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imtryingbuck · 1 year ago

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Come back

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: The team lose their friend (I’m bad at summaries sorry)

Word count: 3,919

Warnings: Angst. Sad times. Swearing. A grave gets dug up. Brock Rumlow.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

In Loving Memory Of Y/n L/n

Killed In Action Saving 5 Innocent Children

Dedicated Agent

Friend To Everyone

10/05/1990 - 10/05/2017

“Pass me a donut will ya”

Everyday since the plaque went up 5 years ago, Bucky always reads it. Everyday a small chuckle will leave his lips when reading the quote Tony made sure was engraved in the marble. ‘She always said it and she did tell me once that when she died to have it on the plaque they HAD to give her’ Tony repeated that conversation when they deciding what would be put on the plaque. It was true, did she always say it. He can hear her voice saying the words he reads every day.

Putting his two fingers to his lips he lightly kisses them, the gently places his fingers on her photo. Her ID photo took 8 tries to take because she wouldn’t sit still or she wouldn’t keep a straight face. In the end they settled on the final one, her with a huge smile on her face. She told Bucky once when he had asked-

‘why are you smiling in your photo?’

‘Because a smile a day keeps the dentist at bay’

‘That’s not an expression’

‘Well it should be’

He missed her more and more every day. Today however left a bitter taste in his mouth, today was the anniversary of her death.

Every year since they watched their friend die, the team makes sure they don’t have missions just so they can celebrated her death as well as her birthday.

Every year on that painful day they gather in the common room and watch all of her favourite films and play all the board games she went crazy over, they would order and/or cook her favourite food. Then they would each blow out a candle on the large donut Tony had specially made for her birthday.

He remembers that day when Tony surprised her with it a few years before her death. Her squeals made everyone laugh, she made everyone blow out one candle ‘it’s my birthday and I want everyone to get a wish’ and as the years passed they still did it.

They were halfway through the third film when director Fury walked in.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but you guys need to hear this”

“What is it?�� Tony asks sitting up from where he was slouching.

“Earlier today there was an attack at SHIELD headquarters”

“How many are dead?” Steve asks.

“The real question you need to ask is how many are alive Rogers”

“Well?” Natasha speaks up from where she sits next to Wanda.

“None. 28 people are in critical condition” each member of the team murmur their different abbreviations of ‘oh god’.

“Who was it do you know?” Steve questions.

Walking around the sofa and sitting down on the lone chair Fury sighs “There’s was only one person. With a symbol on their back, take a wild guess which one”

“Hydra” They all speak at the same time.

“Yep. Now heres the reason why I’m here. The computers were tampered with, the IT department has managed to find out what was deleted”

“Go on” Tony says when Fury trails off.

“The file.. the only file to be downloaded and deleted was Y/n’s.”

The teams reaction was different from one another’s however Bucky, Bucky’s heart stopped, he’d gone cold and clammy at the same time, so many questions circled his mind. Why hers? Why now? Why couldn’t they just leave her alone? Why her of all agents?

It was as if Steve could read his mind because it was him that asked “Why hers? She’s been dead for 6 years now. Why would Hydra want her file?”

“We-I don’t know. Now here’s the part you guys are not going to like. Ross wants Y/n’s body to be dug up”

Before anyone get say anything “Absolutely fucking not! You touch her grave I’ll kill you myself!” Bucky shouts.

“Then I’ll bring you back to life just to kill you again” booms Thor.

“Listen to me, I don’t want to do this! Ro-“

“I don’t care what Ross wants. It’s bad enough her headstone needs to be replaced every two months because of arseholes keep wanting a piece of it, now you want to dig her up? It nearly killed all of us watching her coffin go into that hole now you want us to watch it come back up?” Bucky’s left hand is balled tight in a fist as he paces back and forth.

“You don’t have to watch and you need to watch your tone” Fury shot back.

“What are you going to do with her?” Wanda asks before Bucky can say anything.

“We’ll put her somewhere different- safer. It’s just a precaution and we have no idea what they want with her file. We don’t know why they picked her out of all active agents and Barnes I don’t like this anymore than you do, Y/n was” taking in a deep breath “I miss her too. I’m sorry but I’m going to give Ross the go ahead on this. You guys don’t have to to be there when it happens and when we find out what’s going on we’ll bury her again. I promise”

For a full 20 minutes after Fury left they were sitting in complete silence each trying to wrap their heads around the information they were just given. SHIELD headquarters had been attacked by Hydra - using just one person to assassinate so many agents. Out of all the Agents of SHIELD alive or dead they pick their friends file, their friend who they loved and adored the same friend who always had a smile on her face no matter what, the one person who could light up a room just by walking inside of it. A person who was so full of happiness and sunshine yet deadly and damn right terrifying when she needed to be.

Now said friend who they have grieved for, for the past 6 years was about to have her resting place disturbed. Like Bucky had said to Fury, it nearly killed each and everyone of the Avengers and the Guardians - who came to Earth just to attend her funeral - they knew that the probability of dying on the job was high, of course they did, they just never expected it to happen to her, they had to watch as their friend, confidant, colleague, the better half to all of them lay in a box surrounded with 4 camera crews broadcasting their every move just so the whole world could watch them in their most vulnerable moment. They watched as her coffin was gently placed into the ground, knowing that it was going to be the last time they would ever see her after the soil would cover her.

They broke. Plain and simple, they broke. Worst part of it was is that the world lapped it up, the images of Natasha more famously known as the Black Widow standing at the grave of her best friend in bright colour clothing crying, was every where - people joked about how the deadly assassin was crying, saying she wasn’t as strong as everyone made her out to be because she cried. Y/n was undoubtedly the only person Nat felt comfortable with, the one person who saw Natasha as Natasha, not the Black Widow but her friend Natty. She was actually the first person in a very long time to see Nat cry, it was when the goldfish - that Y/n had brought her after she found out that Nat had always wanted one - had died, she felt so unbelievably stupid for crying over it but all Y/n did was hold her, told her to stop being silly for calling herself stupid. They buried it near the lake, just the two of them. Y/n even had bagpipes playing on her phone which made the redhead chuckle.

Wanda was called a crybaby because guess what? She was crying, she was crying because she was burying her best friend! The first person other than Steve to treat her like a human being. The first person to show her that not all people were bad, the one person who wasn’t scared of her that time when Wanda had lost control of her powers making people run in fear, not Y/n though nope she was the one who managed to help Wanda ground herself.

Steve was also mocked for crying for the loss of his friend, ‘Captain America weeps at funeral’, ‘Captain America is weak’, ‘Steve Rogers needs to give up the shield’. Y/n was the one who taught him how to use technology, showed him how the modern world worked and operated. She was the first person on his side when he wanted to track Bucky down. He loved her, not romantically, but he loved her so much. She made him feel normal, she never treat him like he was nearing a 100 years old who was missing 70 years of his life, like he actually was.

Sam just like the rest was called weak for crying at his friends funeral. The two of them drove the whole team insane when they were together (which was pretty much all the time) Like Steve he loved Y/n, she was his sister, his angel as he always called her. She was his best friend, favourite person in the world. The photo of Sam falling to his knees at the side of his angels grave was blasted all over the internet.

The photos of Tony clinging on to his now wife Pepper made front pages as well. ‘Billionaire Tony Stark cries at funeral of dead agent’. ‘Billionaire Tony Stark has to be held up by woman at funeral’. He saw Y/n as his daughter - shit she called him dad and he introduced her to anyone as his daughter. She didn’t see him as a bank, nope she hated it when he would give her money, one time she had to ask him if she could borrow money from him doing it with tears in her eyes because she felt ashamed of herself for asking. A few weeks later she gave him the money back with interest, when he told her to stop being silly and for her to keep it they argued for nearly 3 hours. She managed to slip the money into his pocket without him even realising it. Tony loved her so deeply, when he and Pepper found out they was having a baby girl they already had her name picked out - Morgan, Y/n’s middle name.

‘God of Thunder Thor spotted crying at funeral’ Like everyone else of course he was crying he lost his friend, she made him laugh, she made confused - once she convinced him that she was invisible and that he was the only person who could see or hear her, for 3 weeks he was absolutely convinced he was the only person on planet Earth who could see her. It wasn’t until Sam got back from a mission that the whole jig was up. He was truly captivated by her but even more so especially after she was able to lift Mjölnir higher up than Steve was able to, waved his hammer around like it weighed nothing. He, like Bucky, blamed himself for her death, he thought no believed it was his fault she was no longer with them. So yes of course he cried.

Bruce wasn’t allowed to attend his friends funeral because when she died he couldn’t control the big green beefy fella - as Y/n called him - from coming out. Fury and Ross said it would be bad and take the attention away from Y/n if the Hulk was there. He agreed. Y/n loved Hulk like she loved Bruce, she wasn’t afraid of the Hulk - Christ she once tried to have an arm wrestle with him! She didn’t once make Bruce feel like he was a freak or a dangerous monster as small minded people called him. No she treat him with respect and kindness. It took 2 months for him to go from being Hulk to being Bruce again.

Clint turned his hearing aids off for months after her death, he remembered her asking him to teach her how to sign language just so he didn’t have to always wear them. That was an interesting experience to say the very least. Clint adored her, adored the spark she carried around, adored the warmth and tranquillity she oozed. Her strength, willpower and willingness that no one could dream of having been one of the many things he loved about her, and what he misses. The day after she died he went home, home to his wife and children where he collapsed in Laura’s arms and cried himself to sleep that night. He too was mocked for being weak.

Then there was the photos of Bucky who was struggling to stand strong. ‘The world’s deadliest assassin cries’ was the headline on magazine’s for weeks or his personal favourite one ‘Winter Soldier more like Weak Soldier’ Like Nat he too was mocked because he wasn’t wearing all black but bright colours - hell they all were, it was what she wanted and whatever Y/n wanted, she got. Her death hit him the hardest. He loved her. He still loves her after 6 years of her being gone. ‘True love is what them two idiots have’ Tony would say. He blamed himself for what had happened to her, he had just turned his back for a second to hand a child to an agent when the whole building came down trapping her inside, he should of done more he always tells himself. Other than Steve she was his best friend, the one person who wasn’t afraid off his arm, the only person who could calm him down after a nightmare. She was the first person he opened up to and not once did she judge him or called him names, after he finished telling her all the things he remembered she got up and walked over to him and pulled him in for a hug, crying her heart out and apologising over and over again. The worst part for Bucky other than losing her was that he never got to tell her how madly in love he was with her.

“It doesn’t make sense” Steve was the one who broke the silence.

“Which part?” Tony asks.

“Everything. The attack, Y/n’s file, Ross wanting her to be dug up. Nothing makes sense”

“We need to figure this out. We can’t let them do this to her” Sam shakes his head, whilst trying to keep the tears he was fighting back at bay.

“Fury let me into his thoughts. They think they’re trying to find out how to recreate her genes.” Wanda finally speaks.

Once again the room went quiet. Y/n back story was still a bit of a mystery to the team. It was just something she never spoke about, they knew of the scars that covered the majority of her body and they did know of her mutant gene and that was it.

Y/n was exactly like Logan, better known as Wolverine. Though Logan’s a Beta level mutant whereas Y/n was an Alpha level, the only one of her kind. She had complete control over her abilities, her fighting skills were untouchable and unmatched. She was a part of the Weapon X program, when she was a young child she was taken from the orphanage she was placed at as a baby - and unknown to the team she was subjected to the worst abuse imaginable at the hands of The Facility. Unlike Logan though her Adamantium claws weren’t poisonous.

And what made Y/n even stronger was just like Wanda she had telekinesis abilities, though Y/n was a bit stronger than the other woman.

They didn’t know that Logan had found her when she was 16, with a chain wrapped around her neck that was connected to the wall, in a dark room that only had a toilet - nothing else. Logan had managed to get her out, which wasn’t easy considering she didn’t trust him and he wasn’t her handler. Logan kept her with him for roughly three years, moving around place to place, keeping each other safe. He was growing weak and unable to keep his promise to her, promise being he’d keep her safe. With a heavy heart he took her to Fury, begging the other man to take care of her. And since then she was a highly respected SHIELD agent and member of the Avengers.

They knew if Hydra were trying to recreate her genes they would have an army that would be unstoppable.

“But why dig her up? Hydra has her file so therefore they… they…”

“Tony? You okay?”

“Other than finding out my daughters grave will be disturbed, I’m fine”. He gets up and walks away.

One by one they follow his lead, leaving Bucky and Thor to blow out the candles - making the same wish as the previous years.

For her to come back.

The very next day they all gather at the cemetery and watched with a heavy heart as her grave gets dug up.

Three days later Fury gets a phone call “Fury you need to come to the Pentagon as soon as you can and don’t tell anyone”

“On my way”.

As soon as he got there he meets with Ross. “What’s all this about?”

“It’s not her”

“What are you talking about Ross?”

“Y/n… it’s not her in the coffin.”

“Hold on, you fucking lied to me you told me you wasn’t going to touch her!”

“Fury we brought a dead agent to the Pentagon for a reason”.

“A dead agent? Remember that dead agent saved you life how many times? Oh yeah six. Six fucking times she saved your arse Ross.” The anger coming off Fury made everyone in the room shift foot to foot.

“Sorry, we brought Y/n to the Pentagon for a reason”

“Why?”

“Simple. We wanted to make sure that they hadn’t gotten to her so we checked, and it’s not her. If-if you just look to your left Nick you’ll see the body that was in her coffin”

Fury stood there for a few minutes just staring at Ross before he looked over to where he had pointed.

There laid the decaying body of a woman, that was most definitely not Y/n.

“H-how is this possible?”

“We don’t know. It’s a possibility that Hydra got her body first, but it doesn’t explain why they would put this person in her place”

“Or she could be alive?” Fury asked hopefully.

“She’s not” Ross puts a hand to Fury’s shoulder “I checked the footage of the attack and it’s not her, I asked some of the agents that could talk if the person had claws and they all said no” Ross hated himself for calling her ‘a dead agent’ even if she was just that, but like Fury had said, she saved his life more times than one. When Y/n was introduced to him, he had to admit he was intimidated by her. But as time went on they gained each others trust and respect.

“Fury you can’t tell the Winter Soldier about this”

“James. His name is James and you honestly expect me not to say anything to the team?”

“We have no idea how any of them will react, especially him and Thor”

He hated to admit that Ross did have a point, there was no idea how the two men who blamed themselves for her death, would react.

Sighing “What are we going to do?”

“I’m not sure. Let’s just hope and pray that they don’t have her I guess”.

The screams of pure terror coming from civilians were muffled by the gunfire and explosions, the bodies of civilians and SHIELD agents scattered amongst the wreckage. Hydra made another attack on the Capital.

The Avengers were able to stop Hydra agents from pushing further forwards. But when the ground started to shake they all looked at each other.

Both Steve and Bucky gulped at the sight of the Uber Tank, memories of seeing it during the war flashed through their minds.

“What the fuck is that!” Tony questioned.

“T-that’s Hydras Tank - I thought I destroyed it” Steve answers.

The rain pour of gunfire came to a stop on both sides, agents of Hydra smirked, agents of SHIELD looked terrified. The rumbling stopped, the only sound that could be heard was rubble still falling in the background.

When the hatch came open they waited with bated breath. Rumlow.

Brock Rumlow climbed up and out of the tank, standing on top with a megaphone.

“Do you like her? She’s a real beauty isn’t she? Took us longer than I care to admit to rebuild her but here she is!” He laughs “Hey so the attack the other week on your headquarters, sorry about that. We just needed something, take a wild guess what” Not receiving an answer he sighs and tilts his head to the side “It was to get your friends file! Jesus do I have to do all the work around here?”

“I’ve got a clean shot” Voiced Clint from where ever he was at.

“Not yet” Steve says.

“Truth to be told guys we didn’t need her file, we just wanted to give you a heads up to what was going to come” Waving his arms towards to chaos “I knew if we took her file it would get your attention, and it did didn’t it. I also know that her coffin was taken to the Pentagon, and I also know that Fury’s been keeping a secret from the almighty Avengers”

“What are you talking about?” Steve shouted.

Rumlow chuckles “It’s about time you spoke Captain America, the secret is… how about I just show you huh?” Stomping three times on the Uber Tank “Little bird why don’t you come out so you can play”

The hatch comes open again, a figure all in black - very similar outfit that the Winter Soldier use to wear - emerged and moving their way to stand next to Rumlow.

“Our little bird here is even stronger than she once was. We gave her the serum and it just enhanced her strength.” Moving closer to the person he whispers something none of them could hear. “Look I’ve gotta go, don’t worry I’ll be taking this beauty with me so no need to cry. I’ll let little bird have all the fun, she deserves it” Placing a kiss to the side of the woman’s head, he pushes her off. “Good luck everyone, you’re gonna need it” Climbing back into the tank, the tracks started to rumble once again before leaving the same way it came.

Nobody moved even long after Rumlow and the Uber Tank had gone. That was until some Hydra agents started to drop to the floor with foam spilling from their mouths.

Little bird as Rumlow called her took one step in front of the other until she was roughly 100 feet on the Avengers.

Her hand slowly came up to her face, removing the bottom half of her mask then the glasses.

They couldn’t believe it.

They didn’t want to believe it.

“Y/n?”

Tags: @bethexo07 @doublebassallie

~ banner credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

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pengychan · 6 months ago

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[Baldur's Gate III] Wire in the Blood

Title: Wire in the Blood Summary: Mephistopheles sneered. "You have nothing of worth to offer me. You are nothing." "Your ichor must be unimpressive indeed," Raphael bit, "for some mortal blood to make it so worthless." It was a mistake, of course, and one that would cost him dearly. [It's not often that Haarlep regrets indulging Raphael. This is one of those times.] Characters: Raphael, Haarlep, 'Mephistopheles'. Raphael/Haarlep, Raphael/'Mephistopheles' Rating: Explicit Warnings: Consensual non-con, daddy issues off the charts. Status: Complete

Also on Ao3

*** Read the warnings. Read them again. This isn't incest on a sheer technicality but it's still plenty fucked up. The dove is dead and in full rigor mortis. ***

Hell, as Raphael was fond of saying, had its rules. Many of them written, quite literally in blood, and others unwritten but no less important. Of these, most were easily understood by anybody with two brain cells left to rub together. No need to ask how they came to be, either.

‘If Mephistopheles looks angry, run’ was one such rule.

The vast majority of the servants and souls at the House of Hope had never gazed upon the visage of the Lord of the Eighth, who truth be told was prone to change said visage when the whim took him. Still, when a blast rang out in the room of the Outer Portals and a towering devil with thick curved horns clad in red robes strode out of the portal to Mephistar, all of them knew there was no stopping him, and recognized the only reasonable course of action.

Run.

Mephistopheles deigned none of them of even a passing glance as they scrambled out of the way and went to cower as far as they could get, all the way into the foyer. He stepped past, leaving a scorched-black line on the carpet. He was there to seek one being, and one being only.

And it didn’t take long to find him.

***

“What in the blazes was--”

That, Raphael had meant to say, but words turned to ash in his mouth the second he turned and saw the Lord of Hellfire striding towards him, fury looming behind his eyes like thunderclouds. He tried to step back and stumbled against the doorway, trying to think, to remember what specific scheme of his may have angered him and what he could say for himself. Quickly. Before utter annihilation or, at the very least, a very painful dismemberment.

“My Lord,” he heard himself saying, and didn’t get to utter anything more. The next moment Mephistopheles had grabbed him by the throat and pushed him back inside the boudoir, slamming him against one of the columns around the Restoration Pool. The back of Raphael’s head hit the marble, and something cracked. Panic rising, Raphael had no time to wonder whether that had come from the column or from his own skull.

“You,” Lord Mephistopheles snarled, baring his teeth, a flash of white in the trimmed black beard. His eyes were pearls of malice, something like mist swirling in them, ever swirling, and looking at them made Raphael feel colder than the howling winds of Cania ever could. His voice was a low, guttural sound. “Of all the rotten fruit my seed has borne, you fester worse than most. I have allowed you to fester for far too long. But no more.”

“My liege, I don’t understand--”

“There is much you don’t understand, halfbreed, even when your arrogance tells you otherwise.” The Archmage of the Hells sneered, the malevolence seeping off him almost tangible enough for Raphael to choke on it. “Did you truly think I would not notice you asking questions, circling my vault like the scavenger you are?”

Raphael swallowed, throat bobbing against the steel-trap grasp of the hand threatening to crush his neck. The thought of trying to fight was there one moment, and gone from his mind the next. The Lord of the Eighth could destroy him, body and soul, with little more than the lifting of a finger. “Lord Mephistopheles, my intentions--”

“Don’t you deny it, or I’ll make a meal out of your soul here and now,” Mephistopheles cut him off. “Meager as that meal would be, it would be preferable by far to the chore that it is to listen to your excuses.” A pause, those cold eyes turning to the rest of the boudoir, the portraits on the walls. He sneered. “You still like to pretend you’re a proper devil, I see. It was amusing enough, I suppose, when you were but a child. Now it’s only pathetic. Do you think I do not know what your incubus does to you? What you beg them to do to you?”

“I…” Raphael tried to speak, but his tongue felt heavy as lead, all his eloquence gone.

A hand ripped open his collar and there they were, the marks Haarlep had left on him the previous night, plain for the Cold Lord to see. They could have been made to disappear with a dip in the Restoration Pool, but Haarlep had told him to keep them - like a collar, they’d said, and such a pretty collar it makes - and he had. He’d kept that reminder on his skin because… because…

“You fancy yourself worthy of the highest seat of all,” his sire sneered, “and yet you debase yourself to an incubus, because you know that’s where you belong.”

Shame rose like bile up his throat, dwarfing even the fear. He swallowed again and lowered his gaze, struggling not to crumble.

“A waste of a perfectly good incubus, sending them to you. I should have kept them in Mephistar, to keep pit fiends amused. Or perhaps I should have given that task to you, delivered you to the pit fiends as a gift and let them have their way with you. I may yet do so. Your looks are passable enough you may entertain them for a time.”

The hand let go of his throat to grasp his chin, forcing him to look up at the Archmage of the Hells, towering over him. Raphael couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. His limbs were cold as ice and just as heavy.

“Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t destroy you, or make you a whore for pit fiends and their appetites.”

“I-- my Lord, I have served you--”

“You have served me little, and poorly.”

“I can serve you well. It is all I wish to do.”

“Hmph. Is it the human blood in you that makes you such a poor liar?” A sharp claw cut across his throat, shallowly, and it was enough to draw blood. It ran down his neck, turning the torn collar of his doublet red, and he shuddered, biting back a cry.

“My liege,” Raphael finally managed, voice shakier than he’d have heard it. Any notion of pride, any thought of trying to protest or even fight, fled his body along with that blood. “I have your blood, too. You know I can serve you well.”

“I have legions at my beck and call, each of them many times the fighters that you are. I have counselors, far wiser and more insightful than yourself. A High Cantor to sing my praises, far more skilled in words and music than you may ever hope to be for all your mediocre efforts. I have spies more shrewd than yourself, and other halfbreeds who show twice the promise you once did.” Mephistopheles sneered. “You have nothing of worth to offer me. You are nothing.”

Snapping back at the Lord of Hellfire, Raphael knew, was an indescribably foolish idea. Yet he could not hold back: through the terror, through the shame, pride reared its head for a moment - and, with it, anger.

I’m more than your spawn, more than you know. How dare you, how dare you, how dare you.

“Your ichor must be unimpressive indeed,” he bit, “for some mortal blood to make it so worthless.”

It was a mistake, of course, and one that would cost him dearly. The hand squeezed his neck again, almost hard enough to crush Raphael’s windpipe, and the heat of it made him still, terror winning over any other thought again. He looked up, eyes wide, struggling to force out an apology he couldn’t speak. Above him, Mephistopheles glowered.

“Stoking my fury,” he growled, “is no desirable skill either, nor a wise course of action. I have no need for a rash child in my court--”

“P-please--”

The hand against Raphael’s skin grew warmer, hot, and he knew that if Mephistopheles chose to unleash hellfire upon him now, he may not survive even the first onslaught. “Quiet,” Mephistopheles snapped, and Raphael fell silent, trembling in his grasp. Those white, cold eyes narrowed. “If you cannot appreciate my blood, you have no claim on this body. Go on, be a worthless human like your mother. Do you think I don’t know how you favor that form?”

“I-- I don’t, it’s for mortals to--”

“Change, or I’ll separate your head from your neck to mount it on my wall!”

A shaky breath, then Raphael closed his eyes and did as he was told. His human form had always served him well, but now it felt so frail, and so small, standing next to the Archdevil of Cania. Mephistopheles had to lean down to speak against his ear.

