/Tav]
NOTE: THIS IS A CONTINUATION OF FLICKERS OF LOSS. Yes, I did it, thank AO3 you cowards.
Honestly, I planned more but like where it ended too much to drag it out [sandcastles next time?]
Continuation/Part 3 - Shadows of Shar
Intended Audience: Mature [it gets a teeny bit questionable but that's why the teens will ignore this rating anyway]
Who be smoochin?: Shadowheart x F!Reader/Tav (I got tired of y/n, broke my writing immersion)
The Bit: It's been a month since Selunite!Shadowheart and you escaped DarkJusticiar!Shadowheart. You haven't been sleeping well, and are struggling to adjust. It doesn't help that the wound she left on your hand, binding you to her, still torments you. Or the nightmares you have nearly every time you lay down. Or that you have few memories of your prior life with Selunite!Shadowheart to guide you.
Warnings/Advisories: Fluffy hurt comfort. You're going through it, lingering Stockholm Syndrome is making your thoughts questionable at times, one of your nightmares gets pretty spooky, you're still pretty damn brainwashed and your girlfriend is mega supportive. Mildly graphic detail of a relived memory, a distinct lack of sandcastles (sorry guys it was mostly written by the time it was suggested BUT... maybe next time? NO PROMISES)
Words, all the word (count): 2,583, baebeeeee
Link to the AO3 page if you prefer reading there
MINIMAL EDITING - WE FORGET AND DIE LIKE SHARRANS (AGAIN)
Providing a continuation I didn't think I'd actually write I'm 3...2...1...
-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈���┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-
Absentmindedly, your fingertips brushed over the wounds on your hand, staring into the darkness of the night surrounding the cottage. The rough texture of the log you've perched yourself on helped keep your mind from wandering too far while the chirping of crickets and hooting owls provided a beautiful, calming melody.
Dawn would break in two or so hours. You think. It was still odd, having to relearn things that came so simply to others. There was no need to memorize the lights in the sky when you seldom found yourself beneath them.
Twinkling and bright, they soothed something in you. Sure, the moon was beautiful, and you'd always be eternally grateful for everything Selûne has done. After all, it was her amulet around your neck that provided enduring guardianship over you. But sometimes... you just wanted the sparkling freckles scattered along the dark canvas of the night sky.
But your mind always wandered back to where it shouldn't. Or maybe it should. It was still so hard to tell. Even as you trace the shapes scarred into your flesh, something inside you... ached. Was that man hurting her? Does he make sure she has her black velvet tea stuff in the morning? Does she miss you?
Like you miss her...
Gods, how pathetic can you be?
A searing, throbbing burst of pain surges across your nerves from your hand, spreading up your arm and finally subsiding at your elbow. The scars-turned-sigils flickering a brief violet, while you wince and hiss. You were getting better at tolerating the pain...
Familiar footfalls crunched the leaves and twigs leading to your log. The first time, you jumped and darted into the woods. Found only when your wound flared so intensely, you screamed. The times after that, you jumped.
You've started to relearn the feeling of her presence, like a warm embrace that lingers in your memory. Differentiate it from what you were trained to know.
She took a seat beside you, positioning herself on your right. Close enough, you could feel her, distant enough to avoid suffocating you. The soft rustle of her clothing barely registered amidst the ambient songs of the evening. Silence enveloped her but was not unexpected, as she occasionally left you to your own musings. Just by being there, she effortlessly offered endless support. Provide soothing reassurance, an attentive ear or a warm shoulder - Whatever you needed, she would make sure you had it. It was one of the first things she taught you.
Though... recovery was still difficult. Part of you wanted to hear her. Scoot closer until you could feel her warmth. All you had to do was ask. Reach out for her. You weren't sure how to do much of that yet, but you wanted to try... you wanted to so badly. "I... don't want to sleep anymore." The words escape your lips in a hushed murmur, echoing the reason behind your presence in this place, reminding you why you're out here in the first place. And you fought desperately to shut it out.
"I know." She whispers, tone brimming with empathy. As you glance sideways, you can see her eyes locked on you, watching your every move. "But you need to. Running from it won't heal you, my love." Her hand moves closer to you, silently asking for permission.
All you do is return your hand to your side on the log, and Shadowheart does the rest. Her fingers delicately traced the contours of your hand as she slid hers over yours. You hesitantly meet her eyes, feeling a surge of nervous anticipation. All the warmth and happiness you wanted so badly was now laid bare and raw before you. Ready for you to come to your senses, get over yourself and...
Again, but worse this time. Your arm throbbed intensely, the pain spreading from your hand and into your shoulder, igniting a blazing fire pulsating through your entire body. It felt as though invisible knives were mercilessly carving your skin, prompting an involuntary cry of agony for just a fleeting moment before you quickly stifled it by clenching your teeth, your eyes screwed tightly shut.
You're barely aware of Shadowheart's hands clasped around yours, closer to you now, her soft-spoken words of affection and comfort. "Shh," she coos warmly, trying to soothe you. "It'll pass... just breathe. Shh... I'm right here, listen to me and breathe, love..." As your hand relaxes between hers and your breathing finds a steady rhythm, she can't help but smile. "There... See? Already passed." Shadowheart adds, placing a delicate peck to your temple, sending a warm tingle down your spine.
"Mine is bound to..."
"I know..." She cuts you off gently, rubbing soft circles on your hand. "This is the most she can do to you now. And the more you reclaim of yourself, the less this will matter. I promise."
Giving your hand a gentle squeeze before rising to her feet and gently pulling you with her. You don't fight her.
Leading you back inside, she playfully shoos away a dog lingering at the door, giggling quietly as it scampers off. A frown briefly creases your lips, wishing you could recognize the animals as much as they recognized you.
As she led you up the stairs to your bedroom, she made sure to keep your hand in hers, providing a constant sense of comfort until you reached the bed. She lifts a cat from your side of the bed and settles it on the floor before reaching for you to help you in. But she reads the look on your face, smiles almost apologetically and settles for just holding your hand until you sit on the edge of the bed.
Once you appear to relax, she gracefully rounds the bed and climbs in on her side, the mattress sinking slightly beneath her weight. Her eyes burning into your back as you sit there, hesitating. "Love, please..."
Her fingers lightly graze your exposed shoulder, causing you to flinch involuntarily. Shadowheart pauses, and you cringe at the hurt you sense radiating from her now still hand. But she tries, so slowly and timidly. "I'll be right here, sweetheart. Whatever comes, you won't face it alone this time. I swear..."
The tenderness in her voice is so different from the harsh commands you've come to expect. It's like a balm to your wary mind and you carefully ease yourself down to rest your head on the pillow.
For a split second, you're staring at the dark ceiling of that place and your core twitches in anticipation, ready to give everything and anything she wants of you.
A warm hand settles over yours, its touch so gentle that you don't notice your own trembling until she holds them steady. "You're safe here." Shadowheart reassures, voice barely above a whisper beside you. Nights have been difficult for the entire month you've been here, beset by restless sleep and haunting dreams. Surely it was wearing on her, this constant need to comfort and ground you... But here she was, just as patient and present as she was the first night. Not so much as implying a single complaint, passive or otherwise. "Can I hold you?" She asks, voice deliberate and measured, like the very words would startle you into the woods.
You offer a subtle nod, the faint sound of your affirmation barely audible in the room. As you do, you notice her cautious shuffle, the soft rustling of her moving across the bed. The moonlight through the window behind the bed casts a gentle glow, illuminating her hands, which she purposefully positions within your line of sight. You can sense her deliberate awareness, her conscious effort to ensure her actions remain visible. Gradually, she encircles you with her arms, her touch conveying a tender and guarded embrace. The scent of her envelops you - lavender and night orchids - adding a touch of familiarity.
She would never have... your body was hers to suit her whims...
"You're safe here..." Shadowheart whispers into your ear, returning you to the cottage. The present. Her nose gently presses into the crook of your neck, the warmth of her breath a soft caress you fixate on as your eyelids drift closed.
The initial darkness is hushed and welcoming, like a gentle whisper in the night... until it's not.
Until it's frigid and gripping at your limbs so tight, you almost lose feeling in them... Until they're pulling at the seams of you, tearing at you and boils your blood hot enough you swear your skin is melting off your bones like wax off a wick. You would scream if your mouth were allowed to open. "You've strayed, pet..." the icy voice scolds, her tone low. From the depths of the darkness, a faint silhouette emerges, steadily approaching you. "And we both know deep down that's not your honest desire."
Closing the distance between you, She emerges and looms above, her presence dominating. You realize now you're on your knees, with a sense of vulnerability washing over you.. Wearing her black robe you could still vividly envision even without seeing it. "Recall your prayer of contrition, when you first came to the Nightsingers' embrace."
You do, and the sharp pang of unmitigated anguish shoots through you. "When you wavered at the altar, when you turned away from her and hesitated to send Nyxara to her endless dark." It's as if a floodgate opens, and the memory of your first friend in the cloister rushes in. And your first act of wickedness to earn your place in it.
How She had to take your hand and drive the blade into her chest. The ghostly touch of tears streaming down your face lingers, as if they were shed just moments ago. You could almost still feel her heart beating its last into your palm through the dagger, as if you were still holding it. Could nearly feel the warmth of her life ebbing away in your hand.
You were permitted a pass only because She needed you initiated as soon as possible. But you had to pray for hours, the soft murmurs of your pleas mingling with the soft rustle of her robe as She circled you. Watched over you. Ensured your prayers were offered with utmost deference and reverence. Punishing you with your wound if you slipped in fervor.
Before you were called again to sacrifice Umbric, your only other friend. Your last one. Both a second chance to do it properly, and to repent of your failure... No more attachments. Only Shar. Only Her.
You knew better than to make friends after that.
Her slow crouch brought her eyes, icy green and intense, to meet yours, leaving you feeling completely powerless, entranced and held captive by her gaze. "Recite it. Recite it and repent for forswearing your faith to Lady Shar." The demand feels impossible to ignore, your mouth returning to you and an expectant glare follows.
"Mistress Shar, in the shadow of loss, I beseech your forgiveness. Forgive my faltering..."
"Tav!"
Your body lurches forward, drawing in a deep breath that fills your starving lungs. You feel your entire body trembling until warm, comforting arms encircle you. Offering a sense of security and safety. "I've got you, you're okay..."
"F-forgive my faltering faith, Mistress Shar—"
"Tav, no," Shadowheart says firmly, "come back to me, my love, I know you're stronger than her..." the stifled tremor is enough to clear the fog in your mind. "You're more than a puppet for her amusement. You always have been..." pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head before nestling her nose in your hair. Drawing you deeper into her arms.
Recite it.
"I... don't want to..." Finally you break, the intensity of your training and your hunger for this new way of life conflicting so fiercely it overwhelms you.
Without further clarification, she amazingly understands. "No, my love, you don't have to. Not anymore... Never again." Shadowheart mutters into your hair. Holding you tighter when she feels the wet warmth you're bathing her shirt in. "Gods, I'm so sorry," she mutters, her voice filled with a self-reproach. "I should have done more, planned better, gotten to you sooner..."
You don't think, not really. You just act. Like you know already. The motions are a blur, but you know you pull back just enough... then your lips are on hers. She takes a moment to gather herself, but eventually eases into the moment and reciprocates. And it's unbelievably amazing.
The way she kisses you is sweet and tender, as if she wants to savor every moment with you. How she touched you, looked at you, now kissing you, like you were the most cherished and adored person in the world. Her lips against yours is so soft and electrifying that it sends wonderful shivers down your spine, and your body tingles in bliss.
There's no teeth, no pain, no blood. Only the warmth of her mouth moving slowly with yours like a delicate caress. Her hands are soft on your back, maintaining the security her arms provide you. It's everything beautiful that your stunted memory can recall of her kisses, and more... and you never want her to stop, craving for more. How have you gone this long without realizing how indescribably incredible she is?
But surely she does, if ever slightly. Neither of you seems ready to fully disconnect from each other. Your eyes remaining closed. "No more..." you whisper quietly.
"No more..." Shadowheart echoes just as quietly. Her lips twitching slightly, one hand brushing away a few lingering tears from your cheek. "Not anymore." Pressing a small kiss to your lips. "Never again." And another before her smile spreads wider.
Shadowheart gracefully maneuvers you both again to lie down in bed. This time you're practically on top of her, your face nuzzled into her shoulder. You gently weave your fingers through her smooth, flowing white hair, which partially cascades over her other shoulder, eliciting both a smile and a small sigh of appreciation from her. Mesmerized by her beauty, you can't help gawk in awe. Bathed in the ethereal glow of the moonlight streaming through the window, she looks absolutely radiant.
Her hand, still playing with the hair behind your head, guides you to rest on her shoulder. Securing you against her with her arm.
The memory crosses your mind and though you tense a moment; it doesn't... hurt as much as you've come to expect. Shadowheart gently tightens her arms in silent reassurance, and you respond by wiggling impossibly closer to her. The last thing you want is for her to think you feel or appreciate nothing she's done.
Instead, you gently drape your arm over her waist, feeling a sense of belonging and protection, as your mind wanders to Shadowheart... Your Shadowheart, savoring how your body melds so perfectly with hers. The adventures you must have shared. Wondering if there's a way to get those memories back.
Shadowheart fills all the dark corners of your thoughts, leaving no room for her to overrun your peace of mind. Before long, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, her steady breathing, has created a soothing lullaby that lulls you back to sleep.
This time, you're welcomed by a soft radiance and a soothing warmth.
In your fragmented memory, you can't recall a time when you've slept as soundly as you do now, peacefully drifting into a deep slumber.
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A/N: Wowowow okay hi. I didn't honestly expect to write anything beyond where it ended. Nothing public anyways. But AO3 asked very nicely (thanks!) for a continuation. I honestly intended this to be a beefy one but really liked the vibe and way it ended. Ya get what ya get. Quality over quantity, yeah?
Thanks again to everyone who likes, reblogs, replies, supports this little project in anyway you deem worth your time! And with that... Unpopular writer, awayyyy...
#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate#bg3#shadowheart#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate shadowheart#baldurs gate fanfiction#shadowheart x tav#bg3 shadowheart#dark justiciar shadowheart#dark justiciar shadow heart#dark justiciar#ao3 baldurs gate#baldurs gate#baldurs gate romance#baldurs gate tav#baldur's gate romance#i will let the rot consume me#i am the goddess queen of rot
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𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖒𝖔𝖘𝖆 𝖎𝖓 𝖗𝖚𝖇𝖊𝖔, 𝖘𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖚𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖚𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖔
𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 1 - 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔴𝔢𝔟
“Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.” – Cesar A. Cruz
⫸ pairing: Cazador Szarr/f!high elf reader
⫸ tags: no y/n used etc, POV second person, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, canon-typical violence, asphyxiation, physical abuse.
⫸ story summary: Accompanying your father, the General of Baldur's Gate, has always been a duty that bores you near to death, but for first time you feel completely unnerved as you come to Szarr mansion. The family's patriarch is a strange man and so is his wife and son. Son, who seems unperturbed by anything, until he's left alone with you that is. Then and only then, Cazador shows emotion and what kind of a threat he is. You realize soon - behind those dark eyes there's something dangerous lurking and your future soon becomes inescapably intertwined with his.
work contains illustrations, credit at the end
⫸ word count: 5,825
⫸ author note: oh god where do i even start. this fic has been for a very long time in the making, and plot has been reworked so many times i nearly lost count. besides drastic changes and rewrites - he it is. i want to thank artists who kindly worked with me to bring more life to this fic with their skill and as cheesy as it sounds - i want to thank people who constantly supported me through planning and every other agony that i went through while i was figuring this work out. i call this my magnum opus and i can only hope that those who read it buckle up for the journey. it's going to be a wild, dark ride. enjoy♡~
⫸ chapter list: [link]
“Vice is ever most dangerous when lurking behind the Mask of Virtue.” ― Matthew Gregory Lewis
1021DR
A throne, carved from stone and elevated over the rest of the hall with steps leading to it. Steps are draped with red carpet, askew in parts, and there’s candles everywhere. The evening is coming, casting only slivers of orange sunlight through the gaps in heavy bronze colored curtains, making the room sink in darkness if not for the candles and a fireplace. You glance around with only your eyes, feeling unnerved and on edge, not even knowing why.
Your father is on your right, a tall figure with long white hair that he keeps loose on his back, and his silver eyes are looking ahead of him with seriousness of a warrior about to engage in a battle. You have seen this look before, the look that tells you that your father, the recently appointed General of Baldur’s Gate army, is taking his opponent seriously. Except this time his opponent is not a raging zealot or a horde of goblins, it’s a man.
This man, when you finally return your gaze to him, doesn’t look very intimidating except for the throne he’s sitting on and his relaxed pose. With knees parted and his back lazily leaned against the backrest of his seat, this man exudes power through his body language, even with how his jaw is resting easily on his knuckles or how fingers of his other hand tap lazily against the armrest. You take the man in: black long hair, straight, draping to his waist, red piercing eyes gazing down from an upturned, arrogant face. His nose is straight, his lips are pulled into a tiniest of smirks and his garb is embroidered with bronze threads of light gold silk. A garment to show status, not practicality.
“Lord Varitan Szarr, I am grateful you granted an audience.” Your father begins and you glance at him, unable to stop yourself before you do. Granted an audience? You never heard him speak like this before, even to the Duke. “Can I assume you have been informed about the purpose of my visit?”