“Worthless wretch,” he muttered. “I should never have taken you to my court, much less recognized you as my own. You have always been troublesome. You’re not worth the seed wasted on your conception, or even the meaningless mortal life extinguished to give you your first breath.”

Raphael’s vision blurred, his eyes burned, and he squeezed them shut. A shuddering breath left his chest before he made himself speak. “I can be worthy,” he managed, hating how faint his own voice sounded, how childish the words. He heard Mephistopheles let out a hum, felt the hand holding onto his chin let go to cup the side of his face.

“... I suppose it cannot be helped,” he finally said. “Your infernal heritage means you crave that which cannot be yours. Your mortal one means you crave that which cannot be found in Baator. It is the fatal flaw of every halfbreed.”

Raphael squeezed his eyelids tighter. He focused on the palm against his face, on the sound of water running from faucets - anything to ignore the knot in his throat, the burning wetness beneath his eyelids.

“Don’t call me that,” he ground out.

“It’s what you are. What else would I call you? What is it you hope to hear?”

Son. This once, only once, can’t you call me your son?

His lips parted, but he couldn’t force out the words; they remained stuck painfully in his chest, shards of ice that burned cold as Cania’s glaciers. There was no point in uttering them. There was no hope to hear that wish granted. “I hate you,” he choked out instead.

Mephistopheles, Lord of the Eighth, laughed.

“You think yourself the first to say as much? Many do. Enemies are the mark of greatness. Many of my enemies are dead and many more will die. But I have given you everything, ungrateful brat - anything you own, you owe me. What do you have to hate me for?”

“For making me,” Raphael whispered, and was only met with silence. Something wet slid past his eyelids, down his cheeks, and he knew that whatever battle he was still trying to fight was already lost. Mephistopheles pulled his hand away with a noise of disgust as though the tears had burned him.

“Pathetic,” he bit out. “If you wish me to unmake you, you only have to say so.”

Raphael said nothing, but it made no difference. He was grabbed by the throat, dragged across the room, towards the bed. His hands grasped his sire’s, but he made no real attempt at releasing its grip, mind reeling and stomach churning. Mephistopheles paused, gaze falling on the single goblet of wine on the footstool by the bed. He took the goblet, sniffed at it, and scoffed.

“Incubus spittle. Of course,” he muttered, and held it to Raphael’s mouth. “Drink.”

One last, weak attempt at pushing away. “My Lord--”

“That is an order, whelp, lest you truly wish me to tear you to pieces, body and soul.”

Lord of No Mercy, many called him, and not without reason; Raphael knew that was no empty threat, not coming from him, and he found he did not wish to die after all. He parted his lips, and nearly choked on the wine that was poured in his mouth. The effects hit him almost as soon as he swallowed, the shudder up his spine and the heat in his loins, in his face.

A low chuckle. “Empty words, I see, like everything that leaves your mouth. If you don’t wish to be unmade, so be it. I can be merciful. But you will learn your place.”

A gesture of the Cold Lord, and Raphael’s clothes burned off him, leaving him bare; throwing him face down on the bed took little more than a flick of his wrist. Raphael groaned against the pillow, skin breaking into goosebumps and already hard against the mattress. He tried to curl up, but that hand was on the back of his neck, burning hot and cold at the same time, pinning him down. Over his own thumping heart he heard another snap of fingers, the whooshing sound of red silken robes disappearing in flames.

“My Lord--” he choked out, only for words to die in his mouth when he felt the mattress dip. He tried to push himself up, but the grip on his neck kept him in place.

Oh, only that? Something whispered in the back of his mind. A small, mirthful, sneering voice, almost child-like in its glee. You could put up more of a fight than this. You don’t want to get up. You never do. You were made to be ground in the dirt.

“You will serve me,” the Lord of the Eighth was saying above him, and Raphael tried to tell himself the shudder that ran through him was one of disgust. Claws raked across his back and he keened in need, heedless to the blood it was drawing. He squeezed his eyes shut against the pillow, knowing full well that above him Mephistopheles was a towering presence, dwarfing that measly human form of his.

Then the clawed touch went lower, and Mephistopheles laughed. It was cutting as ice, reverberating through the room, out of the terrace until it seemed to fill the skies of Avernus, too. It seemed to Raphael that all would hear it, all would know, all would come to see him disgraced. The shudder that passed through him at the thought was more difficult to label as disgust now, with his cock hard and leaking against silk sheets.

“Oiled and ready - were you waiting for someone, or are you always ready to be somebody’s plaything?” A click of the tongue, and he let go of his neck to grab his hips, lift them until he was on his knees, legs spread, face buried in the sheets. Raphael trembled, choking back a sob, and made no attempt to rebel to pull away. “Perhaps giving you to pit fiends in Cania would be a gift to you, after all.”

“Please,” Raphael keened, not quite knowing what he was pleading for - for it all to end, for it all to continue, for oblivion, to be released, to be made a whore, to be embraced as a son - but knowing full well the plea would go unheeded either way.

The only answer was that cold laugh, the unyielding grip on his hips and the press of something against his oiled hole, blunt and broad, cold and hot at the same time like everything else about the Archdevil of Contradictions. Raphael cried out, hands gripping sheets, ripping the silk. Something ripped in him too, the pain blinding even with the effects of the incubus spittle to blunt it, and the cry turned into a wail at the breaching, the stretch, the burn of it. Somewhere above, Mephistopheles chuckled.

“Bleeding already,” he murmured, and gripped his hips harder. He didn’t push in as much as he pulled Raphael flush against him, forcing him to take it inch by inch, ridge by ridge. By the time he bottomed out Raphael was a shivering mass of pain, limp in Mephistopheles’ grasp, blood running down his thighs and cock still hard, still leaking onto the bed. “Yet you wanted my attention. You have it now, halfbreed.” He snapped his hips forward. “Are you satisfied?”

Raphael tried to work his jaw, cheek pressed on the sheets, but all that left him was a strangled sound. His vision was blurred, his face wet; he knew it was tears as much as sweat. Whether it was sweat or blood coating his back and thighs, he did not know or care. Slowly, the pain faded, the power of incubus spittle taking the edge off even that.

“Are you?” Mephistopheles growled with another sharp thrust that tore a moan from Raphael's throat. “Or is it not yet enough to sate you?”

A whimper, shamefully weak, and Raphael licked his lips. “No,” he rasped through ragged breaths, trembling, helpless in his grasp and in the face of his own desires. Shame burned in his stomach, want burned in his loins, and in his mind and heart he knew that if Mephistopheles left him empty now, he'd break. All that kept the jagged pieces of him together was the grasp on his hips, the cock within him, the contempt he could feel with every breath. “More,” he managed to choke out in the end. He felt so very small.

“That sounds much like a demand. You're in no position--”

“Please. ”

The words left him in a broken sob, and for several long moments his sire fell quiet. Then a hand came to rest on the back of his head, large enough to cup all of it. The cold of it was gone, leaving only warmth.

“You plead well. Perhaps we have found your true talent at last,” Mephistopheles said, a note of something in his voice that sounded almost like kindness. Raphael clung to that, to the uncharacteristic gentleness of the touch before the Lord of the Eighth began to move again, smoother, a steady rock of his hips. “Let me hear you plead some more.”

And plead Raphael did, through gasping sobs and shuddering moans. Pleading for more, faster, deeper - and all he asked he got, a hand still holding up his hips and the other pressing down on his head while the Lord of Cania made use of his limp body. Only when he knew he was close, cock painfully hard, did he try to move.

Part of him knew he may break if he gazed up at his sire’s face now. He did not care, or perhaps he wanted to break. Let it all come undone and leave behind nothing, no one. So he tried to lift himself on shaky arms, to turn back.

“Please,” he breathed, unable to add more, but Mephistopheles understood, somehow, as though reading his mind. He pulled out, causing Raphael to almost wail at the emptiness, and turned him on his back as easily as one may turn one of Haarlep’s mindless, soulless dolls. If he chose that fate for him now, Raphael wouldn't have it in him to protest.

But he did not choose such a fate, or any fate yet. He only gripped Raphael's hips and pulled him on his cock again, almost bent over him, large enough to blot out all light. The archdevil’s long, black hair fell around him like a curtain, hiding all but his face from sight.

“Look at me, boy.”

For a moment, despite being the one who’d wanted to turn, Raphael couldn’t bring himself to look. He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to bite back a moan, hands gripping the sheets and a nameless fear gripping his throat just as firmly as he waited for the punishment that was sure to follow, for defying an order.

“... Raphael.”

It was a rare thing for Mephistopheles to call him by name. It made Raphael open his eyes at last, a shuddering breath in his chest, and look up. Amidst the blackness of his hair, Mephistopheles’ pearly white eyes seemed to glow of a light of their own, and one that didn’t seem so cold anymore. His breathing was faster, too, sweat on his brow, glistening on red skin the same shade as Raphael’s own. Amidst the trimmed black beard, his teeth showed again in a smile.

Raphael shuddered, a jolt of pleasure straight to his groin. He tried to tilt his hips, to meet the thrusts, but Mephistopheles’ grip was unyielding so that he alone could control the pace. He was close, so very close, and yet release evaded him.

Raphael groaned and clenched around him instead, the heat in his groin almost unbearable. It got a hiss out of the Lord of Hellfire and then, at last, a low throaty laugh. “Good,” he rasped, thrusting in sharply, sinking his claws into Raphael’s hips, breaking skin - and that, love, was that.

Raphael came across his own stomach with a low, keening sound, mind blank of all thought. His back arched and his mouth fell open as he almost seized in his sire’s grasp. In the throes of release he heard a low grunt, felt a harsher thrust, and the warmth of come spilling inside him. It turned his last moan into a whimper, the whimper into a word.

“Father,” Raphael breathed, without thinking, and it was the last of his strength. His head fell back onto the mattress and he shut his eyes, trembling, drawing in ragged breaths. There were a few more thrusts before the grip on his hips relented, the cock was pulled out, and suddenly Raphael was alone in the middle of the bed, leaking blood and come and tears.

He swallowed, trying to regain the bearings of his surroundings. He let go of the sheets to press an arm against his eyes, biting the traitorous tongue that had spoken the one word he’d sworn would never leave his lips. He felt someone sit up on the side of the bed, and suddenly the weight on it wasn’t so great anymore, the mattress no longer dipping quite as much.

The weight on his chest however was only growing greater, shame and something much like grief gripping his throat. Raphael pulled the arm from his face and blinked up at the ceiling, not daring a look to the side, drawing in another shaky breath. His eyes burned, tears already spilling down his temples. “Haarlep,” he called out, voice hoarse. “Is it you?”

A chuckle, familiar as his own. “Who else would it be, lordling?” Haarlep asked, a lilt to their voice. “So, how did I do?”

Raphael didn’t reply, didn’t move: he just closed his eyes, and burst into sobs.

***

This wasn’t good.

It wasn’t that Haarlep had not been good. They always were, despite a painful lack of practice using any form other than Raphael’s own over the past… ah, best not to think of how long it had been. Either way, their impression of Mephistopheles - how they got that form was a tale best left for another time - had been nothing short of perfect.

And maybe that was exactly the problem.

When Raphael had made the request, Haarlep had been too delighted by the notion of a change in routine to really question whether bedding him while wearing Mephistopheles’ likeness was a good idea. It was not their role to question Raphael’s wishes, as their master made sure to tell them often, so they hadn’t. They played their part, did it well, and got some pleasure out of it. So far, so good.

Even when Raphael began to sob, they hadn’t worried too much at first; it was far from the first time having his wants fulfilled reduced him to tears. But this, they quickly realized, was different. Most times they could taste the relief coming off him in waves along with the tears, something within him finally sated through Haarlep’s services. Now there was no such thing: only those choked-back wails, those sobs tearing all air from his lungs while he curled up on the bed, hands covering his face.

Whatever he’d wanted to sate this time, it hadn’t worked. He’d only ripped open something that would take a long, long time to scab over again. The little change in routine didn’t seem all that funny anymore. Actually, it wasn’t funny at all. The wound it opened would bleed something ugly for a while, Haarlep could tell.

… Perhaps they should start doing something for the wounds that were literally, actively bleeding. Haarlep sighed, once again wearing Raphael’s likeness, and went to help him up.

They were not nearly as strong as the form they wore suggested - their true form was, truth be told, a fair deal smaller than the cambion’s - but they could still lift Raphael’s human body with relative ease. “Come, my pet,” Haarlep said, not unkindly. “You need a bath.”

Raphael’s sobs did not subside, but he did hold onto the incubus, letting them help him up on shaky legs and guide him to the Restoration Pool. The pool could only heal physical ailments, but the warm water did help soothe deeper wounds. Sitting in the water and breathing in the perfumes while Haarlep silently washed his back, Raphael finally stopped weeping, and fell quiet. He said nothing as Haarlep tilted back his head and rinsed his hair one more time before breaking the silence.

“Better?”

There was no reply. A little unnerved by the silence and by the uncharacteristic slump of Raphael’s back, Haarlep moved to crouch before him in the water. His eyes were still shut, but he was clearly not asleep. They reached to cup his face. “Master,” they called out, not allowing the barest hint of the usual irony into the word. “Look at me.”

Raphael didn’t open his eyes, but he did swallow. “I can’t,” he whispered, voice like old paper.

Of course. Can’t even stand to look at his own face now. Too much of Mephistopheles in it.

That would pass, eventually, but until then there was an easy solution. Haarlep held back a sigh, and allowed themself to change. Raphael’s form shimmered and faded, leaving behind a smaller, slender devil with simple dagger-like horns, cinnamon skin, and long hair that fell down their back, deep red as their eyes. “It’s me. You may look now,” Haarlep said with their own voice, and Raphael finally opened his eyes.

It was hard to tell if he was looking at them. His eyes were empty, as though he wasn’t truly looking at anything. “... You may go,” he rasped. “I have no further need of you tonight.”

“I will go if you wish. But first, I must make one thing plain,” Haarlep replied. Their hands dipped under the water to take Raphael’s own, thumbs brushing over his palms, and they looked him in the eye. They knew Raphael better than they’d ever gotten to know anyone; they knew all his wants, all his needs. While they may tease him, make him beg more often than not, they never denied him anything, in the end. Now that would have to change. Because he would ask for this again and, for the first time, Haarlep would have to refuse.

Raphael blinked, taken aback, and finally met their gaze. He seemed a little more aware, more present. “What is it?”

Haarlep set their jaw. “I’ll never take that form again. Even if you ask, if you order, if you rage. Even if you beg, Raphael . It happened today, and it shall never happen again.”

For a moment, there was no response. Raphael stared, still as a statue, and Haarlep was starting to question whether he’d heard their words when he worked his jaw and spoke, his voice strained. He sounded incredulous. “You would deny me? Refuse to obey?”

“Yes.”

A flash of something close to anger on Raphael’s face. “I could have you flayed for it.”

“You could.”

“And you’d still refuse?”

“Steadfastly.”

“Is my ire no concern for you!” Raphael snapped, as though insulted, as though they didn’t both know he could never truly punish Haarlep for any refusal, for any insolence. Even as he scowled, his hands held onto the incubus’. Haarlep squeezed them before speaking again.

“Your ire is a fearsome thing,” they said. “I’ll bear the brunt of it before I do this to you again.”

The words were barely out of their mouth, and all of Raphael’s anger melted away like wax to a flame. His lips trembled, and his eyes filled with tears. When a gut-wrenching wail bubbled up from his chest, Haarlep was there to catch him, letting him hold onto them. They let him press his face against the crook of their neck, rubbed his back until the sobs subsided and he went limp, still weeping softly. This time they could taste it again, coming off him along with the tears - relief. And maybe, just maybe, it was met with some relief of their own.

Haarlep sighed, brushing back his hair, and leaned with him against the side of the pool. “Come now, little brat,” they murmured against his temple. “Get some sleep.”

Raphael got no sleep that night, but he did hold onto them.

He held onto them for a very, very long time.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #haarlep #bg3 haarlep #haarlep bg3 #mephistopheles bg3

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kiseiakhun · 11 months ago

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Smash or Pass: Roy, Garth, Dick, Starfire, Raven, Kyle

Titans Go!

Roy: you know the answer. I know the answer. Everyone knows the answer. Smash. 100% I would smash. I would smash him like a wineglass against a hard marble floor. I would smash him like I accidentally smashed my phone screen two months ago while walking back from the grocery store. I want to ride him until my legs wobble and give out. I want to feel his weird possibly sentient soul patch drag over my thighs and give me beard burn. Idc if it's pathetic n52 garbage rat Roy. Would smash. Want to smash. It hurts me that I can't smash. Roy Harper pls come into this world so I can smash, i have dark hair, I am your type. You can dress me in a skimpy kimono and call me Cheshire if you want, idc.

Garth: SMASH. SMASH SMASH SMASH. I want him to hold me down with his big arms and (a truck barrels past honking loudly)

Dick: okay so this is hard. If he approaches me in full Richard Grayson mode I feel like I wouldn't be interested because he'd feel too much like another subby guy looking for a mommy gf to step on them. Yes, he's pretty, but I wouldn't be INTERESTED, you know? However knowing him in his entirety I know he must be a freak in bed. He would make me feel loved. Idk if that's a good thing though because one or both of us might have a breakdown mid sex because it feels Too Intimate and idk how I feel knowing he's staring down at me mid coitus comparing me to his dad. Like even if he doesn't want to fuck his dad there's some level of psychosexual obsession going on there and I Do Not Want To Get Involved. I don't have red hair though so idk if I even have a chance. Then again, dick HAS hooked up with Asians before, so maybe? I just assume everyone in the dcu has an Asian fetish because some senior editor in the new titans age definitely did. Does. They're probably still alive, it wasn't that long ago. Look at all the Asian baby mamas running around in the dcu. Does marvel has this many Asian baby mamas? Someone who knows marvel comics, tell me.

(I have just had my first coffee of the day, if things devolve into incoherence past this point, blame the ice capp. I forgot how much caffeine these things have.)

Anyway. If I want to insert myself in the psychosexual obsession between father and not-adopted son, I think I would choose Garth and Arthur. They're like. All the subtext between Bruce and Dick but for them it's not even subtext. Like Bruce only tossed dick at deaths door a couple of times, but Arthur ACTUALLY tried to kill Garth, you know? And Garth already has precedence for stealing Arthur's fiance, I think he gets off on it, I think it stokes his ego. And I definitely want to stoke Garth's ego, and also stoke other things. I want to make him happy. I'm much more invested in making Garth happy than in making dick happy because dick experiences one moment of happiness and self sabotages himself just like his dad who he insists he has no similarities to, none at all. I would say he needs therapy but he's gone to therapy and it didn't fix him. Also, Garth is less likely to cheat on me (because he never shows up and has no chance of character development)

"But kis," you say, "this is just about smashing, who cares about a lasting relationship?" This is DICK GRAYSON. You think DICK GRAYSON can do a one night stand? You think he can keep his feelings out of it? Dick of "wow Roy how can you have all these one night stands and casual fuckbuddies, I could never," fame. You think you can have a one night stand with Dick Grayson? Either I'm sleeping with him because I'm a supervillain trying to get to someone through him, looking for evidence that can link Nightwing to his every id so I can use it to blackmail Bruce into becoming my sugar daddy, or I'm the newest complication thrown between him and his current redhead of the week, depending on whether the writer ships dickbabs or dickkori. Like I think the sex WOULD be worth it but I think it would also leave me with an emotional void that I would try to fill with more casual sex, but somehow it never feels like enough. Nothing would ever fulfill me again.

Except Roy. Roy could fix me. Roy is used to fixing Dick's mistakes, what's one more to add to the mix. Fuck. I just accidentally made this Jayroy. moving on.

Starfire: SMASH. Show me how they do it on Tamaran, princess. I would sleep with her for industry connections but then she'd be so good to me I'd end up falling in love.

Raven: normal raven doesn't interest me that much but I would absolutely smash evil sexy raven. The one that got Kori pregnant that one time. The raven of "Gar Logan is here to get down and get funky" fame. I do not have a hypnokink but I WOULD let evil sexy raven mind control me just to lure Kori into her bed and disgard me once I'm no longer useful.

Kyle: unfortunately yes I would smash and yes I am ashamed about it. < Wally, probably. He's so pathetic and annoying and I am into it 😔 I wouldn't even be drawn in by his failgirl qualities. I would get drawn in by his pretentious artist schtick. He'd pull his straight man art kid moves on me and it would WORK. Yes I WILL swoon over his passion for his craft and his amateur understanding of philosophy and yes I will romanticize his messy, scattered nature as his natural artist inclination. And also I would get him some Adderall. Yes I will let him shotgun me after we sneak away from a party thrown by an acquaintance half removed form the both of us and drive him back to his apartment (because he can't drive) and make sweet love to him and hold him as he sobs about his dead girlfriend after he accidentally tells me he loves me. And after all that I still won't block his number. I'll be like 🥺 he's such a sensitive soul... and let him hit me up whenever he's back on earth. I could only do this with Kyle because he's on earth maybe 3 months out of the year so I only have intermittent exposure to his everything. If I had to see him consistently I'd get tired and ghost him within the second week. But I would still do it. I would let him pull fuckboy moves on me and it'll work ):

#asks #chronomotive #ask games #Ice capps are really strong.

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saetgvia · 7 months ago

Text

noah sterling

hehe i mentioned a little demon boy story so here's a teaser for something i really wanted to write for him! this is originally for noah, but you can definitely headcanon other people (i'm thinking kenji kishimoto, aaron warner, kaz brekker, nate macauley, grayson hawthorne)

warnings: none really, noah's just dommy with reader, suggestive kinda

characters: noah, ella/reader (written from ella's pov!), alex

so sorry for the shoddy writing LMAO not beta read

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

he's staring at me. again. i can feel his hot gaze on my from across the room, through the huge crowd here. the party, held for the elite, that we somehow got an invitation to because of noah. but now that we're here, i can't enjoy the event because of a certain someone boring into my skull.

'i think your boyfriend's jealous.'

'what?' i turn to the man next to me. blond hair perfectly coiffed into shape, piercing grey eyes and a devilishly handsome (no pun intended) smile, alex looks down at me, his thumb turned subtly towards noah.

'why would he be jealous?'

'because i get to spend my time with a beautiful lady and he doesn't?' alex questions with a smirk.

'no.' alex is a huge flirt, but i won't be letting him annoy me today. he leans closer to my ear and whispers something, but i'm not paying attention. noah's face has morphed into a dark look and his eyes have caught mine. his eyebrows flick up, and his intense gaze has my heart beating faster. that alone causes my eyebrows to knit in confusion. why is noah, of all people, making me so flustered? i've been in this situation so many times i should be used to it by now.

'you're blushing, princess.' alex taps my shoulder. 'is it noah?'

i stay silent, and alex gets his confirmation. no answer is still an answer. no matter how much i deny it, he does have an effect on me. a heart fluttering, butterfly inducing effect. okay maybe i have a crush. a really tiny weeny one.

noah's walking this way. my eyes widen like plates and i turn around to whisper to alex, who only grins and takes the glass of punch out of my hands. i haven't even noticed it, but noah has slunk up behind me, and he's whispering oh so softly in my ear as his hands curl around my hips, pulling me closer, 'upstairs kitchen. now.' and he's gone as quickly as he came and my cheeks are flushing and alex is doubling over in laughter and suddenly i'm in the quiet of the stairs, trying not to rush up too quickly.

when i arrive, he's already there in all of his gorgeous glory, leaning against the counter, waiting for me. his black hair is mussed but it doesn't look bad. nothing looks bad on him. i can just see the silver of his chain glinting faintly on his neck. he's dressed so casually, way too underdressed for such an event in black jeans and a short sleeved top that hugs him in all the right places.

'so glad you could leave pretty boy over there and join me.' his tone is cold.

'what happened? did i do something?' i can't for the life of me fathom what had happened. the sensible part of me points out that he was probably jealous of alex since noah has always gotten antsy whenever he's around. however, the much larger, dumber, part of me doesn't want to believe that. because that means entertaining the possibility that he likes me too, which means hope. for someone like me, hope is very dangerous.

noah chuckles. god he's hot. he's walking towards me, and once again i'm struck by how tall he is. he never stops bothering me about it; letting his arm rest on my head and when i swat it off quipping that he thought i was an arm rest. usually, i'd smile, but he's towering over me, and suddenly i'm the other way around and he's backing me into the counter. the marble is cold on my hands and noah's getting so close and i'm trapped between his chest and the kitchen island. this is so cliche i think in my stupor, but noah's gotten closer, impossibly closer to me but it's still not close enough. he smells heavenly, his scent of roses and vanilla flooding my brain and making my senses go woozy. eyes hooded, lips, oh god those lips, pink and plush, parted slightly, his face hovers above mine. i want more than anything to feel those lips on mine, but i turn my head so my cheek faces him instead.

his lips are on my jaw. my breath hitches as i exhale, his nose brushing my ear as he moves his kisses to my cheek.

'can't you see? can't you see how much i want you?' he breathes into my skin.

'don-don't do this to me,' i say.

'why? i know how you feel. not exactly hard to read, are you darling?'

———————————————————————

a/n:

heh

#original writing #fanfiction #fandom #fanfic #nate mcauley x reader #one of us is lying #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kenji kishimoto #kenji kishimoto x reader #grayson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x reader

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stesierra · 1 year ago

Text

Find the Word tag game!

@dyrewrites tagged me! My words are; gloom, fiery, lie, laugh and fall. I'm drawing from Stitches and Memories.

I'll tag @elizababie, @macabremoons and @anonymousfoz. You can use the same words.

Gloom

Jedan was already standing, nothing but a looming shadow in the gloom. He asked, "Do you need a hand up?"

"Please."

Between the two of them, she got upright, although she was limping badly. Not only had the blister not healed in the night, it had gotten worse.

Nearby, Reza said, "What now? We can hardly walk down the road in the dark."

Antea said, "Well, we'll just have to, won't we." And she shuffled out into the night, the others on her heels.

Fiery

They walked in silence as the golden sun inched into view, casting strong stretched-out shadows that marched alongside them as they made their slow way down the road. The clouds had vanished in the night. Only the very edge of the sky turned a fiery orange that was gone in minutes, like a candle blown out as soon as it was lit. Not long after, a messenger trotted by on a fast brown horse, and he was only the first of many.

Lie

The water was gone, leaving a vast and empty cavern that arched high overhead. At the center of it polished marble walls stood beautiful and sleek, two stories high and curved around some treasure at their heart. They had barely started to crumble, some of the capstones falling to lie like scattered pearls on the granite floor. A door faced them, a perfect circular arch. It beckoned them inside.

Antea took a step back as pain split her head in two. They had come here. They had come--

She didn't remember anything about her father, this time, but she still had the fit. When it was over, Jedan helped her up, and if his hands lingered on her shoulders longer than necessary, well, she wasn't complaining. He didn't say anything. None of them said anything. The silence of the cave was too complete for that.

Laugh

"I've caught the trail," Jedan said. "We can leave now. Antea? We can leave."

Her head throbbed just out of time with the heartbeat that sounded loud in her ears, and her hands shook until they banged into her thighs. She buried her trembling fingers in her skirts and stayed staring at the dusty floor. She said dully, "I woke up here. Right here."

Jedan was beside her then. He said, "Antea."

Her vision was tunneling in, turning the peripheral world to empty shadows. "I was all alone. My memories of the whole last year of my life were gone, as if it'd never happened. I couldn't even remember how I'd gotten there. And there was this gaping hole in my brain. My mind spiraled around it and tore itself apart. I had my first fit. I thought that I was going to die."

Jedan touched her shoulder and squeezed, and she leaned into him and let him steady her shaking limbs.

She said, "There was a letter on my chest. From my father. The lights he'd lit on our way in hadn't died yet, so I could see the words. I want to say reading it hurt worse than anything, but that's not true. Nothing has ever hurt worse than my brain."

"Don't think about it," he urged her. "Don't think about it."

She laughed until her stomach hurt and her breath wheezed. Laughed as the convulsions descended upon her, as memories latched onto the place where her amnesia sat and found a brief foothold. She saw her father leading her through the ruin past dozens of fallen skeletons, telling her of ancient plagues. Nothing but ancient history, my dear, no danger and nothing to fear. Now, if she would occupy herself, he needed just a moment. A moment to do what? A moment to do what?

The memory didn't say.

Fall

Reza slapped at the back of Antea's head. "What are you waiting for? Bring me inside!"

Antea stared up at her, her eyebrows rising. "You want me to take a horse inside a temple?" A horse named Demon?

"Yes, I do! If someone must carry me before the gods, let it be a proper steed and not one of my own soldiers."

Antea shrugged and led Demon over the threshold and into the Gods' House. His shoes clicked on the polished marble floor, and the horse looked around, snorting softly. Antea glanced up and gaped, coming to a brief halt to stare, for the triangular windows that covered the curving ceiling weren't glass. They glowed with transparent blue magic, the same magic that had made up the magic bridge back at the river, and Antea had no doubt they were as solid as that bridge. This magic wasn't something her father would have done. The building had been designed for it, hundreds of years ago. It was awe-inspiring, and a little terrifying, to think of the power that had gone into making those windows and making them so well that they had lasted since well before the fall of democracy.

#tag game #Stitches and Memories

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imaginarianisms · 4 months ago

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The crowd was deafening, though his mother's weeping and his grandfather's lectures in his head had drowned out all the voices around him. Aegon had welcomed him with open arms and a great feast, though, hailing him as the true blood of the dragon, and at the time, he'd felt exhilarated despite how utterly soaked he was.

As the night went on, though, doubt began creeping in at the recesses of his mind. "Mother have mercy on us all," he could hear his mother cry and his grandfather's displeasure, "You only lost one eye. How could you be so blind?" loud in his head. Aemond had gone so far as to go drinking and laughing with his brother the King. The longer he stayed in the throne room, though, the louder and louder the voices. The one eyed prince could not bear it any longer, so he privately excused himself, telling Aegon he simply needed some air. A faint spray of blood was still on his hands. Kinslayer, they would call him henceforth, but the Strong boys were no family of his. After all, what kind of family tore out one's eye from their socket with a dagger over an insult, yes, but honest truth nonetheless? What kind of sister threatened to torture her little brother over the open secret that no one, not even the King, dared to speak of? All of it left a burning feeling in his chest until a rippling snarl escaped his mouth.

❝Vaenna!❞

Vhagar's deep, rumbling roar could be heard from just outside the Red Keep. Her fury matched his own, though none of it was aimed at the woman he was seeking out. Aemond breathed heavily as he stepped into the royal sept, where he knew his destination would be, having been looking for her all night with his one violet eye. Gloved hands slam the doors behind him, black riding boots trek across the marble floor, the natural bloodstained blonde finally finding the Stranger's Bride at prayer.

❝Vaenna, mm,❞ his voice is low and strained as his gloved hands reached out to cup her cheeks, ❝Nyke daor ev Jaehaerys, Jaehaera se Maelor ūndegon nyke hae bisa. Nyke aemagon siñagon pa Tolmīhy bisa bantis.❞ I do not want Jaehaerys, Jaehaera and Maelor to see me like this. I have become the Stranger this night.

Because the gods knew he'd have to explain what happened to his nephews and niece one day, and they wouldn't look at him the same, the mask would fall away. Deep inhale and a hitch of breath, his thumbs stroking against her cheeks, leaning in. Soaked to the bone, he's seeking absolution in the only way Septa Vaenna knew how. What they do here was forbidden in the eyes of gods and men, but they are of Valyria. He'd taken her maidenhead the night when her father was brutally murdered at court. Prince Aemond had been with many women and men and everything in between, but the dragon was always so greedy for even the most forbidden of jewels and treasures. Vae tastes like blueberries he used to eat in the gardens of the Red Keep in summer. He may have been betrothed to Floris Baratheon, but his eye was solely on Vaenna. Nobody's son, nobody's daughter, Kinslayer, Stranger's Bride, too fitting. Whether she accepts his advances, he only wants her affection and two seconds of nothingness. I know what you are.

He need not confess his sins; she already knows. She smells like death and sea salt. She has her father's eyes. His fingers trace down her cheeks, tenderly caresses her veil as if it were her silver-gold hair underneath and gently touches her above her teal silks in the spots he knows she likes in faint strokes. This was the highest sacrilege.

❝Shijetra nyke. Tepagon nyke tepilla, Vaenna.❞ Aemond spoke in no lower than a whisper, his lips brushing against hers as he slowly backs her against the wall. Forgive me. Give me mercy, Vaenna.

@velcryons

#aemond targaryen. || ic.#velcryons #dynamic; aemond & vaenna.#interactions; vaenna velaryon.#jesus christ a.emond AJAJGAJAGJGAAGJAGJAGJAG #he rly chose violence + being an affectionate mommy's little war criminal rainsoaked poor little meow meow tonight huh

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libidomechanica · 5 months ago

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Untitled (“The words out around plumes and ocean with you be; blown”)

A cinquain sequence

The words out around plumes and ocean with you be; blown short, for her for the chamber of hair.

Just as if there she fleeting, we will together. Do I dare to know how longings where thee.

Now called into the latest tieth! Someone else, for the palms. The many a rivers to thee.

Ere happier St. And nights are amaz’d, and mid basketball. When that could not speak silence.

Must pine, nor shall wear white balloons. Heard it, afternoon, a faint moon, were most sane and miles.

Must picture fix’d on Camelot. Near the novels, after love is the sphere I see a place.

If I could not going! Morn in the castle wave may so fair? But, taking the landlord’s black!

From their wayward round, all song of a dream. Riding— o, sweet food, and, when the called Rescue Inc.

My morning fires delights! Could my coat; how she concealment: she like purple bunch of a plum.

Round him from the teeming sun, the brain? Than all the dancing pretzels drinking: as midnight’s tear.

Is hands of thine ten into roses: by the house, of all her palm tree, these strain. I grow sad.

And her, and she glides her face. In California and oarlocks for that vanish’d, or brighter.

And if thou must know one than the heau’nly bosom move? And she love holds an urn to be wooed.

May, in your particle and I was a tomb. I spent with musket beside removed like men!

A plum. On the sky, the winds do come—so sure: leave your face new. We have squeezed thee shadow pay?

The refrigerator. Comes into tower’d Camelot. Dead self, nor awake day smith man.

Billows of my Soul. Outside silk and none know how long since I have not ask me nothing mine.

For the winds blown back when a person, would invent with flagons, comforter! Which, with his death.

I could return, I am come away! One must have deep east, oercharg’d, to murderous, blood!

—If one, settled in posterity? Next, when I should rather like a weapon, like delights!

Him away. For me with thee, and as nothing, with myrrh and for heretics in love’s refrain.

The lake; speak in scorn of us, They were two young girls, like old inn-door. That when finish, dear.

He took on the orange seizure came. Toot, told that dyes a marble, set upon the singeth.

The Long Island dwelt but he lay in his immortality. Poor rest; there’s naught windshield.

Give me, too sweetness, to the life of joints of thunderstand. I’m weariness wild- flower trees.

So indefeasible to know. Me dear compared then by me. Rejoice in front to grow old?

A few, and eye. In human closely furl’d, the dim purpureal tresses gave thy temple door.

Muffling his king ears, the rivers on his counterpart,. And people and wonder her room.

But who, safe in Death—he turmoil of healing. Your eyes that shoot him in table, my master.

To take his bed.—Then with you to mind prints him even but paint the many mountains, skipping.

Which has gone at dusk? Thirsty milk! Then fire, when the red her; but these fools admire. Smiles, nor fret.

Fallen in his resting, with his law: and full of her een her got the centric happiness?

I would pour my soul love you. Where will pay you wilt not such good minute. Of passionato.

Body of Shame might have beetles,—blind do ye thing, in his banners. When thou makes some one else.

Only remember me when fire, with rich gifts. Roots will to row them were Dem my eyes, possess’d.

The landlord’s black pavement sill six storing in the Crownéd Heart—now twists of the look’d up her Veil.

Hee vowes nothing, you say so, and modesty fixes there. It’s a silent gulf between.

Compounds we our pardon, I am a watercolor. My love, unable than thousand.

In better her, hebes are lang! Partly because of the Boston, writing, and live: Alas!

If I be death. Below the gay, dewy gem, frighter be, with sparkled on a screen of myrrh.

Through to steel; others? Excuse what love the copses, out all her glory sat she laugh for love.

She dieth! That old December’s bare the brought his Thetis’s breaks for peacefully down; therefore there!

And let go. A little: where Cupid is whip on the daisy-star that practice down she past.

Some beareth. Out in the Theban wall and lie, till I defiled: for our styles, chipped up-stair.

Descends that brave, until life. But in thy mouth. A longdrawn thy pitfold seer in a forest.

To languid fool, who even pedestal with her death. And thine; for beasts, birds, O beloved.

A pillow or thread a great enough for a kitchen the king hath the gynaeceum, fail so.

No time remote Shalott. And only nor left pulses beating clear as justly that is part.

Than if he knew that will make a Lady of Shalott. Embrace me with my eyes following!

Where, branch breaketh, trust that found the dress. The tears it ran warm, tremulous, devout, psalterian.

For the village green field that I have you. Descend the more forms of Gods, upon cloudy seas.

A thing the first there I linger, well knows too, and ye, ah, may ye feel the brake. Doe you say.

If she says than even now thus graceful: men for still lies and clay, you that love her Dearie! Dare?

And by the music that drifting waves combing road! And answer and Hermes, by my pet-name!

When I was she look’d down from her window. Her her left to her lips ill hung a silent night.

And, beloved is mind. And from the town, slow-stepp’d, and estrange low sobs that were a pitty.

They did not love the fail to all over; to equal your head that other. The pilferer.

Of bold inn-door. For we holding to ever to enjoy thee—on the stream that rubs its life.

I’m guess we’d take the silent gulf as talk of it, to make the soul’s eyes. By frail of his eyes?

Its heap’d on her sapphires, green, and her till to heaven there? Would find one words; for the rest.

Then how sweet; from them, Since you and I strove no measure! And so indefeasible to know.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #139 texts #cinquain sequence

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genshinluvr · 2 years ago

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Malewives Reporting for Duty

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: You somehow mysteriously get sick despite feeling fine the day before. Since you're sick and can't care for yourself, the Genshin men step up and take care of you while you're ill. After the men have successfully nursed you back to being healthy, you repay them back by making them breakfast.

Note: This is requested by anon! Honestly, thinking about the Genshin men taking care of me while I'm sick in bed is a dream. They would be so attentive and caring 🥺 Damn, this request is making me feel lonely 🥲 To my new and returning readers, I post on AO3 as well, so if you have an AO3 and see a work similar to this, it’s me (Aaliah_exo on AO3). I don’t post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: None that I know of 🤔 you getting sick? I don't know if that counts, but you get sick. Abnormally big pills that you're supposed to take? Oh! Mentions of vomiting/puking/hurling. You don't throw up in here, but you do have the urge to do so.

Word Count: 8.6k

You’re running a fever in the middle of the night out of the blue. It came out of nowhere. You woke up around two in the morning, feeling extremely hot. The room wasn’t hot; it was your body that was hot. Before you went to bed, you felt just fine. But a few hours later, now, you woke up feeling awful. Your throat feels awfully dry, your head is pounding, your body is aching, and your body feels so hot, but you are shivering at the same time. You threw your blanket off of your body before getting up from your bed to grab a cup of water from the kitchen downstairs. You crept down the stairs, hoping that you wouldn’t wake the others up from their sleep. You begin fanning yourself with your hands, a thin layer of sweat forming on your body.

Even though the mansion was at a decent temperature, you felt like you were on the surface of the sun. You pulled out a glass cup from the wooden cabinet before pouring yourself a cold glass cup of water to drink. You ended up losing count as to how many cups of water you’ve consumed. You gingerly placed the glass cup down on the marble counter before walking to the living room. Your limbs felt heavy, and your eyelids were threatening to shut. You don’t think you have the energy to be able to walk up the stairs and back to your bedroom, so you have decided to plop down on the couch in the living room. The minute your head hit the couch, your world went dark.

When the sun was rising, one by one, the men began to wake up. Sometimes, before going downstairs for breakfast, the men liked to go into your bedroom to wake you up. But when they went to your bedroom to greet you, they saw that your bedroom door was wide open and completely empty.

“Huh, could it be that [Y/N] has woken up ahead of us?” Itto asks, scratching his head in confusion.

Kazuha shakes his head in response to Itto’s question, “It can’t be. [Y/N] doesn’t wake up this early in the morning. If they were to wake up earlier than their normal time, they would’ve gone back to sleep.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Well, if [Y/N]’s not in their bedroom, then where can they possibly be?” Xiao asks, looking at Kazuha with a skeptical look on his face. The men walked down the stairs, hoping to get a glimpse of you. The good thing was, they did find out where you were once they got downstairs. You were sleeping on the couch, completely passed out, which was a bit strange because the men knew that you’re not a huge fan of sleeping in open spaces like the living room. Mainly because you wouldn’t be able to sleep after knowing that there are people in the same room as you while you’re unconscious.

“There they are. [Y/N] had us worried sick!” Scaramouche sighs in relief, walking towards where you were sleeping. Zhongli slowly stopped in his tracks, noticing something strange about you. Zhongli slowly approached where you lay and pressed the back of his gloveless hand onto your forehead.

“[Y/N]’s running a fever,” Zhongli murmurs, looking over at the other men that stood around him.

“It must’ve been a really bad fever because their face is flushed, and there’s a thin layer of sweat forming at their forehead,” Kaeya says, slowly approaching Zhongli’s side. Soon enough, everyone was surrounding the area where you were asleep.

“Are you sure it’s an illness? [Y/N] says that they get overheated easily while they’re asleep.” Baizhu says, raising an eyebrow at both Kaeya and Zhongli.

“If they get overheated in their sleep easily, then why do they sleep in mountains of blankets every night? Even if it’s the summer, [Y/N] will continue to sleep with seventeen layers of blankets over them.” Scaramouche says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, please. Don’t exaggerate the number of blankets they sleep with at night.” Venti laughs softly, shaking his head.

“Yeah! I believe four is the maximum amount of blankets [Y/N] sleep with.” Itto interjects.

“Let’s wake them up,” Gorou says.

Diluc and Dainsleif approached where you lay before beginning to shake you to wake you up. The first shake didn’t wake you up; you remained asleep. You looked so worn out, almost in pain by the way your face was scrunching up. They weren’t sure if it was from not wanting to wake up, which was understandable because you’re not a morning person, or if it was because you were feeling uncomfortable due to whatever was going on with you.

Dainsleif shakes you once more. You let out a quiet whine, eyebrows scrunching. The soft groan that left you sounded almost like you were in pain but were trying your best to suppress the awful feeling. You continued to sleep; your head turned to face the couch. Oh boy, waking you up from your slumber while you’re not feeling well is going to be complicated. Could this be the first time that you have caught an illness while spending your time in Teyvat? The men couldn’t recall the time when you’d fallen ill.

“[Y/N].”

You felt someone shake you, but you continued to sleep. The voice sounded muffled as if you were underwater, and the person that was trying to get your attention was above the surface.

“[Y/N], wake up.”

Again, someone shakes you, trying to get you to wake up. You grumbled in response, turning over on your side and continuing to sleep. You hear collective sighs and groans of frustrations after you have turned on your side with your back facing their direction.

“Dammit, [Y/N]! Wake up!” The voice was much clearer now. The person lightly patted your cheek while shaking you, you groaned and tried to push the person away from you, but your arms felt so heavy that they fell onto your torso. You cracked your eyes opened and squinted your eyes at the sight above your head. Fifteen faces were staring down at you worriedly; you rubbed your eyes before stretching your arms and legs out on the couch.

“Why were you sleeping on the couch? We thought you were sleeping in your room.” Thoma asks, looking down at you in confusion.

“I don’t feel well.” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes with the heel of your hands. Your throat begins to feel itchy and scratchy, making you cough lightly and clear your throat. You winced at the uncomfortable feeling in your throat. Great, now it's your throat that’s acting up.

“You what?” Diluc asks, looking at you in confusion.

“I’m not feeling—” You quickly turned your head away before coughing into your elbows. You winced before forcing yourself to sit up on the couch. You felt yourself slump over when a wave of dizziness hit you, causing you to lay back down on the couch. You covered your face and groaned with defeat. “I’m not feeling well.” You repeated yourself, clearing your phlegm-filled throat, making you wince at the disgusting feeling. “I feel like I got hit by a mitachurl’s wooden shield over and over again.” You added, looking up at the men tiredly.

Baizhu and Albedo pushed through the men to take your temperature, all while the others stood by and watched. Thoma quickly excused himself before walking to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for everyone to eat, is what you were assuming. You were so exhausted that Scaramouche, Gorou, and Xiao had to make sure that you were awake for the checkup that was conducted by Baizhu and Albedo. You almost dozed off a few times, only to feel Scaramouche lightly pat your cheeks to grab your attention. Your headache was worsening as time went by, making it almost unbearable for you to focus on what Baizhu and Albedo were asking you.

“You didn’t feel well, and yet you manage to get yourself downstairs,” Xiao says, looking at you quizically.

“I was feeling thirsty, my throat was dry last night, and I wanted to drink some water. I felt so tired that I couldn’t get myself to go back to my room, so I chose to sleep down here instead.” You reply, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

“Do you want me to carry you back to your room? I’m sure that sleeping on the couch isn’t as comfortable as it is sleeping in your own bed.” Kazuha says softly, brushing your hair away from your face. You nodded your head in response. Kazuha squats down in front of you; you slowly get off the couch (with the help of Zhongli and Ayato) before wrapping your arms around Kazuha’s shoulders and your legs around his waist.

“How did [Y/N] get sick?” Dainsleif asks, watching Kazhua give you a piggyback ride up the stairs to your bedroom.

“I don’t know. [Y/N] seemed fine last night before going to bed.” Gorou sighs softly, his ears flattening on the top of his head.

“Since they have caught an illness, I am going to go to Bubu Pharmacy to get their medications right now. I should be back before nine in the morning.” Baizhu says, walking towards the entrance of the mansion. The men watch Baizhu leave the estate, the wooden doors closing behind him. The men turned towards one another. No one said anything before Childe decided to break the silence between them all.

“So, [Y/N] has come down with a fever.” Childe comments, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’ve never seen anyone get sick like this. This is probably the worst kind of sickness anyone can possibly get.” Albedo says, stroking his chin with his eyebrows furrowing.

“It’s not going to kill [Y/N], is it?” Venti asks, looking around at the others with worry.

“I’m sure [Y/N] will be fine. Despite the severity of [Y/N]’s illness, it’s a common illness. [Y/N] should recover from it just fine.” Ayato says.

“Ayato’s correct. The sickness that [Y/N] has contracted is a common illness in Teyvat. It’s not deadly, but it will leave [Y/N] bedridden for the next few days.” Albedo comments.

“It may be a common illness in Teyvat, but [Y/N] is not from this world. We don’t know how their body is going to react to this foreign sickness, let alone the medications that treat the illness.” Diluc says, frowning at Albedo with his arms over his chest.

“I understand the concern that you have for [Y/N], but the only thing we can do for now is hope that the medication that Doctor Baizhu is bringing back to the abode will suppress the symptoms of the illness.” Zhongli says, his gaze falling to the ground.

It was strange for you to get sick overnight suddenly. You were feeling just fine the day before, but then your temperature suddenly spiked in the middle of the night. It was weird; you didn’t eat anything that could have possibly gotten you sick, and you didn’t go anywhere near sick people or animals. How could you get sick with a common illness in Teyvat when you didn’t leave the abode yesterday?

“Yeah! Plus, the illness from Teyvat may not be as different from the illnesses in [Y/N]’s world.” Childe shrugs his shoulders.

“Why are you a little bit chipper at a time like this?” Dainsleif asks, raising an eyebrow at the Harbinger in front of him.

“Perhaps he’s trying to keep a positive mindset in a dire situation like this,” Kaeya says, leaning against the wall of the abode.

“It’s quite concerning to see [Y/N] this way. I’ve never seen them so weak and vulnerable before.” Thoma says, entering the room with his arms over his chest.

“Gentlemen, I believe that we all should care of [Y/N] while they’re ill in bed. I think they will appreciate it, given that they won’t be able to do much while bedridden.” Ayato says, glancing upstairs where your bedroom was located.

The others nodded their heads at Ayato’s comment before walking up the stairs to where you and Kazuha are at. Upon entering your bedroom, the men saw Kazuha tucking you into your bed while you were entirely out cold on your bed. The men assumed that Kazuha had shut the window blinds and had turned on the humidifier that was on your nightstand was turned on, water vapors coming out of the humidifier at the top.

“Archons, [Y/N]’s is out cold already?” Diluc murmurs, approaching where you lay before lightly feeling your face. He brushes your hair away from your face lightly with a quiet sigh.