You look back at the patriarch of the Szarr family. He’s not speaking, not yet, because he’s clearly observing your father with sharp eyes. Led by curiosity you glance at the chair on the left to the throne, noticing a woman there. Her black hair is put up and her dark eyes are watching you. When your gaze meets hers, a shiver runs down your spine. You turn your eyes away, not sure if the woman is trying to provoke you or make you uncomfortable, but either way – you are not willing to play the games of strangers.
When your eyes move to the right of the throne you see a young man sitting in the second hair. He looks maybe around your age, maybe few decades older, you can’t quite tell, but it’s hard to tell such things even among the elves. His uncommon appearance, just like Lord Szarr and the strange woman, tell you that he is related to the man in the throne. Young elf doesn’t seem to see you as he watches your father, his dark eyes fixated on the General, his hands resting on his thighs in a disciplined manner, and you can’t help but notice that he has same length hair as Szarr patriarch. Could he be the young man’s father? The resemblance is definitely there, to the woman as well.
Your observations don’t last more than a long moment and your eyes instinctively snap to the speaker, Lord Szarr, the moment he opens his mouth.
“Yes, I have been informed. I hear you are reforming the army, is that correct, General Cradith Sylven?”
“It is.”
“I hear you want my son to be part of it?”
A pause short as a heartbeat and yet you still notice your father hesitating before he responds with a voice that betrays none of his own thoughts. That’s something you always admired in him as he taught you how to be a soldier just like him.
“That’s correct.” A curt, short reply and another pause before he continues. “I’m sure that young Lord Cazador would benefit from such position.” General gestures to the young man and you follow the direction with your eyes, seeing how the one named Cazador is focused on your father, his eyes watching with silent curiosity.
“Would he now?” Lord Varitan laughs and your eyes are drawn to him when he moves, getting off the throne and making one single step to Cazador, placing a heavy looking hand on the young man’s shoulder, but not receiving any reaction as he does so. “What do you think, child, would military strengthen your character?” Patriarch laughs but nobody else finds humor in his words, not even your father who often jokes with other soldiers about how every child needs a sword in their hand to gain a spine.
Awkward silence is cast upon the hall as only Lord Szarr’s laughter seems to be echoing off the walls, and you notice how he squeezes Cazador’s shoulder, tight enough to turn his fingernails white, yet the young elf seems completely unperturbed by it, sitting in silence before his eyes suddenly turn to you and meet your curious gaze.
You almost lean back from the intensity of his dark eyes that bore into you, and you nearly look at your father, instinctively wanting to ask for help, but then you frown and arrogantly raise an eyebrow at him, as if challenging him, and Cazador’s gaze slips from you to your father once more. You can barely hold your smirk down – a victory, however small.
“How old is your daughter, General?” Lord Szarr speaks again once his amusement settles and you watch the man descent the steps from his throne, approaching you and your father, making you suddenly realize how tall he is.
“Hundred and ninety-seven, Lord Szarr.” Your father replies calmly and the patriarch stops once he’s in front of you. He faces you specifically, his gaze cast down on you as he confidently reaches out and takes a strand of your long hair into his fingers, caressing it without pulling at it.
“Beautiful flower, General. But made of steel, I can tell already. I hear you’ve trained her to be a quite skilled little soldier?” there’s something mocking about how the man talks about you and you frown, albeit you otherwise don’t move a muscle. Your expression is noticed immediately and the Szarr patriarch lifts an eyebrow at you, eyeing your stance as you keep yourself straight and proud, just like your father taught you.
“I would suggest you talk about my daughter in more respectable terms, Lord. I’m sure you wouldn’t appreciate such things being said about your wife or son.” Your father immediately verbally steps in and you feel relief. Yes, you could respond, snap back, mock, maybe even physically take down this pompous ruler of his household, but you know better than to act upon your anger. You’ve been taught better than this.
Lord Szarr drops the strand of hair he was holding the moment your father finishes speaking and you watch him turn from you and face your father at last. General Cradith is not short by any means but even he has to turn his face up when speaking to this self-important man.
“My wife wouldn’t mind, I’m sure of it.” He laughs and then crosses arms on his chest. “My son wouldn’t either. Is that right?”
“Yes.” A singular reply comes from Cazador, making you briefly glance at him.
“Good. And you, Donnela?” without being looked at, the woman is addressed, but she slightly bows her head anyway.
“Yes, my dear.” Her voice is smooth, soothing even.
“Good, good.” Lord Szarr laughs and uncrosses his arms to place a palm on your father’s armored shoulder. “Now let us go somewhere more private to discuss your proposition, I’m sure the children will be fine without us.” His eyes snap to his wife. “Donnela, make sure that Cazador entertains our esteemed guest while I talk to General.”
You glance at Lady Donnela and then at your father, question in your eyes but he just nods.
“Get to know the lad, I’m sure he’s a pleasant company.” He says and you immediately want to reply and say that you doubt it, but instead you remain quiet and obediently nod. Not the time or place to be snarky with your own father. This Lord Szarr obviously is a tricky man to interact with, so when your father nods to you in return, you exhale slowly and watch him being led away to a door on the side of the room.
Once the men are gone, with the door tightly shut behind them, Donnela raises from her seat and looks at Cazador with an emotion you can’t call anything but contempt.
“Go, do as your father says.” Her voice is nothing like it was before, not soothing or pleasant anymore, but instead sharp and demanding. “Go, you idiot boy!” She snaps at him before even a moment can pass since her previous words and you yourself nearly flinch at them, but not Cazador. He raises to his feet and without looking at his mother, descends the few stairs and walks to you.
“Come. They will take a while.” He says in a tone that’s quite blank and you frown but nod, following him.
As the young man leads you outside of the hall, you throw one last look into Lady Donnela’s direction, noticing her smoldering gaze that speaks of hatred cast upon her son, and you wonder why, but Cazador opens the door, letting warm evening air enter the chilly room and the sunlight looks so welcoming now, after spending time in the dark hall even for as little as you did.
You two walk out and approach the balustrade of the mansion, glancing upon the fields and the houses down below. You know that Szarrs are building the palace in Baldur’s Gate, but here, in Anga Vled, you find the view quite bucolic, relaxing even. The streets can get so busy after all.
Cazador leans over the balustrade, draping his arms over it and looks into the horizon as you take a spot on his right, looking to the setting sun yourself. Silence follows and how long it lasts you’re not sure.
“She’s not my mother.” Cazador suddenly speaks and you look at him, seeing his long black hair whisp in the light breeze. He’s beautiful in this moment, you admit to yourself. His features so unusual for elves and yet you can’t deny that he’s handsome.
“Really? Lord Szarr seemed to insist that she is.” You comment and you hear the young man scoff.
“He insists everyone is a family.” A puzzling comment, but you don’t have time to think about it before Cazador speaks again. “Well, she is my mother, but she forgets that more often than not.”
Silence.
You don’t know how to reply so you remain quiet for a time, thinking about what he just said.
“I call her aunt, it seems more fitting.”
Ah. You understand now.
Yet you remain quiet for some more time, unsure if you should address what Cazador just said or let your suspicion that his mother is actually also his aunt too go unspoken, so you try to think of something else to talk about.
“Do you want to join the military?” you ask with your throat quite dry and Cazador looks at you, his waist-length hair wisping across his face and he moves his hand to tuck rogue strands behind his pointy ear. A smile appears on his face, tainted with same arrogance his father showed before.
“If anything, it would get me out of this barn.” He smirks and you raise an eyebrow at that. Szarr mansion surely is not as luxurious as some houses in Gate but calling it a barn seems a bit much. And spoiled, it sounds very spoiled to you.
“You’re not going to survive through the training if that’s your attitude.” You can’t help your snark as you smirk back at him and Cazador pushes himself off the balustrade, stepping towards you, his eyes narrowed.
“And who are you to judge me, hm?”
“My father says I was born with a sword holding hand.” You grin at him, feeling superior than Cazador. You’ve been training how to fight since you were a toddler, you’re not sure if Cazador’s pale skin and slender fingers are telling the same story. He seems the type to spend bent over books instead of holding a weapon, but his towering figure does intimidate you to a degree, and you swallow as you look at him, your eyes locked on his while a moment passes charged with tension.
You are caught off guard when Cazador’s hand shoots up, grabbing you by the throat and squeezing so tightly you immediately cannot breathe. Your eyes widen at the assault and you try to pry his fingers away while the young Master begins lifting you as if trying to elevate you to his eye level. Yet when you’re on your toes he bends over you, bringing his face close, and you see a chilling joy in them because of your struggle, because how you gasp for air. His other hand now clasps over your open mouth as if he doesn’t want to risk even a smallest sound escaping you, and a wicked smile appears on his face. Pure, unadulterated delight is reflected on his face, tainted only by how cruel it is. He’s terrifyingly beautiful as he looks down on you like this, like the death itself.
“Quite a little soldier you are.” Cazador hums in near sing-song voice that’s barely above a whisper, you and only you are meant to hear it. “But not quite sharp as you reckoned, don’t you think? You could be dead. You can be dead if I just keep this going for a moment longer.” He chuckles and pure fear begins spreading in your chest. With your eyes still wide you stare at him, gripping his hand and trying to pry it away from your neck while your lungs burn for air more painfully with each passing second. “But don’t worry, you’re too important to damage.” Szarr finishes with a whisper and with one last gleeful look at your shocked, fearful face he releases your neck.
You land on your feet, immediately stepping backwards from him. Your fingers instinctively move to your sword by your side and you tug at it only to stop when Cazador raises his hand at you, smirking with satisfaction at this little display of power he just showed to you.
“Calm down.” He laughs while your heart beats fast in your chest and you gasp for air with your face twisted in anger. Cazador upturns his palm with a wide smile, now looking less cruel but still amused. “Give me your hand.”
“Do you think I’m stupid?”
“Yes.”
“You little-“
“Give me your hand.” Cazador’s tone is suddenly sharp, cutting you off mid-swear and if you could frown any more you would.
However, begrudgingly you realize that in the end he didn’t harm you. On top of that, you suspect he’s trying to make a point and, despite your anger and your wounded pride, you are still curious about what that point is. So with some reluctance you release the handle of your sword and straighten your back, showing pride with which you were born when you step closer and place your hand in his. Cazador’s smile is soft when you do as he wants and then he tugs you towards him.
“What are you doing?!” you gasp with sudden blush on your face when you’re pressed chest to chest with him, but young Master just takes your hand more comfortably, placing his other on your waist and begins leading you to music that only he can hear.
Shocked and quite speechless, you try to follow his steps until you recognize the pattern and let him lead you, turning and spinning, dancing with you while he watches you go through several emotions: shock, then anger again for being treated like this, then curiosity accompanied by a slight blush.
“You dance well.” He comments and you smirk at him.
“I’m a noble too, not just a soldier. I attended my fair share of balls and battles.”
“I can tell.” Cazador says and stops, pulling you by your hand and making you spin around, then tugging you to his chest again, this time your back to him as if you’re a marionette he’s controlling, pulling you by your strings.
His arm wraps around your waist and your hand is released only for you to feel his fingers around your throat once again. Your heart skips a beat in fear and he can feel it, because he’s pressing his fingertips against your jugular. You gasp and stay still, with your hands on his arm on your waist, as Cazador makes you look into the horizon, to the setting sun that’s slowly letting the sky become darker as it loses the orange coloring. His touch is firm, yet gentle and warm.
“Look, what do you see?” Cazador asks in a quiet voice and you sweep your eyes over the sky, then over the fields and houses.
“Life.” You respond in a voice that matches his and you feel him begin to rub the underside of your jaw with his thumb.
“Indeed. There’s life. In the sky, on the ground, in the earth.” He continues, the warmth of his chest against your back soothing you, the flicker of fear that you just felt snuffed out at last. You feel strangely safe, even with his hand on your throat after letting you know exactly what he can do. “Do you think you can protect that life, soldier?”
Cazador’s question puzzles you slightly, he’s still getting to the point and you’re becoming impatient. So you turn your head slightly, to look up at him and the dark, calm gaze of his eyes meets yours. The closeness makes you feel flustered but you try to hide it.
“I don’t look to protect life, Cazador. I enjoy the rush of the battle, the feeling of victory, the blood on my hands.” You finally respond and notice a glimmer of surprise in his expression before he grins, obviously satisfied with your answer. His thumb props your chin just a little higher as he leans closer, his eyes not leaving yours.
“I’m sure they scream beautifully when you kill them.” Szarr whispers with same terrifying glee that you saw on his face when he was choking you and you can’t help but find it… appealing. Yes, that’s right. He’s crazy, insane, absolutely nuts, that’s what you tell yourself, but somehow how he acts, how he talks, it makes your blood run faster.
And so you break into a grin of your own.
“They do.” You pause, wondering if you should share the secret you never uttered even to your father and decide that you can, that Cazador will understand the joy of a good fight, the adrenaline of it all. “If I have time, I make sure that they suffer as much as they can.” Your whisper is so quiet that Cazador has to lean even closer to hear it, and when he hears what you’re saying - there’s like a spark in his eyes. He’s surprised, pleasantly so.
“Then I would be glad to ride into a battle with you, my Lady.” He whispers back and you blush slightly, feeling like you both suddenly formed a strange connection, found someone who shares the same view of a good fight and good victory.
But the moment, that is clearly turning intimate somewhat, is suddenly interrupted by the opening door and a loud, angry scream.
“Release her at once!” Lady Donnela’s voice is shrill and Cazador flinches at it, but he doesn’t let go of you just yet. His eyes move from your face and to his mother, a moment passes and you finally feel his hands leave you.
Blushing now for being caught like this you step away from him, your eyes downcast as you don’t want the woman to see that you’re embarrassed, but she quickly walks to you both and then you hear a slap. Shocked, you look up to see that Donnela just slapped Cazador so hard the sound is still ringing in your ears, but he doesn’t look phased. In fact, his face is completely calm and you can only imagine the red mark blooming on the right side of his face as Donnela now turns to you.
For a moment she looks worried as she grips your jaw to look at your face, her eyes scanning your neck, as if she is expecting Cazador was trying to hurt you, but the moment she finally pays attention and notices your blush, Lady Szarr realizes that it wasn’t the case at all. Her expression becomes a painting of rage and her nails dig into your jaw so painfully you frown.
“Stay away from him.” She warns and you blink few times in surprise, not quite sure what she means by that. Stay away for his sake or… your own?
Donnela releases your jaw and looks at her son with anger, then reaches out and grabs his long hair in a fist, beginning to walk back inside and drag Cazador with her. With utter shock at such display of abuse you stand frozen, not knowing how to react, but Cazador himself doesn’t look distressed, if anything his face is completely blank as he follows his mother back inside, and in couple seconds you are left alone, the door closing.
You exhale slowly, trying to understand what just happened, and begin walking to the door yourself when you hear a crashing sound. You run now, swinging the door open only to witness Lady Donnela on the floor, a candelabra broken by her side and Cazador standing over her, with same emotionless mask across his face. Donnela’s face, on the other hand, is both shock and rage.
“Leave! Now!” She shrieks at her son and Cazador only shows a small smirk before he nods and walks off, without giving you or her another look.
You stare at Donnela and finally snap out of your stupor before you rush to help her get up, but she pushes you away with hatred in her eyes.
“DO NOT TOUCH ME!”
You recoil immediately and just watch her quickly scramble to her feet, not even giving burning candles on the floor a glance, before she too rushes off out of the hall, leaving you alone. Utterly shocked you stand as you are for a moment, trying to understand what just happened, but when you begin smelling burning wood you walk to the broken candelabra and snuff out the candles. Then your eye catches a glimpse of something, a shine that appears right under the heavy curtain as you are putting out the flames.
After carefully looking around to see if there’s anyone else here besides yourself, you step to the curtain and kneel with one knee picking the shiny object up, then stand up and turn to the nearest candlelight to see better what it is.
You realize that the object you picked up is a pocket miniature, usually meant to portray passed loved ones that their family members can carry with them. You have seen some of your father’s soldiers carry these before and you become intrigued because you suspect Lady Donnela dropped this during whatever altercation happened between her and her son.
When you flip the portrait you see a young man, clearly an elf, sketched with a pencil instead of being painted, situated in a beautiful silver frame. You can’t tell the color of his hair or eyes, the picture carrying only the shades of grey, but you notice an emphasis on white streaks of hair framing his sharp features. What catches your attention most is this elven man’s eyes, because it seems that whoever drew this - they were captivated by the look of his piercing gaze. Regal in outfit, you assume him to be someone Lady Donnela might’ve cherished.
For a moment you just look at the picture, wondering who he is. He doesn’t seem to be related to Szarr’s, they have their unique looks making them stand out among other elves, but whoever this man was, you realize that Donnela is still attached to him enough to carry his portrait with her.
Once again you lift your eyes and look around, finding no one present in the hall except for the sounds of soft crackling fire, and you wonder what you should do while you wait for your father. The answer comes for you in a form of footsteps nearing the hall.
As Cazador returns you notice his completely calm expression. He doesn’t pause before walking to you and you just watch him approach in silence, not knowing if you should address what you have just seen, but before you can speak he’s right in front of you, eyes darting down to the object in your hands and he raises his eyebrows ever so slightly. Without a word he extends his hand, palm up, beckoning for you to place the miniature there. After a glance to his open hand you do as he wishes and young Master quickly pockets the item.
“Who was he?” you speak before you can consider if it’s a good question to ask and Cazador gives you a smile that you can see is strained.