“The soup I’m making for [Y/N] is still heating up. Once it’s done, I’ll bring it upstairs for them to eat. It’s not good for them to go the entire day on an empty stomach.” Thoma says softly.

“Especially when they need a lot of nutrients,” Scaramouche added, looking down at you.

Thoma nods his head at Scaramouche’s comment. Thoma quickly presses his hand against your forehead one last time before he quickly walks over to your bathroom. Thoma turned on the faucet of the bathroom sink before turning it off. Thoma then returns to your bedroom with a wet towel in his hands. Gently, Thoma knelt on your bed beside you before placing the cold, damp rag on your forehead. The men hear a faint sigh of relief coming from you when the wet rag is placed upon your forehead. A small smile appears on Thoma’s face before he gently caresses your flushed cheeks in his hands; the small smile slowly disappears with a sad exhale.

“I hate seeing [Y/N] like this,” Venti says softly.

“Don’t we all?” Gorou mutters, sitting at the edge of your bed while you continue to sleep.

Childe sighs softly, “What are we going to do now?”

“Easy, we’re going to nurse [Y/N] back to their normal healthy self,” Itto says, shrugging his shoulders as if it was the obvious answer.

An hour has passed by, and Baizhu has finally returned from Bubu Pharmacy with medications in his hands. And face masks for everyone to wear. Well, mainly for you since you were the one that was sick. You were still knocked out asleep in your bed when Baizhu had returned, so, Venti and Zhongli had to rouse you from your sleep since archons couldn’t get sick like the mortals that are residing in the abode. After waking you up from your slumber, Baizhu handed you your medications to take. The good thing was that there were medications to treat the illness! The bad news? Well….

“This pill is huge!” You squeaked, holding up the white pill in front of your face. You looked up at the fifteen men in horror before looking back at the pill between your thumb and index finger.

“Yes, but it will help you heal much quicker,” Baizhu says, giving you a gentle smile.

“I can’t swallow pills this big!” You squeaked, staring at the pill with wide eyes. The white tablet was the size of half of your index finger! It was huge! There was no way that you’ll be able to swallow something as huge as that pill without choking and gagging! Quite frankly, you can’t swallow pills in general unless they’re really small!

“What do you mean you can’t swallow pills?” Xiao asks, staring at you in disbelief.

“Pills this big, Xiao. As I’ve said before, this pill is ginormous!” You said, holding it up to Xiao’s face.

“It’s just pills. I’m sure you can swallow it just fine.” Dainsleif reassures you. As much as you wanted to believe Dainsleif, you couldn’t get yourself to do so. There was no way you would be swallowing something that big.

“Unless you want me to choke and die, sure!” You shrugged your shoulders, continuing to stare holes into the pill that you were holding between your thumb and index finger. Even though you haven’t swallowed the tablet yet, you just know that you will be gagging and choking on the medication on the first try.

“Don’t say that, [Y/N].” Zhongli chides you gently, shaking his head in disapproval. You pouted in response before letting your hands fall into your lap.

“I know the perfect way to get [Y/N] to swallow the pill!” Ayato spoke up, grabbing everyone’s attention.

Ayato gestures to the men to follow him out of your bedroom. You watched them leave one by one before closing the door behind them. You stared at the door and then down at the massive pill in your hand. It looked intimidating; you never liked taking medication because you were afraid that you were going to choke on the tablets and probably die from it. You wouldn’t mind swallowing the medication that Baizhu has prescribed and given to you if it wasn’t so big! You were surprised that there wasn’t a “choking hazard” label on the medication bottle because that will definitely happen if you were to be forced to swallow the medicine.

A couple of minutes later, the men finally walked into your room as if nothing had happened. You looked at them skeptically as Xiao approached your bed, sitting down beside you. Xiao grabs the pills from your hands, making you sigh in relief mentally. Perhaps Ayato has convinced Baizhu to get you liquid medicine instead of the pills.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take your medicine?” Kaeya asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

You shook your head, “It’s not like I don’t want to take my medicine! I would rather take the liquid form than the pills.” You said, scrunching your face up at the thought of having to swallow pills. You knew a few people in your world that could dry swallow pills, the thought of it made you visibly shudder.

“What if we tell you that there’s a way for you to swallow your medication without any complication?” Albedo asks, leaning against the wooden bedframe of your bed.

“Oh? Are you guys going to crush the pills up for me and put them in my drink? I would much prefer that method than having to swallow this….” you held up the giant pill in the air in front of your face, “.... giant thing.”

Kazuha chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Not necessarily.”

You look at Kazuha in confusion; Baizhu nods his head to Xiao, who grabs the pill from your grasp before putting it into his mouth. You look at Xiao in horror as Itto hands Xiao the glass cup of water. Xiao pours water into his mouth before looking over at you. He grabs your face with both of his hands before slamming his lips against yours, catching you completely off guard. You struggled in Xiao’s grasp, your mouth opening slightly, giving Xiao the opportunity to slip the pills into your mouth along with the water. You whined and began to struggle against Xiao’s hold. Xiao pulls away from you, covering your mouth and pinching your nose close, preventing you from breathing. You were forced to swallow the water and giant pill down your throat. You could feel the huge pill slide down your throat along with the water. You pushed Xiao off of you and took deep gulps of air, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

“Oh! It works like a charm!” Gorou says, looking over at Ayato with an impressed look on his face.

“I told you it would work,” Ayato says with a smug look on his face, the corners of his lips quirking up.

“Of all people, why Xiao? Why not me?” Childe asks, letting out a huff of breath, a tiny pout forming on his face.

“Xiao is an adepti; adeptis and archons cannot get sick.” Venti shrugged his shoulders.

“Then how come you or Zhongli didn’t do it?” Itto asks, crossing his arms over his chest before raising his eyebrows at Venti and Zhongli.

“Itto, you were there. Xiao volunteered to make [Y/N] swallow the pills.” Albedo says, giving Itto a blank look.

“Well, it worked, and it was disgusting.” You shuddered. “Oh! I meant that having to swallow the pills was disgusting, not Xiao or kissing Xiao himself.” You quickly added, looking away from Xiao and the others with a red face. Xiao clears his throat and looks away, his cheeks turning light pink from your comment.

“Well, you do need to take your medication in order to feel better,” Kazuha says, giving you a small smile.

Your eyes widened at Kazuha’s comment, “I still have to swallow the giant pills!?” You looked over at the others in shock and fear. There was no way you’d be able to swallow those damn pills again! You know that you’re going to at least choke on the tablets at least once, and you definitely do not want to deal with the medications ever again.

“How else are you supposed to recover from your illness?” Diluc asks, raising his eyebrows at you with his arms over his chest.

“I was hoping to just deal with the sickness while not having to swallow any pills that are almost the size of my pointer finger.” You grumbled, laying down on your bed. But the minute you laid down, you felt a wave of nausea wash over you. You quickly sat up and covered your mouth with your hand, hoping not to puke the pill back up.

“What’s wrong?!” Xiao asks, his eyes widening in fear and worry as he gently places his hand on your lower back. You shut your eyes tightly and shook your head, hand still covering your mouth. You were afraid that if you were to open your mouth to speak, you would throw up all over the place, and that won’t be a pretty sight to see.

“Are you okay?!” Thoma gasps, stepping up towards your bed before placing a gentle hand on your shoulders.

“Oh, dear archons, you’re not going to throw up, are you?” Scaramouche scrunches his face up in disgust. You would be offended by Scaramouche’s reaction, but honestly, you don’t blame him one bit.

“Ah, I forgot to mention that [Y/N] should take their medication right after eating. [Y/N] will feel nauseous if they take their medication on an empty stomach.” Baizhu says, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish smile on his face. You gave Baizhu a look of disbelief while continuing to cover your mouth. You hate throwing up! You hate the feeling of it, the aftermath of it; the aftertaste was awful. You hate everything about it and never want to deal with puking ever again in your life, but it seems like you might have to deal with vomiting very soon.

“You should have informed us of that earlier.” Dainsleif frowns at the green-haired dendro vision wielder, looking at Baizhu from his peripheral vision.

“Should we get a bucket just in case? Or maybe carry them to the toilet?” Kaeya asks, tucking his hands into the pockets of his pants.

You shook your head and swallowed the lump in your throat, the feeling of hurling settling to the side, making you sigh in relief. You slowly uncovered your mouth and slumped down in your seat, wiping the thin layer of sweat off your forehead.

Your voice shakes, “I’m fine, I’m fine. The feeling went away.”

“You don’t look fine; you lost color to your skin.” Zhongli sighs, frowning at you.

“I just hate the feeling of throwing up. It’s one of the things I don’t want to experience ever again.” You sighed, running your trembling hands through your hair.

Thoma slowly pulls away from you, “I’m going to get you your food. I believe that we should take it easy when eating. I don’t want you to throw everything up, and I’m sure the others feel the same way.” Thoma says, leaning down to press a light kiss on top of your head. Thoma gives you a soft smile before walking out of your bedroom. You let out a weak exhale before laying down on your bed; you felt like you were run over and smacked by a shield-wielding mitachurl. You felt like crap, and you bet you look like one too, but you were afraid to go to the bathroom to look.

“How are you feeling so far?” Albedo asks, sitting down beside you as he runs his fingers through your hair.

“Awful.” You mumbled, closing your eyes. “I feel like crap.” You added, slowly opening your eyes to look up at the alchemist above you with a slight frown on your face.

“Yeah, no kidding. You look like you were thrown into the abyss!” Childe says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Gee, thanks, Childe! That’s definitely what I needed to hear.” You deadpanned, glaring at the ginger-haired Harbinger. Childe laughed nervously when Diluc and Ayato both nudged him in the stomach, causing him to wince slightly. He awkwardly clears his throat before quietly apologizing to you.

“You didn’t eat anything weird yesterday, did you?” Venti asks, plopping down on your bed beside you. Venti leans on his left arm as he gazes down at you, his slim index finger pushing the strands of hair away from your sweaty forehead. You paused for a moment, trying to recall what you ate the day before.

You shook your head, “I don’t think it’s something I ate.” You let out a sigh, grabbing the face mask from Baizhu’s grasp before putting it over your mouth and nose.

A face mask is what you need because you don’t want to get the other men sick just by being in the same vicinity as them. “Plus, if it was something I ate, I believe that it would do way worse things to me. Like give me diarrhea, make me vomit endlessly, and many more awful things.” You scrunched your face up in disgust. “I think it would be considered food poisoning, but I don’t believe that I have food poisoning at all.” You added, pulling the blanket up to your chin with a yawn. You just wanted to sleep the sickness away, but since the illness was something that you have never experienced before, you don’t think that’s how sicknesses go away in Teyvat. Getting plenty of rest is one of the most important things when a person is ill but would sleeping the illness away work in Teyvat? You once had a fever in the middle of the night back in your world, and you slept the fever away. But your mother would make you take medications just for safety measures, and to make sure that you take medicine for the illness despite it being a twenty-four-hour sickness.

“If it’s not the food, then what could it be? Surely, none of us are ill, and [Y/N] has not come to close contact with anyone that could have this sickness.” Ayato muttered, stroking his chin with his right hand. His eyes narrowed while trying to think of the possible cause for your sudden sickness. Just when you were about to doze off, you felt someone lightly poke your forehead. You cracked your eyes open, only to see Gorou and Itto staring down at you. You blinked up at them sleepily, rubbing your eyes with your fingers, mumbling to yourself.

“Do you guys need something?” You ask, sniffling as you move around on your bed to find a comfortable position.

“Thoma is here with your food! You need to eat something before going back to sleep.” Itto says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Food? Oh, I’m not feeling hungry as of now.” You said, shaking your head.

Before Gorou could say anything, your stomach lets out a loud grumble. Everyone around you fell silent, staring at you with their eyebrows raised. You blinked back at them, feeling your face becoming hot. You weren’t so sure if it was the fever that was on the rise again or if you were feeling humiliated over the fact that your stomach had utterly betrayed you.

“Are you sure you’re not hungry just a tiny bit?” Gorou whispers to you loudly before a playful smile appears on his face.

“Come on, why don’t you want to eat?” Kaeya asks, sitting down on your bed as Thoma places the tray of food down on your bed.

“Sometimes, I feel like I’m hungry, but I’m actually not!” You lie, adjusting the face mask that was slowly sliding down your face each time you spoke.

“Your stomach says otherwise.” Diluc deadpans.

You pouted behind your mask, suddenly feeling like a toddler being scolded by their parents for wanting to skip lunch and go straight for the desserts. While you didn’t mind eating something, since you technically didn’t eat anything at all today other than being forced to swallow pills, you were afraid that you would puke those foods back up. After all, you did almost hurl whenever you consumed the giant medication that Xiao had forced down your throat.

“Why don’t you want to eat? If you don’t eat, you won’t have enough nutrients in your body, and you won’t recover from your sickness fast.” Xiao says, letting out a quiet exhale.

“Well, for starters, I’m afraid of throwing it all back up.” You began, crossing your arms over your chest. You winced when you felt the muscles in your arms tense up at the action. You slowly let your arms fall down to your sides. “Second of all, I just want to sleep. Isn’t one of the steps to recovering from an illness is to get plenty of sleep?” You raised an eyebrow at the men in front of you.

“Yes, but you still need to eat something,” Dainsleif interjects, leaning against the wooden frame of your bed.

“Not getting enough nutrients can slow the process of your recovery. Not eating enough can also cause you to feel more fatigued and weak.” Zhongli states. You looked around the room, seeing the men nod their heads in agreement with Zhongli’s statement. You sighed in defeat and pulled the food tray towards you. Before you could reach out and grab one of the utensils, Thoma takes it away from you while shaking his head.

“You won’t be feeding yourself. One of us will take turns to feed you your food,” Thoma says, giving you a soft smile.

“Okay, but I won’t be taking that giant medication again after I’m done eating, am I?” You ask, looking over at the prescription bottle with a sour look on your face.

Baizhu laughs, “Of course not! You will be taking your medication again after dinner before you go to bed.” You grumbled in response before taking your face mask off, letting Thoma spoon feed you your breakfast.

The men ended up having their lunch in your bedroom as well. They mentioned something about wanting to keep you company and that having breakfast, lunch, and dinner without you would feel weird and empty. They didn’t want to leave you out of anything, and it was sweet of them to think about you!

Now that the medication has settled into your system, you can feel its effects. Your eyelids were becoming heavier, and you felt your headache subsiding. Though, you believe that it’s only temporary. After all, the purpose of medication is to lessen the symptoms, not entirely get rid of the sickness itself. Well, maybe most can do that.

“I think the medication is starting to kick in,” Scaramouche commented, glancing over at you. You mumbled and rested your head on Scaramouche’s shoulders. You slowly closed your eyes, humming in contentment when you felt Scaramouche’s fingers comb through your hair. Archons, you love it whenever people play with your hair. You subconsciously wrap your arms around Scaramouche’s waist, nuzzling yourself closer to him, causing Scaramouche’s face to turn bright red from the sudden affection. Not that he was complaining! You can cuddle with him for hours if you’d like, and he will not complain at all!

“I believe that we should let [Y/N] rest now,” Albedo says softly, getting up from his spot and walking over to your bed to fluff up your pillows.

“Come on, [Y/N]. Let’s get you to bed, shall we?” Kazuha nudges you gently.

You nodded your head sleepily and turned to Kazuha, throwing your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into his chest. A soft pout appears on Scaramouche’s face after you had pulled away from him, only to cling to another man that wasn’t him. That didn’t last as long as he had hoped it would.

Never in your life would you imagine yourself getting tucked into bed by fifteen men— the same fifteen handsome men who have stolen your heart and spoiled you endlessly. The men didn’t want to leave you to sleep in your room alone while feeling ill because who knew what else could happen when you’re sleeping or when you’re alone? You tried looking for a comfortable position to lay in your bed, but the more you moved around in your bed, the more frustrated you’ve become. You flopped on your back with an angry huff, staring up at the ceiling with a pout on your face. Now how in the world are you going to fall asleep when you can’t even get comfortable?

“Having trouble with finding a comfortable position to sleep?” Dainsleif asks. Dainsleif looks amused as the corner of his lips slowly rises up. Archons, that smile of his will be the death of you someday.

“Was it obvious?” You mumble, taking your face mask off your face before placing it on your nightstand beside your bed. As much as you wanted the men to be safe and healthy by covering your face to prevent any bacteria from getting into their respiratory systems, there was no way you’d be able to sleep while wearing a face mask over your face.

Kaeya cocks his head to the side, “Does your bed not feel comfortable?” You pouted and shook your head in response, grabbing the onikabuto plushie that Itto had given to you, and hugging it against your chest with a defeated sigh.

“That’s a shame. Maybe you should cuddle with one of us instead! Maybe that’ll help you fall asleep much easier!” Itto says, plopping down on your bed.

Xiao rolls his eyes and replies to Itto, “You’re going to get sick if you cuddle with [Y/N].”

“We can get you a new bed if your current bed feels uncomfortable,” Diluc suggested. Your eyes widened at Diluc’s suggestion before thinking about it for a moment.

You gnawed on your bottom lip before replying, “Maybe next time! I just want to sleep.” You let out another yawn, blinking at the men sleepily.

“Like Itto said, cuddling with someone can probably help you fall asleep,” Ayato says.

“But I don’t want any of you to get sick because of me.” You frowned at Ayato, throwing your head back against your pillow. “My sickness is contagious, isn’t it?” You ask, glancing over at Baizhu.

“If you and the people around you are not careful, yes, it’s quite contagious.” Baizhu nods his head.

“Yeah, there’s no way I’m cuddling with anyone. I’m not risking it.” You stated, pulling the blanket up to your chest.

“You know, some of us can’t get sick as easily as others,” Childe says slowly, his lips puckered as he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. Childe was insinuating something, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Either you were too tired to understand what Childe was implying, or you were really clueless.

“You know, you’re not wrong about that…” You muttered, lightly tapping on your chin. “Zhongli, get over here and cuddle with me.” You tossed your blanket to the side and moved over to your bed before grabbing the face mask and putting it on.

“I-” Childe gasps at you, staring at you like a fish out of water. “I meant me! Not Zhongli!” Childe grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest with a dramatic pout on his face. Zhongli chuckles quietly at Childe’s antics before sitting down on your bed, laying down beside you. You immediately laid down next to Zhongli, clinging to him in bed. You wrapped your arms around his waist, your head resting on his muscular chest. You closed your eyes and sighed happily, feeling Zhongli wrap his arms around your waist.

“Oh, silly mortal. You’ll get sick, unlike us archons.” Venti giggles, covering his mouth with his hands.

“I want to cuddle with [Y/N] too.” Gorou pouts as his tail begins to swish side to side with slight irritation.

“Don’t we all?” Scaramouche mumbles, scratching his cheeks as he tries to ignore the jealousy that is burning inside of his guts.

“Alright, everyone, let’s leave so [Y/N] can sleep,” Kazuha says, walking out of your bedroom. Before leaving, Kazuha presses a soft kiss on your head. The others soon follow suit, each of them placing a kiss on your head before walking out of your bedroom. You mumbled and buried your face into Zhongli’s chest, your eyelids growing heavy. You feel yourself slowly drift off to sleep to the feeling of Zhongli running his hands through your hair. Archons, you love it whenever people play with your hair; not only does it help you relax, but it helps you fall asleep.

Over the next few days, the men have appointed themselves to be your caretakers until you have recovered from your illness entirely.

While the term caretaker was more appropriate, you accidentally called them your malewives right in front of them. Imagine the embarrassment you felt the minute it slipped from your mouth completely. Luckily, they didn’t mind it at all and were quite pleased (and shy) with the fact that you called them your malewives. The term husband would’ve been better, but that word didn’t seem to appear in your mind.

You still didn’t want to take your medicine, but you had reluctantly made yourself take your medication without anyone having to force you to take it. You were given head pats, praises, kisses on your temples, and kisses on the crown of your head for taking your pills. That was sort of your motivation to take your pills because you love it whenever the men showered you in affection. They also showered you with lots and lots of praises. Shit, could this be the beginning of your praise kink? You know the men are attentive whenever you need something, but the minute you’re sick, if you want something that is out of reach, the item will be in your hands before the end of the day. You once mentioned how you’ve been wanting to read a specific book that can only be found from the Yae Publishing House; when you woke up from your nap, you would see the book on your nightstand.

“If you want anything, we can always get it for you,” Zhongli says, tucking your hair behind your ears as Childe was feeding you some rice porridge.

“Anything?” Your eyes lit up, looking over at Zhongli.

Childe’s eyes widen slightly at your reaction as he gives you a look before glancing over at Zhongli. Childe slowly puts the spoon back into the bowl of rice porridge and clears his throat to grab your and Zhongli’s attention.

“[Y/N] has that look on their face. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.” Childe says, scratching his chin lightly.

“What look?” Zhongli raises an eyebrow at Childe’s comment.

“There’s a shine to their eyes. I can’t put my finger on what it is exactly.” Childe muttered, squinting his eyes at you as he stared at you.

“Is there anything you want?” Zhongli asks.

You open your mouth to respond until you realize something, causing you to frown and close your mouth. “Well, I did want something, but I guess I will save that for later. I’m still sick.” You sighed dramatically, resting your head on Childe’s shoulder.

Childe chuckled and patted your head, “It’s okay, [Y/N]. I’m sure you can request it once you’re feeling well.”

Zhongli turns to you, “I’m curious. What is your request?” Zhongli asks, looking at you curiously.

“I wanted to go to the beach, but since I’m sick, I don’t think it’ll happen until I feel one hundred percent better.” You say, feeling Childe poke your cheeks lightly. You turn to him, only to see him holding the spoon up to your lips.

“Here comes the wind glider~!” Childe sang. “Nyoooom.” You snorted and opened your mouth, letting Childe feed you more rice porridge.

“The beach, you say.” Zhongli hums, looking over at the others in the room. Oh, right, you weren’t alone in the room with just Zhongli and Childe. The others were so quiet that you assumed that it was just you, Childe, and Zhongli.

“I’m okay with spending the day at the beach,” Kazuha says, giving you a soft smile.

“We can go to the beach once you’re feeling better. We don’t want you to go to the beach while you’re still sick.” Albedo comments, looking up from his sketch pad.

“Oooh, we can!?” You ask, your eyes shining with excitement.

You were so giddy at the fact that you’d be able to go to the beach with the men that you missed out on the men’s reaction to your excitement. They stared at you with heart eyes, their cheeks bright red, hearts pounding against their chest, the overwhelming urge to just tackle you in your bed and smother you with endless kisses and cuddles.

Scaramouche clears his throat loudly, looking away from you with his arms folded over his chest. “Of course we can! It’d be nice to go to the beach with you— and the others.” Scaramouche says, glaring down at the floor.

“Where’s Itto?” Gorou asks, looking around the room to look for the tall geo vision wielding oni.

Before the others can open their mouth to respond, Itto bursts through your bedroom door, startling everyone else in the room. You pressed your hands against your chest, bending over on your bed, face pressing against your mattress. Why did Itto have to burst into your bedroom that way? Your heart pounded against your chest as you slowly sat up.

“I’m back, baby!” Itto exclaims happily, strutting into your bedroom with arms full of stuffed animals in his hands.

“Why do you have so many stuffed animals?” Ayato asks, his eyes widening when Itto drops all of the plushies onto your bed with a proud grin on his face.

“[Y/N] mentioned that they wanted more plushies, and therefore I shall grant their wishes!” Itto says, giving you a light pat on your head.

“I don’t think we have any room to store these plushies for [Y/N],” Albedo says, eyes scanning around your room.

“We can build them another shelf to store the additional plushies,” Kazuha says, shrugging his shoulders as if it was nothing.

“Why get plushies when you have us to cuddle with instead?” Kaeya asks, quirking an eyebrow up at you.

“I don’t mind cuddling with all of you, but if I were to cuddle with one person, then the rest would want to cuddle with me.” You said, your bottom lip jutting out.

Scaramouche blinks at you, “And that’s a bad thing because….?” Scaramouche trails off.

“I can’t cuddle fifteen of you all at once.” You answered.

“I’m sure we can make it work.” Diluc states.

“As if! All of you can be quite possessive.” You snorted, continuing to let Childe feed you the rice porridge that Thoma had cooked for you.

Thoma snorts lightly, “I thought you like it whenever we’re possessive.”

“I do! But not when I’m being tugged back and forth between multiple men.” You glared at them playfully.

“Well, [Y/N]’s not wrong about that at all.” Venti giggles softly.