“A friend of a family.” A pause then he clears his throat. “He’s close to Donnela.” You look at Cazador for a long moment, wanting to know more. Not because you’re overly curious about this person, but because you simply don’t know what else to say or do.
Yet before you can formulate a proper thought, the door opens and you both look in the direction of the room where your father disappeared with Lord Szarr. They both exit, smiling and seemingly relaxed.
“Child, come closer.” Varitan waves his son closer once the two men stop and your eyes meet your father’s, but you can’t exactly read his face except for the fact that he seems more relaxed compared to how he was when coming here.
Cazador, without a word, walks to his father and Lord Varitan smirks at him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. You realize that they are both nearly exact same height, making even your father stand shorter than them which is usually not the case and you approach as well, not needing permission.
“It has been decided that the boy will join Gate’s army for some time.” Patriarch of the family speaks up again and you watch him, wondering what’s the reason behind his decision because you already learned that Cazador is quick and sharp, even against someone as skilled as you. “He won’t make a military career, but I’m sure that under General Cradith he will learn a lot, won’t you, child?”
“Yes.”
“Since Lord Varitan informed me that you do have a degree of training, which you acquired back in your homeland, it was decided that you will start at the similar position as my daughter.” General says and you frown at that. This… this new recruit is going to have same position as you? You glance at your father but he either ignores your pointed stare or doesn’t see it, because he continues without skipping a beat. “Being a family member of a noble household, I’m sure Cazador knows how to take on some responsibility. Is that correct?”
“Of course he does, he is my son.” Lord Varitan answers and you now look at him, trying to keep your face neutral but finding yourself disliking the man more every time he opens his mouth.
“Then it is settled. When young Lord is ready, please do send me a letter so that we can welcome him appropriately.” Your father speaks and you finally look at Cazador, still finding that mask of nothingness across his face, completely unreadable, completely still. Even his eyes look void of emotion as he stands by his father, frozen like a statue.
You wonder what’s going through his head. You wonder if he’s happy to be promised an escape from his mother, maybe even his father, because the way he gripped Cazador earlier comes back to your mind with vivid intensity. Knuckles turning white, fingers meant to hurt, to remind him of what, his place? Or that he can’t escape, not forever?
“Of course, of course.” Lord Szarr grins and his crimson eyes look unpleasant when accompanied with his sharp smile, making him look more predatory than polite and you want to leave, as soon as possible. This mansion makes you feel like you’re in a den of wolves, or worse.
“Very well then.” Your father goes out of his way to shake Varitan’s hand and you nearly grimace at that without even knowing why, but the idea of touching the Szarr patriarch unsettles you deeply. “Come on then, let’s go.” General turns to you and with relief you nod.
When your father passes you, you turn to follow him, not sparing another glance at the dark-haired elves as you notice Lord Varitan also turn to walk away, but suddenly you hear words spoken to you.
“I guess I’ll see you soon, little soldier.” Cazador’s voice is quiet, meant only for you and you stop, turning just enough to see his face, to see the arrogant smirk on his face and he steps to you, confident and proud, his eyes now burning with excitement.
“Don’t think it’s going to be easy, recruit.” You reply with a grin, not wanting to let him feel as if he’s somehow better than you, stronger than you, and Cazador raises his eyebrows as he stops in front of you. He tilts his head slightly to the side then leans close to your face, staring deep into your eyes as if daring you to step back from him for invading your personal space, yet you stand your ground, letting him get as close as he dares, letting your own arrogance show on your face.
“I’m sure you will make army an interesting challenge to me.” Young Master’s voice is barely above a whisper, you feel his breath on your skin when he speaks, and you begin to feel blush coloring your cheeks, this closeness is too much for you, too intimate, his dark eyes becoming all that you can focus on, all that you can see.
Yet you’re not the one to admit defeat, no matter how perceived or imaginary it is. You stay still, looking back even if your palms begin to sweat. You know he’s challenging you and you are accepting it, he’s some spoiled noble after all, however capable in surprising you he was for a moment, when it comes to real fights you know, you are sure, you would best him. You have no reason to let him think he can intimidate you, so you don’t.
“Don’t make me break your neck on the first day, Szarr.” You taunt and Cazador’s grin widens, he’s pleased with your answer.
“We’ll see about that, Lady Sylven.” He too addresses you by your last name and you raise your eyebrow at him, but pause when you hear your father call for your attention and you exhale slowly, annoyed to be interrupted, but Cazador just leans back from you. “See you soon.” He says with ego dripping of each syllable and you briefly cock your chin at him, then turn and walk off, catching up with your father who’s lingering by the hall door. But entire time you walk away you feel eyes on your back, it makes you grin to yourself.
When you and General walk out of the mansion into a gently dark evening, your father glances at you as you both walk to your horses that you two took to come here from the encampment outside the Gate’s walls.
“What was that about?” he asks and you snap out of your thoughts, giving him a quick look.
“Nothing. He just told me he’s excited to join the defenders of the city, father.” You lie and quickly approach your horse, taking the reins that you tied to a wooden fence, but your father stops you by grabbing your shoulder.
When you look at him, you see that his eyes are serious, his lips pressed into a thin line, worry of a father with seriousness of a General.
“Don’t get involved with that boy, you hear me?” he says strictly and you stare at him completely baffled, not sure how to even react.
“What? Why?” you let out a nervous laugh, unnerved by his sudden mood change, but General’s fingers linger on your shoulder for a little longer before he releases you and gently presses his palm onto your cheek.
“I have a bad feeling, that is all.” Father sighs, making you feel even more confused.
“Surely you can’t judge anyone’s mettle based on what… bad feeling?” you realize you sound defensive, in a moment General’s worried expression is changed by a frown.
“My gut feeling saved my life on the battlefield multiple times before. So did yours. Do not underestimate it just because the boy is charming.” He responds and you know you’re blushing now, but you frown, still slightly defiant.
“He’s not charming, father. We just talked while waiting for you and he seemed like an interesting person.” You lie again, the memory of Donnela’s abuse flashing in your mind and then quickly disappearing. You don’t want to tell him about that either and you realize that you’re lying on Cazador’s behalf already. It makes you feel uneasy inside.
“Heed my warning, child.” Lord Cradith begins and removes his palm from your face, his hard eyes pinning you in place. “Szarrs are bad news. Be very careful with the young Master.”
You can’t argue, not when he’s using his commanding tone, this will not bode well if you talk back, so you just curtly nod and he seems to relax at that, then even smiles.
“Good. Glad you understand.”
With that you both untie your horses and mount them. As your father begins leading towards the encampment you pause and look back at the Szarr mansion, all stone and wood. At the second level of it you notice something in the window: a pale face and black hair, and at first you think it might be Cazador, until you suddenly recognize red eyes and a sharp, unsettling grin.
Grin that looks too wide to be natural.
⫸ end note: thank you @sadist69 and @alienrat-art for wonderful illustrations that helps bringing this story to life♡~
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#cazador szarr#reader insert#x reader#female reader#cazador szarr x female reader#cazador szarr smut#cazador fic#cazador szarr x reader#my fics#lacrimosa in rubeo sanguinarius in atero
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Pairing: Emily Prentiss × (POC)fem!oc
Previous Chapter: part one
Summary: When the bodies of several women show up all around LA, it's Garcia who aids the team in making the shocking connection that all of the victims look exactly like one of her favorite actresses, Sloan Hudson. Upon making this discovery, the team soon realizes that this famous celebrity might just be the unsub's final target, meaning that she is now in grave danger and needs to be protected. Unfortunately for Emily, her days of being a profiler are soon put on hold when Hotch assigns her to be Sloan's personal bodyguard.
Warnings: Basically all that an episode of Criminal Minds consists of. I don't really know what to specifically list, but if you have any additions or specific triggers, please let me know
Word Count: 4.6k
“Hollywood is a place where they’ll pay you a thousand dollars for a kiss and fifty cents for your soul.” - Marilyn Monroe
“Good morning, everyone!" The talk show host introduced, directing his words to the huge camera lens a few feet away and the small audience sitting behind it. "We’re here with America’s Sweetheart, Sloan Hudson, daughter of the late world-renowned director and Academy Award-winning actor Omar Hudson, and she’s here to catch us up on how life has been treating her over the past year since her father’s passing.”
On the sofa next to him, Sloan sat with her legs crossed and a dazzling smile plastered on her face as she looked out into the crowd filled with many of her adoring fans and supporters.
“So, Ms. Hudson, first and foremost how are you doing?” He asked, politely.
With a glance at her manager, who stood backstage with a pointed look, Sloan swallowed the lump in her throat and addressed the man next to her.
“Well, Jimmy, I’ll admit things were rough the last several months after my father’s accident. Loss isn’t ever an easy thing to experience, and it was difficult picking myself up from such a dark place in my life. However, I knew the impact he left on this world would never be forgotten and in a way, it’s like he’s still a part of me. Of course, I know firsthand that life and the industry itself won’t ever be the same without him, but it’s that idea alone that has motivated me to continue in his footsteps and keep his legacy alive. He helped shape me into the woman and actress I am today and I will always be grateful and honored to share the same passion he had for acting.”
Once again, she looked over to her manager behind the scenes, who was now sending her a nod of approval, almost as if she had doubted Sloan’s capability to remember the simple words written for her on yellow note cards that morning. Did she honestly forget that reading pages and pages of scripts was part of her job?
“Yes, his death certainly shocked all of us who watched his career develop over the years but we’re glad to hear that the Hudson talent won’t be ending so soon,” Jimmy noted solemnly, allowing the audience to clap in encouragement before he moved on to his next question. “I think we’re all looking forward to seeing your career flourish just as much. Speaking of which, I hear you’ve already begun a new project that’s set to hit theaters as early as next summer. Can you tell us a bit about the film and what we can expect to see from you this time around?”
"Unfortunately, I can’t say much,” Sloan smiled apologetically, knowing she’d get in heaps of trouble for disclosing any details while production was still underway. “But I’m excited to introduce my fans to this new character I’m portraying. She’s nothing like the roles I’ve had in the past and I hope she touches their hearts just as much as she has mine. I know you’re all used to seeing me in romantic indie films and the like, but this one is going to be a real emotional and dramatic performance for me and I’m honored to be part of such a brilliant storyline. I can’t wait to see it come to life.”
“That’s amazing!" He exclaimed. "It sounds like maybe this could be your year to take home an award, what do you think?”
With a small chuckle, Sloan suddenly grew bashful as she hid her face behind her hands, while the crowd cooed and awaited her answer. Truth be told, her anxiety crept up on her like a shadow in the night from his question, but within a second, she managed to ground herself and slip her mask back on before addressing his words.
“Well, it’s like the famous painter Van Gogh once stated: I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream. In that same aspect, I don’t know what the future holds for me or if I’ll ever take home an Oscar. All I can say is that I’ve been dreaming of it ever since I was a little girl sitting in my father's director chair, and that drives me to be the best that I can be. We’ll see if that’s good enough.”
“Ah, Miss Hudson, just as humble as ever, huh?” Jimmy smiled at her. He then turned to face the camera. “When we come back we’ll talk more with Sloan and even play a few games with her that are favorites on the show! I’m sure all of you watching at home don’t want to miss it. So, stay tuned and we’ll be back after a quick commercial break.”
On the way out of the studio, lights flashed and shouts erupted as Sloan and her security team rushed through the crowd of paparazzi, journalists, and fans. Quickly they made their way over to the limousine waiting for her in front of the building, but not before being stopped by a woman with a microphone blocking their path.
“Sloan! Is it true you’re dating your costar, Colton Davis!? Are you engaged to him?? Where is he, and why isn’t he here with you!?”
“Who said he’s not here?” A male’s voice cut in, as the dirty-blond himself emerged from the limo and threw an arm around Sloan’s waist. She had to force herself not to cringe away from his touch as his hand lingered far more downward than she’d liked. “I’m always supporting my girl from the sidelines. Isn’t that right, babe?” He turned to her, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips knowing the press would have a field day with it.
But just as his chapped lips neared her freshly glossed ones, she moved her head so that they met her cheek instead. It was an act of nonchalance executed so perfectly and ritualistically, that no one seemed to notice. They never did, and it was one of the few reasons that made having a PR boyfriend manageable. As long as they were seen out and about together, that was all that mattered. The nonexistent kisses and intimacy could happen behind closed doors and away from the public’s knowledge.
Sloan ignored the rest of the questions thrown at her and blew a kiss to her fans before entering the vehicle, where she finally let out the breath she had been holding in since pulling up to the studio just hours ago. Moments like these were when she was thankful for whoever invented tinted windows, or in her case, the acting shields that allowed her to remove her mask completely without the worry of being seen. It was there that she could let her guard down and wipe away the thick layers of makeup caked on her face consisting of nothing but fake smiles and faux happiness.
She looked over to her manager, Vera, who was currently having what looked to be a serious conversation on the phone. The older woman spared a couple of glances her way, a mixture of worry and skepticism clouding her features, but Sloan couldn’t seem to find enough energy in herself to care. It was probably a modeling gig or another interview that fell through.
Cancellations and rain checks were like the end of the world to Vera, but to her, they were the calm between each passing storm. Moments where she could finally rest and step away from the limelight to have a day or week to herself.
Outside the car, she watched Colton wrap up his goodbyes. His proud demeanor and love for himself amused her to the point where she let out a dry laugh. The people out there didn’t care about him at all, and she knew that. They were all there for her and the only reason they gave him the time of day was so they could find out more information about her life. However, he was too blinded by his new rise in fame to see that.
Deep down, she couldn’t blame him though. When her career first set off, she too enjoyed the love and attention, but over the years she soon recognized it all for what it truly was:
Misconception.
With a roll of her eyes, she sat back in the leather seat and pulled her iPod out of her bag. Within seconds, “Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want” by The Smiths flowed through the earbuds she had placed in her ears. Listening to music was her usual way of grounding herself before getting into character, and knowing she was due on set within the hour, she figured the car ride there would be her only time to do so.
The song choice was deliberate, not only because The Smiths were one of her favorite bands, but also because the lyrics resonated with her in more ways than she knew how to explain. As a celebrity, you’d think she had access to everything she ever wanted. Truthfully, however, that was far from the case. There were many things she wasn’t allowed to have, and those specific things just happened to be what her heart desired most in the world.
“Sloan,” Vera called for her attention, having hung up the phone. “Don’t think I didn’t see that kiss with Cole. If you could even call it that.” She muttered the last part. “Remember what we talked about? You need to sell this relationship to get more publicity, and that won’t happen when you’re giving him the cold shoulder right in front of the cameras.”
“I still don’t see why I need a fake relationship.” She muttered. “I mean, I’m literally in the middle of filming a new movie. Isn’t that enough to warrant publicity?”
“That’s what showbiz is all about, you can’t rely on one single project to keep you trending, you know that. Besides, your fans don’t know anything about this movie aside from the cast. There’s not much keeping their attention. This relationship, however, is the key.” Vera exclaimed. “Haven’t you checked your socials? You and Colton are the hottest new couple, everyone and their mom is shipping you two.”
“I just don’t understand why it had to be him.” She mumbled in reply, looking out the window and watching him take a few photos with fans.
“Look,” Her manager sighed. “I know you’re still upset about our talk last week, but this is for the best. What you were asking me could’ve put you at risk for so much backlash and negativity. You’d lose hundreds if not thousands of supporters and that’s not what’s going to skyrocket your career, Sloan. What the people want from you is to see your face plastered on skincare ads telling them the secret to beauty, or on movie posters for upcoming blockbuster hits. I mean, you’re America’s Sweetheart for a reason. The public loves you, just as you are now. Why change that?”
“Seriously?” Sloan asked in disbelief. “Vera, this is just the kind of thing that could tell me who my true supporters are! I don’t care about the fake fans or what people think of me. People constantly come into my life just to end up taking advantage of me or using me for their own gain anyway and I’m so tired of it. For once, I just want someone to love me for who I am, not some false image that you or anybody else is forcing me to be. Why don’t you get that?”
“Because it’s ridiculous,” Vera answered simply. “We’ve worked too hard to get you where you are in this industry, and I won’t have you throwing it all to waste over some happily ever after fantasy that isn’t necessary when people literally throw themselves at you every day.”
With a scoff, Sloan put her earbuds back in. “You know, contrary to what you may believe, having people constantly throw themselves at you or want something from you doesn’t feel as good as you think it does. It makes trusting people impossible.”
“Sloan, come on–”
“No, Vera.” She cut her off. “I’m done with this conversation. If you want me to keep acting like someone I’m not then I’ll do just that. Luckily, for you, I know how to put on a good show.”
With that, she turned the volume on her iPod up to drown out any other remarks Vera threw at her. That, and also to distract herself from the overwhelming thoughts constantly plaguing her about life and adulation. It was all becoming too much, and Sloan just wanted to remember the passion she once felt for acting again. Lately, it felt like she was putting on this never-ending show for the world and she hated it. She felt used, empty, and hopeless. If she knew pursuing her dreams would end up making her sign her life away, she would have chosen a different route. At least then she would know who she was, because nowadays she felt her true self slipping away from her with each passing day, and it was starting to take its toll.
“Agent Hotchner,” The lead detective, Owen Kim, shook his hand. “I can’t thank you and your team enough for coming all this way to help us out.”
“Of course,” Hotch replied, before turning and introducing his team. “These are Agents Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss, Jareau, and Dr. Reid. Our technical analyst Penelope Garica will also be here this evening to help assist. Where are we so far in finding Kayla Shafer?”
“Well she’s now classified as a missing person, so we have her face plastered on the news and her family has orchestrated a search party of their own.” He answered, solemnly. “We’re doing everything we can but I’m afraid we don’t have much to work on. My officers are heading down to the bus stop area in a few minutes though to see if we can find any working surveillance cameras along the route we think she would normally walk.”
“Great. I’ll have my team set up in the conference room and we’ll go from there.” Hotch spoke formally, watching Detective Kim nod and walk off before JJ slipped into his sight next.
“So, how are we going to approach this?” She asked, quietly, knowing they had to be careful with letting more details about the case reach the media with a celebrity possibly being involved.
Hotch sighed as he looked around the precinct, discreetly. “If Garcia was able to connect the pieces from being a fan of Miss Hudson, sooner or later other fans will too. Our priority right now is to work the case like normal until we hear back from her management team. Until then, I want you to call Garcia and work on putting together a list of all of Sloan’s past roles in chronological order so we have a map to base off of. Hopefully, we’ll learn who the unsub’s next targets might be.”
“Got it.” She gave him a quick nod, before stepping aside to make the call.
Once the rest of the team finished setting up, they equally dispersed in pairs to take care of the respective tasks given to them on the jet. Rossi and Reid headed over to the morgue to examine the other bodies while Prentiss and Morgan followed the LAPD officers to the diner where Kayla worked.
Immediately after walking in, they were hit with the fresh smell of burgers and fries wafting through the air as the bustling breakfast hours quickly turned into lunchtime for many customers. Waiters and waitresses scurried about, taking orders and wiping down counters left and right. Derek just managed to move away from a serving tray filled with plates of food coming his way as the family in the booth next to them got served their meals.
“Looks like we came at the worst possible time’,” He commented, removing his sunglasses and trying to look for someone in charge. Or at least, someone who wasn’t too busy enough to talk with them.
“There’s something so nostalgic about vintage diners.” Emily looked around in awe. “During my college years, I worked at one just like this so I could pay for my apartment. There was a jukebox and everything.”
Derek smirked, “And how’d that work out for you?”
“It sucked.” She dry-panned. “But it did give me a whole new level of respect for waitresses.” She added, just as a woman with ginger hair walked up to them.
“Table for two?” She asked, already picking up menus.
“Oh, no ma'am.” Emily politely declined, as she and Derek held up their badges. “We’re actually with the FBI, here to talk about Kayla Schafer. Did you happen to be working with her the night she went missing?”
“Yeah, we were on the same shift.” The girl answered, whose name tag was revealed to be Julie. “But it's like I told those other cops when they came asking this morning, I clocked out early for my hair appointment so I wasn’t here during closing hours. I don’t know if she left with anyone or not.”
“That’s okay,” Emily assured her. “We’re more interested in the hours you two worked together. Do you remember if there was anyone suspicious hanging around either without ordering anything or maybe even after paying?”
“Perhaps all they ordered was coffee, but they still stuck around for hours anyhow,” Derek added.
“I’m sorry, I don’t.” She shook her head. “As you can see, it gets pretty busy in here. Most days I’m so occupied with running back and forth between tables and the kitchen that my mind is elsewhere. I don’t focus too much on who’s ordering what, you know?”
“I understand.” Emily nodded.
“I really wish I could help, but I have to get back to work,” Julie explained, before reaching into the pocket of her apron. “Here, this was Kayla’s notepad she used to take orders. It might not be much help either but if you’re looking for odd customers maybe there’s something in it you can find. Kayla hasn’t been working here for too long and after an incident that occurred her first day, she’d often make notes about customer appearances to help her remember who ordered what.”
“Thank you.” Derek accepted the small notebook. “Can you tell us more about this incident?”
“Oh, it wasn’t anything major.” She dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “Some woman complained that her food wasn’t right and made a big fuss. Just the normal slip-up with orders. Even the most seasoned of us workers still have those days. I don’t remember it much but if she came back after that day, Kayla’s got it jotted down somewhere in that book.”
“Alright, thank you. We’ll let you get back to work.” Emily replied, nodding before she and Derek walked out into the parking lot.
“You think this has something in it?” Derek asked, flipping quickly through the pages to see quick scribbles of dates, food orders, and vague customer descriptions.
“I’m not sure,” Emily answered honestly. “We’ll let Reid take a look at it though. He’ll be able to read it faster than any of us and point out specific characteristics in the handwriting.”
After Derek agreed, the two of them entered the SUV and drove back to the precinct. Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Rossi and Reid were in the middle of examining the bodies of Jessica Dunnings, Rina Mendes, and Sofia Lombardi.
“The toxicology reports indicated that various traces of poison were found in each of the victims,” Spencer recalled, his hands gloved up as he leaned closer to Rina’s body. “Have you found out what they are yet?”
The M.E. in charge nodded, picking up his clipboard and reading the report. “We found white powdery residue in each of their nasal passageways which the lab identified as cyanide salt, so we believe they inhaled some sort of potassium cyanide prior to their deaths.”
“Most likely how our unsub abducts them,” Rossi noted, standing over the body as well. “They become dizzy, confused, and end up unconscious right there at the scene. Blitz attack.”
“Initially that was all we had discovered,” The examiner continued. “But after closer inspection, we found neurotoxins in the flesh of their hands consistent with aconite and mesaconitine as well.”
“Aconite and mesaconitine,” Spencer repeated, deep in thought as he lifted Rina’s lifeless hands to observe her palms. “The flowers each victim was holding when they were found were purple. I couldn’t get a decent look at the shape of the petals in the files but now after learning that I’m almost certain that it was Aconitum. Also known as wolfsbane.”
“You’d be correct.” He replied, handing Rossi the full report. “Each of them had signs of respiratory distress, which can happen when the neurotoxins of the plant absorb through the skin. It’s why in the crime scene photos there was no blood around the stab wounds. Cardiac arrest is what caused their deaths, the stabbing was inflicted post-mortem.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Rossi frowned. “How did the unsub have time to do all this at the disposal site? And what reason did they keep each girl for when there are no signs of torture or assault?”
“That’s another thing,” He went on. “When I checked for defensive wounds, I noticed that all three bodies had their nails neatly trimmed, and their hair was freshly washed. Not only that but their torsos had markings embedded in the skin from around their waist and up towards the chest region. Most likely from a corset or restraint of some sort.”
That piece of news instantly made the two agents look at each other knowingly. Perhaps their original theory of the case relating to Snow White might not be as far off as they thought.
Once the team regrouped at the station and exchanged all of the new information they discovered, by that time Garcia was able to get in contact with Sloan’s management team. Unfortunately, they only had a small window to meet with Vera, but hopefully, it would give them enough time to convince her that Sloan needed to up her security and answer some questions that they had.
To keep things hush, only Hotch, Prentiss, and Morgan went to meet with her, while JJ drove to LAX to pick up Garcia (who was bummed out she wouldn’t be meeting Sloan herself). Spencer, on the other hand, stayed back to look through Kayla’s notebook with Rossi assisting him.
“Always a first for everything,” Emily spoke up, as the three of them pulled into the Hollywood lot location where filming was currently underway. Trailers were set up in rows all around, and crew members roamed about with several large pieces of equipment and props, making it hard for them to find a parking space.
Hotch furrowed his eyebrows as he scanned the lot, “Vera said to meet her in trailer seven, does anyone see it?”
“Over there,” Derek pointed out, motioning to the right.
Hotch nodded and maneuvered the car over in that direction. Finally, after finding an open spot, the three agents stepped out into the blazing heat of Los Angeles and walked over to the trailer.
“I want you two to scope out the trailer as I talk to Vera.” Hotch directed them as they neared the entryway. “Look for any signs of fanmail lying about or over-the-top gifts. If our unsub truly is obsessed with Ms. Hudson they no doubt attempted to contact her more than once.”
“How do we know for sure it isn’t Sloan herself committing these murders?” Derek wondered aloud. “I mean, we agreed that the crime scene photos depicted to be the clean work of a female. It wouldn’t be our first celebrity unsub case like that either. Remember Jonny McHale, the comic-book artist?”
“Let me stop you right there.” A new voice cut into their conversation, making each of them turn their heads.
An older blonde woman stood behind them with her arms crossed, looking at them with a mixture of impatience and skepticism laced in her features.
“Sloan has been working endlessly on this new movie, and in between set hours and resting she has had other bookings to attend to where she’s constantly followed by fans and paparazzi. That girl wouldn’t have time to kill anybody even if she wanted to.” Vera argued, defensively. “Now, I took the time out of my busy day to talk with you agents but I will not stand here and allow you to accuse her of murder. I’m sure you’d run right to the press with it and have it be the headliner for tomorrow’s paper.”
“My apologies, Ma’am,” Derek replied. “I’m just trying to make sure all possibilities are covered.”
The woman scoffed but said nothing as she quickly opened the trailer door and ushered them in before they were seen. After closing the door, she led them to the small living space at the end of the trailer and sat down on one of the cushioned chairs motioning for Hotch to sit on the adjacent one.
“You guys have 20 minutes before the cast is dismissed for the day,” Vera sighed, as she texted away on her cell phone. “What’s this about a bunch of killings related to Sloan?”
Emily fought the urge to roll her eyes at her blatant nonchalance, as Hotch introduced everyone and started diving into the case findings with her. She and Derek, however, took that as their cue to wander around the place looking for clues.
There wasn’t much to the eye besides the luxurious furniture and interior design elements. Still, Emily’s eyes landed on what looked to be a black notebook or journal sitting on the small table in the dinette. It was bound in leather and had gold letters imprinted on the cover that spelled out “HUDSON” in cursive. Inside the journal, she saw a white envelope poking out and wondered if it was fanmail or something more personal.
Though curiosity tempted her to read it, she ultimately decided to leave it be and ask questions later, not wanting to leave a bad impression if Vera had caught her snooping. However, when she averted her gaze over to the counter across the way, what she saw next certainly piqued her interest even more. A fresh bouquet of purple flowers rested in a vase by the sink, with the gifting tag still attached to it.
At the sight, Emily walked over and picked up the tag with her glove, but unfortunately, no name was listed. It was completely blank. She was about to call out to Vera and ask if she knew who delivered them but before she could, the trailer door creaked open, and Sloan herself emerged from outside with a look of surprise.
Emily’s breath nearly caught in her throat when she locked eyes with the young actress standing just a few feet away. Instantly, she was hit with flashbacks from the night before when she was watching one of Sloan’s movies with JJ and Garcia. Yet, Emily couldn’t remember a single scene that did the girl justice in terms of her beauty and physical essence. For one thing, her eyes seemed much more warm and vibrant in person. Whatever filters and color editing were added in the film completely dimmed the natural glow radiating behind her false lashes. She could only describe them as golden pools of honey hypnotizing her in the very spot she stood. Unable to look away, all she could do was stare in a trance as Sloan studied her back with furrowed eyebrows.
Though her presence was quite alluring, Emily was soon brought back to reality by the repellent attitude in Sloan’s voice as she slammed the trailer door closed behind her.
“Who the hell are you?”
A/N: hope you liked this chapter! drop a comment and let me know your thoughts if you enjoyed :) also let me know if you want to be tagged whenever a new chapter is posted! thanks for reading <3
#emily prentiss x fem!oc#emily prentiss fic#emily prentiss x oc#emily prentiss fanfiction#ssa emily prentiss#criminal minds fic#the show must go on 🎬#ssa-sapph-fics 📖#show: criminal minds
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reading through my old messages and vents is always a rollercoaster
some of my takeaways so far:
1. i can be proud on some counts cause in many cases i've grown or gotten better. some of my messages/vents were from very specific situations that i had either forgotten about or gotten closure to and it's weird to see?? these things that affected me daily are now just memories.
for instance the first time i got creeped on (not counting cat calls) was at work and we called the cops and stuff cause i was maybe 15?? and that really affected me and i mean i still think about it but i was a lot more paranoid back then and it was fresh yk. And im still wary now but it's not as present in my mind as it was.
another thing is how i would often be upset at myself for being lazy and having a hard time focusing and not being able to do schoolwork and burning out. and i would wonder what was wrong with me (poor little me). and now i know ! adhd! lol. my mom was confused about why i was happy to get my diagnosis when i did but for years i had been thinking that i just wasnt doing enough or trying hard enough when i didnt realize it was literally how my brain was wired. ( this was actually a very common theme in my vents thank you diagnosis)
2. sometimes i see replies from old friends and im like man. we used to be these daily presences in each others lives and really close and now we dont even speak or had falling outs. spooky???
3. i see how I myself used to type/speak too and it's weird . i am practically a different person now. the amount i feel like ive changed in the past few years alone is like . exponential compared to before. meeting new people, losing people, losing family, discovering new interests, discovering and accepting more about myself???? actually socializing lol.
4. also just some of my issues were CRAZY ??/ how did i forget that i was working 10 hour shifts back during covid. 6-4 . and then i had to go home and do school ( i couldnt focus at work). omg that was just awful how did i do that
5. whenever i look back at old stuff i am even more grateful for the friends i have now. i had friends at the time but a lot of them weren't very close as the friends i have now or the relationships weren't as healthy as they shouldve been. i often felt incredibly lonely and i can say for sure i have not felt like that in a while (at least not for long periods of time, ive probably had bad days like everyone). maybe some parts of my life now sorta suck but i haven't hated it as much because i have good people supporting me and a lot of close friends who make life well worth living. i could write about how much i love my friends for hours probably
6. omg i remember when some of my big problems were my crushes on boys . THEY WERE ONLINE CRUSHES TOO. you dont understand im actually so embarrassed for myself for like 80-90% of my past real crushes (i am not counting what i thought were crushes but i realize was just admiration or squishes/friend crushes) some people go for looks. some go for personality. somehow, 14-16 year old me chose neither. theres only one of those past crushes that i still keep in touch with and i will say he is chill and we are friends and i am not as embarrassed over that one since he wasnt a sucky person. but like i definitely liked this one guy who was not good for my mental health hahahahha woops. there were more recent embarrassing experiences for me but theyre too fresh i cant laugh at them yet without cringing
7. you know this isnt as related to the old stuff but im writing all this while once again basically forgetting i was kind of a mess earlier this year too. thank you bad memory but let me rewrite my mental history. i am only thinking about the good things this year .
Anyways i dont know why i even wrote this theres no target audience that this applies to i think i just got really bored
#qwlyapsalot#oh boy she's oversharing on the internet again#i love my friends#if you read all of this... why???? i mean . good on you and i love you for it but why???#okay enough feeling proud of myself for how far ive come. time to touch grass (eat dinner)
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CONSISTENCY When I met Susy, my daily journal was only a year old, and I was twenty-one. I was already certain that I'd never stop – but finding someone who really cared gave it a whole lot more meaning. Some are sure that every artist who creates with all their heart will find an audience. But overnight successes are just as rare as lifelong failures are common, and I was a long way coming to find eyes and ears on my side. 95% of the folks who follow my vicarious adventures came along quite recently. I was ten years in with just a few hundred regular faces, a decade down the line, still feeling like I'd never make a living where I'm most alive. Susy kept me going. She was the one unshakable force of hope, the positive person not apt to shrug her shoulders and offer giving up as a good option. Nothing I was chasing seemed so hard next to her struggles. She'd clawed up after a childhood emigration from Cuba, a hip replacement in her twenties, and a gauntlet of post-secondary education to a career as an ultrasound tech. Susy was someone to live up to, keeping me working every single day of my life, and pushing through those long and lonely nights. Every artist has a crisis of belief that's always ongoing, hoping that people will care when the time comes. Consistency of love is a gift I've got, and one I try to return. It's why you always find me saying how grateful I am. But the realist in me never forgets how certainty is hard to come by. This keeps coming back to the age-old concept of patrons. Throughout the history of modern society, artists have survived at the whim of those who love them most. Currently, there are around fifty people who've helped to provide a support that I can count on. I'm here for you daily, with all of my heart, all of the time. For as little as pocket change, I hope that you'll consider being here for me on Patreon each month. Hold fast.
www.patreon.com/steveskafte September 15, 2023 Margaretsville, Nova Scotia Year 16, Day 5787 of my daily journal.
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Happy Birthday Indeed
Plot: Band mate! Y/N’s birthday during LOT
Authors Notes: I was looking through Pinterest for some photos to use for my Instagram concepts and I came across a photo of Harry in the champagne coloured suit and… well this happened. I hope you enjoy it, if you do please consider reblogging :) this is my first Harry piece in a long time so please be nice - L x
Warnings: pure filth basically… enjoy
Every single show she played felt like the most extraordinary and other-worldly experience. She felt extremely lucky that her good friend and long time crush had invited her to join him on tour. They had first met when one direction had initially split, Harry was looking for a band of his own, to support him on his solo tour. A friend of a friend had recommended her, she was multitalented: an amazing singer, a sick drummer and an even sicker pianist. The two met, alongside his manager, she explained that although she did play drums, piano was her forte, she also explained (prior to their initial meeting) that her schedule for that year was a little blurry, she wasn’t 100% sure she would even be able to join him on his first tour. He still begged her to play for him, so she did.
Harry listened to her play piano and then drums and was blown away by both. He explained that they unfortunately had already filled the position of pianist (although Harry thought y/n was far better, contracts had already been signed). To cut a long story short, the position was offered but due to bad timings with her university degree, y/n was unable to accept (a decision she still regrets to this day). Y/N gave Harry the contact details for her best friend: Sarah and the rest is history.