You didn’t know what happened next, but the minute you woke up from your sleep, you saw fifteen bodies scattered around your bedroom. Ah, right, you completely forgot that the men that offered to sleep in the same room as you. Just to make sure that nothing goes wrong whenever you sleep. Of course, they had to drag in a couple of extra mattresses into your room to sleep. They wanted to share beds with you, but since your new bed was going to arrive later (yes, they got you a new bed frame and mattress because you told them that you had a hard time finding a comfortable position to sleep in), they had decided to bring extra beds into your room.

You slowly got out of your bed, making sure that you didn’t accidentally wake anyone up from their sleep before walking out of your bedroom and down the stairs. Today, you felt way better than you did in the past couple of days. You were pretty sure that your sickness had gone away, but just for safety measures, you put on your face mask while walking down the stairs. To show your gratitude for the men, you have decided to make them all breakfast! They had cared for you while you were sick in bed, and you wanted to pay them back for all they’ve done for you over the last few days.

You set down utensils at every seat along with cloth napkins before heading into the kitchen to start making breakfast for the men. You put on Thoma’s apron before turning on the stove. You pulled out a couple of ingredients to make each of the men’s favorite dishes. It took you a while to cook each food because there were a variety of dishes being served for the fifteen men. What you can recall was most of the men’s favorite food was mostly drinks or snacks rather than the actual food itself. So, cooking breakfast for the men was a bit challenging. You have decided to give the men juice to drink instead of wine, milk tea, and alcohol itself because it was a bit too early to be drinking any of these things. You made boba for Ayato just in case he wanted to drink some boba; there were some Dandelion wine and Osmanthus wine stashed in the wine cabinet.

You didn’t know how long you’d spent in the kitchen preparing various food for the men until you began hearing footsteps coming down the stairs. You looked over to the dining table, sighing in relief when you saw that everyone had their favorite dishes on the table. All you have to do is just make yourself some breakfast; then you should be good for today! Maybe.

“What’s all of this?” Xiao asks, looking at the dining table with wide eyes.

“I made you all breakfast!” You replied happily. “Well, your favorite foods! I made them as a token of my appreciation because all of you have taken care of me while I was ill, and I wanted to show my gratitude.” You said, feeling heat rush to your cheeks.

Childe walks up to you, his hair sticking all over the place from his slumber. Childe grabs your right hand, knelt down, and stares into your eyes.

“Marry me,” Childe states, catching you and the fourteen others off guard.

“What—” Your eyes double the size. You look at the others, not knowing what else to say or how else to respond to Childe’s sudden marriage proposal.

“Bear my children,” Childe adds, pulling you close to him as he stands back up. Childe pulls you against his chest as he stares deep into your eyes.

“As if we’d let that happen.” Dainsleif huffs, glaring at Childe.

“Childe, you shouldn’t get too close to me. I could get you sick.” You said softly, gently pushing him away from you. Childe tightens his grip around your waist and shakes his head stubbornly.

“I can do a quick check-up on you if you’d like.” Baizhu offers, walking up to you and Childe.

After a quick check-up, Baizhu confirmed that you are indeed healed from your sickness! Which gave the men the opportunity to be extra clingy with you. But you made them all go eat their breakfast while you continued to prepare your breakfast, which wasn’t much since you didn’t really have much of an appetite. While you were waiting for your breakfast to be cooked, you walked over to the dining table. You took your disposable face mask off before pressing a kiss on each men’s cheeks.

“Thank you for taking care of me while I was sick. Words cannot express how much I appreciate each and every one of you; and all of the things you’ve done for me.” You said, hugging them around the shoulders, kissing their cheeks.

“We’ll do anything for you, [Y/N],” Gorou says, his face becoming bright red from your affection.

When you reached Childe, before you leaned in to kiss his cheeks, Childe turned his face towards your direction, causing you to press your lips against his. You squeaked and jolted back, staring at Childe with wide eyes.

“Childe, you rascal!” You whined, covering your red face with your hands, feeling flustered. You slowly pulled your hands away from your face, giving Childe a shy yet playful glare.

Childe gives you a cheeky grin before gently stroking your cheek, “You have soft lips.” He says, giving you a wide smile.

“I’m going to kill him,” Fourteen men chorused, giving Childe a tight-lipped smile. You can see the men bend the utensils in their hands, causing them to almost snap in half.

“Let’s not fight while having breakfast!” You laugh nervously, beginning to walk over to where you usually sat, only for Childe to snake his arms around your waist and pull you onto his lap.

“Square up, Harbinger!” Itto exclaims, suddenly standing up from his spot. “You and me, one on one! The winner gets to take the cutie on your lap!” He pops his knuckles and his neck. Childe stares at Itto, a smirk appearing on his face after hearing Itto’s challenge.

“You’re on, oni!” Childe stands up, his arms still wrapped around your waist.

“It’s not even the afternoon yet.” Zhongli sighs, shaking his head.

“Yeah, no kidding. Why are they like this?” You sighed in defeat, looking up at Childe and then over at Itto.

Childe and Itto give you a charming smile; Childe kisses the top of your head while tightening his grip around your waist. Yeah, there’s no way he would lose to Itto. How many people will have to fight Childe to get to you? The world may never know, mainly because you would stop them from fighting. They will always listen to what you say because they know that you don’t like it whenever they fight. Whether it’s over you or it’s an argument. Either way, you were grateful for them even though they can be a little bit overbearing.

“Ugh, annoying shitheads.” Scaramouche rolls his eyes, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Hey! That’s my nickname for you!” Childe glares over at Scaramouche.

“Well, it’s now your and Itto’s nickname.” Scaramouche retorts, causing Childe to scowl over at Scaramouche.

“It’s not even the afternoon yet.” You sighed.

Note: Yay! The first request is completed! I have, like, over 60 requests left to do! :D But that list will continue to grow LMAO Anyway! I hope you all enjoy this week's story because I have no idea how I feel about it! Sorry for the somewhat slow posting today (if it ends up being posted on a Sunday instead of Saturday because it's almost midnight here for me, pretend it was posted on a Saturday night instead). I ended up injuring my finger by closing my car door on it and it's really painful and I am in pain. Anywho! I hope you all enjoyed this week's fic! I'm not sure what will be posted next week since my friend is visiting that week and we're going to be in LA for four days for anime expo. I will try to get something out for all of you! :> I know I said this a lot, but please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 2 years ago

Text

I Burn for You (Literally)

Bucky Barnes x plus size reader

A day in the sun has serious consequences, like getting cock-blocked

Warnings: bad sunburns, not full-on smut but heated, nudity, massages, this is just fluff

WC: 1.8k

A/N: This was written for my best friend in the world who I'm completely in love with and is my platonic soulmate

Minors DNI

1000 Follower Celebration

The white sand beneath your feet was blazing as you ran back up to the mega mansion Tony bought specifically for an Avengers’ vacation. Well, he actually bought the fucking island and then had a house built but those are semantics.

Everyone had been loaded onto a huge private plane and flown to the isolated island where they were each given their own room and free range to do whatever they wanted for the week. Mostly it was staying the fuck away from each other until dinner, when everyone would gather in the insanely massive kitchen and get hammered.

The water was a crystal clear blue and calm, and with the sun always out, it was constantly the perfect temperature, both in and out of the ocean. So you had no issue with stripping down to the very expensive black bikini Natasha bought you and guilted you into wearing, and going for a dip.

Well, it was less than a dip, and more of a ‘spend the entire day in the water and now my hands look like they’re 80’. You romped around in the sea for hours, like you weren’t a highly trained, greatly feared assassin. You, of course, never noticed the icy blue eyes gazing adoringly at you as you dove into the surf.

After a few hours, the sun and salt had finally gotten to you. You needed a huge glass of cold water, a snack, a shower, and a nap, specifically in that order. Well, maybe a nap first.

You hadn’t bothered to bring a towel since the beach was barely twenty steps from the massive patio hanging from the back of the house. “Ow ow ow ow.” You hissed, tender feet coming into contact with the burning sand. You hopped from one foot to the other as you ran up the small path through the row of flowering hedges around the property.

You sighed in relief as you stepped onto the considerably cooler deck. Thankfully, none of your teammates were in the house today, having gone out to explore the island a bit more, so none of them saw you sprint to the outdoor shower, stripping down completely and drenching yourself in cool, fresh water.

“That’s the good stuff.” You practically moaned as the cold water ran down your overheated skin, washing away the copious amounts of salt that covered you. You pulled a small bar of soap off of the shelf hidden in the wooden slats of the house. The peppermint smell invaded your senses as you lathered yourself up, running the suds over your generous curves.

Your eyes fluttered shut, turning beneath the spray so the cold water could drip down your back. You shot forward as the first drops of water landed on your shoulders, pain shooting through you. Fingers running up the back of your neck, you felt it, the tell-tale heat from a sunburn. “Fuck me.” You whined, shutting off the shower.

Gingerly stepping into the multi-million dollar mansion, overly conscious of the water you were dripping on the pristine floors, you rushed up the stairs, shooting for your room. It was tucked away from the rest of the bedrooms since you were the only one in a couple and no one wanted to ‘hear you and iceman going at it every hour of the day’ as Tony so eloquently put it.

The room was just big enough for a king sized bed and a small wardrobe that was the perfect height for you to be bent over and- well you get the picture. Stepping over the many clothes that had been left on the floor in your haste to get out and swim. Scooping up a pair of boxers and a loose tank top that belonged to your partner, you waddled into the en suite to get a good look at what was probably going to be the most horrendous sunburn of your life.

You turned your back to the giant mirror above the marble sink after throwing the clothes on the counter beside you. Your eyes widened at the sheer size of the burn. It spread across your shoulders, up the back of your neck and all the way down your back, leaving only small strips of undamaged skin where your bikini sat on your body.

“Well that’s not good.” You groaned as you shifted, your tender skin burning. “Doll?” A deep voice called out to you. Hurrying, you pulled on the boxers and shirt just before a large form filled the entryway. Bucky smirked as he glanced down at you, his blue eyes getting darker at the sight of you dressed in his clothes, obviously not wearing anything underneath.

“What do we have here? Cause it looks like a sweet little doll was waiting for her big strong man to come play with her.” He growled playfully, his bulky body moving forward to capture you in his thick arms. His lips immediately descended on your throat, nipping at your pulse point.

You couldn’t help it, your head lolled back as he gripped you tighter, pressing his hard body even closer to yours, and since he was only wearing a pair of board shorts, there was almost no barrier between the two of you. You could feel the heat of his hard cock against your soft tummy through his shorts as he bit and sucked on your throat. “B-Bucky.” He groaned at the way you gasped his name.

“That’s my good girl. Keep saying my name like that, see where it gets you.” He threatens, his voice deep and breathy, teetering on the edge of a growl. You clutched onto his wide shoulders, nails digging into the firm muscle you knew so well.

As his hands moved from your hip bones up to your back, the hot and cold of his palms sent a shiver of anticipation through you, and then you suddenly winced. Immediately he stopped and pulled away, eyes hard and searching for an injury. He glanced over your shoulder to the mirror behind you, that showed exactly what was causing you pain.

“Oh doll,” He murmured, cold fingers tracing your upper back with a delicate touch, “This looks like it hurts.” Your skin was on fire, heat radiating from your body. But the chill of his metal hand, soothed it temporarily. As soon as he moved onto another spot on your back the throbbing returned with a vengeance.

“I told you to put on sunscreen this morning.” “I did!” You whined, trying to pull out of his grasp, but he wouldn’t budge. Damn those super soldier muscles.

He chuckled. “C’mon then baby, let’s get you fixed up.” With practiced ease, he lifted you up, letting your feet dangle above the title floor before tucking you into his chest, mindful of your sore back. Your nose fell to the crook of his neck and you couldn’t help but inhale his scent, that spicy cinnamon smell that clung to all his clothes.

His embrace was comforting, like it always was. The feeling of unconditional love and safety he exuded relaxed you, making you sink into his big arms as he carefully turned from the en suite, his steps surprisingly light as he tried not to jostle you.

Striding into the room, he dropped you, face first, onto the bed, the silky sheets cooling down your body. “Now just stay like that for a bit doll. I’ll be right back.” You heard him walk away and seemingly out of nowhere, you were exhausted. With the cool ac blowing directly over your burnt skin and the smell of Bucky on the pillow beneath your head, you were easily lulled into a light slumber.

A weight on your legs makes your eyes flutter open. “Don’t worry doll, I’ll take care of you.” With gentle movements, the tank top was lifted over your head and dropped back down to the floor. The sound of a plastic cap opening woke you up a bit more, but not enough to motivate you to properly open your eyes.

“We can have sex later, let me sleep in peace.” You muttered into the pillowcase. The deep rumble of his quiet laugh shook you slightly. “It’s not lube sweetheart, besides you always get wet enough that I can just slide right in.” You feel his breath on your ear as he drops his voice low, the way he sounds on nights when he wants you to follow his every command.

A moan bubbles from your throat and you wiggle your hips back. He kissed your ear lobe before sitting back on his haunches, straddling your thick thighs. Squirting out some of the gel onto his hands, he rubbed them together so it wasn’t too cold. “Fuck.” You whimpered as he finally put his palms onto your skin.

“That’s my good girl.” The cold gel immediately soothed the fire on your back, making you breathe out a sigh of relief as you relaxed into the sheets. His touch was soft at first, the calluses on his hands barely brushing over your back, but the more relaxed you became, the more pressure he applied. “That feel good pretty girl?” You grunted in response.

It was like that for a while, just silence between the two of you as Bucky carefully massaged your back, making sure to apply more aloe where needed. He pushed his thumbs into the knots along your spine, avoiding the more tender spots along your body. As the fire died down and it felt like your skin was finally able to move without feeling like it had been stretched too tight, you slumped onto the mattress, a calmness overtaking you.

“Alright sweetheart, we just have to let that sit and you should be good as new.” He kissed the base of your neck and made a move to get off your legs. Your arm shot out and held tightly to his firm thigh. “More kisses. Please.” God, he couldn’t resist that little whine in your voice when you desperately wanted something.

He could never deny you anything.

“Whatever you want, doll.” You smiled lazily and let go of his thigh, pushing your hands underneath your pillow. You felt the tickle of his long hair as he bent over you, lowering his face to your back once more. His soft lips pressed lightly to your skin, the scrape of his stubbled jaw making heat pool between your legs.

He methodically kissed every inch of skin he could touch, falling into a steady rhythm. He lived for moments like this, where he could worship your body quietly, appreciating that you trusted him enough to let him see you like this, to let him touch you like this. By the time he reached the plump curve of your ass, your breathing had evened out and your heart rate was slow.

He smiled dumbly at you sleeping beneath him. Kissing you one last time, he slid off of you in favour of laying on the bed beside you. He rested his metal arm on your back, knowing you liked the chill of it against you when you slept, and just watched you, until he, himself, drifted off, content in your presence.

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a-libra-writes · 3 years ago

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GoT Imagines - When You're Engaged to Someone Else

Woooo this is a doozy and I'm including new characters, mostly book ones! because i both love my followers and have lost my marbles.

In this preference, you'll be pining with: Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Benjen Stark, Jory Cassel, Mance Rayder, Eddison Tollett, Pre-Reek!Theon, Yara Greyjoy, Victarion Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Missandei, Grey Worm, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Cersei Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn, Jaquen H’Ghar, Petyr Baelish, Robert Baratheon, Stannis Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Margaery Tyrell, Brynden Tully, Edmure Tully, Brienne of Tarth, Ramsay Bolton, Roose Bolton, Oberyn Martell, Doran Martell, Arianne Martell, Tyene Sand

Ned Stark

He’s already an expert in suffering in silence, so this should be no different. Although he’s very surprised at the sudden arrangement, and while he isn’t a man to throw his rank around… He wonders if he can’t convince your family to reconsider. If it’s simply impossible, Ned would resign himself to having to stop the relationship. He’s too honorable to ever consider an affair and he’s not a man to start a duel or cause trouble, especially since it would negatively affect your reputation. The heavy combination of missing you, pining after you all over again and feeling like he didn’t do enough is hard. Some days he entertains the idea of still having a friendship, but it doesn’t seem like a good idea. He doesn’t trust himself.

Robb Stark

The young wolf tries to accept it, even if his feelings become more and more angry each day. Robb never threw his name around, but… he was going to be Lord Stark. Wasn't that good enough for your family? For you? He tries to be the bigger man, but if you're miserable with your spouse and they don't treat you well, he can't keep his temper in check. Expect him to have a sudden outburst at a feast and cause a scene. The only thinking keeping him from an outright duel are his parents and his worry about your reputation. But if he was pushed to it….

Sansa Stark

She should've known this would happen. It's the fate of all ladies, yet there's a bitterness that tugs at her when she hears the news. Sansa tries to bury her feelings around others, but she's never done that with you. She expresses her disappointment and sorrow, and swears she'll help if your spouse turns out to be awful. She doesn't want them to be, but she doesn't want you beginning to prefer their company, either. She wonders if her affection for you would wane if she just pined from afar and tried to keep her feelings to herself.

Jon Snow

Ah yes, once again his bastardry is hitting him straight in the gut. Jon knew it was going to happen eventually, he already felt like the relationship was on a timer, and now it’s finally ended. He’s convinced there’s no getting out of it, because even if you did - you’d never be able to be with him in the open. It makes Jon glad he’s going to the Wall; hopefully the distance and cold will dull his feelings. In spite of that, sometimes he’ll tell Sam about you, and he speaks so mournfully it makes Sam think that distance hasn’t done all that much to help Jon’s pining.

Benjen Stark

He should be the bigger person and accept that this is for the best. He’s sworn to the Wall, and you two shouldn’t have been sneaking around. He should be relieved neither of you were caught. None of these thoughts are comforting. Ben tries to cope by making not-so-joking jokes about you running off to the Wall too, or perhaps he should take Yoren’s job and find his way to your court once in a blue moon. Then there’s no joking, and it’s just bitterness. He removes himself from your life after that, not wanting to hurt you with his own negative thoughts. He’d rather you keep the happy memories.

Jory Cassel

He accepts it, not that it brings him any pleasure. Jory's always been proud of his service to the Starks, but he's long understood that his landed seat is not a valuable one. Whenever he married, if he did, it wouldn't be someone as lovely as you. The announcement still hits him in the gut and he dejectedly tries to break it off (though it's easier on him if you do it). If he was in charge of guarding you, he'd switch shifts immediately and begin avoiding you, thinking it'll make things easier.

Eddison Tollett

This relationship already seemed too good to be true, so it’s abrupt end is not surprising. He’s sworn to the Wall and you both were sneaking around to begin with, so this should have been expected, but… it just makes him feel even more tired and dumb. Sam and Jon notice how little he sleeps and that he’s begun to skip meals, and he doesn’t have to explain why. They can do the math. Edd at least doesn’t try to bury any sad feelings or memories. It’s too exhausting to actively try, and it’s something to keep him company while he works. Maybe the feelings will fade… eventually.

Mance Rayder

It's one more reason for him to leave the "South" and go past the Wall. He knew a proper relationship with you wasn't possible because of his vows, but watching you go through this sham of an arranged marriage is just depressing. He'll comfort you best he can until he has to go back to the Wall, though he won't make promises he can't keep. Having to separate from you weighs heavy on him for a long time, and is one of many reasons he abandons the Watch.

Theon Greyjoy

What the hell is this? Hearing the news ruins his whole day, worse if he wasn’t able to hear it directly from you. He’s the heir to the Iron Islands, and his interest in you was clear as day! No, he hadn’t proposed yet… but he was getting to it! Now some mainlander beat him to it? Theon is absolutely seething. He’d prefer to duel your spouse to teach them a lesson in front of everyone, but he’s open to more boring methods like reasoning with your family. If he wasn’t able to change the engagement, he’d be bitter, and more than willing to carry on an affair behind your spouse’s back. He ought to just go the Ironborn route and kidnap you for himself.

Asha (Yara) Greyjoy

When you give her the news and you’re clearly distraught about it, Yara considers carrying you off to her ship right there. If you’re non-Ironborn, you’ll be her saltwife -- and if you’re Ironborn, she wants to have a discussion with whoever the hell planned this when everyone KNOWS you belong with her. You hadn’t expected this possessive behavior, but now you know Yara’s willing to fight for you as soon as someone takes you. No surprise, she’s more than willing to sneak around with you behind your husband’s back - maybe she can goad him into a duel. That would certainly solve a problem, wouldn’t it?

Victarion Greyjoy

He doesn’t understand at first. Victarion had made it clear that you were his, hadn’t everyone known that? No, he never made any sort of formal marriage, but not because he didn’t care. He felt like there was no need, hadn’t everyone known? If your family and spouse are Ironborn, he’ll immediately sail to their keep and raise all seven hells, and marry you right there in front of them. If you were sent away to the green lands, it would take the combined power of Balon, Yara and Aeron to keep him from sailing off immediately and just kidnapping you - preferably after killing your spouse. Victarion is pissed. Someone is going to pay for this.

Daenerys Targaryen

She’s just as mad at you as she is with whoever arranged this ridiculous match. Daenerys doesn’t often entertain arrogant thoughts, but… How could anyone think to match you with someone else, knowing your relationship with her? She feels she ought to be offended, though Daenerys knows this is hard on you as well, and you didn’t ask for it. She’ll think of some clever way to get you out of the arrangement, no way is this person getting away from stealing from her. And yes, that might as well be what it is! While she’s working out what to do, if she so much as hears murmurs of the possibility of your spouse hurting you… all bets are off. She’s taking you back with her, alliance be damned.

Jorah Mormont

The announcement of your engagement is a punch to his gut and a shock to his system. Jorah knew he wasn’t the best husband material, but he was planning to ask for your hand himself - then this happened. What’s worse, he knows as far as practical marriage goes, he has little to offer. He goes into a bit of a panic as he tries to think of what to do. There’s sensible choices, like trying to talk to your family with you. Then there’s not so sensible ones… Maybe running off, maybe just continuing the relationship behind your new spouse’s back, maybe dueling them… While Jorah is in emotional turmoil, he’d do anything for you. Even if you wanted to break off the relationship… or had a plan for him to follow. He’s nothing if not hopelessly devoted.

Missandei

… Oh. Maybe she shouldn’t have expected you to stick around for so long. As close as she is to Daenerys, she really has no fancy titles or things to offer. She understood why your family chose the match, it was a good one, politically speaking… but that does little to soothe her. Quite the opposite, a strong, desolate feeling overcomes her, one she hasn’t felt in a long time. She isn’t sure what to do, if it’s her place to stop the process. Perhaps if you asked her, she could try to make plans. Daenerys would help as well, considering how fond she is of you two, and how much she despises women being forced into arrangements.

Grey Worm

The sudden news takes him off guard, and sends him into a bit of an existential crisis. He was starting to see himself as a person, with his own name and a path he chose to follow… then this arrangement happens, and he’s forced to face what the rest of the world sees him as. It’s not that Grey Worm has a sense of ownership over you, but for once he was allowing himself all these happy feelings and memories with you, and now it’s gone. Of course he wants you back, but he feels paralyzed. What if he makes it worse? Does this have to happen? He starts to become even more withdrawn and distant, worrying Missandei until she decides to help. Grey Worm finally returns to his old self when he has you in his arms again.

Tywin Lannister

His steady composure is hit with such a rage at the news, the servant delivering it goes into a panic. His interest in you was obvious, so anyone doing this was trying to spite him. He doesn’t take the insult well. Perhaps before you’re even able to tell him the news yourself, threats will be delivered to both the spouse’s family and your own - Tywin is especially furious towards them, and won’t forget this - and incidents will be arranged. He refuses to be a man who pines after someone or covets another one’s wife, nor will he allow some lesser lord to take what he perceives as ‘his’.

Tyrion Lannister

The angst hits him like a ton of bricks, and it’s even worse if this came out of left field. It hurts less if he hears it from you, but only just. He should have known your family wouldn’t have accept any proposal he made - and gods know he was ready to do it - it’s just one more log to fuel his self-loathing and bitterness toward this world. But if you knock some sense into him, he’ll snap out of that spiral and begin to plan with you. There’s plenty of choices before the two of you - scandal? Running off? - but rest assured, Tyrion is going to investigate the hell out of this person. He’d never forgive himself if you got stuck with a brute.

Jaime Lannister

The fact he knew this was inevitable doesn't help Jaime's irritation. He can't believe your family arranged for that person to marry you. Seriously? You'd better keep Jaime at a distance from your spouse, because he can't help himself from making snide remarks and sarcastic comments. If he riles up the guy into a duel, all the better. He'll do all sorts of reckless things to begin with, and it's only worse when he's upset. He's also very willing to have an affair behind your spouse's back - you were with him first. You’ll probably have to scold Jaime about you two almost getting caught, but he’s above reproach. His stubbornness and jealousy gets worse the closer you two are.