Until the position of pianist opened up again for this tour: Harry called her before he even discussed things with Jeff. The two had grown closer and closer over the years, she finished uni and was invited to join them on tour whenever she got the chance. The pair soon became good friends and Y/n began helping Harry with all sorts: she dabbled in helping him write lyrics, come up with melodies and even recorded some demos with the star.
She blew him away every chance she got and to say she had him hooked was an understatement. She was beyond excited to be joining him on tour, which leads us to now.
There she was on stage, her fingers playing the last notes of “As It Was”, the crowd erupted with screams and she could see Harry’s face light up, she smiled alongside him. She turned to Sarah and she smiled widely at her too, with a slight mischievous smirk on her face, making y/n question what she was smirking about.
Her eyes found Harry’s again and she found him already looking at her, the fans began to scream again, some questioning why Harry was staring.
“Before we start the next song, I would like to say a few words” Harry said, looking away from her.
“Today is someone very specials birthday” he said making the crowd “oooo” as he turned to face her.
“Crap” she said, not loud enough to be heard. Harry read her lips and chuckled to himself.
“This wonderful lady right here” Harry began, gesturing to her, making her blush, especially when a spotlight was placed over her.
“Has saved my arse more times than I can count. No only did she introduce me to our wonderful drummer: Sarah!” He continues making everyone cheer.
“She has helped me with some of the songs you hear today” he said, sharing some information that the fans maybe didn’t know.
“She also stepped in last minute for this tour and I will forever be grateful to her for that” he says, his hands coming together, resting under his chin as he bowed his head slightly and thanked her. She smiled widely at him.
“She is not only one of the most talented people I know, she is undoubtedly kind in a world that isn’t always so. She is a brave, beautiful soul and every single person on this tour is lucky to have her” he says, facing the audience until the last second to look her deep in the eyes.
“Especially me. I love you, we love you!” He says walking towards her.
“Happy birthday darling” he says, stepping up to her level of the stage and meeting her in a hug. The audience coo and whistle.
She hears the band and Harry start to sing as someone backstage begins to bring a cake towards her. The fans begin to join in and tears fill her eyes. Harry doesn’t let go of her, one arm still holding her tightly against him as he sings, only loosening when the cake is placed in front of her.
“Make a wish sweetheart” he says, only so she can hear.
“I don’t need to, I have everything I want right here” she says, gesturing towards him and the band and his fans too.
“Go on, make a wish, for me” he says, and his words hit her in a way she didn’t expect. That is the only thing she could possibly wish for that would make this situation even better.
“I wish for you” she thinks to herself. She wants him, she wishes she had him, in more ways than just a friend.
She blows the candles out and to her upset, Harry let’s go, but not before squeezing her tightly once more, she feels a kiss land on her head before he leaves and returns to his spot. The spotlight moves back to him and the show continues as normal.
She’s more smiley than usual throughout the show, just being so content and unbelievably happy to be there. Harry’s fans were screaming for her as well as him and it was baffling to her.
He kept gravitating towards her, singing words directly to her. He also was throwing her compliments throughout the night.
“Isn’t she amazing?” He kept saying to the fans making them scream and making Sarah and Mitch wink at you, to which she either rolled your eyes or laughed at them, shrugging it off.
The last song was played and adrenaline was running high, she stood up to bow. Harry found a place next to her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders, he placed a kiss on the side of her head, which again made all the fans scream.
“Wait for me yeah?” He said and she nodded. Sarah and Mitch found each other’s hands and walked off stage together. The rest of the band left too, but she waited at the side stage, just like he asked. She spotted some fans that could see her taking pictures but she simply smiled or waved at them. Harry did his bows and his kisses and then ran off towards her.
He found her and took his hand in his, the both of them began running the route around the arena that took them to backstage. Jeff and a person from security followed.
“You were amazing H” she said and he smiled at her as he ran.
“As were you darling, truly” he said. No other words were exchanged until they were backstage. Harry paused outside his dressing room, she wondered why but didn’t question it. He waited for Jeff and security to walk past and join the others before he opened the door and pulled her inside.
He closed the door behind her, lightly pushing her against it, making her breath bitch. His hand was placed above her head and although she couldn’t see him, she felt him looking at her, smiling.
“I’ve wanted to do this for the longest time y/n” he whispers “will you please let me kiss you: a birthday present” he says and she smiles. Maybe wishes do come true.
“I’d love that H” she feels him lean forwards more, their lips graze and she sighs. His strong hand comes to cup her face and she feels him smile against her lips. A knock on the door interrupts them and Harry all but groans, taking a step back, bringing y/n with him as he opens the door. The light that comes in snaps her out of her trance and she sighs again, this time in disappointment. However, Harry’s hand finds her back and rubs lightly, letting her know that he’s sorry.
Jeff stands there, a look of shame on his face. He knows Harry has wanted to make a move for years now but ultimately chickened out, so he feels unbelievably guilty for breaking it up.
“Um- sorry guys, everyone was asking for the birthday girl, we’re thinking of going out to celebrate, how does that sound?” He asks awkwardly and the couple smile and nod.
“Sounds great Jeff, thank you” she says and then he looks to Harry.
“Good idea mate, promise you’ll have her in a minute, just give us a second yeah?” He says and jeff nods before scurrying off quickly.
The door is left opened but they both turn to each other and smile.
“Sorry about that” he says, awkwardly itching the back of his head, he’s not entirely sure if the moment has passed or not.
“It’s okay H really” she says, smiling up at him. Their eyes lock and he has a “fuck it” moment.
“Come here” he says, his own smile resting on his lips as he grasps her jaw in his hand, pulling her gently to him, their lips moulding against each other. They both let out a sigh as their lips finally meet. It’s a soft and sweet kiss, perfect for their first and she wishes against all odds that it’s not the last.
His lips are soft and he tastes like mint but also like him. She can’t fully explain it but his taste is undoubtedly him. He holds her tighter against him, quickly pausing before pressing his lips against hers again, firmer this time, his lips capturing her bottom lip. She leans into it, his strong embrace lifting her slightly.
“Happy birthday sunshine” he says as he pulls away. She doesn’t reply, simply pecks at his lips again, not being able to get enough, her feet touch the ground again and she feels like she’s back on earth again, a little more with it and grounded.
——————————————————————————
The night continues at a club they found, Jeff had invited lots of people, all whom were close to Y/n and/or Harry. Harry hadn’t bothered to change, still adorning his champagne suit, the tuxedo of which only had three buttons and revealed most of his chest, covering all but the top of his butterfly tattoo.
Harry Lambert had managed to find y/n something more fitting for the birthday girl, a champagne dress which matched Harry perfectly.
They took up most of VIP section, people buying her drink after drink. Harry had pulled her into his lap the moment they had sat down and to their surprise no body reacted, even when he had placed a daring kiss to the corner of her mouth, surprising her more than anyone else. That was the only real time they had got to spend with each other.
She wandered between the booth and the dance floor. She felt like she was being pulled left right and centre, anybody and everybody, Harry was happy to see it at first but slowly started to feel impatient and jealous. He knew tonight was about her but he also wanted nothing but to have her all to himself.
He found her again after what felt like an eternity, she smiled a goofy smile when she found him, she grabbed onto his shoulders and he giggled at her, she was being handsy not that he minded. He had been keeping a close eye on her throughout the night and one thing he realised that she wasnt drinking many of the drinks that had been handed to her, choosing to pawn them off on somebody else. He had wondered why but didn’t question it, little did he know, it was because she was hoping more would happen between then and she wanted to be at least mostly sober for it, the same reason he hadn’t drunk much either.
“Hi sweetheart” he said, wrapping his arms around her and placing a kiss atop her head. She took a step back so she could look at him. He looked so good, he always looked good but tonight… well he looked divine, simply ravenous.
“Feel like I haven’t really got to see the birthday girl much” he said and she giggled, he knew she wasn’t drunk, not even nearly tipsy, she was just happy and excited to be there with everyone, high from all the attention.
“What do you want to see Harry?” She joked making a suggestive comment that had him laughing too, pulling her back to his chest and pressing another kiss to her head. Harry decided to bite, trying get a reaction out of her.
“More than you know my love” he mumbled against her hair, their chests were flush against each other and he could feel her heart beat pick up on her chest.
She pulled back again “take me somewhere?” She asks and she sees Harry gulp heavily, making her smirk up at him. He quickly took her hand, leading her away from everyone, leading her into a private toilet. Everyone was a bit too far gone to realise either would be missing.
Harry pressed her against the door again, just like earlier and her hand twisted the lock until it clicked. Her hand then found it’s way up the fabric of his shirt, slipping past the open buttons, resting against his bare chest.
“Can feel your heart beating” she states as he looks down at her. She feels her eyes watering at the way he’s looking at her: as if she’s the only one for him, like she was made for him.
“Do you know how lucky I am to have you sweet?” He asks and she shakes her head.
“So unbelievably lucky” he says, leaning down to peck her lips, the first time since earlier that they shared another kiss.
“Kiss me properly Styles” she commands.
“As the birthday girl wishes” he says and it makes her giggle like a school girl. Their lips meet again, this time in a much steamer kiss than the ones previously shared. His lips massage hers, moulding against each other perfectly as if they had done it a hundred times over. His tongue grazes over her bottom lip, as if begging her to just open up for him. She does, of course she does, he thinks, she’s an angel he thinks.
Their tongues meet in a passionate battle which has the both of them gasping. Nothing had ever felt more perfect yet so natural. He pulls her closer to him, if possible. There’s no room left between them as their lips continue moving against each other.
“I’ve wanted this for so long, you have no idea” he says, his lips moving to her neck.
“I think I have some idea H” she says and of course she does because she’s wanted this just as long.
“Wait a second” he says pulling back from her, she frowns slightly as he continues to step back, his mouth agape, the only part of them that is touching now is their fingers.
“Wait a second” he says again.
“What H?”
“You’ve been wearing this the whole time? How did I not realise” he says, leading their hands above their heads and spinning them. The fabric of her dress catches in the light and sparkles.
She finds her self smirking at the effect she has on him.
“Wow Y/N” he says “how did I not realise sooner?” He asks himself again.
“This old thing?” She jokes and he pulls her against him again. This time away from the door.
“You are stunning Y/n. Completely ethereal” he says and the word choice stuns her. She spins them round and pushes her hands against his chest, this time pinning him against the door. He doesn’t even resist and continues to stare, mouth agape from the distance she’s now created. He’s about to complain about the distance before she closes it, hands still on his chest.
“Ethereal?” She questions and he nods simply.
“Oh yeah love. Ethereal” he confirms and she giggles. She leans forward and just when he thinks she’s above to place her lips back on his, her lips are placed against his chest, just above his heart, her hands that were there previously move downwards, gliding against his torso until they reach the buttons, she undoes them slowly, eyes trained on his as she reveals the rest of his butterfly tattoo.
“Hey hey hey. You’re the birthday girl” he says as her hands continue southward, he grabs them before she can continue her ministrations. She begins to pout and he chuckles at the look.
“Such a pouty baby” he says in a baby voice, lips brushing against hers as he speaks.
“What if the birthday girl doesn’t want to stop” she says as he lets go of her hands, them finding there was back to his stomach. Their darkened eyes meet and: as if someone switched a flip, he has her in his arms again, spinning her so her back is to the door again, he grabs her thigh and pulls it up harshly, coming to stand in between her legs, slotting himself against her now exposed centre.
Their lips roughly fight against one another and their hands explore every bit of skin they can find. One of his hand is squeezing her thigh as the other holds her in place by the opposite hip. Their grunts and moans and sighs fill the room, so thankful for the loud music playing the other side of the door. His hands tug at the top of her dress, pulling it down slightly, revealing her breast, his mouth envelopes her nipple as his hand grasps the surrounding flesh, she moans against him, swearing and gasping.
His lips move to her neck and he almost begins marking her.
“Careful Harry. Wouldn’t want your fans speculating about that now would we?” She teases.
“Fuck it” he mumbles, lips and tongues meeting again.
She rolls her hips forward against him and they both groan at the feeling.
“Fuck y/n” he says, his cock straining painfully against his trousers, pulsing against her covered centre. The both of them know this isn’t how they want their first time to be but Harry is insistent on giving her a gift.
“Let me please you” he says, his hand sliding inwards from her thigh, she keeps it wrapped around him as his fingertips graze her inner thigh. She shivers as he gets closer and closer to her entrance, he’s so close: so dangerously close. Her breathing is heavy as his finger tips graze her folds, just as he’s about to touch her centre, he stops. She tears her lips away from his and her eyes find his.
“Will you let me?” He asks and in the next second she’s nodding her head profusely, almost begging him to continue.
“Use your words love” he commands.
“Yes H, please” she says and his fingers pull down her underwear. The air meets her wet entrance and she gasps and so does he.
“Fuck you’re so wet” he says, fingers finally touching her, gathering her wetness so he can get a taste.
“All for you H” she says and he doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything so perfect. “Fuck” he mumbles. His fingertips move away from her making her whine, they slips past his lips and she moans at the sight.
“Mhmm. You taste so good! Let me taste you properly yeah? I want it.” He asks and she nods. He doesn’t indulge straight away, his now glistening fingers find their way back to her pulsing entrance again and she moans as he fondles her swollen clit.
“I need you H”
“Patience is a virtue my love” he evilly smirks. Shit she should’ve known this would happen, the man who speaks about edging on stage in front of millions of people has his fingers in between her thighs, what else did she expect.
“It’s my birthday H and I want you” she reminds him and he groans, lips smearing against hers suddenly as he dips a finger into her.
She moans as he eases a finger into her. He groans at how tight she is and he smiles against her lips.
“Everyone out there is probably wanting to spend time with the birthday girl” he continues as he slowly works her up on his finger.
“Meanwhile I’ve got her pinned up against the door with my fingers in her cunt” he utters the dirty words as he thrusts another finger into her pussy making her moan loudly and her thighs clench together.
“Yeah that’s it love” he says as he picks up his pace, curling his fingers at the end of every stroke, rubbing against her g-spot deliciously. No one had every managed to find it that quick, if they even found it at all.
“Fuck Harry” it’s the first time she’s moaned his name and it goes straight to his cock.
“Shit” he groans “fuck you’re so tight” he says and she continues to moan. Two fingers continue to pound into her as his thumb finds her clit.
“Oh- my- ugh- god H” she sighs, her head falls backwards against the door as he back starts to arch. He pulls out of her suddenly and she’s just about to complain when he drops to his knees. His hands hold the bottom of her dress up. She looks down at him and she swears she’s going to cum just from the sight alone. Her bottom lip is taken in by her teeth and she feels her core tightening at the sight of him on his knees for her, about to worship her. Harry licks his lips, eyes snapping away from hers to look at her glistening heat before they find their way back to hers again.
“Happy birthday love” he says again before his mouth lands on her, she gasps loudly. She had never felt anything like it before, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him despite the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her body. His skilled tongue massages her folds before it dips into her, curling upwards to reach that spot that his fingers had claimed only a few minutes before.
He switches between pushing the tip against her g-spot, sucking on her clit and toying with the bud with his tongue.
“Fuck H” she says, her hands grasping his hair tightly in her hands. The groan he lets out has her flinching against his tongue, the vibrations adding to the mix and nearly overstimulating her.
“Careful love” he says before he chuckles against her, sending the vibrations to her core again.
“Shit Harry” she moans again.
“Like that love?” He says cockily. All she can do is nod and squeeze his hair tighter in hopes he groans again. The tighter she pulls the harder he moans into her and she nearly screams at the staggering pleasure he’s bringing her.
She can tell he is loving it just as much as she is and that turns her on even more.
“Hold this my love” he mumbles against her, and his hands that are holding her dress find hers, the dress drops momentarily but she quickly finds it and holds it up, wanting to see his face.
He licks his glistening lips, and brings two fingers up towards her.
“Suck” he demands before returning to sucking her clit. He feels her pulse pick up at her centre.
His eyes find hers and her mouth is open in shock.
“I said. Suck.” He says, harsher this time and a split second she has her lips wrapped around his fingers, sucking them until they’re wet. They leave her mouth with a ‘pop’ and he brings then back down to her core. He thrusts them harshly inside her, making her moan loudly her head shooting backwards at erotic feeling it brings her.
His mouth works on her clit as his fingers thrust up into her, curling against her g-spot again.
“Harry, Harry, Harry” she chants, lost in everything that is him. He knows she’s close when she tries to escape him a little, he holds her against his mouth, applying more pressure against her sensitive bud.
She needs him closer, if it’s possible, she transfers the material of her dress into one hand the other finding its place in his hair again. She pushes against his head, sending him further into her
“I’m so close h” she moans. He moans into her again as she tugs his hair. He moans louder and louder the vibrations sending her into overdrive.
“Fuck Harry! FUCK!!” She screams. She feels herself reaching ecstasy when he slows his movements and she gasps, looking down to see him smirking up at her. Tears well in her eyes, not because she’s upset but because she’s never ever felt this good before.
“You little shit” she continues to moan, her orgasm being drawn out in the best way and he chuckles against her.
“Ohhh Harry” she moans and Harry swears it’s the most erotic moan he’s ever heard.
“Hold it for me my love” he says. His tongue makes slow, deep, sensual movements against her sensitive bud. He’s edging her beyond belief and her thighs are tightening around his head as her body continues to spasm. She knows this is the longest yet most amazing orgasm she has ever had and will ever have.
He drinks up everything she has to give him and he thrives off it, devouring her until her orgasm comes to an end. She feels like she’s on cloud nine and she gasps when he doesn’t stop his movements, sucks her clit until she feels herself cumming again.
“Fuck Harry I can’t” she says, her eyes finally closing as she feels the waves of pleasure pulling her under again.
“Yes you can my love. There you go” he says and he feels her clenching around his tongue as it dips inside her, he leaves the tip of it against her g-spot massaging it until he can feel her body go slack against the door.
He quickly leaves her wet centre, standing up to quickly get ahold of her body before she fully falls.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you” he says, placing gentle kisses against her cheeks and her eye lids.
All she can see is white, she’s in subspace but she can feel Harry holding her, and she can smell him.
“Hmm” she signs against him. She feels him lift her and place her somewhere, her bottom resting against something cold. The toilet they were in was spacious and had a leather couch, not that she remembered that in her current state.
Harry sits holds her, gently playing with her hair as she comes back to him. He sees her eyes flutter open a little while later, still blissfully dazed.
“Hi” she says, her voice spaced out still but sounding more like the y/n he knows.
“Hi” he says, chuckling. She leans forward and kisses him.
“That was… fuck that was heaven” she says and he blushes deeply.
“No wonder you wrote a song about that… Jesus” he chuckles and kisses her again, bringing her back to him slowly. She takes him in fully, the swollen glistening lips, the dishevelled hair, the unbuttoned shirt… the painfully hard erection that sits strained against his trousers.
“Harry” she purrs and his eyes darken: she utters one word and he feels like he’s about to combust.
“My god you’re fucking amazing” he replies. She pulls him to stand in front of her. She now realises she is sitting on the leather sofa. Harry follows her instruction and stands, her hands find the zipper of his trousers and he pauses her.
“Lovie you don’t have to” he says, grasping her chin in between his fingers.
“I want to H, really I do. It’s my birthday” she reminds him.
“Can’t use that for everything my love” he chuckles.
“Please” she pleads, her eyes giving him an innocent look despite begging to suck him off. He doesn’t speak but he sighs and that’s enough of a sign for her to continue her ministrations. Her hands make quick work of his zipper, tugging down his trousers and boxers in one quick movement.
Her mouth opens in a gasp as his member snaps against his abdomen. He lets out a sigh of relief, no longer confided by the tight fabric of his boxers.
“You’re huge H” she says in disbelief, she sees him twitch at her words. His fingers toys with her chin and his thumb makes it’s way into her mouth, her lips close around it, she sucks and moans around his digit and he groans at the feeling.
Her petite hand reaches up to him, lands on his abdomen before slowly, tantalising making it way to his member, her doe eyes never waver, staring into his soul as her small hand wraps around him. He gasps deeply, a deep groan escaping from his lips. Her hand runs along the full length of him and she moans, her lips snaps between her teeth and his thumb pulls it back out, tutting at her.
She starts slow, her hand grasping him, massaging him gently, his hard enough as it is already and she can feel him pulsing in her hand. He’s heavy and she moans at the realisation.
“What’s going on in that pretty little head huh?” He asks, thumb running along her jaw .
“You’re just so perfect H” she said before she finally took the tip of him in between her lips. The warmth of her mouth was heavenly, and the suck she delivered nearly had his heart pounding out of his chest. She was being a right tease, one harsh suck and then she held him there, batting her eyelids up at him.
He chuckled darkly and grabbed her by the hair. She was testing him, that much he knew. Her tongue played with his tip, pressing against his slit, precome coating her tongue. She showed him and he groaned loudly, throwing his head back to distract him. Otherwise he’d thrust into her mouth like no tomorrow, but for now he had to be nice.
“Patience is a virtue my love” she threw his words back at him and he looked down at her again.
“Oh you’re such a little shit” he said before she let him have it. She took him fully into her mouth, bobbing her head up and down his length at an unforgiving pace. His moans filled the room and he gripped onto her head, his eyes never looked away from hers and hers continued to flutter up at him.
“Oh fuck you’re perfect” he moaned. She held her mouth tightly against him, bringing her mouth all the way down his length until her lips rested against his pubic bone. He swore loudly at the sight, she didn’t falter, she didn’t gag, and he groaned loudly.
“Oh you’re my angel. Oh shit you’re my angel” she sucked him harshly before moving back to the tip of him, allowing herself some time to breathe. Her hand continued to move against him as she sucked his tip.
“Oh fuck I’m not going to last much longer honey” he said, throwing his head back. She saw his abs clench and she had to clench her thighs at the sight.
“Want you to come for me H” she said, her voice was like velvet and he had to stop himself from coming undone right then and there. She wrapped her lips around him again switching between bobbing up and down and hollowing out her cheeks. Her hands came to gently squeeze his balls and that was Harry done for.
“Pull off” he said just before his hips started to falter. She shook her head no and took him to the back of his throat. She pulled back quickly and the words she uttered next shocked him.
“Fuck my mouth” the dirty words were uttered and Harry didn’t give it a second thought before his hands were placed on the back of her head, leading her movements. She moaned against him and once against she had proven to him that she couldn’t be more perfect.
“Fuck y/n, god you are a gift” he grunted. His hips snapped, sending his cock further into her mouth.
“I’m going to come” he said and she moaned against him, he pulled back slightly, her lips now wrapped only around his tip, not wanting to make her gag as he came.
She could feel his cock twitch and he began to release his load into her mouth. Her hand found his at the back of her head and she pushed her hand against it, forcing her own head further along his cock. This only made him come harder, his hips shook and he came; hard.
“Oh fuck. Oh my god you’re perfect” he repeated the phrase he had said so many times this evening. He swallowed every last drop and pulled off him with a ‘pop’.
He helped her stand as pulled up his trousers, tucking himself back in.
“Happy birthday indeed” he said making the both of them chuckle. His thumb wiped at her mouth, cleaning off some of his juice that had managed to escape her mouth. She looked at his thumb and sucked it clean making him groan again, which made the both of them laugh.
“That was-“ he said “amazing” she finished.
“Will you let me take you on a date?” He asked and she nodded, smiling widely up at him. He leant down and kissed her sweetly.
He wanted nothing more to tell her that he loved her, he had loved her for so long. She knew just by the look in his eyes that he loved her and she loved him too; so much. She had for a long time, but that could wait to be said another day.
“Better get back to the party, birthday girl” he said smiling.
“Willing to share me now?” She said.
“Never” they laughed heavily at that. Returning to the room of people, not one of them noticing how long they pair had been missing.
It took two weeks before they were officially a couple. Harry continued to tour the world: with his girlfriend. Fans speculated that the two were together, longing looks on stage were exchanged, lingering touches and nothing but hints were thrown their way. The didn’t confirm nor deny it. They just basked in each other’s love, always.
#harry styles smut#harry styles instagram concept#harry styles social media au#harry styles imagine#harry styles drabble#harry styles dirty imagine#Harry styles#Harry styles x reader#harry styles x yn#harry styles filth
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and the winner is... ~ eminem
word count: 1784
request?: yes!
“hey, love your writing sm ❤️ I really like the concept where the reader is a young actress with Eminem, so can I request one where they go to Marshall’s award show for the first time publicly, they try to keep it low key but the reader presents an award and when Em wins they share a warm moment on stage and the media loses it? thanks in advance”
description: in which they say they’re going to be lowkey for their first public appearance as a couple, and then he wins the award she’s presenting
pairing: eminem x female!reader
warnings: swearing
masterlist (one, two)
It was hard to keep my hands off of Marshall as we walked down the red carpet. It was our first public outing as a couple, but Marshall wasn’t very into PDA so we had decided to keep it somewhat lowkey. It seemed like a good idea in theory, until Marshall did the unthinkable and showed up dressed in a suit. How am I supposed to not jump his bones when he looks damn fine in a suit?
Every time I so much as glanced at him the paparazzi would go crazy. So many flashing lights that eventually I was seeing spots. It was hard to keep smiling when I couldn’t even see ahead of me.
Marshall put an arm around my waist - which of course led to more flashing lights - and walked me off the red carpet into the venue. The minute I walked through the doors into the dimly lit room, it really was like I couldn’t see. I had to take a minute to let my eyes adjust to the sudden light change.
“Weird how quickly I go from basically a nobody on a red carpet to a hot commodity just because I have attractive arm candy,” I joked.
A half smile tugged at Marshall’s lips. “You were never a nobody. Not to me anyways.”
“Awe, that’s so sweet it’s kind of gross,” I teased.
This earned me an actual laugh as Marshall pulled me in for a kiss. Without any prying eyes around, we felt free to actually be a couple.
We engaged with some others in the industry, including those Marshall considered to be close friends of his. I felt out of place at this music award show as an actress who was still trying to become more than just a side character in the movies she starred in. I was grateful to have Marshall there to help me through it.
When we took our seats as the show was starting, Marshall reached over to take my hand. “Are you okay?”
I shrugged. “Nervous I think. Which I shouldn’t be because it’s just me announcing an award, but it’s my first time on an award show stage for any reason, and it’s a pretty big award.”
“And it’s one I’m nominated for.”
I looked over at Marshall with wide eyes. “What?!”
“You didn’t know?”
I shook my head. Now I felt so much more nervous. What if I pulled a Steve Harvey and said the wrong name because I wanted Marshall to win? Or what if he actually did win but everyone thought I said he did because we were dating? I tried to focus on the stage ahead of me but my heart was beating so fast that my vision was starting to get blurry. I felt warm, like I was sweating, which made me worry that my makeup was starting to run. I was going to look disgusting with my makeup running on live television.
Sensing my new found nervousness, Marshall gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.
“Hey, look at me.” I glanced over to meet his gaze. “It’s going to be okay. You’ve rehearsed this speech so much that you can say it without the teleprompter. It’s not going to be any different just because I’m nominated. If I win, you give me the award and I do a speech. If I don’t win, you give the award to whoever does and they make a speech. It’s not a big deal, (Y/N), don’t worry too much about it.”
I wished I could’ve just let my fear rush from my body, but it was still there. Before I could say anything else, the lights went down and the show officially started.
I tried to just sit and enjoy the show but it was hard when I had my upcoming presenter role looming over me. Of course, it was one of the last awards of the show, so I had to sit there and let my nerves build as the suspense for the winner of the award grew as well.
Every now and then Marshall would give my hand another squeeze and I would calm down for that split second. Having him by my side helped a lot, but every time I remembered that he might be the recipient of the award I became nervous again.
Finally, it was my time to take the stage. They passed me the envelope with the name of the winner and motioned for me to take the stage. I plastered a smile on my face as my name was called and I walked onto the stage. I hoped the cameras couldn’t pick up my shaking, and I really hoped my shaking wouldn’t make my voice sound as bad as I feared it would.
“This award can only go to the best of the best,” I started, glancing at the prompter in front of me to make sure I was saying the words correctly. “The person who worked the hardest and had the best payoff with their release. The competition this year is fierce, and it was hard to narrow it down to just these five artists, as there have been so many amazing works of art released this past year. It has been an even harder choice to pick who of them all is the best, although I might be bias in saying I’ve already chosen my favorite.”
The audience chuckled at my improved addition to the speech.
“Ladies and gentlemen, here are your nominees.”
I watched the video that played of the nominated artists. My heart skipped a beat when Marshall came up, a few clips from the music videos he had filmed playing in a short montage. He had worked so hard on his latest album, every part of me hoped that he would be the winner I was announcing.
As the video came to an end, I turned back to face the audience (and the cameras) to announce the winner.
“And the award goes to...”
I tried not to let my slight fear show as I fumbled with the envelope for a moment. I started to worry that I wouldn’t even be able to open it and completely embarrass myself on live TV. I tried not to sigh with relief when the seal perfectly popped open and I was able to pull the card out. The smile on my face had to have given away the winner before the words were even out of my mouth.
“Eminem!”
The crowd cheered and stood from their seats. A camera found Marshall, who was standing from his seat and hugging Paul and Denaun before making his way to the stage. I couldn’t help but smile proudly at him as I extended the award I was holding - his award - to him.
I was taken by surprise when he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me in for a kiss. It was brief since he had an award to accept, but it was enough to make my head spin, the way his kisses usually did.
When he pulled away I was still so stunned that I almost forgot to give him his award. I could see him trying to hold back a laugh as he took it from my hands and turned to the microphone.
“Thank you,” he said to the still cheering audience. For a minute I forgot there was anyone else in the room, and realizing so many people had watched that kiss made my cheeks heat up. “I’d like to thank my manager, Paul, who for some reason still backs me with everything I do and produce even when it pushes the boundaries a little too much. I also want to thank the good Doctor, who has been supporting me since day one and who has always believed in me and gave me this platform to make music and to push the boundaries that Paul has to deal with. My daughters, my biggest inspirations. And of course, I’d like to thank the beautiful lady who presented this award to me tonight. I may not show it publicly but I am my happiest when I’m with you and I cannot thank you enough for that.”
I blinked away the tears forming in my eyes as I clapped along with the audience. The music started playing as Marshall offered me his arm to walk me off the stage. I felt like I was floating on cloud nine as we walked down the stairs and backstage, away from the cameras and the thousands of people watching us, both in person and on TV.
We were greeted backstage by other presenters and winners who were still mingling and celebrating their wins. Marshall was congratulated and a few of the other presenters told me how well I did with my presentation. I was proud of myself for getting through it, but I was more proud that I didn’t go completely airheaded after Marshall kissed me.
When we finally got away from the large amount of people, Marshall pulled me in for another kiss.
“So much for keeping it lowkey, huh?” I teased when I pulled away.
“I was caught up in the moment,” he said with a shrug, but I wasn’t completely convinced.
“That speech was uncharacteristically sweet,” I said. “For your public persona anyways. I figured you’d keep it short and sweet and maybe get the show into a little bit of trouble with an unplanned curse word.”
He chuckled. “Well normally that would be how things go. But I meant what I said during my speech: you make me the happiest I’ve ever been. When you said my name I just couldn’t help but feel this unfamiliar surge of happiness and excitement at winning. You know I don’t care about these types of award shows, but the fact that you presented this award to me made me care for just a second. I know I’ll be the talking point for the next few days because of this, but right now I don’t care all that much.”
Tears were welling in my eyes again as I pulled him back to me. “Shut up, you’re gonna ruin my makeup.”
His laugh filled my ears as he pulled me for another kiss. The happiness he said he felt coursed through my veins too. I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else in a moment like this.
When he pulled away he put his arm around me again and started to walk towards the door. “Let’s get out of here. I think I wanna celebrate my win with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.”
I smiled brightly at him. “I like the sound of that.”
#eminem#eminem imagine#eminem x reader#marshall mathers#marshall mathers imagine#marshall mathers x reader#imagine#one shot#request#fanfiction#fanfic#fandom
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Some further comments of interest, under a cut due to length (note - DA:D spoilers from/references to the recent leaks under cut):
Mark Darrah: ''Lots of old school DA inside the team''
MD: ''They are committed to quality"
Comment: "I can't wait for the next dragon age" MD: "me neither"
Comment: ''Glad to see you're taking a consult role vs being an EP, it's reassuring in a way they are using you as an asset to follow/honor the game world and story." MD: "I think so"
Comment: ''I've been very careful with my hype for the new DA game but this certainly makes it harder to contain!" MD: ''Hope to keep pushing the hype up… but not TOO much"
Comment: "Sounds like the game is a long ways away if they still need consulting at this stage" MD: "Consultants can do lots of things..."
Comment: ''The fact they're bringing you back this late in the game is not a good sign. Good luck trying to wrangle what I'm sure is by now a massive circus" MD: ''You may be misinterpreting what my role is…''
Comment: "I know companies don't like to talk about it, but I hope that this game supports modding. Or at the very least doesn't restrict them as much as DAI did. If money counting execs need a reason for that feature - point them all at Skyrim." MD: "DAI restrictions were frostbite related more than anything. Likely they will still be there..."
Comment: "In dragon age inquisition there was some elements of destruction “like walls or rock formations getting destroyed when fighting a dragon” you got the feeling “oh shit I am fighting a strong enemy here!” Is it possible to see more of this in coming games?'' MD: ''I'll pass that along''
Comment: ''heard a rumor/speculation that the companion system is gonna be degraded/changed up. Specifically that we'd no longer have the 3 controlable tagalong companions that's been a staple of the games. Hope that's not true. I know you're probably NDA'd to hell but I wanted to ask: any chance players will get to spec as a healer role a la DA2 and Origins? Was disappointed to see the role removed in favor of the barrier/guard system in DAI. And as always, big fan of your contributions to the series.'' MD: ''There are specific reasons for the removal in DAI. I'll pass the concern along.''
Comment: ''I absolutely have to know if world states are going to continue into Dreadwolf. I'm down for gameplay changes, but I hope BioWare knows the franchise identity hinges on World States and quality Story telling through the relationships we create within the game.'' MD: ''I'll pass this question along''
Comment: "My only Dragon Age Dreadwolf question is… can we ask the team to please give us an update trailer or video of some kind on the gameplay? Anything that isn’t another Solas teaser because Solas is no longer new information." MD: "I will pass that along."
Comment: ''Definitely agree with someone's comment here, I grew very attached to Dragon Age The Last Court, and would be immensely grateful if you could let the team know we'd love to have it back to life in some way, or get to see/interact with Serault and our Marquise again" MD: ''I'll pass this along. As I recall there was an issue with privacy and the thing violating EU law...''