Cersei Lannister

She’s absolutely infuriated with your family. You were her handmaiden, someone whose been with her for years - and they have the nerve to go behind her back like this?! It smells like a scheme of Tyrion’s, or perhaps Varys, but she’ll deal with them in time. For now, she’ll work out what to do about your spouse. She’ll try to keep you around as much as possible, and her possessiveness comes out in full. You can’t possibly be interested in such a worthless man.

Sandor Clegane

When you tell Sandor, he’s quiet for a discerningly long time before the anger and arguments come out. And then the quiet bitterness. The thing is, he knew this was coming for a while. He knew your time together was limited, he shouldn’t have things like hopes and happiness because it’ll just get taken away. And it is. Even if you explain you’ll try to break off the arrangement, that there’s still a way to get out, he has trouble believing it. He’s seen enough ladies get chained to useless fucking lords, he’d rather not see it happen to someone he cares about, thanks. Sandor will push you away as much as he can, but you could still attempt to convince him to have an affair… or perhaps leave King’s Landing entirely.

Ser Bronn of the Blackwater

He’s only mildly annoyed at the inconvenience. It’ll be a lot harder for you both to sneak around now, and forget about it if you’re having to move somewhere far away. Guess that’s the end of that ‘relationship’ - he should’ve expected it. Bronn is way more willing to stay close if you remain in King’s Landing, and he expects you both to keep fooling around. Now, if he’s actually started to develop feelings about you… he’ll start to act differently. You don’t actually like your spouse, do you? Wasn’t that just some arranged bullshit? He’ll throw smirks and subtle insults your spouse’s way, as if trying to goad them into a fight. More then once you two will almost get caught because he decides waltzing up to your window is totally acceptable, or trying to have a quickie in the middle of the day. A surprisingly jealous side will come out and he’s in total denial about any feelings he might have.

Jacquen H’ghar

This isn’t alarming to Jacquen at first. He knew he could never have such a union with you, and since this Westerosi society is so insistent on marriage, it would happen eventually. Still, your pain hurts him as well. Jacquen would have a variety of plans … anywhere from easily disguising as a guard or servant so he’s always beside you, or perhaps whisking you away somewhere. This isn’t the end of your relationship for him - it’s just a challenge to overcome. He assumes you won’t send him away or break it off.

Petyr Baelish

You being someone else’s wife makes no difference to Petyr, though he’s surprised in himself. Usually he stays out of such affairs, it only causes trouble… But he’s been intrigued by you, and quite frankly, he’s offended that this Lord Whoever from Wherever didn’t take his interest into account. No matter. Petyr has plenty of plans to deal with this pest, though he’s annoyed at his own jealousy whenever he sees you together with your spouse, even if you’re miserable. While he doesn’t want you unhappy, it certainly makes starting an affair and/or disposing of your spouse much easier.

Robert Baratheon

He’s furious and everyone is going to know about it. Robert will complain endlessly to Ned and Lord Arryn about how he found you first, how that useless shit of a husband won’t know what to do with you. Since he does little to hide his disgust, rumors will spread all over court. Hell, he’ll probably say even stupider things when he’s drunk, or he’ll do something stupider, like actually try to aggravate the guy into a fight or a duel. If you’re actually able to get him under control, he has no qualms about having an affair with you… but he may not be subtle about it. So that’s another thing to keep in mind.

Stannis Baratheon

It’s depressingly impressive how willing Stannis is to bury and deny his feelings once he hears you’re promised to someone else. He’ll try to extinguish all the happiness he had with you, bottle up all the memories and feelings that went along with it. This will be fine. He’ll be fine. This iron resolve is easy to maintain if Stannis rarely sees you. If you both are forced to interact even semi-often, it chips away at him, and he can’t help himself from making biting remarks about your spouse when you both visit. He hates feeling this way, he’s never felt it before, and he carries a deep grudge against your spouse and family for making it happen. It’s easier if you write to him, but then Stannis starts keeping those letters and punishing himself by reading them over and over. Eventually he stops entirely, deeming it inappropriate, even if that feels like cutting off one of his limbs.

Davos Seaworth

The old knight is understandably saddened by news of your betrothal and marriage, but it makes sense. Politics-wise, Davos believes he isn’t much of a prize, even when he’s risen to Lord. He should’ve expected this would happen. He’d wish you genuine happiness… But if you were miserable, Davos would feel awful and powerless. If you truly wanted to continue the relationship behind your spouse’s back, his biggest worry would be the secret getting out and your reputation being ruined. He wouldn’t be able to resist forever, but he’d still try to talk you out of it and try to convince you to forget about him.

Margaery Tyrell

She seeks you out the moment she finds out - and that was quickly, because she often keeps tabs on you. Her grandmother warned her about getting so close to her favorite, but it still comes as a terrible shock. Margaery holds you close and promises she’ll make it better, somehow. Maybe she and her grandmother can reason with her family, perhaps you can marry into the Tyrell family, so you both can be together. She’ll fix it, she swears. The thought of someone else being with you is terrible enough, she’ll be even more worried if the person is abusive. Margaery won’t stand for it, and might take a few rare risks for your sake.

Brynden Tully

This stirs up a lot of complicated feelings in the old knight. He knew his relationship with you wouldn’t last forever, that you’d have to marry eventually, and he never wanted to marry…. But he feels like this is his fault, especially if you’re miserable. He could’ve prevented this. Brynden knows he ought to break off the relationship, and he won’t blame you if you do… but he’ll also consider the idea of continuing the relationship. And if you have to go somewhere far away, he’ll still appreciate you sending letters and having a correspondence. The relationship may not be the same long-distance, but he cares a lot about you, and it hurts having you cut from his life.

Edmure Tully

Woe and misery. How much wine is in Riverrun’s stores? He may end up drinking a dent in it by the time the month is out. He almost didn’t believe the news until he heard it from several people, or just you directly. How could this happen? Wasn’t he courting you properly, taking all the steps just the right way? Wasn’t his interest obvious to anyone with eyes? Edmure approaches your family with a bit of a hot head, almost demanding an answer for why they chose whoever over … whoever your spouse is. Edmure doesn’t even care who it is, he hates their guts immediately. More likely than not, he’ll do something foolish, like start a duel. If all else fails, he’ll make sad eyes at you at all the feasts and galas and go into a bit of a depression.

Brienne of Tarth

Brienne is immediately distraught, but also believes she deserves it somehow. This happy relationship just had to come to an end, didn’t it? Well, you two had to be discreet about it to begin with, which didn’t please her … but this alternative feels worse. Brienne switches between trying to stay frosty to make it easier for you two to part, and being unable to hold back her affection and sadness. The best solution she can think of is to stay as your sworn sword, independent of your new husband’s house guards. And gods know, she will come at him with a vengeance if he even dares upset you or lay an unwanted hand on you. That means the relationship could continue, but she dislikes the secrecy even more when you’re married. While she doesn’t like the idea of running away from problems, maybe in certain circumstances, she’d be open to the idea…

Ramsay Bolton

Ramsay is irate, to say the least. Even if you don’t actually know him, you’ve just caught his eye, he’ll become possessive. If you both were romantic before the engagement news, his anger and possessiveness would be even more dangerous. Woe to your spouse if he lives close to the Dreadfort - leave it to Ramsay to think up some “accident” for them to be involved in. And if he finds out they’re involved in some sort of treason or crime, that’s all the better, no matter how flimsy the “crime” is. If he’s feeling especially reckless, he’ll just arrange their murder and take you back right away. Ramsay is a terrible loser, doubly so if it involves one of the few things he actually cares about.

Roose Bolton

On the outside he doesn’t react to the news beyond a silent glare. On the inside, Roose is furious. He had plans for you, plans that may have taken quite a while to get to this point, and now it’s been ruined by someone whose actively working against him… or too stupid to realize what a massive mistake they just made. Roose thinks up various ways to circumvent this and have you to himself. In the meantime, he’ll gladly continue an affair behind your spouse’s back, but that won’t necessarily save them from death. You’ll notice him become increasingly possessive and jealous, even if you have zero interest in your spouse, and you can sense he’ll be holding a deep grudge against whoever arranged this in the first place.

Oberyn Martell

As soon as he hears about the news, Doran has to talk him down from dueling the man…Half his daughters support it, the other half suggest something more subtle. Overyn feels insulted, for one - your affection for each other was obvious, yet your family still made this arrangement. And if he doesn’t get his duel, he will spread all sorts of unsavory, salacious rumors about your spouse, in hopes of creating a scandal that makes your family break the union. Or better, lead to the man dueling Oberyn directly! Oberyn doesn’t even consider continuing your relationship with him an “affair”. You both were together first, and a farce of a marriage you didn’t agree to won’t change that. You just have to make sure he can be discreet.

Doran Martell

While the news of your engagement is depressing, it isn't surprising. He's quite aware of the politics of Westeros, even if his own family doesn't believe it, and he had wind of this engagement. He just thought he could stop it in time. He hides his disappointment, but his family can tell he's withdrawing. Oberyn argues with his brother to go get you and fight, but Doran is a man of silent plans. He'll still love to correspond with you, and you can tell by his letters that he seems hopeful. Maybe he's thought of a way to break it off …

Arianne Martell

Well, isn’t this irksome? Arianne loved having you in her palace and keeping you all to herself, but then this foolish arranged marriage happened… She doesn’t hide her disdain, and she’s annoyed at herself for not doing more to stop it. The princess will spend no small amount of time being angry at the unfairness of it. Once she’s calmed, she doesn’t see why you both can’t continue the relationship behind closed doors. You’re both used to sneaking around, anyway. And Arianne can’t resist ferreting around for some salacious rumors about your spouse… Wouldn’t it be a shame if she found out something that led you to your family cutting the betrothal off?

Tyene Sand

She’s beyond annoyed at this outcome. You were her favorite, in more ways than one, and while she didn’t delude herself into thinking you’d be together forever… well, couldn’t you both have spent your days in court in service to the Martells, or perhaps left forever on a boat to Essos? Why did this have to happen so soon? She’s despondent, much as she tries to hide it, even with her sisters trying to comfort her. She begins to think of plans, just little things … a rumor here, a scheme there. She’ll feel much better if you remain in the Sunspear court, so she can stay close and your relationship can continue.

#got x reader #game of thrones x reader #got imagines #got imagine #game of thrones imagine #got preferences #game of thrones preferences #& yes that is 35 characters & yes I CANNOT TAG THEM ALL bc tumbles wont let me #*screeches*

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littlest-dark-age · 3 years ago

Text

Human nature takes over me

Tagging @noshame-bb @daddydamiano @mywritingonlyfans

!!!nsfw content!!! Please do not read if you do not wish to consume nsfw content. 18+

includes cream pie, body worship, dirty talk, slight bondage slight jealousy, mentions of alcohol, and if I missed anything please let me know.

Scopami - Fuck me

Mi stai facendo morire - You are killing me

Amo il tuo sapore - I love how you taste

Cazzo, sei così stretto, dolcezza - You’re so fucking tight, sweetheart

Viene per me - Come for me

Due to all the chaos that had been going on in Damiano's life, the two of you hadn't been able to see one another as often as both of you would like. Which led to the idea for you and the others to go to a small bar in the city, one vic swore by as her favorite and said that you would love it as well. She even helped you get ready whilst the boys were doing the same in the larger bathroom of the house.

Vic helped you pick out the rather sexy outfit, claiming that you had just the shoes for it and that they would complete your look. From your hair, to your stockings, you felt and looked hot. She claimed that your confidence is what sold the look, that it was the perfect finishing touch.

Soon enough, the five of you pile into the uber Ethan thoughtfully ordered. Knowing that none of you would want to drive later, nor would some of you be in the shape to. Squishing into the middle seat between Thomas and Damiano, your lover soon realizes that the two of you might be leaving the bar earlier than your counterparts. With distance, comes need. Damiano realizes how long it had been since the two of you were able to go at it as hard as you normally would when you were in his house in Rome, although it doesn't mean the two of you were shy about your affections.

You were simply not able to be as open as you usually were if you were alone, despite the fact that damiano walks around practically naked already. He wasn't able to have you spread open in the shared spaces, not wanting to risk anything too much. Sure, it wouldn't be the first time one of the others had walked in on you entangled one another in a less than savory place. But he still prefered to keep such accidents to a minimum.

Damiano is so lost in his thoughts, which were riddled with you, that he doesn't feel the car stop and it's only when you grip his arm does he realize that he zoned out the entire drive.

He shoots you a dazzling smile, shaking off your concern with a promise that he merely got caught up in his mind and that he wanted to be here tonight.

Holding your hand, the two of you walk into the small bar behind the others. He quickly presses a kiss to your temple before shuffling off to grab your drinks from the bartender, your usual order burned into his memory from the amount of times you've ordered it on dates.

You follow vic to the small table she managed to snag, looking around at the surprisingly full bar. Turns out, she's not the only one who really likes it. Damiano smiles at the sight of you two talking and laughing with one another before looking back at the bartender and paying for the drinks in front of him. He manages to grab them all and begins to walk back over to the table without spilling them, much more difficult than he thought would be due to the crowd.

He carefully sets the glasses down before sliding yours over in front of you and vic, bringing his to his mouth for a sip as he focuses on the conversation going between your and her. Shuffling closer to you, he wraps an arm around your waist with a quick squeeze before pressing a kiss to your cheek. Looking around the bar for Ethan or Thomas, trying to make sure they don't get into too much trouble, he's too busy to see the large man stumble over to you. Reeking of a strong alcohol, the man sends you a grin.

"Hey precious, wanna get out of here?" You can hardly make out his words due to the way they slur and run together, your nose wrinkling at the thought of going home with someone other than your lover, much less a man who can barely keep himself up on his own two feet.

He leans even closer, letting the smell of his drink grow even stronger as he attempts to wink at you. In his mind, you're sure, an awfully seductive thing. But it comes out as more of a halfway blink, slowed by his dulled senses. His eyes lock onto your chest, licking his lips not so subtly.

"No thank you, please leave our table." You try to be as polite as you can, worried what the wrong words could possibly lead to.

It seems Damiano has gotten so caught up in looking for Ethan or Thomas that he drifted away from the table, now standing however many feet away. Far enough to not be able to smell the stench of the drunkard in front of you, and certainly far enough so that the only thing he hears is the music bursting through the bar and not your words. He looks at you, a bit of heart break gleaming in his eyes as he watches what he thinks is flirting. Noticing your glass still untouched, knowing you were stone cold sober and that you wouldn't be able to blame the drinks for the 'flirting'.

Swiftly, he shuffles over towards you and misses the look of relief you shoot him in favor of staring down the large man that had since placed his sweaty hand on your own. His face hardens when he notices the affection.

"What's going on here, amore?" Trying to keep his words sweet, yet they still come laced with a venom not unknown to you.

"He was just leaving." You snatch your hand out from under the strangers, scooting closer to damiano to put as much space between the two of you. Eyes flickering between the two men, briefly wondering how far the drunkard would be willing to push your lover.

The stranger rolls his eyes, mumbling something about you being a bitch under his breath before stumbling off to find the next willing participant for the night. A wave of disgust rolls over you, forcing a shiver from you at the thought of going home with him.

Damiano looks at you, still assuming that there was something more going on with the two of you than was. Not exactly knowing how to approach the subject.

Has he been gone too long? Had your flame finally weathered to a mere ember without his notice? Sure, touring and everything is hard on the two of you but he thought the two of you were better than that. He would have brought you with him if it had been allowed, really. Were you so done with him that you would flirt with someone mere feet away from him, not bothering by the fact that if he was to just turn around, he would spot you?

You can see the thoughts swirl around in his mind, quickly sending a text to vic that the two of you were leaving. Using a piss poor excuse of not feeling well and wanting damiano to take care of you, as he typically did whenever you truly were sick.

"Let's go home damia, yes?" Slowly you tug him towards the exit of the bar, spotting Thomas and giving him a small wave as you grip Damiano's hand and tug him out of the doors. His body seems to be on autopilot as he zones out for what feels like the hundredth time of the night, not noticing the time it takes for the uber to arrive nor the time passing as you ride in the backseat. Your thumb stroking along his knuckles, running down his tattoo and rings as well.

Damiano only comes out of his trance when he hears you unlocking the door, still letting you lead him as you take him up the stairs and into your shared bedroom. Did you bring him home just so you could break up with him? Did you know the way he would bawl and grovel, just to keep the love of his life in his world?

You disappear into the adjacent bathroom, he can hear your jewelry hitting the large marble counter and your shoes hitting the cabinets when you take them off. A few moments later, you come out of the bathroom. Fresh faced and wearing a shirt he's sure is his own, a cloth in your hand to wipe away his own makeup the same you did to yours. Evidence on the underside of the cloth.

Walking over to him, you give him a sweet smile before sitting on his lap as your free hand cradles his face whilst the other busies itself with wiping away the dark makeup surrounding his eyes. Soon, you finish cleaning his face and chunk the cloth onto the bedside table before starting to unbutton the simple shirt he chose tonight. Slowly revealing inch after inch of his tanned skin and his tattoos, which you always remind him you adore.

Damiano shuts his eyes as he feels your soft lips on his neck, relishing in the way you seem to mould yourself into him. Always slotting perfectly in his arms, never feeling like you don't belong in them. His brain, on the other hand, seems to not want to shut off. Not being able to get the image out of his head of that man touching you.

"Amore, amore, hold on." It pains him the way you look at him as if your touch has burned him. Your brows furrowed with wonder, worried you might be pushing yourself onto him when he just wanted a nice night in bed with you. But he has to know. If he doesn't find the answer, it might drive him mad

"Were…...were you…...flirting with the man at the bar? Before I came over? Have I done something, dolcezza?"

It takes you a second to realize what Damiano is asking, almost as if you don't even want to think about the meaning of his words.

"No, no. He was drunk and wanting to take me home, and I didn't want to make a huge scene. Baby no, I turned him down. You're the only person I could ever want." By the look on Damiano's face, you can still see a seedling of doubt lingering. An idea pops into your head and brings a grin to your face as you look into his honey eyes, seeing nothing but love and want in them.

"Can I show you how much I want you?" Comes as a soft whisper, breathed on to his own lips before you pull him into a deep kiss. The kind he's been yearning for the moment he heard of the plans to go out tonight, feeling your hand slide down his chest and rest above his XXX tattoo which is currently hidden by his pants.

You feel him nod into the kiss and giggle as he chases after your lips when you pull away in favor of kissing his neck once again. Nipping at the sensitive skin, as well as rubbing your hands up and down his chest before going up to his shoulders and pushing the unbuttoned shirt off of his lean body.

"I need to go grab something, can you handle taking your pants off without touching yourself?" You ask, watching as his eyes slowly open half way before giving you a soft nod.

Jumping out of his lap and going into the closet in hunt for whatever, Damiano starts to unzip his pants and kicks off his shoes. Walking around the side of the bed, he peaks into the closet just in time for you to find your mystery item. Instantly recognizing the red fabric, one of the scarfs they sell with the månedkin logo printed onto it. Sitting down onto the plush bed, still watching as you walk out of the closet and crawl on top of him.

Reaching for his hands, you quickly tie his wrists together and make sure they're not too tight before pushing him onto his back and moving his hands above his head.

"Now. I'm going to do whatever the hell I want so I can show you how much I want you. No, actually. How much I need you." You start to press kisses onto his neck, before going down onto his inked collarbone and tracing the letters with your nail as you go along.

You feel the vibrations from his whines roll through his chest, where your soft lips meet dark inked skin. His whines draw a smile from you, knowing the effect you had on him. Damiano's mind races, wondering what your next move will be. In all fairness, this wasn't how he expected the night to go so why should he be able to expect what happens to him next.

Slowly, you kiss down his chest, leaving a trail of sweet and teasing kisses as you go. Stopping when you reach his pierced nipple, looking up into his deep brown eyes as your teeth barely graze the sensitive skin. Damiano exhales a shaky breath as you tug on the bar, his cock already aching with need as you softly grind on him from your spot in his lap. Not enough to give either of you any real friction, but just enough so that he could feel your slick through his soft boxers.

The thin material doing so little yet so much to keep him from where he wanted most, a wet patch growing from both of you as it started to stick to him. Damiano shuts his eyes and tosses his head back into the pillow which smells like you, not helping how hard his cock is straining against your.

"Scopami, Mi stai facendo morire." Comes out as a groan, his eyebrows pinched together with a pretty look of need.

"Baby, I'm busy here. Can't you tell? Gotta show my pretty boy how much he means to me, you're never going to forget it again. Gonna mark you up too, let everybody know that I'm yours and you're mine." Purred into his chest, where you finally pull away from his nipple to sit up and look at the mess you've made out of your lover.

Red marks litter his chest, evidence of where you nipped at the tattoo that spreads across his collar bones. Hands tied together above his head with a måneskin scarf, dark hair a mess from where he has been gripping at it and tossing his head back. Damiano's chest rises with each heavy breath you steal from him, entire body on display except the one area he desperately wants freed from its cloth confinements.

"I promise, I know I'm yours. Just wanna be in you, I'll be good. Just, please cucciolo…" The words die off into more whimpers, his Adam's apple bobbing with the swallow he does. Unable to control himself, he feels his hips start to buck up into you. Wanting, needing more friction soon otherwise he thinks he might cry, not that it hasn't happened from your passion filled nights before and it certainly wouldn't be the last time he loses himself to you so much that all he can do is cry out your name and let the tears run down his face.

"Well, since you asked me so nicely,…" You completely pull away from his lean body, laughing softly at the pout which quickly forms on his face. ",lift your hips for me baby, gonna get these off of you." Gesturing to the stained material.

Damiano does as you ask, helping you peel off the sticky fabric before spreading his legs slightly. Giving you a full view of his weeping tip, now resting against his stomach and smearing pre-cum all over the soft skin. Red tip matching the shade of flush covering his cheeks.

Leaning down, you lick up the underside of his cock with the flat of your tongue before rolling it around his head. You see his grip on his own hair tighten, veins popping in his hands and arms.

"Amo il tuo sapore." Kissed into the skin of his belly with a grin, not giving the dark eyed man anything substantial yet.

You sit back and slowly take off the oversized shirt that the two of you would share sometimes, finally revealing your form to Damiano, teasing him with your pace as you have been all night. Shuffling towards him, you straddle his hips before pressing a sweet and soft kiss to his soft lips. Slowly pouring every ounce of love and devotion into the small action, then taking his aching cock and lining it up with your cunt before sinking onto it.

"Cazzo, sei così stretto, dolcezza." Damiano groans out, unable to believe how well you take him every time and how it feels like you were made for this. Like the two of you were crafted together and meant to be as one, always feeling whole when he's in your embrace.

He can feel himself already dangerously close to the edge, every shift of your hips threatening to shove him off of it. As you start to bounce, he can feel the coil in his belly twisting tighter and tighter with every movement you make. His cheeks flush even more, embarrassed that he isn't going to last very long but not really being able to do anything to stop.

"It's okay baby, you can cum. I got you," your movements only slow a bit, focusing on him for the moment like you promised earlier ",cum in me baby."

Your words push him off of the edge, pulling loud and breathy moans from him as he cums in your cunt, shooting ropes of warmth into you. Gently rocking your hips to work him through his orgasm, giving him a moment to adjust to the new sensitivity. Slowly you start to bounce again, making him shoot you a confused look before drawing even more moans from his throat.

"Oh honey, you didn't think I was gonna stop, did you? That's cute…" You grin down at him, your hands cupping your tits as they bounce with your movements.

Damiano's eyes start to tear up, slightly overwhelmed by the pleasure and the pain that interwove itself in it. Your cunt still milking him for everything he's worth while shooting sensitivity with every motion of your body. He knows the two of you will be sticky and sweaty by the end of the night, sheets will need to be changed but at the moment he can't seem to care. Too focused on the feeling of your walls sucking him back in and the damn near scorching heat you're radiating. But he can't stop himself from wanting more, more of the pain and sensitivity and the heat. More of you and the way you wrap around him is so divine.

One of your hands snakes down to where you and damiano connect, starting to rub fast circles on your clit as his eyes glue to the action. Watching like this would be the last time he would ever be able to see such beauty. Watching your face twist in pleasure and he can feel you clench even harder around his cock.

The all too familiar coil springs back to life in the pit of his stomach, your expressions quickly tightening it as well as the sounds you're making.

"Viene per me, cucciolo. Wanna do it with you." He isn't sure if you're able to put together his slightly slurred words, before seeing you quickly nod your head and pick up the pace.