Comment: "Could you possibly mention the idea of making a simplified Trespasser into a standalone experience." MD: ''I’ll pass it along (but yeah, probably not)"
Comment: "David Gaider is also a goat, it's a shame he's no longer there" MD: ''Dave’s got stuff to do''
Comment: ''We will have to wait for the game to be released in 2025, this is at best, as I understand it, because Bioware has not shown anything useful recently. They have a bad relationship with their audience.'' MD: ''Better to wait until they are ready''
Comment: ''Hopefully they start sharing some info with us" MD: "There have been the dev blogs…''
Comment: "I want to speak for my fellow CN BioWare fans, our big problem here is lack of the language support, I know about the Jade Empire's situation, and it is clear you know more about this, but things are different now, You can refer to other ea games, It's not easy for these fans to stick around for so many years, we really need Chinese in the next DA game, please!'' MD: ''There was a Chinese language version on DAI as I recall. Though maybe it was region locked."
Comment: ''If there’s anything I want I really hope they would remaster or even release the 1&2 dragon age so i can play them on playstation 4/5'' MD: "Maybe some day…"
[source]
Quick compilation of interesting comments/comment exchanges from Mark Darrah and folks commenting on his most recent YouTube video, "Mark Darrah back on Dragon Age: Dreadwolf?!" (under a cut due to length) -
[I've loosely organized these into related clumps of comments.]
General thoughts and feelings about the game & its development
Comment: "Well this is a relief. Glad to have a DA veteran looking at this project." MD: "There are lots of veterans on the team"
MD: "I'm helping. The team is very strong" / "There is a strong team there." / "There are lots of strong devs on the team" / "I have great faith in the team" / "I have confidence in the team" / "I have confidence in this team"
MD: "Excited to see how things are progressing" / "Excited to see what the team has been up to." / "Excited to see what the team has cooked up." / "Excited to see how it is coming along" / "Excited to see how things are going"
Comment: "please save DA" MD: "I don't think it needs saving" / "I’m an amplifier not a saviour" / "I'm not worried about Dreadwolf" / "I have every confidence in the state of the game." / "I have high hopes"
Comment: "Please fix that game" MD: "I wouldn't say that its broken..."
Comment: "Can’t wait to see what this game becomes." MD: "You and me both!"
Comment: "This is an interesting development, can't wait to see the final product." MD: "You and me both"
Comment: "Is this a good of bad news? :D" MD: "Good I hope"
Comment: "It must've felt good when they approached you for help! It's definitely a positive sign as well." MD: "I think so too!"
More details on his role, what it will entail and where the game is currently at
MD: "As I mentioned in a previous video, I do consulting now. I did reach out to BioWare first" / "I reached out a while ago to offer my services. I don't expect I will ever be a 'face' for Dragon Age: Dreadwolf."
Comment: "Does this mean that the current bioware lead execs can overlook your advice as consultant?" MD: "Anyone can ignore anyone's advice. See: https://youtu.be/yWPaiWAotwo"
MD: "Game can be played start to back. Still lots to do."
Comment: "Wishing you the best of luck in steering the ship on the game." MD: "My hands aren't directly on the wheel."
Comment: "Hope you will or are happy about what you see that the team has worked on." MD: "I'll see a lot pretty soon."
Comment: "Isn’t it a little too late for that? I mean, if the conclusion is that the game isn’t respectful, will BioWare change huge chunks of the story?" MD: "They are very focused on quality"
Comment: "From your words it seems like Dreadwolf somehow doesn't quite feel like a Dragon Age game and you're coming in to make it feel like one. It should be a great game in it's alpha state, with new ideas etc but somehow people who played it feel like it's at least slightly disconnected from the franchise as a whole. Am I correct? I understand if you don't want to reply since confirmation of that could open the door to negative rumours about the game." MD: "That would be overstating... But its been a long time so it both needs to change and stay the same"
Comment: "I'd love to know what specifically you can do at this point in development, since I assume the game is largely content locked at this point (this might make a good video?)." MD: "Not content lock yet. Firm not locked"
Comment: "Not sure if you can answer this but considering how far along the development of Dreadwolf supposedly is, assumably there isn't going be like major changes to the game's systems and such. So are you consulting them more about lore aspects and whatnot?" MD: "Lore and landing"
Comment: "Has the dragon age team ever done something like this in the past? MD: "We have brought back people late stage before"
Comment: "so essentially.. they had no idea what they were doing and where like 'should we call mark? lets just call mark' 'urgh.. yeah lets. might as well' XD" MD: "Nothing so dramatic as that"
Comment: "I honestly assumed that you were already censoring yourself in regards to Dreadwolf out of respect for your former coworkers." MD: "To some degree I expect this is true."
Comment: "So glad that some deal about collaboration between you and BW has been struck. And I hope the game will benefit from your input, though I do admit I am on the fence about what the leaks have shown, did not look much like any RPG people liking BW content are used to (I hope I am wrong about that)" MD: "Hopefully they can convince you"
Soon™ and after
Comment: "I have real concerns of what is being shared about the gameplay style. Hopefully we get some clarification in upcoming bioware show and tells for expos and trailers" MD: "I expect more to be shared soonish"
Comment: "I hope to see some decent trailers this year. We haven't seen those since 2020!" MD: "We shall see"
Comment: "Can't wait to see more (when you are allowed to talk about it!)" MD: "I'll share what I can"
Comment: "You're still going to be careful about what you tell us, for a while. Totally understandable" MD: "Definitely won't become the all "Dragon Age: Dreadwolf" channel"
Comment: "I realize there's always going to be some things you can't speak about, but I hope that after the game is out and your involvement is completed, you can speak about some of your experiences coming back to work as a consultant vs. executive producer and how/if it shapes your thought and approach towards your contributions to the game and team." MD: "i hope to do this. after"
Questions, feedback and things to pass on to the team
Comment: "I know a lot of the fandom is wondering if there will be more BIPOC and body-type representation in character generation. It would ease a lot of concern if there was an indication that the game does indeed include that representation." MD: "I'll pass this along"
Comment: "Will Dragon Age Keep be supported going forward? Also will we get any recaps of important events from previous games at the start of this one? Also will this be more actioney or more strategic than Inquisition? Dragon Age: Origins is still my favourite for combat and general gameplay, but I appreciate if y'all are going more actioney these days like Final Fantasy, if it's the actioney route though I wonder if you guys could do some gameplay like the old THIEF games for some Rogue quests, that would be hella cool." MD: "I'll pass these along"
Comment: "If you’ll be passing along something to BioWare, I’d be interested to know if the Orlesian Warden-Commander exists as a character in the world. We hear about the The HoF, but nothing from the Warden-Commander. And not being able to port your save into DA: Awakening with a dead HoF, makes me question how canon they actually are. Along with not being able to define them in the Keep." MD: "I'll pass along the question"
Comment: "Now that you have the ear of the project leads I have a small suggestion: It would be great if in DA:D when you hover over a dialogue choice the game would tell you what you are about to say (at least the first sentence) in form of a "subtitle". Deus Ex: Mankind Divided does this for example. Other than that I wish you and the team the best!" MD: "Nice idea"
Comment: "Is Mike Laidlaw going throw two cents as well" MD: "He's too busy"
Comment: "I hope Gaider will come back too." MD: "That seems unlikely"
Comment: "It's a BIOWARE game. Characters and story comes first."" MD: "CHARACTERS CHARACTERS CHARACTERS"
Anthem
Comment: "I hope it's not the same situation as Anthem. :/" MD: "Definitely not"
Comment: "Game has been in the oven for what?, a decade now. I hope it turns out great, but I feel like it will be kinda a mesh with all the iterations and people involved." MD: "Depends on how you count the reboot to pull people to Anthem"
On a possible/requested DA:O remaster
Comment: "you should suggest that it would be a smart move to remaster Dragon Age trilogy like ME Legendary edition" MD: "I don’t think the people that would green light a remaster are listening to be"
Comment: "Get them to remaster DAO ....please. :)" MD: "I'll try"
Comment: " Please consider making a DA remake. I literally pray for this everyday. I hope this reaches you Bioware." MD: "Here's hoping"
Other
Comment: "I don't know how much you can answer this, but I've always been curious: How did you guys manage to come up with the Solas plot twist when making Inquisition? Heck, how'd you guys come up with the character of Solas, period? Whose idea was it, how did you develop it into the absolute masterpiece that culminated in Trespasser?" MD: "I don't actually KNOW the answer to that"
Comment: "It's not about DA:D per se, but please let the team know we still love Dragon Age: The Last Court and hope it can live on in some way MD: "err. I think there are some legal issues in Europe with that..."
[source]
#dragon age: dreadwolf#dragon age 4#the dread wolf rises#da4#dragon age#bioware#dragon age the veilguard spoilers#video games#saveserault#long post#longpost#solas#anthem#mass effect#mass effect 5
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a little bundle of icing - My CS Gift Exchange Fic
Prompt: Giftee's Wants: Established relationship, cs family fluff, cs parents, modern au with established relationship. NO: character death, angst
SUMMARY: She thought the hardest part would be hiding the gifts from the (mostly) reformed pirate. In actuality, the hardest part has been wrapping them. For some reason, every chance she’s gotten has been foiled by one thing or another.// or Emma tells Killian she's pregnant.
RATING: G for General Audiences
WORD COUNT: 4,575 words
TAGS: Captain Swan, Christmas, Holiday fluff, Pregnancy
AO3
AUTHOR’S NOTE: this was fun to work with and try, as i haven't done much established relationship writing. hope everyone enjoys this!
hi @middlemistcs13 ! i picked your prompt for the gift exchange! as you already know (and read), this fic has been up on AO3 for a few days but here’s the tumblr post to accompany it! yay! for anyone who hasn’t read this yet - i hope you enjoy!
***
“And this Santa Claus… your world doesn’t consider him to be flagrant?”
The answering huff of a laugh from Henry is loud, even from the other end of the table. “Dude. Of course not. He leaves presents for you to reward a year of being a good person.”
“But aren’t you required to cook for him as well?”
Emma’s eyes drift to the end of the table where Henry and Killian stand side by side, each holding a piping bag of icing, one red and one green. Sprinkles litter the table and powdered sugar is dusted across Killian’s leather vest, not that he cares much. Their sleeves are rolled up to their elbows and a mixing spoon is still taped to his brace (a brilliant idea that he and her son supposedly had; the mess they have yet to clean up says otherwise).
She tries hard to suppress her grin at the image but she knows she’s failing miserably so she ducks her head and kneads the dough beneath her knuckles, listening along.
“Well, not really,” Henry says. Emma feels his eyes on her for a moment but she pretends not to notice. “It’s more like a donation or a gift.”
“Ah ha!” Killian cheers, mixing spoon gesturing wildly as he points a finger at Henry. Some of the red icing drips from the bag under the pressure and lands with a plop! on the counter between the naked gingerbread people and sugar cookies. “So it’s not from the goodness of his heart!”
At her quick glance up, she catches Killian’s eye and he winks at her. Her kid can be too easy to rile up sometimes, something Killian likes to do to get back at Henry’s quips about his struggles with modern technology. She doesn’t always understand their relationship, the way they can rile each other up one moment and immediately slide into the caring, supportive step-father/son dynamic the next – but she’s grateful nonetheless to have them be so close.
Henry rolls his eyes. “Yes, it is. He’s basically our world’s Robin Hood.”
“Didn’t this world already have a Robin Hood?”
“Oh my god.” Henry groans and then calls out to Emma, a gallop of green icing landing on the face of a gingerbread man. “Mom, you need to divorce your husband.”
“No, you need to start decorating those gingerbread cookies instead of the table.” She thinks she succeeds in keeping the amusement out of her voice but Killian’s quiet snickering tells her otherwise. “And you,” she continues, aiming her glare at the husband in question, “have to clean up. I’m not letting you two leave without cleaning up first.”
“Are you positive you can’t to come with us, love?”
There’s nothing more that Emma would love to do than pick out a tree with Henry and Killian for their first Christmas in their house when there’s nothing going on. No foes, evils witches, or snow monsters appearing out of nowhere to ruin any holiday plans. Storybrooke has been blissfully peaceful for the most part for the last two years following the Final Battle.
Emma still knocks on wood when those thoughts cross her mind. Best not to jinx it.
Still, as much as she wishes she could join the boys on their tree hunt, she can’t as she has far more pressing matters to attend to. Those being trying to wrap Killian’s Christmas gifts without him finding out what they are first. She thought the hardest part would be hiding the gifts from the (mostly) reformed pirate. In actuality, the hardest part has been wrapping them. For some reason, every chance she’s gotten has been foiled by one thing or another.
Her first attempt was when Killian was going out for a day excursion on the Jolly Roger with Smee. She waited until she was absolutely sure the ship left the docks to pull out her gifts only for her sheriff’s beeper to go off. By the time she handled the situation and returned home, the Jolly had returned to shore and it was only a matter of time before Killian came back.
There were a few more close calls at home after that – enough to make her consider wrapping his gifts at the station. By the time she actually attempted it, David had barged through the front doors at such a speed that Emma’s surprised she managed to hide the gifts in time. Despite what most of the town believes about her mother, there’s no worse gossiper or meddler in town than her father. The only thing possibly worse than Killian discovering his gifts early is finding out about them from someone else.
After that, she assumed her luck had almost completely abandoned her. Christmas is coming up quickly and she can’t bear to give him his gifts without wrapping them. Last year he took so much pleasure in showing Henry how easily he could rip through the wrapping with his hook. She can’t take the idea of preventing the look of glee on both of their faces appearing again.
Plus, she wants to be able to watch Killian unwrap one of the most life-changing gifts ever, see the different emotions play on his face as the realization sinks in.
“I’d love to but I really can’t,” she answers honestly. “I have to handle security at the school’s Christmas fair today and we can’t keep putting off the tree. At this rate, we’d be getting it in January.”
“We’ll pick out a good one, Mom, don’t worry,” Henry consoles. He winks at her once Killian isn’t looking and his comforting smile only grows bigger.
It’s her own fault, really. One of her earlier attempts to wrap Killian’s gifts only resulted in Henry coming home from school to see them laid out on her bedroom floor when he went looking for her. The surprise that crossed his face quickly turned into pure joy and Emma unsuccessfully willed herself not to cry.
No bribing was needed to make Henry keep the gifts a secret. He knows how special this is for her.
For the second time in her life, Emma’s pregnant. For the first time, it’s with someone she loves – her True Love at that – and she has no fear of what the future might hold for her and their baby. She’s excited.
All she needs now is just ten minutes of peace with a guarantee of No Killian so she can actually keep it a secret until Christmas.
Killian and Henry are able to appropriately decorate the gingerbread and sugar cookies after a few elbow nudges are exchanged while she puts the last batch of cookies in the oven, though there are some close calls that Emma has to shut down the moment her eyes catch what one of them is trying to do. She does not want to deal with her father’s sputtering and mother’s giggles at the sight of any cookie decorated in any way less than a G rating.
By the time they’re leaving and Killian is warming up the bug, Henry pulls Emma aside under the guise of finding his missing shoe.
“You’re not really missing your shoe, are you? Because otherwise you’re going barefoot, kid.”
Henry rolls his eyes. “Chill, it’s in my backpack.” He hooks a thumb to gesture at the bag on his shoulders and Emma nods. “Grandpa’s already at the school and says he hopes you ‘feel better’. I’m planning to take my sweet time inspecting every tree with Killian. I’m gonna feed him a bunch of fake facts so that he gets really invested too. Should buy you like two hours.”
Emma worries her lip, shoving her hands in her back pockets so she doesn’t play with her ring, a sure sign that she’s hiding something if Killian sees her. “What if Killian’s researched about Christmas trees though? He may be a pirate but he’s also a nerd.”
Henry exudes a confidence that she doesn’t have, given her track record this season. “Trust me, I know how to rile him up.” She rolls her eyes goodheartedly at that. As much as Killian loved to tease and rile Henry up, her kid loved to do the same just as much. She worried at first that it meant the two didn’t like each other and couldn’t get along, but her worries were quickly tossed away when she saw the two sitting at her kitchen table as Killian spoke to Henry in low whispers, helping him with an issue in his friend group.
He treated Henry like an equal, let him know that everything he said, saw, and felt held value. A trust existed between them that Emma didn’t breach – not that she wanted to. She respected that as much as she wants to be able to do everything for her kid, sometimes he needs to seek out someone else and she’s thrilled that most times he chooses Killian. Ribbing on each other is just another way to show that affection.
Emma bids her goodbyes to the two. Henry’s hug leaves her feeling the warmth one only gets from being a parent, and Killian’s goodbye kiss sends tingles down to her toes. That tingling is the exact feeling that got her into this situation and if she hadn’t been already, the look he gives her as he shuts the door behind him would’ve done it.
She waits for them to make it to the tree farm, according to Henry’s location and update texts, checking in with David who’s covering her shift at the school’s Christmas fair. It is then and only then that she feels comfortable enough to wrap the gifts.
Hauling them out of the closet in no time at all, she makes quick work of wrapping them. Despite the assurances that no one would be bothering her, especially her husband, she still chances a glance over her shoulder every few moments, just to be sure. She’s come this far and she’ll be damned if letting her guard down ruins the surprise.
Wrapping goes seamlessly and Emma triple checks that she has gathered and wrapped all the gifts before she places them in the closet under the stairs with the others. One more thing she can cross off her list.
*
When Emma wakes up the morning of Christmas, it’s to soft humming against her neck, a Christmas song that’s been on the radio more often than not this last week. She’s just thankful it’s one of Kelly Clarkson’s songs and not Wham!’s Last Christmas.
“Merry Christmas, love,” Killian whispers to her neck before placing a light kiss there. He wraps his arm tighter around her middle, pulling her back flush against his front, and she feels her stomach erupt in butterflies. He doesn’t know it yet but his hand rests right where their kid is growing and she works hard to refrain her glee for the time being.
Instead, she focuses on the trail of kisses he places down her jaw until he leans over her side to plant one on her mouth. She hums contently into the kiss, turning onto her back so she can wrap her arms around his neck. “Merry Christmas indeed.”
They share a smile before he leans back in for a short kiss.
“How long do you suppose we have before the lad comes stomping down the stairs for his gifts?”
Emma considers his question, furrowing her eyebrows when she realizes she forgot to charge her phone overnight and it’s dead. “What time is it?”
“Nearly eight.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “It’s a matter of seconds then, not minutes.”
“Think we can distract him with his PlayStation?”
“Wait – PlayStation? Not ‘Playing box’? Not ‘Stationary play’?” He crinkles his nose at her poor imitation of his accent and shakes his head.
“Of course I’ve learned the names by now, Swan.” He ignores her interjection of ‘Jones’ though it does earn her a smile. “I’ve known them for quite some time. But Henry doesn’t know that and I quite enjoy annoying him with that bit.”
She laughs and runs her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly on the silky soft strands as her reprimand. However, his reaction shows it is anything but. “I don’t know which of you is worse. Honestly.”
The two of them lean in with the full intent to enjoy as much of a lazy morning in bed as possible on the holiday but their lips don’t even meet before it’s interrupted.
“Merry Christmas!” Henry yells as he comes down the stairs. His feet stomp on each step and Emma grins at the way Killian cringes. He pauses on the landing outside their door and shouts before hurrying down the steps with stomping feet again. “You’ve got five minutes before I force you out so get dressed!”
“Like a bloody ogre,” Killian mutters as he rolls off of her. Despite his grumbling, the smile he gives her as he helps her out of bed and pulls her close is soft. The walls between them disappeared long ago and neither of them are afraid of the openness that exists in their relationship. It’s another first for Emma, being able to be so unapologetically herself and so vulnerable with her emotions when before Killian, she’d always been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Never before him did she allow such a complete offering of herself to another person. With him, it doesn’t feel so scary.
It's also why she’s so excited to have this baby. Being with Killian makes anything they face not seem so bad.
The thought of what lies beneath their tree brings a giddiness to her movements that even her husband notices.
“What’s gotten into you this morning?” he asks as he puts on his brace. He sends her a wicked grin that has her toes curling as he attaches the hook – the same one he shined the night before so he could show it off to Henry in all its unwrapping glory.
“I’m just… really happy.”
“Aye,” he says once he comes close to her again, one hand on her waist and his lips descending upon hers. “So am I.”
Their moment is broken by Henry banging on their door, warning that they better come down that instant or he’s opening everyone’s presents. The notion gets a laugh out of her, knowing that despite his threats, her kid wouldn’t follow through with this one. Maybe.
Nervousness doesn’t come to her until it’s time to hand her gifts over to Killian. He sits in a pile of wrapping paper on the couch, the ‘Best Dad in the Universe’ mug Henry got for him sitting on the coffee table. Henry had been sheepish as he handed over the gift, calling Killian ‘Dad’ on occasion now and then, nowhere near a regular occurrence. Still, the sentiment behind the gift, and the true feelings it relayed, left both her son and husband emotional. They exchanged quiet words that left them both teary-eyed and Killian had wrapped it up by showing Emma the mug as if she hadn’t helped Henry design it online. He then sat it on the coffee table so gently like a prized trophy and couldn’t stop looking at it.
If he reacted this way to Henry’s gifts, she can’t imagine the emotion that’ll come with hers.
The two of them have led hard lives, obstacles in their paths trying to prevent them from wanting to push for the light at the end of the tunnel. But they both did, whether out of sheer stubbornness or resilience, she’s not sure, and it held it them together until they found each other. Then suddenly they weren’t navigating the ups and downs of life alone and everything became a bit more bearable day by day.
Fatherhood is something that always came natural to Killian, she could see, and something that he wanted. His pirating ways took him to many lands and realms but he’d gotten to the point where he wanted to settle down and have a family. To live a life of peace he was never granted beforehand. Villains didn’t get happy endings though so he assumed it was out of the cards for him.
Henry accepted him, made him part of their family, and looked to him as a father. The remaining Lost Boys sought out his comforting presence, a familiar figure, despite their tangled pasts or because of it, when they were feeling particularly lonely or destructive, and he provided a guiding hand back. Hell, even baby Neal latched onto him almost as quickly as he did her parents.
There was a contentedness to Killian when he stepped into the role of father-figure that she never saw before. It shined brightest with Henry but she always saw the longing look in his eyes when Henry left for a weekend at Regina’s or when they saw Sean and Ashley with their baby at Granny’s.
Her mother once said, “Happy endings always start with hope.” Their life together was the start. This is the continuation of it.
“Ready for my gifts?” Emma asks. She discretely wipes her sweaty palms on her thighs and takes the gifts from Henry’s outstretched hands. He gives her a reassuring smile and she can only manage a quick, tight but grateful grin in return.
“Thanks, love.”
Killian lifts his hook to open the smallest of the boxes when Emma shoots her hand out to grab his wrist, a loud ‘No’ leaving her lips before she even realizes what she’s done.
Concern fills Killian’s gaze as he leans closer. His eyes rove over her person, searching, cataloging, trying to get any hint of what’s happening. “Emma, what’s gotten into you?”
“Actually…” she starts with a sardonic laugh, tilting her head.
“Ew, gross, Mom,” Henry crimes in, face wrinkled in disgust.
She clears her throat while rolling her eyes and instead taps the biggest of the three boxes. “Open this first.”
“O-kay…” Killian eyes her as he gently, slowly, unwraps the biggest box. Instead it lies a photo album titled Daddy & Me. “It’s blank?” he asks.
“Yeah, it’s for you to fill it with photos.”
“Ah.” Killian turns to Henry. “I suppose we should start filling this up, aye?”
A quick moment of panic flashes across Henry’s face as he looks to Emma for guidance, both of them floundering. “Uh, yeah!” he says in a hurry. “I can help you fill it up.” He then gives Emma a pointed look, Killian none the wiser.
“Open your second one,” Emma encourages. Killian takes another hard look at the album, the content in his gaze soothing any nerves that remained from Emma’s anticipation.
Earlier, Henry laughed smugly as Killian ripped through about thirty layers of wrapping paper to finally uncover the mug. Henry encouraged him to really dig into it, something that flashes Emma’s mind back to the beanstalk and made her laugh. Killian had taken the message to heart.
Now, he uses the hook to lift the edges of the wrapping paper and gently unravels it. Beneath the paper is a box and Killian gives her a watery grin once he sees what’s inside.
His very first Christmas ornament – or at least the first that’s meant specifically for him – lays inside. It features a large brown bear holding a baby bear wearing a diaper. Beneath the figures is a banner that reads, ‘Papa Bear, Est. 2022”.
Emma expects the questioning glance he sends her way and the subtle, confused one he gives to Henry. However, he receives no answers and Emma finally taps the small box. “Now you can open it.”
She bites her lip and her and Henry share a reassuring nod as Killian opens the last gift. Sitting inside the small box, cleaned off and surrounded in tissue paper is a positive pregnancy test.
Killian picks it up with a cautionary gentleness that she hasn’t seen before. His mouth drops open as he stares it down and he mouths the word ‘Pregnant’ over and over again as his eyes get misty. “Is – is this real?” he asks, voice full of emotion. Emma nods, blinking back her own tears.
“Yeah, Killian, it’s real.”
“Gods, love.” Suddenly, Emma is pulled out of her chair and swept off her feet as Killian tugs her into a tight embrace. He kisses every inch of skin he can find, pulling back every few kisses to catch her lips before he embraces her again. His arms are bound around her tightly, the squeeze between them only getting tighter as Killian urges Henry to join their hug. “You’re going to be a big brother, lad. The best there is,” he whispers and Emma nearly lets out the croaking sob stuck in her throat.
As much as it is a monumental moment for Killian, he still includes Henry and still makes sure that he’s wanted around. The notion makes her heart burst. Once again, she’s aware that she never needed any official True Love test to give her confirmation that Killian is it for her. The way he acts proves it more than enough. It doesn’t make her any less emotional, especially as Killian whispers, as giddy as she’d been that morning, “We’re having a baby!”
“Yes, we are!” she whispers back excitedly.
The trio embrace for a few more moments before Henry’s phone rings and lets him know that it’s Regina reaching out. He congrats the two of them, tells them what wonderful parents they already are, and then bounds out of the room.
“Wow,” Killian says with the long release of a deep breath. “You’re pregnant.”
“I am,” she teases.
Killian’s wide grin matches her own and even though he leans in to kiss her, they aren’t able to do much as their smiles keep breaking through.
It’s not until Killian places a hand on her stomach that her breath catches and realization sinks in. They’re really doing this. They’re having a baby. She can’t explain it but she thinks she’s having a girl. Even Killian’s seemingly decided so as well, babbling on about their daughter despite the fact that they won’t officially find out until Emma’s next appointment in two weeks.
They will have a baby. Together.
They’re going to bring someone into this world that’s half him and half her and it’ll be their responsibility to not screw them up.
With Henry it was easier. He was already ten by the time he connected with both of them, respect and manners already instilled in him. All they had to do was encourage them to flourish. But with a baby, they’ll be starting from scratch. In all honesty, neither of them know much of what to do aside from the basics to keep a baby alive, but she figures they’ll approach it like they do everything else: together.
“You know, little one,” Killian starts as he leans down towards her stomach. “Your grandma is a very wise woman and she once told me that happy endings always start with hope.” He swallows, glancing up at Emma for a moment as his voice gets even quieter. “I’m excited to meet you, Hope.”
*
4 years later…
*
“No, no, no, love, not like that.”
Emma looks up from drying dishes and fixes her gaze on the other end of the table. Killian and Henry are bent over it, heads close together. Between them, Hope kneels on a chair and squeezes an icing bag with so much force that fat glops of red icing plop onto the cookies, nearly covering an entire group of gingerbread men. She watches the way Killian keeps the rounded curve of his hook, sharp tip pointed away, pressed against the center of Hope’s back to keep her steady, attempting to guide her in how to decorate the cookie while she just wants to mix colors together.
One of Henry’s hands holds a gingerbread man in place for her, fingers turning red from the icing that’s slipped over the side, and he’s quick to grab the green icing bag before Hope’s grubby little fingers can grab it. “Oh no you don’t, munchkin.”
“I’m not a munchkin!” Hope pouts. Her glare is fierce as she turns her attention to Henry, cookies completely forgotten as she stands from her kneeling position.
“Oh really?” he eggs her on, fighting to keep the grin off his face. “How come you’re on a chair and I’m still taller than you then? Munchkin.”
“Stinky nose!”
“Short stack.”
“Hairy back!”
A whistle breaks through their teasing before Emma can step in and all eyes go to Killian. He leaves his hook pressed against Hope’s back even as he straightens and stands tall. “Enough of this nonsense from me crew!” Hope stares at him with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, joy filtering its way into her features.
An aspiring pirate captain herself, the three-year-old takes great glee in seeing her father step into his, admittedly watered down, pirate persona. She turns towards Killian, bouncing where she stands in the chair. Her hands attempt to come together in claps but only succeed in dropping more icing all over her hands and Henry’s.
Killian plucks the icing bag from Hope and places it aside. “Now,” he starts, voice an octave lower. “This mess needs to be cleaned otherwise I’ll let Santa know to toss yer presents overboard! Aye?”
“Noooo!” Hope shouts. “He can’t do that!”
“He knows Santa,” Henry says. He nods to Killian as he catches the wet washcloth Emma tosses to him and begins to wipe his icing covered fingers. “He can totally make it happen.”
“Aye,” Emma adds, grinning wide at the way Killian’s nose crinkles. She holds a second wet washcloth in her hands and comes over to Hope, gently wiping her hands clean. “But perhaps me and Papa can clean up the kitchen while you help Henry put some tinsel on the tree instead. It’d be a big help.”
“Aye, aye, captain!” Hope tugs at her hands, pouting when Emma won’t let them free yet. However, once she’s able to, she turns and jumps on Henry’s back, already urging him towards the living room.
“You know,” Killian says, “you’ve just granted her permission to make a mess even worse than this one.”
Emma grins, “Are you saying you weren’t also desperate for five minutes to ourselves?”
Killian hums, giving her a grin that she knows so well. His arms come around her waist while hers wrap around his neck and their lips meet in a soft kiss. When he tries to pull away, Emma keeps him locked with her and the heat between them rises. So lost in the progressing passion of their kisses, she doesn’t even realize Killian’s lifted her onto the table until Henry voices his disgust.
“Gross, guys,” he says. “We eat there.” He shakes his head, shuddering at catching them mid-make out, and reaches for the extra bag of tinsel on the counter. He holds it up and points at it before he leaves. “For scarring me, I am not cleaning this up.”
A snort comes out of Emma before she can stop it and she closes her eyes, content as Killian presses a soft kiss to her cheek. His hand drifts down to rest against her stomach and she feels the butterflies of excitement start up again. Only two more weeks before they can share their big secret.
“This will be a fun Christmas, love.”
#captain swan#killian jones#emma swan#henry mills#captain cobra swan#swan jones family#a little bundle of icing#my fics#temporarystatus#captain swan fanfic#cs fanfic#cs ff#captain swan ff#holiday fic
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I posted 2,206 times in 2022
That's 372 more posts than 2021!
1,047 posts created (47%)
1,159 posts reblogged (53%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@threewolfboon
@barbwritesstuff
@thebibliosphere
@weirdwerewolf-deactivated
@unpretty
I tagged 136 of my posts in 2022
#fanart - 10 posts
#which celebs give you paranormal vibes? - 8 posts
#not werewolves - 7 posts
#oc - 6 posts
#werewolves - 6 posts
#for the sergi fanclub - 6 posts
#youtube - 6 posts
#submission - 5 posts
#writing - 5 posts
#werewolf - 5 posts
Longest Tag: 111 characters
#i had to make some aggressive editoral changes to my first book both before and after signing with my publisher
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
I made a fake Classic Penguin Books cover for Blood Moon. No one liked it over on twitter, so now I'm giving it to you, a much more deserving audience.
I am an artist.
270 notes - Posted July 8, 2022
#4
414 notes - Posted March 26, 2022
#3
A Sad but Happy but Sad Update
Hello everyone. I hope you’re all having a wonderful evening and that the full moon is shining as brightly and beautifully where you are as it is here.
This full moon is a bitter sweet one for me. After close to two years of development, Blood Moon is finished. It is time to submit it to Hosted Games. That, unfortunately, means it’s also time to take down the public demo. I have removed the game from Dashingdon and will send the files to Hosted Games, hopefully soon (there are still a few pieces of art I’m waiting for, but I don't think that will take too long).
I wish I had more to say but I’m a little lost for words right now… I suppose I’ll just say what I always say, which is thank you. This community has been absolutely incredible and I couldn’t be more grateful for all the help and support I’ve received over the last couple of years. Without this community, Blood Moon would not be the game it is today.
Thank you for playing. I hope you’ve enjoyed your time running with wolves. I couldn’t have asked for a better pack of players.
🐺💙
In the meantime, I hope you guys will stick around. You can find me in all the usual places.
My email is BarbaraTrueloveWrites[at]gmail[dot]com.
My Twitter is @barbwritesstuff
If you like, you can support me either by leaving a tip on KoFi page or by buying my book, Crying Wolf by Barbara Truelove.
Next full moon I'd like to do a little cover reveal for Blood Moon's cover art. I hope to see you guys around for that. I'd also like to share some other writing projects I'm working on, if anyone is interested in that.
Oh and... eh... the final word count for Blood Moon is 442,290 (excluding commands). If you're wondering where those extra words come from... it's because I caved to all the anon messages and gave Sergi a sex scene. You just can't read it yet. Sorry about that.
453 notes - Posted September 10, 2022
#2
Okay... so I've been thinking... werewolf slang.
What are some words or phrases that you think werewolves would use? Here's some ideas I've had:
"Stray" - a werewolf without a pack. Eg, 'There is a stray wandering around the edge of our territory'.
"Moon mad" - a werewolf who goes totally berserk under the light of the full moon. Eg, 'Some of us just can't control anymore, especially in old age. My old man went moon mad near the end.'
"Showing fur" - to transform either fully or partially into wolf form. Eg, 'Frank had to leave quick. He got angry and started showing fur.'
"Pup" - a minor insult typically coming from an older werewolf and directed at a younger one. Eg, 'Back up a step, pup. You're out of line'.
"Cub" - a werewolf child. Similar to the human word 'kid'. Eg, "Who's going to pick the cubs up from school?"
Feel free to add your own! I want this post to turn into a werewolf urban dictionary.
See the full post
894 notes - Posted February 8, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
9,304 notes - Posted April 22, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
#tumblr2022#year in review#my 2022 tumblr year in review#your tumblr year in review#Tumblr roasting me for not knowing how to tag#The shame of 2 of my top 5s being reposts#I'm so sorry
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