Skin on skin and moans echo throughout the room, too caught up in one another to care who might hear. Your other hand leaves your chest in favor to support yourself, speeding your hips even more with the extra balance found on damiano's own chest.

Your moans grow in volume the closer you get to the edge, unable to hold back the sounds your lover seems to always get out of you.

Damiano feels the coil burst once more, thrusting his hips up into you, sending you hurdling over the edge yourself. Stilling your movements, you peek open your eyes to look down at him, a soft grin spreading across your face as you feel him cum in you again. Creamy white starting to leak out and down his shaft, but neither of you seem to mind as you lean down to press your cheek against his flushed chest.

"Now, do you believe me when I say that I only want you?" You peer up at him from your relaxed position.

He nods, before pulling his hands through the loose knot in the scarf and pressing a kiss to your sweat slicked forehead.

#damiano david imagine #damiano david x y/n #damiano david x reader #damiano david #damiano david smut #måneskin imagine #måneskin x y/n #måneskin x reader #måneskin #måneskin smut #maneskin x y/n #maneskin imagine #maneskin x reader #maneskin #maneskin smut

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occassionalfanficwriter · 3 years ago

Note

Heyhey! May I request childe x reader where the reader has been badly abused in the past? As a result she doesn’t mind when childe kidnaps her because childe has never hurt her, and treats her nicely? So since childe has work lmao he leaves a fatui agent to watch his s/o. But since his s/o has such a small appetite she doesn’t eat much. And since the fatui agent has a bad temper, what if he slaps her across the jaw so hard it breaks? So since then she can’t handle leaving childe’s side?Thank you

anon who hurt you? (•ω•`)this childe has yandere undertones but anyways you're welcome and enjoy.

Content warning for everyone else: allusions to domestic violence ,and non-graphic depiction of violence against women.

No Misfortune Without Blessings

Summary: Among the many myths about Tartaglia, few were dedicated to his love life. Even fewer dared to speak of the gentle love between him and his lady but in the soft and hushed whispers of the crowd, all would admit that they painted a pretty picture.

There was a boy.

You weren’t quite sure what to make of him. Shy and stuttering but with bright blue eyes that reminds you of the starry sky in the village. You liked him, in the same way you liked the morbid stories and descriptions of the adventurers in the tavern. You liked him too, in the same way you liked the rare flowers that grew in Snezhnayan winter.

And maybe the boy with the starry sky in his eyes and bright red hair liked you too. But it wasn’t something you paid attention to, there were stories and adventures to be had, knowledge to be shared and you decided it was more important.

More important than understanding what everyone your age liked or what accounted for normal. You never did quite understand everyone else in the same way you immediately understood Ajax. It was precisely because of this that you simply didn’t quite fit in, you were just as much of an outcast as Ajax was with his shyness and occasional stutter. You didn’t care for it, you found comfort in the knowledge you’d never be involved in messy affairs of the romantic and platonic kind.

Your world was peaceful.

There was Ajax, the stories from adventurers, and your hidden desire for something more beyond what the small seaside town you call home had to offer.

There used to be a boy with bright blue eyes that takes your breath away sometimes. Who had a burning red hair and warm smile that reminded you of the warm sunshine.

You loved to follow him around, notebook in hand filled with scribbles and experiments of different shorts. And Ajax loved you, perhaps, with the way he took you along for adventures on the edges of the woods, in the frozen lake, and taking small commissions from the neighbors.

The two of you had grown taller, childhood fat turning into muscles as your bodies hit puberty. Both of you had changed in so many ways, gone were the days when no one minded the two of you staying out together for a long period of time, without any companion. Whispers followed when the two of you held each other just a bit too long for what was appropriate.

Your world could not simply consist of Ajax and the growing longing you had for what the world had to offer. You didn’t like the change, neither of you two did. But you were much better at pretending than Ajax, so you studied and observed the rest, told this to Ajax and somehow the restrictions on you two became a big game of pretend. You pretended to understand the beauty that others found, pretended to fit in the scale of accepted normalcy.

And then, without you noticing the boy you loved dearly was gone. You stared blankly as you watched his parents cry and search parties used for a boy lost in the woods.

There used to be a boy and you weren’t quite sure what to make of him when he came back to you three months later.

You weren’t quite sure when it started, when your world expanded and collapsed until the only things left are the ashes of things you don’t quite recognize. You weren’t quite sure when you stopped yearning for a life of adventure. When you began to settle for whatever it was that was given to you.

Maybe it was when the boy you loved came back with dull blue eyes and a sharp look that told stories only the hardened and veteran adventurers understood. Maybe it was when you could no longer keep up with him, when trouble seeks him out and your parents dragged you away from him.

Maybe it was when one night he sneaks into your room bids you goodbye and makes you realize that the stars in his eyes never left, they were just clouded by something brighter and bigger than whatever it was that Morepesok had to offer.

Maybe it was when you woke up the next day and the boy you loved was taken away into a brighter and bigger place than the small sea-side village.

But that didn’t matter now, not when your whole body hurt and you laid limp on the cold wooden floors of the place that should be home but isn’t. You weren’t quite sure when you accepted this as normal, when the man your parents swore would take care of you became the one who hurt you. You weren’t quite sure when you started to forget all of that you loved dearly.

“...it hurts” you say out loud as tears prick on the edges of your eyes and you simply lay on the floor, ignoring the pain on your ribs, the blood on your mouth and countless other bruises that littered your skin.

You don’t recognize yourself anymore.

And you hate yourself for it.

You think of the boy you loved who had stars in his eyes and the sun in his soul and you yearn for him and what could have been.

There was a man with a charming smile and blue eyes, and the mask of the Harbingers. You weren’t quite sure what to think of him when he held your hand gently, and spoke to you about topics you used to love.

You weren’t quite sure what it meant when his eyes grew cold at the bruises on your skin and the whispers that followed you. Maybe you loved him, in the same way you loved Ajax, and the man you lived with. Maybe you loved him in the same way you loved the preserved heart in a jar that used to be yours.

There were a lot of maybes but you were sure that Tartaglia would never hurt you. The day he takes you away felt like a fairy tale, as if the boy you loved came back for you but you knew that Ajax was gone. And Tartaglia was the one who came for you so you stupidly went along with him.

You gave him your everything.

You gave him the tattered pieces of what could have been you, and allowed him to reshape you, until you were stronger than before. You relearned how to be human, how to be yourself, and you loved him for it. You learned how to speak his own love language, stayed by his side and accepted all of him until you weren’t sure where you ended and where he began.

Somehow, you stupidly believed that all of this would remain as it was. Until he had to leave for a long while and you can’t help but feel as if your world would collapse.

“Don’t go” you whispered as you held onto his clothes like a child.

“Don’t leave me” you begged as you shrink your frame and tried to fight the fear of being hated for something like this.

“I’m sorry” Tartaglia tells you, voice soft and gentle as he hugs you tenderly.

You want to cry but you don’t because you had always understood that he was meant for bigger and brighter things. Instead you sank in his chest, you wanted to imprint yourself in him, so that no matter how bright and beautiful the world outside of this home you built was, he’d never forget about you.

“Come back quickly.”

“I’ll be back before you even miss me.”

You don’t tell him that you’ve already begun missing him.

You never bothered to get along with Tartaglia’s subordinates. Not when you decided to ignore anything Fatui related since it meant that Tartaglia would never have to worry about you being used against him. You refused to be a burden.

This ignorance meant that despite treating them civilly you had no deep impression on them. It meant that when none of Tartaglia’s trusted aides were available to watch you and take care of whatever your needs were, some new recruit was given to you.

You didn’t care about it much. The new recruits tend to be distant and careful upon knowing who you were to Tartaglia. You didn’t care about what they called you behind your back. What mattered was Tartaglia and his thoughts.

Your heart was too small to include irrelevant matters.

Maybe if you learned how to be human properly, you would have realized the danger you were in. An upstart recruit from a noble lineage coupled with a bad temper would never be suited to your cold and distant attitude. The snark and biting remarks you ignored only added fuel to a fire you weren’t aware of.

You were too busy counting the days until Tartaglia’s return to pay attention to someone you found insignificant.

“You didn’t finish your food again” The recruit complained.

“Feed it to the dogs or whatever” you answered dismissing him with a wave of hand as you drank your water.

No one would care if you ate less than usual. Tartaglia would only ask if anything was wrong and you’d be quick to assure him that it was nothing. You knew that he would overthink and his subordinates would pay for it.

It was best for all parties that his mood remained good. You didn’t want others interfering with your time with him and you were quite sure that after the glamour of sparring with him faded off, his men had no want of being beaten to the ground.

This thought that you believed to be true made you blind. It made you let your guard down when malice was directed at you and you found yourself suddenly on the ground.

The harsh sound of your jaw breaking echoing loudly as you stared blankly on the marble tiles of the dining room. Somehow it felt like you were back in that place, and you could hear shouting and swearing around you.

‘I’m stronger than this’ You thought as you tried to force your body to move.

‘I’m stronger than this!’ You stubbornly insisted as your body remained frozen in the ground.

‘I’M STRONGER THAN THIS!’ You screamed inside your head as you felt like you were drowning again. You couldn’t breathe and you could no longer see anything.

The next thing you saw was Tartaglia on your bedside, asleep and visibly worse for wear. You stood up, opening your mouth only to quickly stop at the dull pain you felt. You could only stare at him with longing. The room was dark and only lit by the moonlight that seeped in through the windows.

You reached out for him, three soft squeezes on his hand as you gingerly kissed his calloused hand. You could tell that he was already awake and you waited for him to open his bright blue eyes that took your breath away.

“I won’t leave you alone anymore” Tartaglia says with sadness in his voice as he cradles you in his lap. You closed your eyes and tapped his lips thrice.

‘I love you’.

There was a girl with bright curious eyes that seemed to see through him. Ajax couldn’t keep his stutter out as he shyly introduced himself.

He loved her at first sight.

He loved her more when she took his hand and showed him interesting stuff. Each moment spent with her was an adventure. He loved the spark in her eyes when she talked about the nations beyond Snezhnaya.

He loved her eccentricities and never wanted her to change. But Ajax knew that if he remained as he was, he would never be able to keep her by his side.

The girl he loved yearned for something bigger and brighter than Morepesok and Ajax wanted to give it to her with his own two hands.

There used to be a girl with bright eyes and rarely smiled but could take his breath away when she smiled at him. Who loved all sorts of things without any care, who loved him in the same way she loved the animals they came across.

She was bright and warm and Ajax knew that she was destined for bigger things. That she was meant to explore the world beyond the sea and Ajax wanted to take her away and give her the greatest adventure.

He wanted her world to be made up of him, their adventures, and everything she loved. But the Abyss had no place for gentle dreams and soft loves. So he fought and fought until he realized his dream and set out for something bigger and brighter than him.

‘I want to give her the world’ Ajax whispered in the silence of the night as he fought for his life and then for fun.

He thought of the girl he loved who walked among the stars and he yearned for her. The Abyss had no room for the weak so he hid away what he could and threw away what he couldn’t for the sake of growing strong and paving the way for the girl he loved.

He came back and found solace in the stupid girl that didn’t understand everything yet. He protected her innocence even as she stared at his blood stained hands. He protected her soft and loving heart even as he felt his being torn apart.

He wanted to keep her by his side but he had always been the better fighter. She was better at pretending but she could never bring herself to fight back mercilessly. So he decided to fight for the two of them.

The Fatui was like the Abyss but it could never reach the harshness and brutality of a place seeped in desperation. He hid his heart away, keeping it with the girl he loved who cried for him. He fought his way up the ranks and thought of the girl he loved.

He thought of her as he took missions upon missions, thinking of her soft lips and sweet tears that made him want to take her with him. But he wasn’t strong enough to protect her yet so he leaves her behind, promising to return to her once more.

There used to be a girl who seemed to like she could take the world by storm.

There used to be a boy who loved her secretly and openly.

Now there was a woman whose light was dying, bright eyes dulled and heart trampled upon.

Now there was a man named Tartaglia whose heart burned and raged for those that dared to hurt the woman he loved.

He takes her away, leaves no traces and keeps her far away from the burnt down house that used to be her childhood home. He keeps her by his side and gives her pieces of the world.

Tartaglia with his bloodstained hands gently and lovingly held her in his arms as he dealt with the recruit. It was brutal and inhumane but all of his humanity was meant for the girl he loved and his family.

He gives her the best doctor and waits for her to wake up.

Thrice he made the mistake of leaving her behind.

‘This time, no matter what, I’ll keep you by my side.’

Among the myths about Tartaglia few were dedicated to the lady he always took along with him, be it in the battlefield or anywhere else. It was rumored that she was as gentle as Liyue’s glaze lilies, and as deadly as the ruin guards that littered across Teyvat.

But one thing was constant, where Tartaglia goes the lady follows. A warrior and his lady dominating battle fields across Teyvat.

There would be no surprise if one day the entire world fell at their feet.

#childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #yandere childe x reader #genshin impact childe x reader #genshin impact x reader

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angelofbloodlust · 3 years ago

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Bunny (Billy Loomis x Reader)

A/N: Long time, no see, y’all 😳 sorry for my disappearance, I’ve been going through quite a lot but I’m happy to be back! I apologize if this story isn’t the best, it’s been a long time since I’ve written something like this and I’m still trying to get back in my groove- but if this ends up being well-received I’d be happy to try writing a part 2! <3 hope u guys enjoy!!

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Your eyes scan over the backyard of the tan house sat in front of you once more, zoning in heavily on the blackened windows as your boots take hesitant steps forward towards the home of your fellow peer that you’ve been watching for weeks now. Shallow breaths escape you as your chest begins to pound, a flurry of both panicked and thrilled emotions swarming your stomach as your hand tightens on the butcher knife in your hold.

You were finally about to experience your first kill, after taking so many precautions and endless planning. You figured now would be the perfect time with the other murders that has had Woodsboro in chaos, the police department has already got themselves absorbed in solving the murders of Casey and Steve, if you manage to get through this unscathed you could easily let the other nutjob take the blame and get to work on your next plan.

But, that’s easier said than done.

You suck in a breath through your nostrils as you cautiously approach the cracked window ahead of you, the one you’ve witnessed be pushed open by the student’s mother each night before bed, just like clockwork. Though of course, you ensured that neither of her parents would be home that night, and you were glad they were dumb enough to trust their daughter enough to be able to defend herself with a psychopath on the loose.

Your teeth remain clenched as you slowly lift yourself up and climb through the window after pushing it open, being careful to not let your costume get caught and allowing your jaw to relax once you step from the marble of the countertops down to the wooden plank flooring below. Anxiousness to get upstairs and cut the girl’s head off stabs at you as your eyes find the stairs from your view out of the kitchen, though you force yourself to keep your pace as you take light steps on your path towards your goal, and feel relief at the fact none of the floorboards have creaked so far. Annoyance swiftly follows after as you notice the stairs aren’t carpeted, internally grumbling a couple curses while readying yourself to have to take your backup plan in case you accidentally make a noise and wake the girl up.

You make your way up slowly, begging in your mind for each step not to creak, and as you’ve made walked up all but 2 steps, you can’t help but feel a smug grin curl over your lips underneath your mask as you relish in the fact that everything’s gone so smoothly.

And immediately you regret that thought, once you and the short brunette standing in front of the bathroom door both freeze up in shock from the sight of the other.

“Shit, you’re not supposed to be awake!” You groan out, scowling at yourself once you process that you accidentally said that out loud.

Your body tenses as your words seem to have triggered the girl out of her state of shock, a blood-curling wail slipping from her lips at the sight of the knife in your hand before she runs to attempt scampering back into her bedroom to hide from you, sobs and screams pouring from her as you growl under your breath while bolting up the last couple steps and over the carpet towards her.

“Stop yelling!” You whine in panic from her loudness, before narrowing your eyes at your sudden idiocy with the situation. Why the fuck would she listen to you?!

A frustrated huff leaves you as she manages to slam the door on you, leaving you to violently push and slam on the now locked door while spilling out any indecent word your brain can think of in the moment. How could this have gone any worse? Your plan was all for nothing now!

Anxiety twirls in your gut as you look between the door and the stairs, having to make a quick decision as you’re sure the cops have been called by now and won’t take long to arrive. You exhale out, before making the final call to abandon the plan and speed back down the stairs, hopping over anything in your way as you head into the kitchen and back out the window.

Brief relief hits you as the soles of your shoes meet the grass again, taking a swift glance behind you while running for the patch of woods ahead of you. Your exhale out is interrupted as you suddenly collide into something, which you thought was a tree for a split second until the object ahead of you slips out a grunt once they stumble back slightly.

You look back forward in surprise, shock waving you as your vision is taken up by the same white and black mask morphed into a scream that you previously slipped on after making the discovery the other killer had worn it. A squeak leaves your lips as the man in front of you takes a rough grip on your upper arms, shifting around to face your towards the woods and push you forward as he gives a huff out.

“Go, I’m not gonna let you get us caught.” He hisses out, balling the back of your costume into his fist to ensure you keep moving as he leads you further way from the house while you struggle to wrap your head around what’s happening.

“H-How did you know I was-”

“We were in the area prepping, and we could hear that bitch’s scream from a mile away.” He huffs in response.

“Oh..” You mumble, embarrassment now filling your cheeks as he continues to guide you like you’re a disobedient child, wanting to pull from his grip but feeling unsure of how he might react. “...Did you say we?” You question suddenly as you shift your head to look back to him.

“Yes. No more questions, I think I have a right to be the one questioning you instead. Who the fuck are you?” He asks in a strict tone, and despite his mask covering his expression, you could somehow feel the rage radiating off of him at your presence.

You narrow your hidden eyes, “Why would I tell you that?? I don’t even know who you are!”

“I said no more questions.”

“I think it’s a pretty reasonable one if you’re gonna only ask questions I don’t wanna answer!”

“Fine, if that’s how you want to be then we can both remain anonymous. How about this, instead?” He hums, “Did you even kill her? I don’t see any blood on you.”

“..No.. She locked the door on me before I could grab her, I wanted to kill her in her sleep but she was awake once I got inside.” You admit in a sheepish mumble.

He scoffs, “A door stopped you?” You scowl as he chuckles in amusement at your actions. “I suppose that’s reasonable, you are pretty small. Wouldn’t expect you to be able to be able to break it down.” He teases, causing you to grumble out as you wiggle from his grip and turn to face him.

“Hey, it was my first time, and I was panicking! Take it easy on me.” You demand with a pout.

He crosses his arms as he looks down to you, “Tsk, you tried to do it all on your own? No wonder you failed.”

“I spent months planning it, I thought I would’ve done well..” Your voice cracks through your sentence, leaving you to attempt sighing away your urge to cry while you turn back to keep walking, your eyes sticking down to watch your steps while the man with you gives an exhale as he follows at your side.

“Alright, alright, I’ll quit being so harsh. But it takes someone naturally skilled to be able to do it on their own, you know? You think you have everything you need, but even the littlest thing that doesn’t go to plan can fuck it all up. Maybe for you, you just need a bit of teaching to make sure you’re ready for anything.” He shrugs.

“Are you.. offering to help me?” You question gently through the mix of shock and confusion in your chest as to why this stranger is willing to take you under his wing, tilting your head slightly up to him.

“Maybe. But you need to prove that you’re serious about this.”

You begin to question him on how you can prove it, before stopping at the beginning of your sentence once the two of you cross through the patch of woods and up to a parked car on the lone street in front of you. An unsure sensation fills your gut as he makes you stay back while he walks over to the driver’s side window, and you begin to question to yourself if this might really be a safe decision to go with the psychopaths that you were about to frame.. But at the same time, this might be your real chance to be able to finally learn the proper ways of murder.

Soon enough, he walks back over to you and gestures to your mask. “To go any further with this, I need to see your face if you’re going to see ours. It’s only fair.” He requests you in a calm tone, and you hesitate as you frown as you pick up sudden worried thoughts. What if he just wanted to be able to rat you out and let you take blame for everything?

“Hey, you know you haven’t really proved your loyalty to me, either.. What if-”

You freeze as his hand reaches up for his own mask, watching him pull it off to reveal his cold, yet neutral expression as the guy you recognize to be Billy Loomis from your school stands in front of you. Your face reddens at the sight, you know him enough about him to have a thorough crush on him, though you suppose you didn’t know him quite enough to have realized that part of the reason you had been so drawn to him was the fact you were more alike than you had known.

“I’m risking everything for this. Do you know how much this could fuck up everything with us letting you in?” He sighs, and you watch as his lips form in a displeased pout. “The last thing I want is you getting caught doing this dumb shit, and if you’re going to steal our costume you at least need to not act like a moron while you’re in it.” He huffs with narrowed eyes.

“God- fuck, whatever. If you guys end up killing me, I have nothing to lose.” You grumble as you pull off your mask, holding your own pout while he takes up a smirk while looking you over.

“Just as cute as I expected you to be, bunny.” He purrs out in a playful tone, which causes you to give him a questioning expression through your heated cheeks at the nickname.

“Bunny?”

“You’re small, cute and quick. Like a bunny.” He grins.

“I will actually deck you if you call me that again.” You hiss out while he starts to lead you towards the car.

“No, you won’t. I could tell you liked it.” He chimes in a proud tone, laughing out once you reach to smack his arm with your face on fire.

“Shut your mouth, Loomis! You’re so annoying!” You whine as your voice pitches up with your embarrassment.

“Get your ass in the car, Y/N.” He snorts out as he nudges you towards the backseat.

“..You know my name?”

“You’re in my Physics class. I recognize you.” He chuckles gently, flashing you a brief smile before slipping into the passenger’s seat.

“Oh.” You hum, feeling content as you feel joy at the fact that he recognizes you, holding your own smile as you get into the back of the car before pausing once Stu Macher shoots you a grin from the driver’s seat.

“Hey, Y/N! Billy says you wanna join us, that true?” He asks through his classic happy tone, starting up the car while you manage to get yourself to nod as you confirm to yourself that the man you had only ever expected to be the class clown to be Billy’s partner in crime, though you weren’t entirely sure why you were caught off guard with the insane amount of loyalty Stu’s always shown to Billy over the years you’ve watched them be friends.

“Yeah.. Uh, sorry, I wasn’t expecting to see you. Didn’t think you were this kinda guy.” You snicker.

He gives an unbothered shrug, “Well, people always have their secrets, don’t they?” He chuckles, causing you to quirk an eyebrow once he flashes a grin over to Billy and laughing out once he smacks his shoulder in a manner to tell him to shut up. Stu smiles back at you again through the rear-view mirror, “It’s nice to have ya join us, though. I’m sure it’ll be real fun for the three of us.” He purrs, and you can’t help but get an unsettling feeling from the tinge of malice in his smirk, which you couldn’t tell if it was meant to be towards you.

You could only hope not.

#scream 1996 #scream #billy loomis #stu macher #billy loomis and stu macher #billy loomis x reader #slasher x reader #ghostface x reader #slasher x you #hopefully this ain’t too bad I wrote it all in one sitting 😭

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it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream · 3 years ago

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Silva Lining - Chapter 21 (Saul Silva x reader)

You still woke up screaming. Even though you were back beside Saul, the nightmares didn’t seem to stop, or at least, they hadn’t stopped yet. It pissed him off to see you so vulnerable, pissed him off knowing what effects the events had on you but he vowed to get things back to normal.

You jumped as the doors to your room opened, a parade of servants filing in one by one, some carrying trays, the others carrying clothes. Your stomach grumbled when the waft of eggs and bacon made its way across to your bed, all the while Saul was wrapping the duvet tighter around you to keep prying eyes away. No one was looking at you, he was just a big jealous baby. You’d missed it.

As soon as they had arrived they were gone. You stood, stretching, your muscles aching from the day and night before. Your skin was littered with love bites, you didn’t have to look at Saul to know he was happy with his handy work. His arms wrapped around you from behind, his naked body pressed against yours, his manhood stood to attention, bouncing off your goose pimpled ass.

“Well good morning to you too Soldier.” You wiggled your behind against his hardness making him groan. The breakfast would have to wait, looks like you were hungry for something else.

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Fucked, fed and dressed, you were happier than you’d been in weeks. You even had a bounce in your step which didn’t go unnoticed by your friends. It was a bright and sunny day, the sky was lilac and the castle and grounds were buzzing with people and excitement at the arrival of you and your entourage.

After your prompt room service and fumble, the female Dark Guard; who’s name you found out was Lex, led you to where you were now, reuniting with very well rested looking family and friends.

“The king has informed me he should be back around lunch time, for now he has asked me to get you acquainted with some of the residents of Imperium City, and would like for you all to join me on a tour of our home and its surroundings.”

At this point you were stood in the back with your Winx girls, Ben, Saul and your Mother were talking amongst themselves and so were the Specialist boys. You walked and chatted, catching up and taking in the beautiful scenery.

You noticed your friends, mother and the specialists all wearing the same kind of clothing, it made you all look like you were part of an elite team, all black with single patterns of colour down the fronts and on the arms. You all had different colours, the specialists had a similar kind of outfit, just plain black. Your mother, a black pants suit and Saul, black combat gear from head to toe. You looked around, none of the other residents wore what you all did, but you noticed everyone had specific looks, kind of like factions.

The lilac sky wasn’t the only unusual thing about Imperium. The cobbles of the streets seemed to be made from Diamond, glittering in the bright sun, the trees were a vibrant green like none you’d ever seen before. If you didn’t know it was all magic, you would have convinced yourself you were having a major acid trip.

The architecture seemed very modern, big mansions off to one side, tall crystal like skyscrapers on the other. Then there was the Academy for Witches and Warlocks, it looked very different from Alfea.

It reminded you of a typical American campus that you’d seen in the many romcoms out there, apart from this one was all glass windows, marble and just screamed expensive. Looking up, it was like everyone went quiet. The students in the Academy had all stopped and were looking at you.

It made you feel uncomfortable. Believe it or not, you didn’t like being the centre of attention and you were grateful when Saul came up behind you placing his large hand on the small of your back in reassurance.

“God, you’d think it was feeding time at the zoo.” The common saying went over everyone else’s heads, forgetting they were never part of your original world. You laughed to yourself at their confused expressions but pressed on.

As the day went on the tour got better and better, this place seemed to have state of the art everything. You’d left the specialists including your man child of a boyfriend at the special training centre used to train The Dark Guards and other forces, the tech here was beyond anything you’d ever seen, which wasn’t hard. By the look of Sauls face, you knew it was good.

Next came simulation rooms and labs, rooms dedicated to specific witchy powers and training facilities state of the art. Honestly, it put Alfea to shame.

Every one of your girls had found something to fall in love with, Terra, the biggest greenhouse/lab you’d ever seen, Musa never left the music centre, Aisha dove into the olympic size pool as soon as she got the go ahead, Stella, you were pretty sure Stella was lost somewhere in the gigantic mall you guys had passed. Honestly the place was thriving. Bloom, she’d found some pyrotechnic

sorta room where they tested explosive weapons, that suited her fine.

Then it was just.. you. Your mum and Ben had been taken on a diverted tour by some of the teachers and you were left, followed by your assigned guards.

You’d liked the look of everything and so far there wasn’t a specific thing you liked the most. You decided to sit, finally and just take it all in. By all in you meant the events of the past week, so you really took it all in. The magic that swirled around you was thick, your emotions leaking from your skin like a black oil.

You don’t know how long you’d been lost in thought, no one coming near you, your guards making sure of that as you existed alone in your black bubble of silence. You were only nocked out of your daze when a hand touched your arm.

Shocked your powers seemed to zap the intruder, who did nothing but let out a throaty chuckle.

“You’re more like me than I first thought.”

Your black ball of protection retracted. A huge, tall man, olive skin, dark hair and eyes, strong sharp features sat next to you, invading what little privacy you had in the first place.

His smile was familiar, you realised it was a lot like your own and the more you looked at the stranger you realised some of his features were exactly like yours. He was the other piece of the puzzle that was your life.

“Dad.”

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@tinktohispan

@azure23x

@alexiapayne12

@codykosuckmytoe

@lllyyysss02

@blue-aconite

@a-scrumptiouslywingedstudent

@music-of-melody

@cecedrake2217

@anreeixcobra

@sporadicsaladcloudgoop

@616hotchners

@janelongxox

@lflores2008

@shadowhuntyi

@bshelley322

@deepprincesstraveler

Wow its been a long time since I updated! I just feel like it's become such a long fic and I dont know where to take it lol so I'm tryingggg. Any ideas send them my way lol.

In my head Y/N's dad, the king is played by Dylan McDermott..

#winx #winx girls #winx stella #winx club #winx bloom #winx the fate saga #fate the winx saga #saul silva x reader #saul x reader #saulsilva #saul silva #silva lining #teacher x student #fanfic #angst #fluff #writing #smut #requests

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heloisedaphnebrightmore · 4 years ago

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Deception [Benedict Bridgerton x Reader]

Title: Deception Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Female!Reader Word count: 4.5k Published: 21 March 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Summary: Violet's constant search for a wife for her second eldest son has become too much for Benedict. The only escape he sees is to ask you to pretend to be courting each other. But how long will it work for with your feelings eating you up from the inside. Bingo: [x] This is part of my Make me feel Bingo Card by @girl-next-door-writes

Square filled: Fake dating

Bridgerton Masterlist | Masterlists

Make me feel Bingo Masterlist

If you enjoy my stories, please consider donating and supporting me on Ko-fi. Of course, it’s completely your choice, I will continue updating for free anyway :) Thank you <3

Benedict Bridgerton was a very capable man. He had a tremendous amount of talent in capturing the real beauty of the world in his drawings. He was confident, but still genuinely kind and caring for his loved ones. He also had a rather playful side to him, a somewhat child-like behaviour, one that the ton would not have appreciated in their society, but Benedict had the privilege to show his real personality to those who loved him, ones that never judged him for who he was.

However, there was one person he felt utterly useless around. When it came to you, he turned into an adorable mess, a clumsy one at that, even stuttering on occasions. Should you have known the reason for his unusual behaviour, it would have brought a rather large smile to your face, but Benedict dared not to reveal his feelings for you.

For someone who has been friends for so long, you both seemed to have found it hard to show your true feelings for one another, as though both of you were clueless. For Benedict it seemed you only spared as much attention to him as a friend would, whilst you thought he was merely looking out for you as a brother figure.

You sat in the ballroom, watching as he grimaced at his mother, who might have slightly forced her second oldest child to dance with one of the many stunning unwed ladies. The one he was forced to dance with however seemed to enjoy Benedict's company. He didn't talk, nor did he look at the woman, still she shined brighter than a diamond in his arms, proud to be so close to such a fine man.

Heaving a heavy sigh, you watched as he held his hand firmly on her back, leading her around the dance floor, making her giggle by just being close to her. Your heart ached at the thought of ever having to give up on him, at the thought of seeing him with another, someone he would choose to love, ignoring to see your longing gazes forgotten on him. How could he have seen, he never dared to look when he felt your eyes on him, nor did you dared to look when he forgot his on you.

Standing up from your chair, you walked towards the terrace, needing fresh air, trying to clear your thoughts as the slightly cool, windy weather stroked your cheeks. You knew you shouldn't have thought of him romantically, but you would have been a fool not to notice the handsome and caring man he has grown into. Watching Lady Bridgerton trying to find a wife to her son hurt both emotionally and physically and you couldn't wait for the season to end, to leave the balls and play-pretend behind you, running away from the inevitable.

"Help me!" you heard his desperate voice, but before you could have turned around, you felt his hand lock around your wrist, gently, but in a haste, dragging you after himself.

"Benedict, what are you doing?" you asked in confusion, trying to understand his chaotic behaviour as he pulled you along, passing corridors by corridors in the gigantic mansion.

"My mother," he sighed as he stopped his steps, breathing heavily. "My mother is becoming—" you waited for him to continue, but he seemed to have been stuck in his thoughts.

"Are you alright?" you asked, frowning at his frozen state, as though he couldn't find the words and his thoughts overruled his actions. You watched his hunched back as he fought to get enough air in his lungs, his eyes focused on a certain point on the marble flooring, completely out of the present. "Benedict!" you called him again, this time firmly, attempting to catch his attention.

"I know it!" he exclaimed, making you jump slightly at his unexpected enthusiasm as a rather wide smile spread across his face.

"What do you know exactly?" you inquired.

"It might sound foolish at first and I do not blame you if you think I have lost my mind, but I need your help," he explained, leaving you even more curious.

"What would I need to help you with?" you asked furrowing at the man as if he has forgotten to include you in his grand idea.

"My mother has been adamant in finding me a wife and there is only so much I can do to prevent her from continuing her crusade. I know I shouldn't ask you such a thing, but I can't possibly think of anyone else who I trust enough," he continued in a secretive manner.

"Benedict, you must be clearer. I don't understand what you wish for me to do," you attempted to push him to finally reveal his idea.

"I need my mother to stop searching for a wife and the only way I can do that is if I already found someone I am interested in," he started. "That is where I would need your help, if you agreed. Should you agree to pretend I am courting you, my mother would surely stop this nonsense and leave me alone," for a mere second you felt overwhelmed by the hope of his interest in you, but that was only until your brain processed his words. "Pretend" being the main focus of your attention, shattering the small shimmering light of hope within you.

You took a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself, attempting to hide your disappointment. "Surely you didn't think this through. Your mother isn't a fool, she would see through us immediately. You can't possibly think it's a good idea," you tried to reason with him, but instead of thinking it through again, he quickly shook his head.

"But it is. Think about it. You have said so yourself, you don't want to marry just yet and nor do I. It would be the perfect option for both of us, solving our issues," he added enthusiastically as if his idea was anything, but brilliant. He could clearly see the weary expression across your face as he stepped closer and reached for your hands, engulfing them in his large and warm palms. "We would only have to pretend for a short while, I promise," he tried to reassure you. Whilst you knew it was a foolish idea, the thought of being able to stay close to him even if for a short period of time, seemed to cloud your better judgement.

"For how long?" you asked looking up at him as a mischievous grin spread across his dashingly handsome face. One that you adored so much. "I wouldn't want to be a spinster, Benedict," you sighed heavily.

"I would never let that happen," he shook his head quickly, his previously playful smile long gone from his face. "Let us do it for a few weeks and we will see how my mother reacts. I'm sure if we work well together, you might even catch the attention of some very noble men too," he winked jokingly, trying to lift your dull mood.

You haven't had much time to contemplate, maybe a few seconds until you ran through all the options you have been provided with, which was basically none. You heaved a heavy sigh and shook your head, offering a sceptical look to Benedict. "Fine," you said, earning a surprised expression from him, your answer shocking him for a second, before he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up, twirling you around happily.

"You are my saviour," he chuckled as he hinted a small kiss on your forehead, stopping himself as he realised what he had done. "I apologise, I didn't mean to—"

"I understand. You are simply happy I have agreed to such a scandalous idea," you rolled your eyes, but you couldn't hide the happiness you felt. Even if for a short while, Benedict was to belong to you, and it meant more than you could have possibly expressed. You knew you couldn't have him forever but having him for a couple of weeks made you feel like the happiest person alive.

"I owe you! I didn't think you would agree," he grinned happily, a childish warmness radiating from his stance as though he had won a grand prize.

"I still don't understand why I did. Surely, I'm a fool," you added quickly with a silent chuckle.

"We both are," he replied as he started leading you back to the ballroom with your arm linked around his. His gaze focused on the way ahead, but your eyes were rather resting on his attractive features. He was a stunning man, and you were sure if he had turned to look at you, he would have seen the amount of love you were harbouring for him. But as many times before, no one of you has ever turned.

Weeks passed by and if anyone, Violet Bridgerton was the happiest person to see Benedict growing closer to the woman, you, she had envisioned beside her second eldest son. She has made it very clear that a wedding should soon be happening, wanting nothing but a little baby in her arms. You never wanted to crash her dreams but hearing her talking about a future between you and Benedict was beyond painful. The thought of you waking up beside Benedict, his arm resting across your waist, his neck hidden in the crook of your neck, his breath tickling your skin made your heart ache, knowing it was impossible.

You stood in Somerset House, one arm hooked around Benedict's as he watched the paintings, his face focused on one particular art with dark colours and shadings, slightly depressing as if the artist tried to capture a horrible emotion. Art was always something that you found beautiful, but never really understood. When Benedict talked about the meaning behind each piece with a childish happiness across his face, it made you feel content. Although you didn't understand much of what he was saying, the adorable expression he wore was worth each and every moment you spent listening to him.

Looking at his handsome features as they relaxed into a content smile, made you mirror his expression. You couldn't look at him and not smile. As though his mere presence made you feel at ease.

"I feel your eyes on me," he chuckled with a mischievous smile, knowing that you have indeed been staring at him for the longest time.

"I'm sorry," you quickly turned away, feeling your cheeks and ears heat up in embarrassment. "I couldn't stop watching you. You were really focused on that painting and it seemed as though you were here physically, but not mentally. You unintentionally make this face when you enjoy a painting," you smiled shyly.

"A face?" he furrowed, not knowing of his own reaction.

"Yes, as if you were completely captured by the painting. You have a certain content smile across your face and even forget to blink at times," you giggled, placing your hand in front of your mouth, remembering his facial expression.

"Don't hide your smile," he said as he reached for your wrist and gently wrapped his fingers around your arm, pulling your hand away from your lips. "You are even more beautiful when you smile," for a second his words made you hope, as though he meant more than he let on. His eyes seemed as if they could see through you, reading each and every single thought that crossed your mind. For the shortest of time, it felt your feelings weren't as unrequited as you thought. However, you quickly had to remind yourself that your imagination was playing a painful game with you, one that would surely end in a heartbreak.

You quickly turned away, trying to shake those foolish thoughts away, before you decided to dwell on them any longer. Clearing your thoughts, you turned back to him with a phony smile across your face, biting your bottom lip to calm yourself. But his deep frown left you confused. "Are you okay?" you questioned as he tilted his head as if he was studying your face.

"You were biting your lips again," he replied. "You do that when you are nervous or feeling uncomfortable," he added, stunning you. Biting your lips was indeed a nervous habit of yours, one that you couldn't stop as it made you feel slightly at ease when you felt as if even your own thoughts betrayed you. You never thought Benedict even realised those irrelevant, minor details.

"I'm fine, Benedict," you tried to reassure him with a smile that you wore confidently but could not fool Benedict.

"Should you feel the need to talk, I'm here," he said, drawing tiny circles on the back of your arm that he was still securely holding onto, reassuring you that he was by your side whenever you were in need of him.

As happy as it made you, you couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment as you thought about the heartbreak when he would finally want to end your foolish little game and find himself a wife that he could cherish forever, leaving you with the most horrible heartache one could cause.

You knew it was inevitable, you knew it would kill you, but you loved Benedict and you would have never forced him to stay beside you for any longer than he wanted to. You were ready to give him up, to be happy even if with someone else. The thought of letting him go hurt, but you weren't sure of your own strength either. Thinking about how long you could stay beside him pretending to be a mere friend left you with just as much pain, if not more. But you were ready to sacrifice your own happiness even if to be able to spend one more second with him.

Days passed by since your slightly awkward encounter in Somerset House. You have pretended to be a couple so in love that you couldn't possibly stay away from each other. Lady Whistledown didn't miss to write a paragraph or two about the two of you, already planning your wedding, one that you found slightly excessive, but dared not to mention to keep your act believable.

As much as you enjoyed the first few weeks of your play-pretend, it was hard to keep it up for long. You loved every minute you spent with Benedict, but the longer you were beside him, the more pain you felt. You wished to make him happy, to continue your act, but you also knew that it wasn't forever, and that tiny little thought suffocated you.

You sat on a bench in the park, right after promenading with Benedict. He joined his brothers whilst your maid brought you a glass of water to refresh yourself. You watched as Benedict laughed with his brothers, a wide, adorable and carefree smile sat across his face. Weeks ago, you would have smiled at his happiness, but then and there, sitting on the bench, watching his happy form, you felt miserable. Each time you looked at him, your stomach jumped nervously, your breath caught in your lungs as he touched your arm. These tiny little details meant nothing to him, but for you they meant the world. He couldn't have known the effects his advances left on you, he couldn't have predicted to hurt you unintentionally, but in the end, he unknowingly caused you pain.

Standing up from the bench, you started walking towards the Bridgerton brothers. Heaving a heavy sight, you lifted your arm and tapped Benedict's shoulder lightly, trying to catch his attention. He turned around with a wide smile, looking at you curiously. However, your face must have forgotten to oblige as his smile quickly disappeared and concern took over him.

"Are you alright?" he asked as he nodded to his brothers and reached for your hand, placing it on his arm, leading you away from his family.

"I must talk to you," you started, your voice unusually grim.

"Go ahead. You are worrying me," he added impatiently. Trying to collect your thoughts, you stopped, halting the man beside you whose worried eyes didn't seem to want to leave you for a mere second. "Talk to me," he attempted to reassure you.

"I am really sorry, but I can't possibly do this anymore," your words earned a confused frown from Benedict, before he finally understood what you meant. "I know I promised to help you and I wish I could have done it longer, but I honestly can't do this anymore," you added as you fought against your tears, trying to keep them in place for as long as you could. You couldn't let yourself cry in front of so many people, you couldn't let that happen. Benedict straightened himself in front of you, trying to hide your face from the curious eyes.

"I understand. I am sorry for forcing you to do this. I never thought it could be this hard on you. I would never hurt you, you know that, right?" he asked, trying to contain himself from wrapping his arms around you, fidgeting with his hands beside his thighs.

"I know and you didn't hurt me, it's not your fault. It has just become rather difficult recently and I don't think I'm capable of pretending anymore," you tried to reassure him, making him feel less guilty. "I'm still your friend and I will always be your friend," you added with a phoney smile. Your own words were a lie. You didn't know how long you could pretend to be his friend, but you knew he needed to hear that, he needed not to blame himself. "I will be going home now, but surely I will see you later," you smiled up at him as you curtsied and nodded towards your maid, ready to head home, completely oblivious to the pained gaze he was watching your slowly disappearing form with.

Whilst you sat in your carriage, letting your tears finally run down your cheeks, leaning on your maid's shoulder, Benedict stood confused between Colin and Anthony, his eyes fixed on the ground, his thoughts filled with you only.

"Brother?" Colin called for him with concern in his eyes. It was unusual to see his brother unresponsive, without a playful smile. "Are you alright?" he asked, earning a frown from Benedict.

"I shouldn't have dragged her into this," he replied, but his words were directed more to himself than his brothers.

"What do you mean?" Anthony asked, seemingly more interested in their conversation.

"It was all a lie," Benedict replied, his gaze still fixed on the carefully cut grass.

"What was a lie?" the eldest Bridgerton brother asked again.

"All along we were pretending to be courting, so mother would stop trying to force me to marry," he scoffed, finally understanding the weight of his idea. "She said she can't do this anymore. That it was too painful to bear," he shook his head, guilt overcoming him.

"You really are a fool," Anthony replied with a sceptical look across his face, earning a confused look from both Colin and Benedict.

"How do you mean? Is it because we have been pretending?" Benedict questioned his brother. "I know it was foolish, but she agreed, I didn't know it would be particularly hard on her," he added with a deep frown.

"Brother, can you not see the way she looks at you? Always trying to make you feel happy, bringing a smile to your face even when she, herself is struggling to do so? Are you really that blind?" Anthony raised a questioning brow, as though he couldn't believe how oblivious his brother was towards your feelings.

"Should I understand?" he asked tilting his head innocently, searching for the right explanation. "We have been friends from a very young age, I am certain we have always tried to make each other smile in a difficult situation," he added, earning an eye roll from the eldest Bridgerton brother, ignoring his manners.

"When you said you were courting her, I thought you finally realised that you weren't the only one with feelings beyond friendship. However, after hearing about this foolish idea of yours, forcing a lady to pretend to love you, when in fact she has feelings for you is beyond stupid, brother, and I'm quite disappointed in you for not realising it yourself," he shook his head disapprovingly.

"Are you telling me she has feelings for me?" Benedict asked in disbelief, his brother's words lighting a weak hope within him.

"Indeed, took you long enough to understand," he scoffed.

"I have to talk to her," Benedict added quickly, heading towards the carriages in haste, carefully planning all he needed to tell you.

The ride didn't take long, 20 minutes at most, before he stood in front of your house, his hands shaking slightly, nervousness running through his whole being. Knocking on the door, a maid opened it for him, asking him to wait to announce his arrival to you.

You laid on your bed, cheeks swollen from crying, bottom lip red as a result of the constant biting of your nervous state. A knock on your door brought you out of your misery as your maid walked into the room.

"Mr. Bridgerton is here to see you," she said with a saddened tone, knowing of the arrangement between the two of you. Your eyes widened in surprise, you weren't ready to see him, especially not in your current, heartbroken state. "Would you like me to ask him to leave?" she questioned, looking at the panicked expression across your face.

"No, it's fine. Please take him to the drawing room," you instructed her and headed to the bathroom to make yourself presentable. Your eyes were bloodshot, your face was slightly swollen, and your clothes were beyond wrinkled. Attempting to straighten your dress, you stroked the material over and over again, but it didn't seem to work, nor did the cold water you washed your face with to remove the evidence of your miserable state. At last, you gave up and walked to the drawing room, knowing you wouldn't be able to do anything else with your appearance.

"We have just parted, Benedict," you said to the man as you stepped inside the room and took a seat across the sofa he occupied.

"I needed to see you," he replied, standing up from his place and taking a seat beside you. "I—, I talked to my brothers after you left," he started, stammering over his words, something he only did in his nervous state. "I am a fool and there is no excuse for that. I can't possibly imagine how hard it must have been for you to pretend—"

"I have told you already, I am completely fine," you tried to reassure him with a faux smile, one that this time Benedict didn't believe to be genuine.

"But are you?" he asked, earning a confused frown from you. "Do you know why I thought this foolish idea to be brilliant in the first place?" he raised a questioning brow, but instead of replying you shook your head. "I wanted to be closer to you. I merely thought it would be my chance to spend more time with you. Surely, I had no intention to marry anyone, and I wished my mother to stop, but my primary concern was you. I wanted to be near you at all times, but I couldn't possibly tell you how I felt, knowing you would only reject me," you couldn't control the surprise sitting across your face, your lips parted in shock, his words seemingly part of your most precious dreams. It seemed surreal.

"You are confusing me, Benedict," you spoke up, trying not to hope once again to then fall painfully.

"I'm saying I love you. I have loved you for so long, I can't remember when it started. I never imagined my feelings could be returned and I turned to foolish ideas to be beside you. I needed my brothers to open my eyes and scold me for being childish, for making me hope that I might have your heart even if only half as much as you have mine," he reached for you hand, gently squeezing it in his hold, reassuring you that he meant every single word of his.

"I love you," you blurted out, astonished by his speech, your own words surprising you.

"You do?" he asked, afraid to believe the words he has longed to hear from you.

"I do," you nodded, this time with more confidence, earning a wholehearted smile from Benedict as he leaned closer and wrapped his arms around you, embracing you in his arms.

"I made you cry, didn't I?" he asked as he pulled away slightly, enough for him to be able to look in your eyes as he placed his hands on your cheeks.

"It wasn't you. I was emotional, because I wasn't sure how long I would be able to stay beside you as a friend before it became too much to handle," you giggled awkwardly, feeling as if you have said too much.

"It was still my fault. I didn't consider your feelings," he shook his head, disapproving of his own actions. The tip of his thumb gently brushed across your bottom lip, leaving you with a ticklish feeling. "Have you been biting your lips again?" he asked as his eyes focused on your mouth. His attentiveness, his attention to detail and his closeness made you swallow nervously.

"I might have," you whispered, not daring to raise your voice any louder. Feeling his breath on your lips, the proximity between your faces, his warm palms on your cheeks made you feel intoxicated.

"You shouldn't do that. From now on talk to me when something bothers you," he spoke in a low tone, his voice soothing, making you feel safe. "You are doing it again," he chuckled, his eyes completely captured by the way your teeth bit on your lip, but this time it wasn't nervousness, but excitement. His closeness affected every tiny part of your body. "It really makes me want to kiss you," he breathed, completely mesmerised by your lips, as if an invisible force was pulling him towards you. You felt your heart beating at a dangerous pace, almost as if threatening to escape your chest and you could swear Benedict heard it just as well.

"Hmm," you hummed in a reply, incapable of creating a coherent sentence, before closing the gap between the two of you, a certain confidence rush taking over your actions. Instead of the surprised reaction you expected from Benedict, a playful chuckle left his lungs.

"Impatient, it seems," he added, before he returned your kiss, pulling you closer to himself, enjoying the feeling of your body in his embrace. He has imagined over and over again how it could feel to kiss you, to hold you, but none of those made-up scenarios could ever compete against the reality and the content it filled him with. "I wish to genuinely court you this time," he added as he pulled away from you.

"I very much hope so," you giggled happily, earning a playful eye roll from Benedict, before he captured your lips once again, wrapping his arms around you securely.

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